Em smiles. “Of course, Will.”
He smiles back and lifts Riz up a little, looking at me and Em. “Either of you wanna hold him while I go check on the others?”
“Yeah,” I say, stepping up.
He hands Riz over to me carefully. The little baby in a blanket burrito blinks up at me, with his tiny hands reaching for me.
I carry him over to Em, touching his fists with my fingers.
She giggles. “Hi there, Idris the Second.”
Holding back my chuckle, I hear Will wheel around, laughing.
Em doesn’t seem to notice, especially when she’s so happy watching Riz babble, long and serious, like he’s mimicking his mommy’s lecture talks.
I smirk, wondering what he’s trying to say.
A minute later, he yawns so wide his whole face scrunches. His eyes flutter closed, and then he’s asleep, out like a light.
Em runs her fingers lightly down the blanket. “He’s so sleepy around me.”
“He knows when he’s safe around his perfect mama,” I say.
She looks up at me, eyes warm and wide behind her glasses.
Going past us, Will rolls farther into the room, checking in on the other cribs.
Em leans closer to me, cooing at our little guy. I couldn’t be happier, but as much as I wanna keep us here, I still owe my future wife her present.
***
After the festivities, I’ve downed enough caffeine to put Stan toshame. But I wanted to pull out the big guns for him and Em.
I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror while I bounce on the balls of my feet.
I’m trying to hype myself up by jumping on the spot. I can do this. I cantotallydo this.
Leaving the bathroom, I step into our bedroom where Stan’s asking Em if the gigantic portrait he printed out is hanging right on top of our bed.
It’s literally as wide as our big bed. The photo is of us from earlier, me and Stan kissing Em’s cheek with our eyes closed. Stan and I are smiling a bit, but Em’s frowning, taken by surprise.
Stan checks his work, tilts his head left, then right. “Em,” he says seriously, “be honest. Is it straight?”
Em hums, studying it. “Not quite. Try lifting the left side a little.”
He reaches up to adjust it by a bit.
It turns out perfect, even if it’s eating up the wall with our faces.
I clear my throat. They both turn. I must look more intense than I mean to, because Stan, of all people, looks worried.
“Why do you look like that?” he asks. “Did I leave the lube bottle open again? I swear Ray didn’t tell me it could dry out like that. Plus, I boughtplenty, babe.”
“No,” I say, trying not to laugh. “It’s not that, Stan.”
His eyes get big. “Oh my god, did you find the gift I hid?”
I rub my earring. It calms me down a little, while Em asks, “What gift?”
