“Hey,” Jensen says.
Her gaze shifts to Jensen. “Sorry, little brother. You don’t have a pool or a home theater.”
“Oh, so they only like me for the shit I have?” I ask.
“Hey, they’re eight and ten. That’s how it works for a while.” She pats Kevin’s knee. “Kev and I are going to grab food. You guys wanna come or want us to bring anything back for anyone?”
“Nah, we’ll stay here,” I say.
“Text us before you leave. Maybe we’ll have you bring us something,” Jensen adds.
“Will do,” Kevin says before they both slip out into the hallway.
Jordan shifts beside me, lifting Roman and laying him against her chest. His eyes open briefly before closing again. I brush my thumb over his soft little head. “Yeah, buddy,” I say quietly, my mouth curving. “That’s my favorite spot, too.”
Jordan laughs softly. “Oh my God.” She shakes her head and bumps her shoulder with mine.
“Sorry, Jordan. He takes after his dad. Little man loves the boobs,” Jensen says, unapologetic.
Jordan looks at me. “You wanna hold him?”
“Yeah. But I can wait. No rush.”
She braces her hand behind his head and lowers him anyway. “Here. My arm’s getting tired.”
She gently passes him to me, laying his head in the crook of my arm—and shit. I haven’t held a baby in a long time. Megan’s youngest is eight, so… it’s been a minute.
“Fuck,” I mutter, slightly panicked. “Am I doing this right?”
Jordan smiles. “It’s perfect.”
“Great. Between Jensen and you,fuckis going to be his first word,” Alley calls from her bed.
I hardly register her joke. I’m too busy staring at my wife, at the smile she’s giving me, like she’s proud I can hold a baby for the few seconds I’ve had him.
The room suddenly goes quiet. Too fucking quiet. So quiet all I can hear is the buzz of electricity, the cars on the road below, and my heart, which is now beating against my skull.
Jordan breaks the silence. She turns to Alley. “God, I think my ovaries are on fire.”
“Fuck. Mine too,” Jensen adds.
They all laugh.
“Seriously though, Matt,” Alley says. “You look good with a baby and a wife by your side.”
My temperature climbs at least three degrees. I’m used to everyone joking, but this hits on a different level, like pouring gasoline on a barely burning flame. A dream. A hope. A goal.
Something that didn’t even exist until recently.
“Christ. Can you all please get your shit together? I’ve held afucking baby before.”
“But you look so good doing it, babe,” Jordan says, bringing her lips to mine.
She called me babe.
Jordan hasn’t called me that in almost eight years.
A corner of my mouth kicks up.
