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Inside, balloons and flowers take up every available space on the windowsill.
“Dang, who cleaned out FTD?”
“Good morning to you too,” Elle says as I kiss her forehead. “We did, as a matter of fact. I wanted the windows open, but we spotted a drone yesterday and it freaked me out.”
“Well shit,” I say and then look at the bundle in her arms. “Who’s this?”
“This is Jett,” she says as she hands him to me even though I didn’t ask.
“I’ve got Sonny,” Ben says, even though I thought he was asleep.
“I’ll take him,” Peyton says as she sits down in the other free chair.
“How are you feeling?” I stand there, swaying like I saw Noah do earlier. “Hey buddy, I’m your Uncle Quinn.”
“Good, ready to get the hell out of here.”
“Just in time for Christmas,” Peyton says as she makes faces at Sonny. It makes me wonder why people do this, especially when they’re newborns.
“I’m ready,” Ben says. “I’m going to take pointers from the grandpas on how to be Santa, so when it’s my turn, I get it right.”
“Isn’t it funny how we follow traditions without making up our own,” Peyton adds.
“What would you change?” Elle asks.
Peyton shrugs. “Nothing at the moment.”
I’m so thankful I don’t have to worry about Santa or any holiday traditions. I show up when I’m told and that’s that,which is probably how I got into this mess with Nola. I do whatever my family says. No questions asked because I know they won’t steer me wrong.
No, Nola got us into this mess.
“Can I take a picture with the boys?” I ask Elle.
“Of course.”
Ben stands and motions for me to take his chair and then takes Sonny from Peyton. He helps me adjust the twins, only to realize he doesn’t have my phone, so he uses his own.
“Why don’t you guys sit next to Elle,” Ben suggests.
He takes one of the boys from me so I can stand easily. Ben holds his son until Peyton’s situated and then places him next to Elle and Peyton.
“Do I have Sonny?” I ask.
“Yes,” Ben says as he makes an adjustment to how I’m holding Sonny. “Okay, look at me.”
At some point in his life, I imagine it started when he and Elle became friends, Ben became a master cell phone photographer with as many photoshoots Elle’s had him do. Better him than me.
We pose for what feels like ten minutes. Ben hands his phone to Elle, who quickly deletes any she doesn’t like, and then sends a couple to our family group chat. I turn Sonny in my arms and stare at his cherub face and find myself wishing he looked like me or dad. We have five new members of our family, six if we count Oliver, and not a single one of them looks like dad or me, and I find that I really don’t like that at all.
TWENTY-THREE
The Westbury house bustles with Christmas activity. We’re greeted at the door by Bianca, Noah’s grandma who instantly takes one of the two baby carriers he was holding. The second is taken by Josie, and the third, which I’m holding is snatched from my hands by my mother.
Who doesn’t even greet me.
“Merry Christmas, mother,” I say pointedly. She hates when we call her mother but do it when she’s upset us, or we need her attention.
“I’m sorry, come here.”