Page 26 of Better Than Baby (Better Than Stories #9)

“Children have one kind of silliness, as you know, and grown-ups have another kind.”―C.S. Lewis

Three years later

“Daddy, look at mine! This is so good, huh?”

Mia pushed a stray strand of long raven hair over her shoulder, leaving a streak of white frosting across her cheek.

She set the plastic knife on the island—messy side down—and proudly held a cupcake for inspection while shaking her hips to the beat of the kids’ show theme song playing on the flat-screen in the adjacent family room.

I admired the glob of vanilla with an indulgent grin. “So good. Watch the dancing on that stool, Meems. I don’t want you to fall. How’s yours coming along, Xan?”

“Almost done. Are we putting sprinkles on now? Papa likes the rainbow ones,” he said in a serious tone, his blond bangs falling forward as he reached for another cupcake.

“Ooh! I love rainbow spinkles!” Mia shimmied on the stool.

“Sprinkles,” Xander corrected with a laugh. “Not spinkles.”

Mia giggled, then bent to let Murphy lick frosting from her fingers. “I know’d it. Can I put sprinkles on mine now?”

“You’ll have to wash your hands first. You’ve got Murph cooties.” I kissed the top of her head, because I couldn’t resist, before sidling next to Xander to check out the perfectly even row of frosted cupcakes in front of him.

Unlike his sister, Xander approached most chores with the precision of a heart surgeon.

His ratio of cake to frosting was exact, and the spread of sugary goodness was meticulously even.

Our son was nothing if not precise when it came to building Legos or block towers, or being a sous chef.

Much like his Papa, Xan didn’t appreciate messes or unnecessary chaos.

Unless it had something to do with football. Xan loved football. Favorite team? The Steelers, of course.

Mia, on the other hand, was a true free spirit.

She skipped and danced wherever she went, usually wearing a tutu and a tiara, with Murphy chasing after her.

I’d never met a three-and-a-half-year-old more comfortable in their own skin in my life.

She was fearless, ferociously confident, and endlessly curious.

You know the kid who asked twenty questions in response to every basic statement of fact? That was Mia.

Example: Caterpillars make cocoons and become butterflies.

Mia: What kind of butterflies? How many butterflies are in the universe? How many legs does a caterpillar have? Why are they fuzzy? Where do they live? Do they have brothers and sisters? Can I have a sister?

Not gonna lie, it could be exhausting, but we wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“I like Murph cooties,” Mia pronounced. “When will Papa be home? Are we going to hide and say ‘Surprise’?”

“We can if you want. We have twenty minutes to finish with the cupcakes and clean up. If you’re done decorating, you can fix the balloons.”

“Yes!” Mia hopped off the stool and raced to the living room, a flurry of mint-green tulle and pink ribbons.

“Hey, princess. Wash those hands first,” I reminded her.

Mia skipped back to the kitchen and moved the stepstool to the sink.

I stood behind her to turn on the faucet and make sure she didn’t empty the soap dispenser and spray the countertops with water.

I was all for teaching our kids to be more self-reliant within reason, but Aaron was going to be home soon, and I didn’t feel like mopping the floors.

As soon as her hands were dry, Mia was off in a flash, fussing with the dozen or so mylar balloons near the fireplace all in the shape of the number four.

“I’m done too.” Xander motioned for me to come close and whispered, “Can I do my sprinkles first? Mia makes a mess.”

“Go for it.”

I arranged Mia’s cupcakes on a plate and wiped down the island, chuckling at the little girl lining up the balloons as she explained to Murphy that she was going to be four soon too, and that everyone in our whole family would have a four in their years. Even Murphy.

Xander asked about the football games on later today as he finished his creations.

He didn’t have the patience to watch a full game, but I suspected that he liked the rhythm of our new autumn weekend routine.

A month ago, he’d started soccer. His team had practice once a week, and every Saturday morning he wore his uniform and kid cleats and ran around the field while parents screamed their lungs out whenever their prodigal athlete-in-training touched the ball.

Aaron claimed it was the best people-watching ever. “Who knew parents were this cutthroat? It’s like the preschool sport version of Drag Race , minus the bling. These mamas have claws.”

Honestly, I didn’t pay attention to the other parents.

I was too in awe of our son, who loved to run and seemingly never got tired.

In that way, he was just like Aaron. As a toddler, Xander would slip his little feet into Aaron’s trainers and clomp from room to room.

Aaron had thought it was hysterical, considering the many years he’d slipped into his mom’s closet to try on her high heels.

When Xander had first shown an interest in sports, Aaron had worried that he wouldn’t be able to connect with him, but kids have a way of making space for you, inviting you to meet them at a middle ground and share pieces of yourself. It had always been that way for us.

It was Aaron who’d sat on the floor with Xander, building block towers and telling stories of architects who designed bridges while I’d paced the floors with our teething daughter.

It was Aaron who put aprons on the kids and let them stir cookie dough.

It was Aaron who insisted on dance-offs, face-painting, and quiet coloring time.

As a result, Xander was equally happy baking with Aaron or throwing a Nerf football with me in the yard. And Mia loved dress-up parties with Papa as much as she loved looking for ladybugs with me at the park.

We had two incredible, beautiful children and damn, it had been a pretty cool journey so far.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. I’d known there’d be tough times and there had been.

Xander had been prone to ear infections as a toddler, and Mia’d had a rough colicky phase.

We’d spent many sleepless nights comforting crying babies.

There’d been skinned knees, a bee sting, a scary tumble from the deck, and a few colds and stomach bugs.

You know you’re a parent when potty training, wiping drippy noses, and constantly checking to be sure you knew where they were became second nature.

“I threw the ball from the barbecue to the trees and I think that’s as big as a football field. Is it, Daddy?” Xander scrunched his nose, his tongue tucked at the corner of his mouth.

“Daddy, look at the fours!” Mia called, pointing at each balloon like the Count’s assistant on Sesame Street . “Four, four, four, four…”

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.

Papa, Papa, Papa.

Nope, it never got old.

I gave Mia a thumbs-up and set my hand atop Xander’s thick head of blond hair.

In case you’re curious, yes…he was told he looked a lot like me.

I loved it. I followed my father’s example and never corrected anyone or explained that he was adopted.

He was mine, he was Aaron’s, and genetics didn’t make this family.

Mia, on the other hand, looked just like Aaron. But she was a thousand percent mine too.

“We can throw the ball around as soon as Papa is home and?—”

“He’s here, he’s here! I heard his car!” Mia squealed. “Hide. Xander, hurry.”

Xander raced into the living room to hide under the coffee table with his sister, leaving me with a barking dog and an island full of partially decorated cupcakes. The telltale creaky hinge on the mudroom door announced Aaron’s arrival.

“Hello! I’m home!” he singsonged, sashaying into the kitchen with a huge grin on his handsome face.

I positioned myself to block his view of the treats and struck a casual pose that would never fool my man. Then I opened my mouth, and…froze.

This happened sometimes. All Aaron had to do was walk into a room, and every once in a while, I was overcome with emotion. This gorgeous man was mine. That smile, those twinkling eyes, and cunning wit…mine.

Aaron’s dark hair was threaded with the smallest bit of silver at his temples now. He thought it made him a candidate for crypt keeper. I thought it made him even more incandescent.

We weren’t so young anymore. I was forty, he was forty-four.

We both used readers and joked about how sleeping the wrong way resulted in back pain that lasted for a week.

But we were healthy and happy. We had thriving careers, good friends, loving families, and two incredible children who brightened our every day.

We’d built a life together. A beautiful life. And I couldn’t help but thank whatever cosmic force had brought us together…and kept us together. I was more in love with him than ever.

“Hey there, handsome. Happy birthday…again.” I swept him into my arms and kissed him. “How’d the shoot go?”

“Fabulous and—” Giggles and a moan of “ew” sounded from the living room. Aaron smiled against my lips. “Do we have goblins?”

“We do. Kid goblins and a Murphy goblin.”

Aaron stooped to pet Murph before gasping at the homemade cupcakes on the island. “Oh, my gosh! Are those rainbow sprinkles? My favorite!”

“I didn’t put mine on yet,” Mia whisper-shouted from her hiding place.

“ Shh . Papa can hear you.”

“You shh ,” she countered.

Aaron marched to the balloons in the living area I’d had delivered earlier today.

I was no dummy. My husband loved birthdays and since the adult party had been held last night at Jay and Peter’s, I figured a kid celebration with the four of us was a good idea.

Family, friends, and neighbors would be by tomorrow, but today was all ours.

“Am I forty-four or forty-four thousand four-hundred and forty-four?” he asked, tapping a finger to his chin. More giggles. “Matty, our goblin situation is out of control. Where do you think they could be?”

“Surprise! Surprise!” Xander and Mia slid out from under the coffee table, jumping around their papa like little gremlins…or goblins.

Aaron sank to his knees and pulled them both in for hugs and kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Thank you, my monkeys.”

“We’re not monkeys, Papa,” Mia scolded. “Did you see the cupcakes? They’re gonna be so good. Daddy let us do the stirring but I forgot my apron and I think I got some on my dress. Don’t worry. It’ll come out. Want to see me twirl?”

Aaron marveled at Mia’s grace, complimented the cupcakes, and widened his eyes at Xander’s report that he could throw the football to the trees.

He was a great dad. The type of parent who took the time to learn his children, be present for them, celebrate their wins, and commiserate losses.

He was full of wonder and light, and everything fun and whimsical.

Honestly, I think he made me a better dad. A better person.

“You know what I think we should do?” I asked, breaking through the cacophony.

“Have a dance party?” Aaron suggested.

“Well, okay…how about a cupcake birthday dance party…outside?”

“Yes!” Xander punched his fist in the air and boogied toward the sliding door, flattening his palm on the glass as he pushed it open.

“With spinkles!” Mia skipped behind her brother, gesturing for Murphy to follow.

I draped an arm over Aaron’s shoulders and laughed. “My ears are ringing.”

He chuckled, leaning into my side as he watched them fly by the pumpkins and Halloween decorations, down the short set of stairs to the lawn. “Cupcakes, huh?”

“They insisted. It’s a box mix, but I ate one and they’re not bad.”

Aaron bit into his bottom lip. “They’re perfect. And balloons, too. Thank you.”

I kissed his nose in acknowledgment. “Our parents and…everyone…will be here tomorrow. For now…it’s just us.”

“I love us. The four of us…and Murph.”

“Me too, baby. We’ve come a long way.”

“We have. And the best is yet to come.” Aaron smiled. “I think the goblins are ready to party. Will you dance with me, Matty?”

“Always.”

I took his hand and stepped onto the deck. Yellow and orange leaves drifted lazily on the autumn breeze. It wasn’t cold yet, but there was a hint of a chill in the air. The kids were laughing, Murph was running in circles, and everything felt right in our corner of this mixed-up world.

I remembered telling him, “We can do it all, Aar. Everything. Marriage, kids, the works. I want to grow old with you.”

And here we were.

Loving him was the easiest thing I’d ever done. To be his person, his husband, and father to these two kids was…everything. I’d choose this life over and over again. It was simply better than good.

Thank you for reading the continuation of Matt and Aaron’s love story!