Page 20 of Change the Plan
Ellie had shot me a look that I interpreted asI can’t believe I’m talking to your mum about my vag, but she’d been visibly relieved in the aftermath of Mom’s magic, and I haven’t seen her wincing since, though I know she’s still wearing her adult diapers under her dress to cope with the heavy bleeding.
“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” I say now, remembering the way she’d looked as she pushed Mahinarangi into the world on her hands and knees on the hospital bed, her eyes glowing green and her blossom-covered antlers on her head. She’d joked aboutportal pussiesin the aftermath, grinning and with a fresh baby latched to her breast, but I think there’s some truth to the statement. “You’re a fucking badass.”
“Says the actual alpha wolf.”
“I’m serious, Ellie.”
She falls into line beside me, planting a kiss on my arm. “Thank you.”
Our destination is the start of the vineyard garden. There’s already a picnic blanket set out for us — I asked the staff toleave us one under the twin pohutukawa trees — and Ellie settles down on the tartan mat, holding her arms out for the baby. I pass Mahina over, marvelling at the way Ellie effortlessly begins to breastfeed as if she’s done this for years and not days.
“You want me to start dishing up your food?”
She nods emphatically. “I’mstarving.”
Soft cheeses, prosciutto, cured salmon, hummus… I pile her plate up with all the foods she wasn’t allowed during her pregnancy, and then, because she has her hands full, I start feeding them to her. She grins around her mouthful of camembert and quince paste, her eyes growing teary.
“This is everything I imagined,” she whispers, blinking as she looks down at Mahina. “The nights are hard, and I feel like a slob half the time with my leaky boobs and my mum bun, but this moment is perfect. Thank you for getting me out of the house.”
“I love your leaky boobs and your mum bun, so if that’s your version of being a slob please keep it up.”
She snorts with amusement, muttering, “Of course you do,” as she lifts Mahina, switching breasts. I reach over, stroking Mahina’s round cheek and the gentle point of her ear, a legacy from her fae ancestors.
“Hey,” I whisper quietly, listening to the rhythmic click of her swallows as she drinks. “We’re under the trees your mommy grew for you. One day you’re gonna climb them.”
I take my chance to eat while Ellie finishes the feed. By time I’m done and lying back, staring up at the red flowers in bloom, Ellie is declaring our daughter a drunkard. “Look at her; she’s out cold! Completely milk-drunk.”
She lays Mahina on my chest, watching us both as she eats a second plate of food.
“It’s Sunday tomorrow. She’ll be one week old,” I say.
“It’s gone so fast.”
“It’s been a blur,” I agree, brushing my fingers over the black wisps of Mahina’s hair. “But I feel like she’s been with us forever.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Ellie lays down beside me, tucking her head against my shoulder.
Lying here in the light of the setting sun, with my wife and child, surrounded by the scents of sweet pollen and breastmilk and newborn, is exactly where I want to be. “We’re gonna stay in this newborn bubble for as long as we can,” I whisper, planting a kiss on Ellie's hair. “No work. No pack meetings. Just us three.”
Ellie turns her head, her lips brushing mine. “Sounds like a plan.”