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VAUGHN

“ I ’m coming to get you,” I roar through the house to the delightful sounds of rapturous, gleeful giggling from my nieces and nephews, who are meant to be hiding and silent. But I’ve become an expert in navigating children, thanks to my brothers, who have seven children between them and a set of twins for Victor on the way.

With these newly learned skills, I pay no mind to the giggling. Instead, I search the farthest corners of the house, pulling sofa cushions out of place and tugging on curtains to get closer to my giggling niece, but I never quite catch her.

“Hmm, where could they be hiding?” I say to myself, looking high and low around the room. Even without their carefree chuckling, Vincent, Vance and Hana’s son, has his toes sticking out from underneath the silver curtains.

“Maybe I can offer a hand,” Hana says from the sliding door leading onto the backyard patio.

“It might be necessary.” I smile at my sister-in-law, who begins searching through the various places I’ve already checked. But her sudden interruption of our game makes me feel funny, and not the good kind, either. “I’ve never met anyone as great as these two at hide and seek.” The strange sensation trickles over my words.

It's not sadness; at least, I don’t think it is. It’s more like a longing to have what they do. Victor and Olivia, Vance and Hana, happy families growing together while I lag behind. And I know it’s not that crazy.

As the youngest Valentine son, it makes sense that I’d be the last to fall into the old tradition. But it’s been years now. The children have grown to walking, talking little humans, and I can’t seem to find a single person I like to have a conversation with.

“Are they…” —Hana grabs the curtain closest to Vincent and pulls it aside— “...here?”

He erupts into squealing laughter less than a foot away from his mother, but she pretends she can’t hear anything.

“You’re right, Uncle Vaughn.” Hana bends over, slowly moving her fingers toward Vincent’s toes. “They’re better than us. I guess they’re the winners.”

“Beaten again,” I add to it, fighting off the urge to let the longing claw its way out of my mouth. “How will we ever find them?”

“Maybe we can ask this little piggy,” Hana says, grabbing Vincent’s pinky toe. He bursts out from behind the curtain straight into his mother’s loving arms, tears lining the rims of his eyes from all the laughter.

She peppers kisses across his face, tickling his sides, and I get to see firsthand how a mother and son’s bond strengthens.

Fuck, it’s beautiful. And I want it for myself.

Wait a second. A father and son bond.

“Where’s your niece?” Hana asks, and Vincent’s face turns stone cold as the question comes. He can’t lie to her, even if he wants to. Slowly, nervously, he raises his arm in Rebecca’s direction.

She’s huddled beneath a sofa throw next to the chair. Like Vincent, I spotted her instantly, with her head moving from side to side under the blanket. But where’s the fun in rushing to the point? These are memories I hope my nieces and nephews are going to cherish for years to come or, better yet, the rest of their lives.

I tiptoe my way over to the blanket and turn back to my nephew before I pull it off. I point at it in a subtle question of is this the right place and he grins, nodding his head frantically.

I’ve never seen so much joy on a turncoat’s face before.

I yank the blanket off Rebecca. She looks at me, absolutely mortified that I managed to find her, but when her eyes turn over to Hana and Vincent, she knows what happened.

She scowls at him, shouting, “That’s not fair. You had help.”

“But we needed it. We’d have never found you if Vince didn’t show us,” I say, ruffling the hair atop her head. “And you wouldn’t want to be hiding under grandma’s blanket for the next two weeks, would you?”

“I guess not.” Rebecca crosses her arms over her chest in frustration.

“Well, between you and me, and don’t tell your aunt Hana I said this, but you definitely won.” I speak loud enough for Hana to hear but try to keep it inconspicuous so Rebecca will believe me.

It’s not very hard to do when it’s a six-year-old you’re trying to convince, but if you’re gonna play the game, play it well.

Her mood instantly brightens, and she jumps to her feet and runs to the door. No doubt to tell her parents that she foiled me again for the sixth time tonight.

“I’m grabbing drinks. Do you need anything?” I ask Hana, who is holding her son in a tight, loving hug.

“Two beers and a whiskey for Victor.”

“Nothing for Mom?” I raise a brow, a little surprised. She’s usually the one trying to keep the party going, not flaking out first.

“I think the last G and T she poured was a little stiff.” Hana chuckles, standing upright and taking her son’s hand. “She’s still working on it.”

We go our separate ways, her back to the table and me to the kitchen to fulfill the orders. Returning outside, I take a seat next to Mother. Vincent and Hana reclaim their seat next to Vance, and Rebecca sways on her feet next to Victor.

“Oh no,” my oldest brother says, with mock surprise twisting his facial features. “Has someone caught the sleepy bug?”

Rebecca nods, letting out a long yawn.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous. Not necessarily of anyone in particular, but just how easy love seemed to find my brothers. It’s like the perfect woman fell into their lap, and they’ve never looked back since.

“What’s wrong, my boy?” Mom asks, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t seem yourself.”

“Must’ve caught the sleepy bug from Rebecca.” I could never admit it outright. At least not yet. This foreign, overwhelming sensation came so out of the blue that I nearly felt crazy for thinking it at all.

Mom smiles at me, no doubt picking up on my distant stare at Victor, lifting Rebecca onto his lap. She rests her head against his chest and nuzzles into a comfortable position. She’ll be sleeping any second now.

“You know it isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Vaughn. You’re reaching that age. It’s okay to want it,” she says, and I nearly chuckle at how close it comes to the birds and bees talk. “A family of your own. Little ones clawing at your hip. And all the other beautiful things that come with it.”

“Who knows? Maybe if I’m lucky enough?—”

“It’ll happen sooner than you think?” Mom smiles at me, her hand moving up to my cheek. “Keep your chin up, Vaughn. Good things come to those who wait, and you, my little prince, have waited a long while.”

And I’ll wait longer still. Because I don’t want a rushed relationship that falls apart or erupts into a dumpster fire of meanness and cruelty. I’ll wait forever if I must, as long as there’s a glimmer of hope that someday, I might find what they all have.