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HOLT

It’s a good thing Merit is asleep. Otherwise, she’d get on to me.

I’m supposed to let Daire sleep in his crib. Everyone says we need to get him into a routine, including Merit. But how am I supposed to just let him lie there when he’s so freakin’ cute?

My son.

My perfect little man.

Keeping any focus on the game tonight was almost impossible. But I did what I had to do. We won again. And I rushed home, eager to see my family.

I can’t believe it’s been two weeks. Two weeks of me being a father. Two weeks of me being a husband. Granted, we just went to the courthouse yesterday to get the marriage license; but we were married by a preacher. It doesn’t get more real than that in my book.

Daire Browning Hill was born at 3:50 a.m., weighing six pounds five ounces, and measuring twenty-one inches. He’s long and lean. He has a mass of wild, light brown hair—which I hope darkens just like his mother’s. Why? Because I can tell his eyes are going to be just like hers. They’re light now, but the swirls of brown and green and blue are already forming. He sleeps like a champ. Eats like a champ. And only cries when he’s hungry or wet or curious he’s missing out on something fun.

My mom said I should soak this up because it just means our second child will be a holy terror. Which isn’t very comforting because I was her second child. I think she’s trying to tell me something about my time as a baby.

Merit has taken to motherhood like a fish in water. I knew she’d be perfect, but she’s even more spectacular than I imagined. In fact, watching her is my favorite thing to do. I especially love watching when she holds him, humming off-tune songs from her old movies.

Deke, Marie, and Granny all stayed for the first week. Then, Deke and Granny went home so Deke could return to work on the farm. He drove back up today, and he’ll be taking Marie home on Sunday. And of course, my parents have been here every day. Along with everyone else. It’s been nice to see everyone fawn all over Daire and cater to Merit. But they’ve also been very respectful of our time as new parents, giving us space to bond as a family.

I’ve only had one real ‘oh shit’ moment, and it didn’t even involve Daire. It happened two days after we came home from the hospital. I found Merit crying in the bedroom, and she refused to tell me what was wrong. She even lied, straight to my face, telling me she was fine. The fact that she lied to me and refused to come clean, after my prodding—like normal—scared the shit out of me. After thirty minutes of the back and forth, I tucked my tail between my legs and sent for reinforcements. Otherwise known as my mom and Marie. And like any good husband, I eavesdropped on the conversation.

“Honey, I really wish you would tell us what’s wrong. What you’re thinking, what you’re feeling,” Marie says. “I can guarantee we’ve been through the same thing.”

Merit sniffles. “No, you haven’t.”

Her mom gently laughs. “I promise we have. Motherhood changes so much, and you may feel like you’re on an island, isolated and alone, but I promise you’re not.”

“Merit, we can help you. You just have to let us in,” Mom adds.

Merit struggles to get her words out. “Oh no, I can’t say anything. Especially not to you.”

“Me?” Shock laces my mom’s voice. “You’re my daughter now, a part of my family forever. You can tell me anything.”

Merit’s sob nearly pierces my eardrums. “Your son will never wanna have sex with me again!” I hear her flop on the bed, and it sounds like she’s crying into a pillow.

What the hell is she talking about? Why wouldn’t I wanna have sex with her. I always wanna have sex with her.

“What?” Marie raises her voice so Merit can hear over the sounds of her own cries. “Merit, what are you talking about?”

She blows her nose. “My crotch looks like Quasimodo! It’s a disaster... a complete shit-show of a disaster. I’m swollen and disfigured.” It sounds like she’s back to talking into the pillow. “I’ll never be the same again.”

I don’t have to see Mom and Marie’s faces to know what their long pause means. It’s pretty obvious, they’re trying to hold back their laughter. Marie clears her throat. “You just gave birth four days ago. Your body endured a trauma. It just made a human being. You have to give yourself time to heal.”

She hiccups and sniffles again. “No. I’ll never be normal again. I think something went wrong. Like really, really wrong. Like, maybe, I need reconstructive surgery or something. My outside is puffy and angry, like some kind of deformed marshmallow. And my insides feel like a deflated balloon. I feel like an eighty-year-old hooker.” She bursts into tears again. “My husband will never wanna touch me again.”

Bullshit. I will always want her. I want her for the rest of my life. I’ll prove it, right here and right now if I need to. Anything to stop my wife’s tears. My dick is as ready as it’s ever been.

They spend the next fifteen minutes comforting her, telling Merit that her body will return to normal—in fact, it will be even better than it was before. They tell her that her hormones are raging, and those little bastards are giving her an unrealistic vision of her own body.

“He’ll want me?”

The brokenness in her voice absolutely shatters me. I wish I could kiss her right now. Kiss away all her worries, all her concern.

“Yes,” Mom assures her. “My son is completely and totally in love with you.”

“Trust me, as soon as you get clearance from the doctor, he’ll wanna make love to you all the time,” Marie says.

And when my mom starts talking about Kegel exercises and my dad’s penis, I throw up a little bit in my mouth and decide that eavesdropping is highly overrated.

“He calmed down?” Her voice takes me by surprise.

Spinning around, I catch her leaning against the doorframe. She’s back to wearing her simple and sexy-as-hell, white cotton nightgown. Her redwood hair is a wild mess, and her swollen breasts are calling to me, like a siren in the middle of the ocean.

Holy hell.

“What?” I ask, swallowing against my dry throat.

She pushes off the doorway and pads across the room. “Well, I can only assume he was crying. Because my husband knows better than to take him out of his crib when he’s peacefully sleeping.” She mocks me with sing-song words.

“Oh, absolutely,” I say, giving her a little wink.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, she leans forward and kisses Daire’s forehead, pausing to inhale his scent. “Mmm. I wonder when he will stop smelling so good?”

“Well, he definitely didn’t smell good when he shit all over me this morning.”

And it’s true, he did.

When he gave a little cry at four this morning, letting us know he needed something, I woke up first and rushed to get him so Merit could sleep. Believe it or not, I heard him. Even my sleep habits have done a complete one-eighty since Daire came along. The slightest noise on the baby monitor makes me jump. There’s no more sleeping through the noise of a freight train.

Or I guess I should say, no more sleeping through some crazy bitch breaking into my house and framing me for seducing a student.

It’s like my actual body chemistry has changed.

Merit giggles. “Yeah, that was pretty gross.” She snorts. “And funny.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I lean forward, capturing her mouth with mine. Her breath is hot and sweet, and she takes an extra second to deepen our kiss.

“Congratulations, Coach,” she says, changing the subject.

“Ahh, so you already heard?”

“Another win. Who would have ever thought you’d be on track to win another State title? After everything you went through this year.”

“After everything we went through.”

She rubs her nose against Daire and pats my ass. “Come to bed. You need to sleep while you can. You never know when he’ll wanna wake you up so he can poop on you again.”

She walks out of the room, laughing at her own joke.

I gently lie my son back in the crib, making sure his Smart Sock is snug on his foot.

This is it.

This is life.

How’d I get so damn lucky?