Page 9

DEACON

“ H ey.”

My eyes fly open at the familiar voice, just in time to catch my friend and coworker, Jesse, kick my feet off a stool in our lunchroom

“You have a home, you know,” he says dryly. “With a bed and maybe even a husband and a baby.”

“Ha.Ha. Very funny,” I say dryly. “I can nap on my lunch break.”

“You could nap at home,” he reiterates, putting his hands on his hips. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to go home. You’re not needed here.”

It’s partially true. Duquette’s Drives has grown exponentially over the years, into something completely unexpected. When I’d set my sights on working with cars, I’d anticipated doing it for the rest of my life, my body carrying the physical load way past its expiry date.

But Wade and I somehow managed to stumble on the gift that keeps on giving—running a successful garage, and expanding and owning another three more. These days we work less with our hands and more with our heads, dabbling in the occasional restoration work, when the right project comes up.

As we’ve both started families, it’s the perfect situation to be in—spending more time doing the things we enjoy and spending less time hustling to chase our tails. So, I understand why Jesse is questioning my presence. But some days I just can’t leave this place alone.

The smell of oil and gasoline calms me in a way I can’t explain. The routine and the familiarity grounding me, especially when I have something on my mind.

And I definitely have something on my mind.

“So,” Jesse drawls. “Why are you here?”

Sighing, I lower my legs and sit upright, running a hand over my tired face. “Can I ask you something?”

A crease forms on Jesse’s forehead as he pulls up a chair beside me. “Is everything okay?”

It isn’t every day I ask my friends for advice, but it also isn’t every day I feel so off-kilter. There’s nothing wrong, per se, but my thoughts have been straying to my mother a lot, and that hasn’t happened in years. It makes me antsy and uncertain, but ever since we had Reese, she’s always there at the back of my mind.

“Everything is more than okay,” I answer truthfully. “Just always surprised by how much having kids changes a person.”

Jesse blows out a long breath of air. “You think you know, but it’s like suddenly there’s two versions of you, before them and after them.”

While Jesse and his husband Leo lost their baby girl, they’re also parents to an amazing sixteen-year-old, Raine. So, if there’s anyone who is more than qualified to walk me through my thoughts, it’s him.

“I keep thinking about my mom,” I confess. “I look at Reese and I think of my mother, and I just wonder if she felt all the same things when she had me.”

Glancing down at my feet, I purposely avoid meeting Jesse’s gaze. Even though it’s my choice to open this can of worms, vulnerability is not something I enjoy feeling. It’s half the reason I haven’t spoken to Julian or Wade, because they know me too well, and it wouldn’t just be a conversation taken at face value. It would be an inquisition where they’d both manage to crack my chest open to see what’s inside, and I’m not ready to go there yet.

“It’s stupid,” I say quickly. “Don’t even worry about it.”

Before I have the chance to stand up and walk away, Jesse’s hand lands on my shoulder. “If you want to talk to your mother, talk to her.”

And that’s the crux of it. I don’t really know if I want to talk to her or if the birth of my daughter is making me feel nostalgic for something that more than likely never existed.

When the silence lingers between us, Jesse makes the whole thing even more complicated by asking, “Have you spoken about this with Julian?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want to bother him with it.”

“Deacon,” he says seriously. “Speaking from experience, that’s not how marriage works. Trust me, he wants you to bother him with it.”

Jesse is a hundred percent right, but I need to work out how to broach the subject of her with him, without shutting down. I know it isn’t warranted, but I feel shame for even thinking about her. Almost like I’m not allowed to change my mind or question decisions past me made.

“Seriously.” Jesse squeezes my shoulder as he rises up off his chair. “Go home and talk to him.”

As Jesse leaves the break room, my phone vibrates, and I know without a doubt it’ll be Julian.

Glancing down at the screen, I take in the photo he’s sent through of Reese awake and comfortably lying on his chest. Then I read the text underneath.

We’re missing you.

My fingers dance across the screen.

Not for too much longer. Be home soon.

Turning the key, I push open our front door and try not to make too much noise. Chances are Reese is already awake, but if she is asleep, I’ll do anything necessary to ensure she stays asleep.

Toeing off my shoes, I walk through the house, noting the soft hum of a tune coming from Julian before laying eyes on him in the kitchen. Julian’s got Reese across his chest in the baby carrier while he lines up her bottles, filling them with water and formula.

He looks so natural preparing her food for the night, and it’s hard to imagine a life where he didn’t know how to be the most perfect father to our daughter. When our embryo had been successfully transferred, we’d sat down and discussed all the ways our lives would change and which changes would suit us best. Anticipating things we had heard about from friends, or things we’d read in books.

We’re blessed in ways I never anticipated, and the ability to be home with our daughter in her first few months of life is one of them.

It’s no surprise that, as a high school teacher, Julian is adored by both the faculty and the students. His boss has worked hard to allow Julian three months of paternity leave and the option to return part-time. The deadline of that decision is coming up quickly, but I know it isn’t something Julian wants to discuss yet.

He’s basking in parenthood, and I have no desire to have him prioritize anything else.

And as Jesse so eloquently pointed out, I have free rein now. I don’t need to be tied down to a garage and under cars twelve hours a day. It’s the time in my life that I get to enjoy the fruits of my labor.

And coming home to them is exactly what that is.

Coming up behind Julian, I curl my hand around his waist and kiss the back of his neck. As if he sensed my arrival, he turns around with a welcoming smile. With Reese between us, I lower my head to kiss the top of hers.

“How are my two favorite people?” I ask him, my voice low and soft.

“Happy you’re home,” he whispers back. “I’m about to make us lunch.”

“Why don’t you finish this”—I point to the bottles—“and I’ll make us lunch.”

Julian glances down at Reese. “Should I try moving her to the crib?”

There’s every chance she’ll wake up, and if I know Julian as well as I think I do, he’s going to change his mind in less than three seconds and keep her sleeping on his chest.

“She’ll wake up anyway,” he says, confirming my thoughts. “I may as well keep her on me so she’ll sleep longer.”

We aren’t the type of parents who give too much mind to how our baby sleeps or where. For the most part, there’s a routine centered around when Reese sleeps, but where she sleeps is wherever works in that moment for both her and us. And truth be told, sometimes you want to hold your daughter close and get lost in that new baby scent as she sleeps across your chest.

The thing about being a parent and forever grieving a sibling is, the loss feels tangible in a way I would’ve never understood without Reese. It’s a crippling realization to know that, for any reason, life could exist without her. It cuts just as deeply living and knowing every minute that passes, is a minute we would never get back. Some days, routine and good habits feel trivial. If we want to hold her in our arms while she sleeps instead of putting her in her crib, then so be it.

“Lie down on the couch with her if you want. Have a nap, and we can eat when you wake up,” I suggest. “Or we can eat now and then you can sleep.”

“Lunch,” he answers. “One thing at a time; she might not even last that long.”

I chuckle softly. “Fair enough. Do you want leftovers or a turkey sub?”

“A sub sounds good,” he says through a yawn.

I point in the direction of our living room. “Couch now. I’ll be out with your food soon.”

“I love you,” he says, his voice nothing more than a tired sigh. “If I’m asleep by the time you come out, please wake me up because I’m hungry.”

Laughing, I turn away and focus on making lunch and ignoring his request. If he’s asleep when I’m done, there’s no way I’ll be waking him up, and we both know it.

Grateful that I opened up to Jesse, I grab everything I need for our sandwiches, and bask in the mundane task of making lunch for my husband while our daughter sleeps. Just as I load each one onto a plate, the sound of something vibrating against the counter catches me off guard. Looking around the kitchen, I spot Julian’s cell by the tin of formula, and notice the lit-up screen.

Quickly, I grab the phone and slip it in my pocket before picking up the plates and walking them to Julian. Placing them down on the coffee table, I’m surprised to see Julian awake with the television on, the volume muted.

“I was sure you’d be asleep,” I tell him.

“You’re home,” he says while stroking Reese’s back. He’s undone the carrier enough that it’s still on his body, but she’s no longer covered by it. “I want to hear about your morning at work.”

Unable to help myself, I bend over and kiss him on the forehead.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” I admit, lowering myself to the floor beside him, between the couch and the coffee table. “I needed to clear my head, and I went there instead of talking to you.”

Julian’s brows knit together, my admission catching him off guard. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Before I can reach for our lunch, my pocket vibrates again, reminding me I have his phone.

“Oh,” I add nonchalantly. “This was making some noise in the kitchen. Seems like someone really wants to talk to you.”

I awkwardly raise my hip up off the floor and shove my hand into my front pocket. Dragging it out, it’s unavoidable to see the name sliding across the top of the screen.

I can feel my face scrunch up in confusion as my gaze darts between the screen and Julian, who is looking at me with an expression that undoubtedly matches mine. It’s unexpected and yet somehow a coincidence, but one thing I know for sure is seeing my mother’s name on the screen is definitely unwelcome.