“He’s out,” I say, watching as his little mouth opens and the bottle falls from his lips.
“I think he was out the first time I burped him.” Gabby laughs softly. “Getting this last one out of him is going to be a bear.”
“I’ll take him. You go get ready for… dessert.” I almost said bed, but the last thing I want to do is sleep.
“Okay.” Carefully, she hands him off to me and leans in close. I assume she’s going to kiss him, but this time, her lips land on mine. Just a soft press of her lips before she climbs from the couch and heads to our room.
I watch her go. “I love her, buddy. I know you do too. She’s going to be the mother of your siblings. No, not yet,” I say, carrying on a one-sided conversation with my son. “When you’re a little older. Right now, we’re content to give you our love and attention.” I rub his back like Gabby taught me, starting at the bottom and pushing up. He belches, a loud belch that would make a grown man proud. “Good job, bud,” I praise my sleeping son. Standing, I take him to our room and place him in the bassinet. He doesn’t even stir when I settle him down. I just hope he sleeps longer tonight. Or at least long enough for me to make love to my girl.
Hearing the shower turn on, I climb into bed and wait for her. Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I pull up my email app and answer a few emails that I didn’t get to today. I am busier now than I’ve ever been with work and home life, but I’m also happier than I can ever remember.
Scrolling through my messages, I stop when I see one from earlier today. Looking at the time it was sent, it says 6:00 p.m. Taking a deep breath, I click on the message, my heart in my throat in anticipation of the results of the paternity test. Quickly, I scan the message telling me I have new results, and to view them, I have to log in. I stare down at my phone, then look over at the baby sleeping next to me.
Maybe I don’t need these results. Maybe knowing he’s my son in my heart is enough. He looks like me. The timeline fits, so he has to be mine. My heart thuds in my chest like a heavy bass drum as my finger hovers over the big red button telling me to click here to log in now. I don’t know if I want to. What if he’s not mine? What happens to him then? He goes into the system? I swallow back the lump in my throat. No, that can’t happen.
“Chase.” Gabby’s hand lands on my arm, and I turn to look at her. She’s in one of my T-shirts and is on her knees beside me on the bed. Her hair is wet and loose, hanging around her shoulders. “Hey,” she says softly. “Are you all right? You’re white as a ghost.”
“They’re back.”
“Who’s back?” she asks gently as if I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.
Maybe I have.
He can’t go into the system.
I hold up my phone. “The screen’s black,” she says, nodding to the now darkened screen.
I place my thumb on the button, and the brightness of the email and that big red button greets me once again. “The results.” I swallow again, not able to dislodge this lump of anxiety in my throat. “They’re back.”
“Okay. What are you thinking?” She runs her hand along the stubble across my cheek.
“So many things, Gabby. I’m thinking so many different things. I have so many emotions racing through me, I don’t know which one to try and decipher first.”
“One by one,” she says softly. “Tell me what you were thinking about.”
“What if he’s not mine? Then what happens to him? Do I even need to see these results? He’s mine, right? I mean, in my heart, it feels like he’s mine. Like he’s ours.” I amend to include her because she’s a part of this family we’re creating. Or is that just an illusion?
“It’s not an illusion.”
I must have said that out loud. “What happens if he’s not mine, Gabs? We can’t let him go into the system. They won’t know how he likes to snuggle or that he needs to be nestled against your chest with a soft blanket to fall asleep. They won’t know about Peegate, and they might get angry at him. I can’t handle that, Gabby.”
“Hey,” she says soothingly. Before I know what’s happening, she’s straddling my lap, and my face is cradled in her hands. “We take it one day at a time. He looks like you, Chase. That has to mean something.”