“It’s not fair,” I blurt out. “Why her? After the life she lived? Why could she not be happy? Raise our son and have a real family, a part of her? It’s not fucking f-fair.” My voice cracks on the last word.
Tyler walks in just at that moment.
“You’re up, Uncle Tyler,” Reagan says, handing Knox to him. She doesn’t say anything else, just drops to her knees in front of me and wraps her arms around me. That breaks me and I sob into her shoulder, the stress of the last three days—today, especially—overwhelming me. I fall apart; I couldn’t stop it even if I tried. I’ve been fighting back these emotions since I pulled off the road and found her car.
“It’s not fair,” Reagan agrees. “It fucking sucks donkey dick.”
I laugh at that; I can’t help it.
“My work here is done,” she says through her own tears.
“Uh, guys . . . I think little man here has a present for his Aunt Reagan,” Tyler says. He sounds like he’s holding his breath.
That just causes me to laugh harder. He may not have his mother, but I will make damn sure he knows how much she loved him. How much she wanted to be a part of his life. He won’t have both parents, but he will have me, his aunt, my four best friends—uncles by default—and my parents.’
He will be loved every damn day.
I will make sure of it.
Three days. I’ve been home with my son for three days. Needless to say, my world has been upturned. Not that I’m complaining. I love cuddling with the little man. My mom and Reagan have both been staying with me, and Dad stayed last night as well, saying he felt like he was missing out. Luckily, I have the space.
Mom and Reagan took care of the basics. They made sure I had a car seat to bring him home in, plus they bought clothes and blankets. When I arrived home, my boys had taken it one step further; not only had they decorated the front porch with blue balloons and ‘It’s a boy’ banners, but they also had the spare room—the one closest to mine—set up and ready to go for my little guy. The once-empty room now sports a baby bed, dresser, and changing table—at least that’s what Mom calls it.
I have a hell of a lot to learn.
I don’t know what I would do without any of them. They’ve helped me so much, and I know I can never repay them for all they’ve done.
Today is Knox’s first doctor’s appointment. I made him one at the office Reagan and I went to as kids. Our doctor retired, but the office is nice and it’s close. I asked Reagan to go with me. Mom offered, but I told her to take a break. She’s going to be watching Knox for me during the day—something she has reassured me is an honor and a pleasure. And she might have hinted to Reagan that she needs to give her more grandkids. She and Dad are shopping today; Mom insists Knox have the comforts of home at their house as well.
“All right, little man, I think we’re good to go,” I tell my son after strapping him into his car seat. He’s snoozing away. I double-check the diaper bag: diapers, wipes, clothes, blanket, bottles and toys. Not that he plays with them, but hey, you never know when you might need it. Oh, and the binky. Gotta have the binky.
“Ready?” Reagan asks.
“Yeah, I think I have everything.” I grab the envelope from the counter that has all his paperwork already filled out. Gotta love the Internet.
Reagan grabs the diaper bag while I take Knox out to the truck and strap him in. In the past three days, I have never been more relieved that I purchased a crew cab truck. Not having a backseat would mean buying a new car, and that’s not something I want to worry about right now. I have enough on my plate as it is.
Reagan hops in the backseat, wearing a mile-wide grin. Knox has been getting lots of attention since he’s been home. I read online that if you hold them too much you spoil them, but when I brought this up to Mom and Reagan, they blew me off. I believe Mom’s exact words were, “You love them, Ridge. You can’t ever give them too much love.” I dropped it after that.
The ride to the office is quick. The lady at the desk looks impressed that the forms are filled out and ready to go. I run my own company; you can’t be successful half-assing everything.
“Since—” she looks at my forms “—Knox is under three months of age, we’ll take you on back to a room. We don’t like the smaller babies to be out here with the illnesses.”
Good policy. She meets us at the door and takes us to an exam room. “They’ll need him undressed down to his diaper,” she tells us then shuts the door.
Laying his blanket on the exam table, I lift him from his seat and he stretches. I let him work it out of his system before laying him on the blanket to undress him. This is still something I take my time with, as I don’t want to hurt him, even though Mom assures me that as long as I’m gentle and watch his head, I’ll be fine. Once he’s stripped down to his diaper, I wrap the blanket around him to keep him warm.
“This place hasn’t changed a bit,” Reagan comments.
I cradle Knox in my arms and survey the room. “Not a bit,” I agree.
“Knock, knock,” a female voice says before entering the room.
“Kendall?” Reagan greets her. “I didn’t know you worked here. I thought you were working over in Mason? How have you been?”
“Yeah, I transferred here about six months ago. It was time for a change, and I was ready to come home. Although, as soon as I did, my parents’ packed up and moved to Florida. How are you?”