A/N For those wondering about the names, I decided to tap into Jane and Lisbon's Irish heritage. Names are always risky and highly varied in a reader's preferences, I know. I went with these.
Our youngest is starting to fuss, thinking of her breakfast, but still amused by the mobile over her crib. Probably talking to the fairy princesses as they drift by. Mick, the oldest, sleeps late because he stays up late, thinking and planning. No doubt he has pulled the pillow over his head to block out the noise, forgetting that his father will find the sleeping laptop he has just exposed. Eamon has almost certainly pulled a juice box from the fridge and gone to watch television. Emryl is the family alarm clock. My day is starting. It will be a beautiful Saturday.
The warm woman next to me stirs. I don't want to leave her side. Just burrow in with her to make slow love. When I feather kisses along her cheek, she turns her head to catch the last with her lips. When she opens her mouth to me, I take her, rubbing an impressive erection into her hip. She takes hold of me with a squeeze.
I give her an out if she needs it. "Emryl's fussing. I'll bring her to you."
"Then what are you doing with this at the ready? You, tease. Give it to me. "
I know we can be quick, so I help her back up to me, squeezing and massaging her open until I find her. Then she pulls my hand to her breast to tease the nipple as I bump her softly from behind. Teresa is a thrill in the morning. I never figured her for morning sex. She likes it gentle. I move my hand over her ribs and across her tender belly to sweeten the deal with my hand between her legs. Her breath catches and she changes the angle of her hips to let me go deeper. I curl into her to keep my hand busy and inventive, kissing her shoulders now. She shivers and I feel her tighten inside. Soon we are pulsing around each other. She sighs when I finally pull out of her.
She turns to me for a full embrace and says, "I love you, Patrick," in my ear.
This is the best part of my day.
Emryl breaks into a scream.
"I'll be right back with your daughter."
I stop in Mick's room to put the laptop back on his desk and don't even bother to scold. He would plead deafness due to pillow. He has to fill his mind, get his questions answered. He'll be the family genius. After me, of course.
When I swoop Emryl into my arms her face is crimson, her tiny mouth wide open and her eyes squeezed shut to power the siren blasting from her throat. I feel sure she has just started a new weather pattern with the bluster that has certainly reached the front sidewalk already. I kiss her cheek and whisper, "Daddy's here," into her ear and she stops to look at me before the next round. Her eyes are an intense green when she's emotional, like her mother's. My little emerald. She was a surprise, born at the beginning of her mother's change of life. Her daddy is fifty-one but would battle dragons for her.
She's screaming again when her mother takes her. Teresa's voice is a soothing commiseration, but Emryl is having none of it. There's that slip of the shoulder Teresa does that drops the strap of her nightgown enough to free her arm and bare her breast for another hungry mouth. She's a pro. I've watched it thousands of times now.
A little bow of a mouth opens and sucks the nipple in. She's so dainty when she eats. Mick's mouth is like mine. Wide. When he anchored to his mother's breast, it was an onslaught, making Teresa jump. If I was next to her, she would squeeze my hand until she eased into Mick's style. Eamon was easy and looked into his mother's eyes the entire feeding, entrancing her. She swore he was talking to her, reading her with his sea green eyes.
When I move closer, Teresa turns to give me the kiss she knows I seek.
"You going to Eamon?"
"Yes. The television has probably hypnotized him by now. I'll go see if I can break the trance and start some breakfast." I give my two ladies one last look. "I love you, Teresa."
"I know. It feels wonderful"
She always tells me how it feels that I love her. I am a happy man.
I stop again in Mick's room. He's got his pants down, fiddling just so with himself.
"All right, Mick, finish up. Time to get breakfast together. And wash your hands at the kitchen sink. I want to see you do it." It's been his favorite wake-up activity since he was in training pants. He comes by it honestly.
Eamon has just finished his juice box. He's still young enough that, in the privacy of his family, he loves to be scooped into my lap to use me as a comfy chair as we watch his favorite shows together. He tells me what they're doing and what it means. One program has characters that he's sure must be boyfriend and girlfriend although he says it's not official, he just knows. My little shipper. A program ends and I enlist him to assist in preparing breakfast.
"Pancakes?"
"Pancakes, it is. The cooks decide, right?"
He nods. "With strawberries."
"Only if we have whipped cream, too."
He jumps out of my lap and runs for the kitchen, "Come on, Daddy! Everybody will be hungry!"
Everybody. I am a well-loved man. Part of an "everybody."
Teresa pads in with Emryl sleeping in her arms and carefully puts the baby in the highchair, changed and dressed in something with little cottontail bunnies. Could anything be sweeter than a baby girl's clothes? Her mother's touch is so delicate that Emryl doesn't wake until Eamon drops the griddle when he pulls it out of the low cupboard. She doesn't cry, just alerts and opens her big round eyes to see what's going on. She smiles at her brother and vigourously waves her arms and slaps the tray of her chair.
Mick comes in. I catch his eye with a meaningful reminder and he goes to wash his hands.
"Plenty of soap, Mick."
Teresa flicks her eyes to me with a smirk. I roll mine and nod. She comes close, pinches my waist and whispers, "He's just like you."
I can't deny it. Our children are us. Teresa. Me. And many, many facets that are completely their own.
When breakfast is ready, we all sit at the table and dig in. Emryl mauls a strawberry. Her lips would be stained beautifully if her chin wasn't included.
Mick uses a fork well, now, and steals dollops of whipped cream from his brother's plate. Eamon never notices but spontaneously falls on his brother with a great hug saying, "I love you Mick. You're my best brother!"
Mick rolls his eyes with a grin, looks at me and pats his brother on the back. "You're my best brother, too, Eamon."
Watching our children, mischievous, kind and each one bright as a new penny, makes me feel warm and happy all over. I reach an arm towards Teresa and she's already reaching for me, tears in her eyes. I kiss her and tell her I love her madly. She says, "I'll see you at naptime."
Mick rolls his eyes again. "You guys . . . " But he smiles so big I can see all his teeth.
The love in my family is a gift I'll never deserve. It heals me every day and shows me my worth. I like to think every bit of it comes from Teresa, but I've learned that we all, even the tiniest of us, weave it together. It makes us unbreakable. The Janes.