Here's the thing: he's a badass. And it took him a while to figure this out, but there's a difference between being a badass and being just an ass. Part of being a badass is being a man, and part of being a man is taking care of the people you love.
"We're getting married." He tells her.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. We're getting married. I'm not having another bastard baby."
"That's a terrible thing to say."
"S'how I feel."
"So basically you're just trying to protect your reputation. This has nothing to do with me at all."
"Fuck, it has everything to do with you! You're mine and I'm yours. Why the hell wouldn't we get married?"
Noah is a good husband and a fantastic father. Right from the very beginning he's taken care of her. She knows that she doesn't need a man to take care of her. She would have been just fine all on her own, but sometimes it's nice to be able to rely on him.
She heard stories when she was pregnant with their daughter about fathers that wouldn't deal with their children until they turned five and could carry on full conversations or that were disappointed when they got a daughter instead of a son. Then there were the dads that couldn't be relied upon for any sort of support, fathers that were in essence another child. She worried about Noah with his love of Mario Kart and his fight club.
He's been quiet since they were told they're having a little girl. He had said that he didn't care what they had as long as the baby was healthy, but she's beginning to wonder if he really did want a son but didn't want to hurt her feelings.
This morning he left the house before she was even awake. On Saturdays they usually go for breakfast before running errands together and then coming home and either watching a movie or catching up on any shows they missed during the week. Even before they got married, when they were living in different apartments, they always spent the day together.
He comes home around 3:30 with an SUV full of stuff. She doesn't know what to make of the mountain of boxes and bags piled inside their front door.
"I didn't know how you felt about pink. Like you wear it, but I didn't know if you had like some feminist reason for not wanting it around the baby. So I picked, like, a dark pink. And purple. In case you don't like the pink."
"What are you talking about?"
"Paint." He's looking at her like she should know what he's talking about. "For the baby's room."
"What?"
"Well, I figure now we know what we're havin', we can get started. I got a ton of cool shit." He rummages around in a bag and pulls out a football, a Barbie, and a stuffed Muppet. "They make everything in pink. Pink football. And I know there's like an argument about girls and Barbies but I think it's a bunch of bullshit and as long as we like make sure she has a healthy body whatever she'll be fine. And this little Sesame Street chick. She like does magic."
"You're not mad." It's not quite a question, not quite a statement. He notices the tears in her eyes.
"About what?"
"That we're having a girl."
"I told you I didn't care what we had. She's just gotta be healthy and happy."
He's determined to be the best father he can be. They've got two kids with a third on the way. Their daughter, Sophie, is six, and their son, Max, is three. And he's got a feeling about the little one. It's gonna be a girl. He can feel it.
Being a dad is all about the little things. He changes diapers, does feedings and baths. He helps with homework. He's there for playtime, but also for discipline.
The most badass feeling in the world is knowing that there's three people (four) that depend on him. He loves parking in his driveway and hearing his wife or one of his kids yell out, "Daddy's home."
Today it's Max. He's waiting at the screen door, with his little face and hands pressed against the glass. He scoops Max up as he comes through the door, tucking him under his arm and laughing at his son's squeal of delight.
He heads into the kitchen where Rachel is working on dinner and Sophie's doing homework. His wife gives him a kiss and his daughter looks up from her homework and says, "Hi, Daddy," before going back to it. She's very serious about homework. It's first grade but he thinks it's awesome that she's so smart, so Rachel.
He helps Rachel finish dinner and helps Sophie with her math. While Rachel sets the table, he makes sure Max and Sophie wash their hands.
They eat dinner like they always do. Sophie sits next to him and Max next to Rachel, each responsible for one child. Sophie tells them about a reading contest at her school. Max tells them about the difference between real and "maple leaf". He, Rachel and Sophie just about kill themselves laughing, while Max just looks confused.
He can't think of anything more badass than this life he's got now.