"Are you sure about this?" Lucy asked for the umpteenth time that evening. "I mean, he's barely a teenager and Clara is the most temperamental little hurricane on two legs I've ever met..." In recent weeks, Clara seemed to have made it her mission to put the terrible in terrible twos...it seemed like a day didn't go by where the child wasn't delegated to time out at least once.
"I know," Emily agreed. She caught Lucy's gaze in the mirror as she attempted to put in her earrings. "But I also know he's the only babysitter we've got this side of the Atlantic and we haven't been on a date in literal months – and that's not likely to change with a newborn on the way."
She had to concede that that was, in fact, true... Using her hip to lightly push Emily out of the way of the mirror so she could adjust the dress she wore – the fifth one she'd tried on – over her belly, trying to decide whether or not she looked 'fat'...in spite of Emily's continued insistence that she did not. "And you really trust that he can handle her?"
Emily wrapped her arms around her from behind, stroking her belly where the little bean seemed to be using her womb as a bouncy castle. "Declan is the most mature and capable teenager I know. Besides, she'll be asleep most of the time anyway."
Leaning back in her arms, she smiled softly. "I do love having you all to myself for an evening. And any meal that doesn't involve macaroni and cheese."
"Don't lie – I've seen you inhale a box of macaroni and cheese," she teased.
"Pregnant..." she reminded.
Emily swept the hair away from Lucy's neck to kiss her there. "If you're not comfortable with leaving Declan in charge..."
She shook her head. "You trust him – that's all the endorsement I need." She turned her head to lean her forehead against Emily's. "So, Mrs. Prentiss...where are you taking me for this evening?"
Emily walked arm-in-arm with Lucy through the nearby botanical garden, enjoying the warm summer evening and the softly wafting scents of flowers in bloom. "Do you think we should have another baby?" she asked softly, leaning her head on Lucy's shoulder.
Lucy laughed quietly, turning her head to kiss Emily's temple. "Shouldn't we finish baking this little cupcake before thinking about another one?" she asked.
"Well, yeah, just... I guess I'm just thinking about the future," she explained. "I know you always talked about a big family and I want you to have that. I want to have that with you."
Lucy shrugged, dislodging Emily's head where it rested. "I also talked about taking tap classes or getting a dalmatian. They're just...ideas. Dreams. I've already got the perfect family."
Emily came to a stop, turned to meet Lucy's gaze. Taking both of Lucy's hands in hers, she squeezed gently. "You'd tell me if you weren't happy?"
"I would," she confirmed, "But I can't imagine ever being unhappy with you." She cocked her head, smiling softly as she stared into her wife's eyes. "You know that, right? You're my entire world – I want nothing more." She reached out to cup her cheek.
Emily smirked, unable to keep her mischievous nature at bay. "Sounds like someone's angling to get laid..."
She winked, one hand creeping along Emily's hip, a lascivious glint in her eyes.
The moment, though, was interrupted by Emily's phone ringing.
"Work?" Lucy asked, a hint of disappointment flashing across her face.
She shook her head, frowning. "It's Declan..." she whispered, putting the phone to her ear. After a brief conversation, she hung up the phone, looking concerned. "He thinks Clara's running a fever," she said slowly.
When they arrived home, Declan looked positively petrified. He paced the living room with Clara in his arms, bouncing her as she cried. The girl's face was beet red, a combination, no doubt, of the fever and the screaming.
The moment she spotted her mothers, Clara instantly reached for Emily, still wailing. Emily took the screaming toddler, sweeping her sweaty bangs off her forehead so she could feel her temperature.
"I'm so sorry, Emily!" Declan apologized profusely. "I tried everything: I gave her a bath, I gave her cold water to drink, I took off her sleeper...nothing seemed to cool her down and she just wouldn't stop screaming."
"This isn't your fault," Lucy assured Declan. "Toddlers get sick all the time, you did everything right."
He didn't seem convinced. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked, watching Emily take the child's temperature.
Emily nodded her assurance as she read the little screen on the thermometer. "We'll take her to the doctor to be sure, but I doubt there's any..." She trailed off suddenly, frowning.
Lucy raised a brow. "Em?"
"Did she have this rash when you dressed her this morning?" Emily asked, pointing to a red splotch on her thigh.
She shook her head.
Emily immediately began dressing Clara, moving almost frantically through the apartment. "We need to go to the hospital – I think she has Chicken Pox. I'll call you when..."
"I'm coming with you," Lucy cut her off.
"You can't," she argued. When Lucy opened her mouth to retort, Emily said, "You're pregnant – if you catch Chicken Pox..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Once Emily left with Clara, Lucy flopped back on the couch looking lost.
"I'm sorry," Declan mumbled again, looking ashamed. "I didn't know what to do..."
"You don't need to apologize," she insisted. "You're still a kid, not her parent. You're not expected to know everything."
He settled next to her on the couch. "So, you don't regret letting me stay here?"
She smiled softly at him. "Of course not. You're family."
He paused, thought. "What my father did to you..." he said slowly, "I... I'm sorry."
"Oh, Declan, no. You don't have to apologize for him – it had nothing to do with you. He... He wasn't... He didn't..." She sighed. She had nothing to offer him that wouldn't sound utterly trite.
He nodded. "I'm glad you kept her," he said, "Clara. She's... She's proof that something good could come from him."
"I'm glad too. Because it means I get to have you in my life too."