Chapter 122

Relapse wasn't a concern for Bellamy. It wasn't something he was letting himself dwell on or letting linger in the back of his mind, because the determination he felt to stay away from alcohol was a lot stronger than any pangs of temptation. Nothing was ever going to make him drink again, ever. Stress and anxiety, on the other hand, that was all still there. He refused to be overwhelmed by it, though. He was going to manage it.

It helped to stick to his routines, although he was able to change them up a bit. One of the biggest changes was his medication. He finally got down to only one of them, the anti-anxiety one, which he'd already accepted he might end up taking for the rest of his life. Per Dr. Wallace's recommendation, they scaled back on the dose, though, and he felt like he was doing fine with that. No noticeable changes. He still attended therapy once a week, and Clarke came along with him one time so they could share the good news about where they were at in the adoption process. Dr. Wallace was happy for them, and all in all, that ended up being the most feel-good therapy session Bellamy had ever attended.

Of course, every time Pike called either him or Clarke, Bellamy couldn't help but worry that something might have gone wrong, that maybe their lawyer had just received word that Finn wanted to revoke his consent. Because he could still do that right up until the end. Those phone calls always made his anxiety spike, but it went right back down after Pike started talking. It usually just ended up being a call to keep them informed about what he was doing for them and who he was talking to. There was a lot of red tape to cut through to get a court hearing scheduled sooner than later, but Pike assured them that he was trying to cut through as much of it as he could. It wasn't unusual for it to take weeks like this, and unfortunately, it could even take months. But his goal, he said, was to get Avery adopted before the end of the year.

To be honest, Bellamy didn't understand why it took so long to do something that, in his mind, was so obviously the right thing to do. But he knew he had no choice but to wait it out, try to be patient. So he didn't spend his time with Avery worrying about whether or not the process was going to continue as smoothly as it had started. He played with her. He helped Clarke get her started on a few solid foods. He listened to her babble up a storm and tried to pick out any more specific words. Regular dad stuff.

He and Clarke sometimes liked to lie in bed at night with her in between them. If she was tired, Clarke would sing her to sleep. If she was energetic, they'd let her crawl around and pick at the bedspread. If she was hungry, they'd bottle feed her. It usually ended up being that last one.

"It's getting late," Clarke said. "I should go put her to bed."

"Give it a couple minutes." He kept the bottle tilted into her mouth, careful not to tilt it too far. "She's still chuggin' away."

Clarke pouted. "Is it wrong that I hate that she likes formula?"

"No." He did feel bad for his wife. The breastfeeding days were virtually non-existent at this point. She'd gotten over it, but he could tell she still missed it. "She likes it a lot better than those soupy fruits you tried to give her."

"Pureed," Clarke corrected. "She ate a couple bites. 'cause you're a big girl, aren't you, Avery? Yeah, you are."

Avery took her mouth off the bottle, looking over at Clarke as though to indicate that she was full and didn't want any more, so Bellamy set the bottle aside.

"Who's that?" Clarke asked, pointing over to Bellamy. "Who's that over there?"

With a bit of drool coming out of her mouth, Avery looked over at Bellamy, smiled like she usually did, and cooed, "Da-da."

So smart, Bellamy thought proudly. So freaking smart. "And who's that?" he asked, pointing back to Clarke. "You know who that is?" He thought it might confuse her to have to look in so many different directions so quickly, but she looked back at her mom, opened her and closed her mouth a few times like she was trying to say something, and laughed when Clarke made a silly face at her.

"Who's that?" he asked again, trying to get it out of her. The M sound was a lot harder, though, so he wasn't sure if . . .

"Ma-ma."

Whoa. He'd heard that.

Clarke sat straight up. "Bellamy. Did she just-"

"Yeah, she did." There was no mistaking it. That wasn't just a babble. That was a whole new word. "Say it again, sweetheart," he urged. "Say Ma-ma."

"Ma-ma," Avery either repeated or just mimicked him. Either way, the word came out of her mouth. Again.

"Oh my god, I'm so relieved!" Clarke said. "I really wanted to be her second word." She lay back down, tickled Avery a bit, and said, "Wow, you are just a talking machine now, aren't you? What're you gonna say next?"

"Something simple like 'yeah' or 'no,'" Bellamy predicted. Although, there was still the possibility for doughnut.

"You keep us guessing," Clarke said, stroking Avery's hair. That was starting to come in thicker now, too. Sort of a dirty blonde color, or light brown. Pretty, just like the rest of her.

"I just thought of something," he said. "Imagine what it's gonna be like the first time she says 'I love you.'"

Clarke inhaled sharply, put her hand to her chest, and started to tear up.

"No, don't cry," he said.

"I can't help it. Just thinking about it . . ." She waved her hand in front of her face as if to wave the tears away. "Maybe we should make Murphy film another documentary of us and hope he gets that on tape."

He chuckled, not sure he wanted a camera following them around all the time. But if Murphy just happened to be filming when she said those three words for the first time, it'd be perfect. "I just keep telling myself, even when she turns into an angry teenager and yells at us and says she hates us . . ." He trailed off, dreading the thought of that.

"Oh, I did that to my dad," Clarke said regretfully.

"She's still gonna love us. Even then. 'cause we're good parents."

She smiled and said, "Yeah, we are, aren't we?"

"We're good parents." He leaned across Avery to give his wife a kiss. Once they put their baby down in her crib for the night, he'd kiss her a little more.

...

"Happy Thanksgiving!" Raven exclaimed when Clarke opened the door. She was holding a little turkey stuffed animal in front of her face and made a ridiculous gobbling sound that sounded more like a dying turkey than anything else. Which, for that holiday, was morbidly appropriate.

"You're a couple days early, aren't you?" Clarke said, stepping aside.

Raven lowered the stuffed animal and came into the house. "Yeah, but I have to be. Murphy and I are heading out to visit his parents for a few days, so . . ."

From the couch, Bellamy asked, "Murphy has parents?"

"Yeah. Weird ones," Raven said. "That's why he never talks about them."

"Weirder than him?" Clarke couldn't help but picture alien conspiracy theorists or something.

"I know, hard to believe. They're actually kind of funny, though," Raven said. "Anyway, this is for Avery." She walked over to the play mat and set the stuffed animal down in front of her niece. "Because even though she already has all the toys a baby could want, why not add one more to the collection? There you go, sweetie," she said. "Play nice with it."

"She's probably gonna chew it up," Bellamy informed her.

"What, like a dog?"

"Yeah, that's where we're at right now. Everything goes in her mouth."

"Huh." Raven sauntered back over to Clarke and joked, "Sounds like my freshman year of college."

"Whoa," Bellamy said.

"Kidding," Raven told him, but when she got close to Clarke, she mumbled, "I'm not kidding."

"I know you're not," Clarke said. Raven had done her fair share of exploring in between Zeke and Murphy, but there was nothing wrong with that.

"Hey, so, I'm also here because I think I've got some good news for you," her friend announced. "Wanna hear it?"

"Always," Clarke replied, taking a seat on the arm of the recliner.

"Well, I was driving by Finn's house on the way here, and there was a For Rent sign out front," Raven revealed. "His roommate—oh, what's his name? Molecule or whatever?"

"Atom," Clarke corrected.

"Right. Atom was sitting on the porch, so I got out and asked him if they were moving, and he said he wasn't, but two of the guys who live there were."

Clarke sat up straighter, immediately liking the sound of that. "Is Finn one of them?"

"Yep." Raven grinned. "NYC-bound with a new girlfriend is what I heard."

Clarke exchanged a look with Bellamy, who was already smiling. "We were hoping for that," he said.

"Oh my god, this is really good," Clarke said. "If we can just get that court date scheduled, we can just get this done. Hopefully it doesn't end up being too far off."

"I think you've got reason to feel optimistic," Raven said. "Atom says Finn really likes this girl, so . . . apparently it's serious. Anyway, figured you'd wanna know."

"We do. Thank you," Clarke said. She stood up and gave her friend a hug. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving," Raven repeated. "Early."

Bellamy got up off the couch and came over to give Raven a hug as well. "Have a good time with your weird boyfriend and his weird parents," he said.

"Oh, I will. Bye."

"Bye." Clarke waited until Raven had left to let her full excitement out. First, she and Bellamy just smiled at each other, but she couldn't contain how good this made her feel, so she squealed like a little girl and jumped into his arms. Finally, after everything they'd been through, things seemed to be working themselves out.

...

Everyone showed up for Thanksgiving at Abby's, including Jake and Alyssa. Clarke said it was the first Thanksgiving her parents had spent together since she was seventeen. Bellamy could tell it was a really big deal for her. Her family had come back together that year. All because of Avery.

Watching Octavia and Lincoln play with their niece really made Bellamy want to say something to O about her pregnancy scare, maybe just remind her to be careful, but he'd promised Clarke he wouldn't say anything, so he just sat back on the couch and watched her hopeless attempt at getting the baby to say her name.

"Say Aunt," Octavia instructed. Avery made a noise that definitely didn't sound anything about that word, but Octavia accepted it anyway. "Oc-ta-vi-a," she pronounced slowly. "Octavia." She got no response to that one, though. "Come on now, that's your middle name!"

"I don't think she's at that point yet, O," Bellamy told her. His little girl was smart, but four syllable names were pretty advanced.

"Oh, I'll get her there," Octavia vowed. She started over with the word aunt, but Avery had already lost interest and was chewing on her turkey toy now.

Beside him, his mom took a few photos, then put her phone away and looked around at the expansive living room they were in. "I can never get over how big and nice this house is," she said.

"I know. I married into money, Mom," he joked.

"Well, I'm glad Abby's been able to help you out."

"Yeah." He'd been able to pay some of it back. The nice thing about his coaching job was that the salary was year-round, even though the season wasn't, because he still had off-season work to do. "Did you know it costs five hundred dollars just to file for adoption?" he told her.

"That's ridiculous."

"I know. Worth every penny, but . . ."

"Bellamy," Clarke called to him from the kitchen, "can you come lift the turkey?"

"Sure." He got up off the couch, pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows as he headed into the kitchen, and did an exaggerated flex of his muscles once he was in front of the oven.

"You're such a dork," Clarke said.

As he lifted the heavy roaster out of the oven and set it down atop the stove, he mumbled to her, "I'm so glad we aren't hosting this year."

"Me, too," she whispered back. "Let's never do that again."

"Works for me." Showing up and eating were two things he was really good at.

"Oh, it looks good, doesn't it? I'd say we did a great job," Abby said. "Alright, everyone, go wash up. We're almost ready."

When Bellamy was sitting at the table, surrounded by family, he couldn't help but marvel at where he was, who he was with. It could have ended in an instant if that car crash had been worse. Clarke and Avery could have been there without him. It could've ended up being a lot more somber of a holiday.

They went around the table, starting with Kane, and said things they were thankful for. Everyone was pretty succinct, but Bellamy felt like he'd have a hard time narrowing things down. He could've missed out on this. Not even all that long ago, he'd missed out on everything.

...

Bellamy had to throw a little muscle into it to steer his gondola back into its spot at the loading dock. They weren't exactly the easiest things to maneuver. Luckily, he was used to fitting things into tight spaces.

"Oh, I didn't want that to end," the woman on board, the grandma, said. "That was wonderful!"

"Yes, thank you so much," the girl he presumed to be her granddaughter added, flashing him a bright smile.

In his best Italian accent, he said, "For a beautiful girl like you, anytime. In Italian, I call you bella ragazza."

"Oh my goodness," she said, blushing a bit. "That's so sweet. I love your accent. Well, I guess it's just an accent to us. It's normal here."

"Oh, say something else," the grandmother urged.

His Italian vocabulary was still pretty limited, but he had a few good standbys he could always rely on. "Uh . . . ti adoro," he said, already envisioning the tips as he tied his boat up.

"I think that means 'I adore you,'" the granddaughter translated.

"Si, si," he confirmed.

"Oh, my." Grandma was a pretty funny old lady. She openly fanned herself and said, "Well, we adoro you, too. Come on, Stacey, let's give him a big tip."

Stacey? he registered. Well, that was just fucking perfect, wasn't it? Every hot girl he didn't really know was a Stacey.

Stacey reached into her fanny pack and pulled out a mix of dollars and euros. He liked it all. "Oh, grazie, grazie," he said, pocketing it so he could help them out of the gondola. The grandma almost fell, but he caught her, and he caught Stacey giving his arm muscles the eye in the process. "Ciao, bellas," he said, waving at them as they headed off. The granddaughter had some junk in the trunk, though, so he called back to her, "Hey, Stacey!" and accidentally sounded a bit too American. She spun back around, and he laid the accent on thick again. "Arrivederci?" He grinned. "Arrivederci." Yeah, he'd find a way to see her later. There were lots of girls he gave gondola rides to that he later gave other rides to, and they always liked the other rides even better.

He needed a bit of a break before taking the next riders, so it worked out that his phone vibrated. He could never have the ringer turned on while he was working, because gondola rides were all about the atmosphere, and a phone call would disrupt that. He saw that his sister was calling, so he answered it with, "Hey, brat."

"Hey, loser," she shot back. "What're you doing?"

"Flirting with tourists."

"Do you ever work?"

"Yeah, I'm workin' right now." Just like waiting tables, he made most of his money on this job by laying on the charm, being flattering, making the people who interacted with him feel like they were super special. If he didn't do that, he wouldn't be able to afford his rent, and he'd have to move on down the street, where a guy had just been murdered in an alley. No thanks. "What about you?" he asked her, doubtful that she was doing any more work than he was.

"Ugh," she groaned. "I hate college already. I wanna drop out like you did."

"No, don't do that." He hated that he'd set that precedent for her. There he was, the first person in their family to ever go to college, and he'd only made it through a year. It just hadn't been for him, though. But hopefully it ended up being a good experience for her.

"I want to," she whined. "Why can't I?"

"Because then you'll end up faking an Italian accent and being a gondolier," he said. "Do you really want that?"

"Sounds better than this," she grumbled. "Only two weeks in, and already I have a hundred pages of this boring book to read, an essay to write, stupid math homework to do . . ."

"Hey, don't worry, you got this," he cut her off. "And if you need help, just go to the tutoring center."

"Is that what you used to do?"

"Yeah." He wondered what Gina was up to these days. Hopefully she was doing well. She must have graduated. Hell, maybe she was married and had kids by now. "Just a word of advice, though: Don't screw your tutor," he told her.

"Ew."

"It just fucks everything up." When it came to UCF, his biggest regret—besides the obvious one—was that he'd ruined his friendship with her. He hadn't managed to keep in touch with Gabriel, either, or anyone he'd known out in California, or up in Canada, or down in Mexico. In fact, even here, he had acquaintances more than friends. There were people he hung out with every weekend, but when he inevitably packed up and moved to some other country—France was on his radar because of the nude beaches—he'd forget all about them, and they'd forget about him, too.

"Okay, noted," she said. "No screwing the tutor. Any other advice?"

He wanted to tell her not to go to any frat parties, or to not drink one drop if she did choose to go to one. To never leave her drink unattended. To always have a friend with her at all times. But they'd already had that conversation numerous times, so now that she was there and he was here . . . he just had to trust that she'd take care of herself. He was too far away to take care of her. "Maybe just don't screw anyone," he suggested, opting to keep the conversation lighthearted. "That'd put my mind at ease."

"Uh-uh," she said defiantly. "Nope. I'm hoping I'll get a boyfriend this year. Maybe someone older, more mature."

"No." That sounded bad. Older guys would just pressure her, and there was no guarantee they'd be more mature.

"Deal with it," she said. "You might be able to scare him off if you were here, but you know, you're across the ocean, so . . ."

"Yeah." He looked around at the old buildings, the cracked pavement, and of course, the water that he spent almost every day on. He actually didn't mind the job. Getting to interact with people was kind of fun. But he saw a lot of families, and it always just reminded him how long it'd been since he'd seen his. It'd been over a year now. Sure, there were a lot of phone calls, but there were also missed holidays and . . . even O's graduation. He'd missed her graduation because he'd just drilled it into himself that he could never go back.

"How long are you gonna stay over there?" Octavia asked him quietly.

He sighed. "I don't know." The only reason he'd gone to Europe anyway was that he'd gotten bored in Mexico. So he'd just put his hand on a map and pointed to a random place. He'd booked a flight the next day and been in Venice ever since.

"Well . . . hopefully not forever," she said, sounding sad. She didn't say it a whole lot, but it was obvious she missed him. Their phones kept them close, in a way, but . . . not close enough to hug.

"Anyway, I gotta go," she said. "Talk to you later, loser. Bye."

"Bye." He put his phone back in his pocket, not sure how he was going to muster up the enthusiasm for more boat riders now. She wanted to see him again, to see him in person and not through a screen. And he wanted that, too. Not just with her, but with his mom. Sometimes he felt like he'd abandoned her, and after everything she'd done for him growing up, she deserved a better son than that. Plus, there were people back in Arkadia who had been real friends once, even though he'd lost touch with them over the years. Miller used to be his best friend, and now, he didn't even know what was going on with the guy. Was he open and out with everyone? Did he finally have a boyfriend? Did he ever still play football, because . . . that was another thing Bellamy missed.

Italian people were generally loud, but big families were always the loudest, and one of them caught his attention while he was standing there, lost in his thoughts. There were so many of them at an outdoor restaurant a few feet up ahead of him. They took up multiple tables and all looked alike. Grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, kids, a baby . . . just generation after generation, all of them spending this quality time together, all of them laughing and talking and eating. One of the mothers looked like she was pregnant again, so that family was just going to keep getting bigger. Louder. And more jovial. No matter how much they expanded, they were probably always going to come together for afternoons like this, because . . . that was what mattered. Each other.

He felt envious. He watched them for several minutes instead of doing what he usually did, flashing girls a smile to lure the onto his gondola. He wanted to see what they all had, because even though his family just wasn't that big, he wondered if it was possible for him to ever have that, too. Sure, he'd been having fun while he was there, but ultimately, he was alone. Just like he'd been alone in all the other places he'd lived. He hung out with people, and he hooked up with women, but nothing felt permanent or long-lasting. Because nothing ever was. But there were people back home who still were permanent fixtures in his life. His mom. His sister. No matter how much time they were apart, they were always going to be a big part of his life. There were people there he wanted to see again. People he'd never forget. People he hadn't been able to stop thinking about for years now. There were . . .

There were people. And there was also one person.

Slowly, he took his phone back out, hit the button to call his sister up, and waited for her to answer. If she didn't, he'd just leave a voicemail, but since he felt like he was in the process of going through an unexpected life revelation, he really wanted to actually talk.

"What?" she answered.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Because once he said it, there would be no more Europe in his future. Only a long flight back across the Atlantic.

"Bellamy?" she said.

It'd been five years, but it was time. He missed those people way too much to make it six. "I think I wanna come home," he told her, surprised how liberating it felt to say those words. Something about small town Arkadia was just calling to him. He felt like he had to go back.

...

"Bellamy, finish us off," Abby said. "What're you thankful for?"

"Oh, uh . . ." Being the last one, it was hard not to rehash what the others had said. "A lot of the same things, obviously. My family, which includes everyone here. You guys all mean a lot to me. All of you. But especially the two girls sittin' next to me." He smiled at Clarke, then at Avery, who was perched atop her mother's lap. "They saved my life. They make every day worth living."

"Oh my goodness," he heard somebody—sounded like Alyssa—whisper.

"Wedding vows 2.0," Octavia remarked.

"Well, they do," he said. "And . . . not to get too heavy or anything, but my sobriety. I'm definitely thankful for that."

"Definitely," Clarke agreed. She leaned over, kissed him, and whispered, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he said.

"Enough of that now," Octavia said. "I don't wanna be grossed out before I eat."

"Your face grosses me out," Bellamy retorted.

"Yours, too."

"Stop it," their mom warned, like they were children again.

"Alright then. Shall we eat?" Abby suggested.

"Yes, I'm starving," Octavia said.

"Octavia, be polite," their mom said.

"Since when is that rude?"

Bellamy wasn't trying to be rude, either, but his phone rang, and since it was from Pike, he felt like he couldn't ignore it. "I'm sorry, I gotta take this," he said, getting up from the table. He made his way into the living room, where he could talk quietly, and said, "Hey, Pike." The nerves started flaring again, just like they always did. But would Pike really call on a holiday if he had bad news?

"Bellamy, happy Thanksgiving," his lawyer said. "I'm so sorry if I'm interrupting anything."

"Oh, no, that's alright." If there was any news, he wanted to hear it, regardless of what day it was. "You're working today?"

"I work every day," Pike said. "No, I technically have the day off, but I found out some good news, and I just couldn't wait to share it with you."

Good news, Bellamy noted as his nerves subsided. That meant this was a good call.

Pike drew it out for a moment, then excitedly asked, "How's December 15th sound?"

It sounded like it was only about two weeks away, which was so much better than January 15th or February 15th or anything he'd been bracing himself for. "For a court date?" he said.

"Yeah."

His birthday. He couldn't think of a more perfect present. "That sounds great," he said.

"Alright, I'll confirm it then. Happy Thanksgiving, Bellamy."

"Happy Thanksgiving," he echoed, a little bit stunned. He ended the call and headed back to a table that had grown pretty quiet as they all tried to listen in. "We got a court date," he announced, and that was enough for each one of the to throw their hands in the air and cheer.