Author's Note: Some more important conversations. I only hope they satisfy.

Then Came Love

Chapter 12

Castle retreated into his office and dropped heavily down into his chair, his eyes finding the framed picture of himself and Alexis that sat on his desk. It had been taken a couple years ago the last time they'd gone to Coney Island and he loved the picture because Alexis had been laughing hysterically in a way she didn't often do, over something he'd said (he no longer remembered what it had been), her entire face alight. His heart clenched. God, he hated being at odds with Alexis.

It didn't help that he knew Alexis was right. Alexis was mature and responsible, far more than he had been at her age, and arguably more than he was now. And yes, he was aware that this situation with Beckett—sleeping with her and not ensuring protection was taken care of—was not a shining example of responsible behavior.

He sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and found himself pulling up Beckett's name to call her without consciously deciding to do so.

"Hey, Castle."

Oddly, it was only when he heard her familiar, crisp greeting that he actually realized why he'd called her, that he wanted to talk to her. Not only because there were very few people he could talk to about anything related to Alexis—no, scratch that, there were only his mother or Beckett herself—but aside from that, he wanted to talk to her. He wasn't sure exactly when she had become the first person he wanted to talk to about anything but somehow, she was. He trusted her, trusted her judgment and her good sense, and he liked knowing her opinion about things, enjoyed her wit and humor.

"Hi, Beckett."

"What's wrong?"

He blinked. He thought he'd sounded normal enough. "Are you telepathic now? How do you know something's wrong?" And felt a little better just at the thought of Beckett being telepathic; if she had a superpower, it would definitely be telepathy.

"Telepathy isn't real, Castle. I can tell from your voice. You sound like you're moping."

He could picture the little roll of her eyes as she disavowed telepathy and felt his spirits lift fractionally. He had no idea why her characteristic skepticism tickled him but it did. (There might be something wrong with him.) "Excuse you. I'm a grown man and grown men do not mope. I'm brooding, there's a difference."

"Uh huh. Well, why are you brooding then?" She put the faintest sarcastic emphasis on the word, brooding.

"I talked to Alexis, told her about the baby."

"Oh."

He swore he could hear her slight wince and then wondered when he'd become so familiar with her expressions to be able to picture them from only the tone of her voice.

"Was she upset?"

"She said I was a hypocrite for telling her to be more cautious about Dylan while, at the same time, I, well, you know."

"I'm sorry, Castle."

"For what? None of this is your fault."

She hesitated and then responded, her voice quiet, "But I was careless."

He made a rueful face, even knowing she couldn't see him. "I had as much to do with it as you did so this isn't on you." He sighed a little, briefly shutting his eyes. "Anyway, Alexis is upset with me about this. And she has a point. Alexis has never been impulsive and she is serious and responsible. And I'm hardly a poster child for maturity and have gotten into more than my share of trouble." It occurred to him that maybe parenting in general was a sort of exercise in hypocrisy, as all parents tried to instill good behavior in their kids while not always living up to their own precepts.

"She's not right, Castle. You have your fair share of faults," she added with gentle teasing, "but hypocrisy isn't one of them."

Amazingly, a little spark of amusement at her mild tease brightened his mood. "Thank you, Beckett, you're too kind," he drawled.

There was a brief silence and then she went on, speaking a little slower than was usual for her, trying to put her thoughts into words. "I don't think it's hypocritical of you to try to protect Alexis, even if you might have taken it a bit far. Parents are human too; they're allowed to have lives of their own and make mistakes. It doesn't disqualify them from trying to give advice to their kids."

He didn't know why he was surprised at Beckett's understanding and her wisdom but somehow he was. She never stopped surprising him with her mind, the depths of her heart. He loved that about her. "If you're practicing to sound like a mom, it's working," he managed, trying to sound light, because the alternative was blurting out something stupid like telling her he loved her.

There was another pause that stretched out too long. "Beckett?"

"Yeah, Castle." He heard her clear her throat a little. "I'm here, just being silly, that's all."

"You're never silly. What is it?"

She hesitated and he belatedly wondered if she was going to answer. Beckett was not, he reminded himself for the millionth time, someone who shared her thoughts easily. And then she did. "I—you called me a mom."

"Yes," he agreed bemusedly, "well, you sort of are one or, at least, you will be one."

She let out a small huff. "I told you it's silly and don't you dare laugh. I just… hadn't thought of it in that way, hadn't thought of myself as being a mom."

There was an odd note in her voice, an almost imperceptible hitch of her breath, as she said the word, mom, and it abruptly reminded him that Beckett had other reasons to react strongly to the word, the title. Oh.

"I don't think it's silly at all. Becoming a parent is one of those things that's hard to wrap your head around when it's in the future. No matter how much I'd thought about it and planned for it, I remember that the reality of being a dad didn't really sink in until the first time I held Alexis. It was the most amazing moment of my life. She was so tiny and so perfect… and so completely dependent on me, needed me so much. It was terrifying and exhilarating, all at the same time." His voice lowered, softened, at the surge of emotion at the memory.

He remembered the moment so vividly, as if it had been just yesterday rather than 15 years ago. He remembered the colorful pattern of teddy bears on the nurse's scrubs when she'd first brought the newborn Alexis out to him—Rochelle was the nurse's name—could picture Rochelle's rather homely face, remembered thinking, absurdly, that she didn't resemble the proverbial stork that delivered babies at all. (He supposed he'd been half-delirious from tiredness and emotion.)

And then Alexis had been placed in his arms, cleaned up and closely wrapped in a baby blanket—and his life had never been the same. She had been the most beautiful, amazing thing he had ever seen, his baby girl, with her big blue eyes, the golden fuzz of her hair, only showing a tinge of the red her hair would eventually become, her tiny perfect hands down to her even tinier fingernails (and he remembered thinking her fingernails were practically a miracle in themselves, although everything about her had been a miracle). She had been so small, fitting in the curve of his arm, and such a slight weight. Six pounds, 4 ounces—such a small weight especially compared to the enormity of the responsibility. She'd seemed so fragile and he didn't think he'd ever been more aware of his height and strength as he had at that moment, knowing this tiny baby was so dependent on him. His baby girl, his to nurture and protect. He'd been almost dizzy with the rush of emotion, an intensity and depth of love he'd never felt before.

And oh lord—he was going to have another baby, he inwardly reeled yet again.

It occurred to him belatedly that he'd never talked about that first time holding Alexis or the emotions he'd felt with anyone before. It had been too… personal, too private a moment and the only person he could conceivably have talked to about it would have been Meredith, as Alexis's mother, but even then, Meredith hadn't exactly been his first choice of confidante. Anyway, at the time and even afterwards, Meredith's first concern had been herself; his own emotions would not have particularly interested her. He supposed he could have talked to his mother but he generally did not talk to his mother about his emotions, not the deeper ones.

There was a pause in which Beckett didn't respond and he suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable. He wished desperately that he could see her expression right now but obviously, over the phone, it wasn't possible but without being able to see her, he couldn't even begin to guess what she was thinking.

Had he said too much, made too personal an admission? An unwanted confidence could be a burden on the listener, he knew, something that hadn't occurred to him until now because he trusted Beckett but if Beckett didn't trust him in the same way—and Beckett herself was a private person—she might not be comfortable with this kind of personal conversation.

And then she responded, in an oddly controlled voice that betrayed how hard she was trying to sound relatively casual. "You're a good dad, Castle. And as for sounding like a mom, it's because I was basically repeating something similar my mom once said to me. She told me that she gave me advice because she had made mistakes too and wanted me to have the benefit of her experience."

Oh. Her reassurance that he was a good dad went straight to his heart, acted as a balm to the niggling doubts he always felt about if he was a good enough parent for Alexis, especially as the only one she had. And as if the reassurance wasn't more than enough, it was the first time Beckett had talked about her mom in any context apart from her death, the first time she had shared an actual, specific memory of her mom. And it didn't take any special insight to know that Beckett did not talk easily about her mom with anyone. Knowing her, he guessed possibly the only person she really talked to about her mom was her dad.

Until now. And he recognized it for the gesture, the acknowledgment, it was. He had revealed something personal to her and now, she had essentially met him halfway with a confidence of her own. It occurred to him that Beckett did trust him now, even where her mom was concerned, in spite of how he had looked into her mom's case. She, who didn't trust easily, trusted him.

This might be the most personal conversation they had ever had. The kind of conversation he couldn't imagine having with anyone else. When had she become not just a friend but his best friend, because that was what she was, wasn't she? A real friend in a way he hadn't had in a long time, someone who wasn't interested in his money or his fame or his connections, someone who didn't have an agenda where he was concerned, someone he trusted. It was an odd, strangely backwards sort of revelation but then again, he supposed it was appropriate since his and Beckett's relationship up until this point had not exactly proceeded along normal lines. So it was almost fitting to realize she had become his best friend after realizing he was in love with her.

"Your mom sounds like she was very wise," he finally said, cautiously. She might have been the one to refer to her mom but he didn't know how comfortable she would be with his talking about her.

"She was," she agreed quietly but then cleared her throat and went on with a change of tone, "But we weren't talking about her. We were talking about Alexis. I hope she's not too upset."

And that was clearly the end of the personal conversation. He wasn't surprised and tried not to feel disappointed. It would be too much to expect Beckett to suddenly become more comfortable with personal conversations or talking about her mom. It would take time. Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey—or in this case, slowly, slowly, catchy Beckett. He made a mental note never to put that thought into words in Beckett's hearing; it would be suicide-by-Beckett to do so.

He grimaced. "I think Alexis was more shocked than angry so I hope that when she has time to get over the surprise, she'll calm down." At least, he hoped so. He knew his daughter and he did trust her, trusted her heart and her thoughtfulness, so he had to believe that when Alexis calmed down, she would begin to understand. Alexis had gotten upset with him before over other things—mostly in the past few years since she'd become a teenager—but she had never stayed mad at him for long. Then again, he had never told her he'd had a one-night stand and was about to make her a big sister before.

"I think she will. She's a good kid."

"Yeah, she is. I lucked out with her."

"You and Alexis will be okay, Castle," she said, her voice gentle. "You're too close, your relationship too strong for this to come between you, I'm sure of it."

"Thanks, Beckett." He smiled faintly, finding he felt better. No matter how much being at odds with Alexis bothered him, he trusted Beckett and somehow, her reassurance comforted him. Maybe because he knew she wasn't the type to spout insincere platitudes or maybe because he knew that Beckett's own relationship with her dad had obviously survived much bigger challenges so if Beckett believed he and Alexis would get past this, then he did too.

"So if you've told Alexis, have you told Martha too?"

"No, not yet. I wanted to talk to Alexis alone first and my mother is out right now so I guess I'll tell her whenever she gets home tonight or tomorrow or something."

"Oh, okay."

"I'm not worried about how my mother will react. She'll understand." Not least because his mother had, after all, once been in much the same situation as Beckett now was, pregnant after a one-night stand except that he would be there for Beckett and this baby. "Although, I should probably warn you—"

"What, is your mother likely to show up on my doorstep with a shotgun?" Beckett joked, echoing his own question.

He laughed at that mental image. "No shotgun, I promise, but," he grimaced a little, "I wouldn't exactly put it past my mother to show up on your doorstep wanting to ask all sorts of personal questions about how you're feeling and everything." Not that his mother knew Beckett's home address but he didn't doubt his mother could find that out and anyway, his mother certainly knew where the precinct was. He almost cringed at the thought of how any such conversation between his mother and Beckett might go. Not well, to say the least, since his mother had no sense of boundaries and Beckett had more boundaries than just about anyone he'd ever known.

Witness the way Beckett had reacted to his wanting to accompany her to her doctor's appointment. He had wanted to make it clear he would be there for her and the baby. He should have realized that phrasing it like a demand without even asking first was a mistake, even if, as the father of the baby, his presence would be considered normal. (Beckett was not the type of person to react well to ultimatums.) And it had occurred to him too that his mistake might have been due to his own expectations from his experience with Meredith. Because Meredith had been more than happy to use her pregnancy as an excuse to avoid doing just about anything on her own for those months, relying on him for everything. She hadn't lifted anything heavier than a cushion for the entirety of her pregnancy; by her third trimester, Meredith had all but wanted him to spoon-feed her. Certainly, Meredith had been happy to have him accompany her to all her doctor's appointments, as her chauffeur but also, he knew, because his presence at her doctor's appointments had spared her the need to pay much attention to the doctor's instructions, leaving the details of what she should be doing to him to remember and remind her about. Even before Alexis had been born, most of the responsibility had fallen on him because Meredith wasn't much of one for taking responsibility about anything so he had defaulted to that, simply assuming he would need to step up and take control.

But Beckett was absolutely nothing like Meredith. Thank God. He would have to do a better job of remembering that and try to balance his wish to be involved with Beckett's need to be independent. And he certainly could not look after Beckett the way he had looked after Meredith because Beckett was possibly the last person in the world to want that kind of pampering, to be, well, infantilized for lack of a better term. To be treated as if she were not just pregnant but infirm and helpless—again, unlike Meredith, who'd positively gloried in using pregnancy as an excuse to be treated as a helpless, fragile princess.

It was just too bad his mother would never think of such a thing. Oh god. Beckett would hate his mother's prying—and it would be even worse because he doubted Beckett would blow up at his mother. No, what he feared was that Beckett would clamp down on her annoyance and be coldly polite while all her walls were strengthened and fortified, making her even more inclined to shut everyone out. Including him. Shit.

"Oh."

Beckett's voice was neutral but he found himself rushing on. "I promise I'll try to keep my mother from doing any such thing. I'll keep her locked inside her room or something, chain her to the furniture," he volunteered facetiously.

Beckett laughed and he relaxed slightly, feeling the ridiculous little tingle of joy he always felt when she laughed at something he said. He loved the sound of her laugh, loved making her smile and laugh, felt as if he could happily devote his entire life to that aim. (Yes, he knew he had it bad.) "I'm pretty sure chaining your mother to the furniture is illegal, Castle, and I'm a cop so I can't endorse illegal activity."

He heaved a mock sigh. "Well, if you must be such a stickler, how about I threaten to cut off all her credit cards if she bothers you at all?" That, at least, had the benefit of being feasible and not illegal.

She gave another brief chuckle and he felt an absurd thrill. Twice in the space of a minute! "Now you're being mean, Castle. It's really okay. I am a cop, remember, do you really think I can't handle your mother?"

"Actually, I'm more worried about what would happen to my mother," he quipped. "I mean, I might not mind so much if you shot her but Alexis would be upset."

"You think I would shoot your mother just for asking questions?"

"Well, I know I think about doing just that sometimes when my mother is bothering me but then again, you're a nicer person than I am so I guess you wouldn't shoot her," he pretended disappointment. "Oh well, it was a nice fantasy while it lasted."

She choked on a smothered laugh. "Castle!"

Ah, yes, he could definitely picture her expression now, the way she'd be biting her lip while a smile threatened to break free, her eyes bright even as she tried to look scolding. The look that always made him want to kiss the twitching corners of her lips. (Then again, he wasn't sure there were any looks of hers that didn't make him want to kiss her.)

"I know, I'm terrible," he responded blithely, feeling the smirk curve his lips, his mood lifting. He supposed it was weird to be feeling so cheered up by what even he had to admit was an absurd and rather twisted exchange but he was.

And it occurred to him too how strange it was—perhaps more because it wasn't strange, felt so natural—to be able to talk like this with Beckett. Not to have to somehow censor or sanitize the manner in which he talked to and about his mother, the barbed way in which he referred to his mother. He knew his usual interactions with his mother were unorthodox but Beckett had always taken it in stride. Maybe it was because she was a cop and used to morbid humor or maybe it was that somehow, in spite of their outward differences, he and Beckett somehow spoke the same language, in an inexplicable way.

"At least, you're aware of it," she said dryly.

"I'm just naturally brilliant, what can I say? Just like I was right to think Steven Fletcher had changed from being a con man."

"You know what they say about a stopped clock," she needled.

"Beckett," he deliberately turned her name into a whine. "Would it kill you to admit that I was right?"

"You know, it might," she responded with exaggerated thoughtfulness. "And I'm just not willing to risk it."

He huffed. "You're mean, you know that?" But for once, he was glad she couldn't see his face because he knew his expression would betray how much he loved her teasing.

"It's like I told you, you're an easy mark," she returned flippantly and he could picture her smirk.

"Just for being mean, I think you owe me a boon," he declared with mock petulance.

"Good luck with that idea," she drawled.

"It's not a favor like that. I think you should tell me what your favorite con movie is, and no more of this nonsense about hating con movies."

She paused for a long moment and then drawled, "Paging Dr. Emil Schaffhausen…"

He grinned, a little thrill wriggling through him. It was so like Beckett, not telling him outright what her favorite con movie was—as if to pretend she wasn't giving in to his curiosity—but giving him a clue to the answer. "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels," he identified. "A classic. I approve."

"I'm so glad," she returned dryly.

He only laughed and the conversation devolved into talking about their respective favorite parts of the movie and then went on to other con movies, while his mind started building fantasies of cozy movie nights curled up on a couch with Beckett, maybe with his arm around her and her head leaning on his shoulder. Oh, if only such a fantasy would come true one day…


The next morning, Castle was awake earlier than usual. His phone conversation with Beckett had cheered him up but even so, the niggling little prick of unhappiness over being at odds with Alexis meant he hadn't slept very well.

So here he was, attempting to concentrate on the newspaper without much success, while already on his second cup of coffee even though it wasn't even 7 a.m. yet.

He heard the soft sound of Alexis's steps on the stairs and froze, forcing himself not to turn around or worse yet, rush over to her, as if he'd been lying in wait for her. He hated fighting with Alexis but in this case, he knew he had to wait for her to be the one to reach out. He could not always be the first one to give in (as he knew he had a tendency to do, especially where Alexis was concerned) and Alexis had reacted badly, even unfairly, to his news. As Beckett had said, his own mistakes should not mean he had to forfeit his right to try to look out for his daughter or give her advice.

"Dad?"

His heart leaped inside his chest at the sound of Alexis's voice, a little uncertain. And now he lifted his head to look at her. "Morning, Alexis," he greeted, knowing his voice was soft and, yes, forgiving but he couldn't help that.

As if his greeting had been a sort of invitation, Alexis rushed across the room to throw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his eyes falling shut, as a little shudder of relief went through him. His little girl was back.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have called you a hypocrite and I shouldn't have cut you off the way I did. I should have listened more and not just flared up at you. Do you forgive me?"

He sighed a little, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Of course, sweetie. I know the news was a big surprise."

"It was a surprise but that doesn't make the way I reacted okay. I was… annoyed at you for keeping something so big a secret for so long and about the Dylan thing and well, I guess losing my temper was easier than stopping to listen to you. I'm really sorry."

He drew back and met his daughter's still-somewhat-troubled eyes. "Now that you've had some more time to think about it, what do you think? How do you feel about this?"

She managed a faint, rueful smile. "I was going to ask you the same thing. This—you're going to have a baby, Dad—it's a big deal and yesterday, I was so busy thinking only of myself that I didn't even think to ask how you felt. I mean, I know you'll be there for Beckett and the baby, but are you happy about this?"

His heart swelled in his chest. "I am happy about this. It's not anything I expected but yes, I'm happy about this." He gave her a small smile, touching her cheek with his fingers. "It'll be fun to have a baby to play with again, since you've gotten too old for all my silliness. I'll have an excuse to watch cartoons and things again."

"Since when do you need an excuse to watch cartoons or be silly?" she returned with a small, pert smirk.

He laughed, chucking her chin gently. "Touché, daughter. Now, why don't you tell me how you feel about this since it'll affect you too?"

Her smirk faded as her expression became thoughtful, again his serious girl. "It's a surprise and going to be a really big change. I've never even thought about what it would be like to have a baby around." She paused and made a rueful sort of face. "And it means I'll be becoming a big sister and that'll be an adjustment too."

"You're going to be a great big sister."

A small smile crossed her face. "Thanks. I guess I'm just… nervous about how things will change. Our family," she made a little gesture with her hand to indicate the loft, their home, "I'm so used to it being just you, me, and Grams. It was a little weird at first adjusting to having Grams around all the time but she was still Grams and I've known her all my life. And now, it'll all be different, again."

He cupped her cheek with his hand, holding her eyes. "It will be a change but Alexis, I'll still be here for you, whatever you need. It wouldn't matter if I have ten more children, nothing will come between you and me and nothing will change how much I love you, okay?"

Her expression softened. "Okay." She hugged him again. "I love you too."

She drew back. "Oh and one last thing, congratulations, Dad, to you and Detective Beckett. If you're happy about this, I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

"How is Detective Beckett? Is she feeling okay? And oh, wait, how is she managing at work?"

There was the sweet, thoughtful daughter he knew. And he was so glad she was expressing concern for Beckett. "So far, I think Beckett hasn't had too hard a time. I know she's been more tired than usual but she's still mostly been her usual self," he answered with some reserve, keeping Beckett's penchant for privacy in mind. He knew Beckett had to be dreading telling Captain Montgomery because she would almost certainly be placed on some form of restricted duty, that would chafe against all her instincts.

"That's good. I'm glad she hasn't been feeling too sick. Courtney once said that when her mom was pregnant with her younger brother, her mom was sick pretty much all the time." Alexis wrinkled her nose at the thought before turning away. "I'm going to have breakfast. Have you eaten, Dad? Do you want anything?"

"I already ate, thanks, pumpkin."

Alexis prepared a bowl of cereal and poured herself a glass of orange juice and Castle thought, not for the first time, that it was surprising that his daughter didn't like coffee. Then again, maybe it wasn't that surprising since his mother wasn't a coffee drinker either.

His eyes narrowed, his attention abruptly focusing on her expression. Now that she wasn't talking to him or otherwise distracted, she looked vaguely… off, her expression shadowed. "Alexis, is everything else okay? There's nothing else bothering you?"

She blinked and he almost saw her paste on a smile. "What, oh, no, I'm fine, Dad."

He gave her a look. "Uh huh, try again. I do know you pretty well and I can see something's on your mind."

"It's really nothing, Dad, no big deal."

He held her gaze and after a minute, she relented with a little grimace. "It's just… Owen."

"What did Owen do?" he asked, trying not to scowl. That he'd apparently not imagined the odd note in Alexis's tone when she talked about Owen yesterday with Gianni and Maria was a very back-handed triumph. If that twerp had done anything to hurt his daughter…

"Don't look like that, Dad. He hasn't really done anything."

"But?" he prodded as gently as he could.

Alexis made a small face. "He's just been a little… distracted or something lately, as if he's thinking about something else."

"Have you tried asking if something's on his mind?"

His daughter gave him one of her patented looks when he said something ridiculous. "Of course I've asked, Dad, and he just says he's fine."

"Well, give it time and maybe he'll start talking or whatever it is will get better," he offered lamely. He really didn't know what to say to his daughter, how to give her any sort of advice when it came to a boy.

He inwardly grimaced, feeling a pang of self-doubt, if he alone could be parent enough for Alexis now that she was a teenager and—ugh—dating. Owen was Alexis's first actual boyfriend and he didn't like the idea that his daughter was dating at all so how could he talk to Alexis about boys and relationships? The thought of having to comfort his daughter after she'd had an actual fight with a boyfriend or worse, had a bad break-up made him break out in a cold sweat. And he wanted to be the person Alexis talked to and turned to for comfort, as he'd always been. He was, had always been, terrified of failing Alexis, of not being enough, maybe all the more because he hadn't been able to give Alexis a real mom.

This was one of those times when he really wished Meredith wasn't, well, the kind of person she was because he couldn't help but think that it would be so much easier, better, if Alexis had a mom she could talk to about this kind of thing. He suppressed a sigh. He thought, hoped, he had managed well enough so far in being a single father to a daughter; he had taught himself to do Alexis's hair at least passably well, had learned enough to show her how to put on nail polish even. But having a daughter got astronomically more complicated when she hit puberty. Hell, he'd married Gina at least partly for that reason—although that had blown up on him—and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to repay his mother for the way she had taken Alexis in hand to help with, um, the most obvious physical manifestation of puberty.

"Thanks. I don't think it's a big deal, really, Dad, so don't worry about it."

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, "but I'm always here if you want to talk about anything."

She gave him a smile. "I know that." She turned to put her used bowl in the sink. "Oh, I need to leave for school!"

She whirled around, dropped a kiss on his cheek in passing, and then hurried to grab her backpack. "Bye, Dad. See you later."

"Have a good day, Alexis."

She threw him a quick smile over her shoulder and then she was gone. He sighed a little. His little girl, so grown up. His heart twisted at the memory of all the years when he'd taken Alexis to school every day and picked her up. It might be easier with Alexis so much more independent but he did miss the little girl she'd been.

But she was still his little girl, he told himself, still his only child for at least the next few months.

Oh lord, he was going to have another child. (He wondered when that thought would stop amazing him. Judging from his experience with Alexis, maybe a week or so after the baby arrived. A few days of little sleep and dealing with a baby's cries was amazingly effective at taking the awe out of the fact of parenthood.)

And now Alexis knew about the baby too. One down, one to go.

~To be continued…~

A/N 2: As always, thank you to all readers and reviewers.