Here it is, the 'conclusion' of sorts to the previous chapter. I managed to get this done by the end of the week like I wanted...and the next update you see from me will be TG, I promise. So stay tuned.
A/N: features moderately explicit sex, bensaro being BFFs, Nick being a hipster, a little bit of rollaro, and a few surprises. If you've read TG, you'll notice a few references here and there, and if you haven't, it'll still all make sense. All quotes from eternal flame by the bangles.
Please feel free to let me know what you think, either here or on twitter (but don't tweet spoilers for the ending, por favor!).
{I believe it's meant to be}
It had only been a few hours since dinner, and you were already hungry again.
And still irritated with Nick for that rainbow cake trick. But mostly hungry.
Irritation aside, it was still good cake, and as soon as The Boyfriend decided to turn in for the night you were in the kitchen helping yourself to another piece.
"Want one?" you asked Nick, who was still hanging out on your couch with his feet propped up. "Or something else to drink? I'm sorry I forgot to tell you ahead of time it was BYOB."
"Nah, I'm good. And you know that doesn't matter to me- so the mister gave it up too? Solidarity?"
"I guess you could call it that," you say as you sit down next to him with your cake and a glass full of green juice. "It wasn't something I asked him to do but...I feel better this way." You can't imagine deliberately getting smashed, not when you already feel guilty enough about the few drinks you had before you even knew you were pregnant, but you also know you still have some very dark moments where your first instinct is to fall back on any one of your old coping strategies. "It's not there to tempt me- so I'm good."
"I see you're back drinking those nasty smoothies instead."
"Hey, you're the one who's always lecturing me about fiber, aren't you? Plus, Noah likes them too so I make us both one every morning. I'd never get a vegetable in him otherwise." You remember when you first saw that stupid infomercial for the juicer, full of all those glowing testimonials about how it changed lives. How you weren't far gone enough to be free of skepticism, but anything had to be an improvement over day after day spent barricaded in Brian's apartment without eating, without sleeping, with TV snake oil salesmen keeping you company night after night. So you bought it, and not surprisingly, it didn't change your life. But you figured out through trial and error how to make some damn good smoothies, and somehow your life changed in the meanwhile. "You know what's funny?"
"Uh...that stunt I pulled with the cake was pretty good. But no, what?"
"This is gonna sound so cliche. But I remember sitting right here with you, on this couch, being absolutely fucking devastated at not being pregnant. How I felt like that door had been slammed in my face for good. And now I look back and I want to scream at myself- what the fuck were you thinking? Having a baby would've probably been the worst possible thing that could've happened to me then. Hell, I wouldn't even have been 100 percent certain whose kid it was. You know? God, or somebody, was watching out for me there...but at the time it just felt so final for some reason. It's like I had to give up on the idea before it could actually happen."
"And if you had been pregnant then, you probably wouldn't have ended up with Noah," Nick points out. "I mean, it's still shitty that you had to go through that kind of disappointment anyway, but..."
"Yeah, exactly. I still wish I'd never gotten my hopes up about it in the first place. But now when I look at Noah, I can't imagine not having him in my life, for any reason. It was destiny, and I think this little one is too. I think she- or he, but I know it's a she- was smart enough to hold off on making her appearance until now. Everything's still not perfect but...this feels like good timing."
"You're still sure it's a girl, huh?" he asks, his face carefully blank of any telltale emotion.
"I am. Intuition, I guess? Everyone else is thinking it's a boy but...well. I'd be shocked if it was." You look down at your belly, smiling softly. "I'm sure every mother says this, but I just feel like she's special somehow."
"Of course she is, because she's got me for a godfather! And I guess her parents are okay too. Her mom, at least. Dunno about dad."
You roll your eyes, giving his ankle a sharp tap with your foot. Nick and The Boyfriend are never going to be bros (are you even using that word right?), but they've finally stopped circling each other like territorial dogs and, dare you say it, even become friendly. "Yeah, yeah. She's lucky to have you. And I'm lucky that I've got so many people who love my kids," you say, taking a sip of your juice before you can get too emotional. "That's something else funny...I spent my entire adult life thinking no child would ever want me for a mother, and that's why it just wasn't gonna happen. And then Noah kinda fell into my lap, literally, but this little bean...I think about how unlikely it was for me to get pregnant in the first place, and how something like eighty-some percent of women my age miscarry before they get to the point I'm at now. But somehow I've got this baby who's perfectly healthy so far and...I know we've got a long way to go and there's so much that could still go wrong, but..." You give up and set your glass down again, swiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. "If God forbid, something was to happen- I'll know for sure it had nothing to do with her rejecting me, us...cause for some reason, she obviously really wants to be here."
"Smart kid already," he says.
"And she's been so considerate to her mommy. Everyone keeps saying 'oh, the first trimester is when you feel the worst,' but it really hasn't been that bad. I think I've gotten off easy."
"Compared to what Maria was like when she was pregnant with Zara? Yeah, you have."
"I don't know if it's luck or just being old. I'm at the age where I've just gotten used to being achy and tired, so that part was nothing new. And now that I've said that- watch me be miserable for the next six months." You rest your palm on your stomach, the way you've started doing almost subconsciously. "She's got a lot of faith in me. I just hope I can live up to that."
"You will. I promise."
"And you're just saying that to suck up to me so you're sure we'll let you be the godfather."
"What?" he scoffs. "I'm not worried about that. It's already a done deal. Now I'm sucking up so I can be the one who gets to cut the cord."
"Are you insane?"
"You said I could be there!"
"Yes, 'there' as in 'at the hospital'. But anyone who wasn't there for the conception- isn't going to be there for the birth."
"Are you sure I wasn't there?" he asks. "It's not like you've never had sex while I was in the next room and-"
"Okay, stop. Let's talk about you now, shall we?"
He pouts for a few seconds but then appears to get over it. "I'm thinking of adopting a puppy."
"Oh really? The kids finally wearing you down?"
"Nah. I mean, they'll be excited, but I just...it gets hard being home alone sometimes." He shifts, scratching the top of his head. "I started seeing a therapist. Someone my PT recommended. She thought maybe having a dog around would be a good idea."
"Yeah? I didn't know that- about the therapist. But good for you."
"What a surprise, right? But I figured, if it worked for your boyfriend..."
"Is it? Working, I mean."
"I've only been there a few times, so it's hard to tell," he says. "But I think it is. Or maybe it's just being in a new place, getting away from...I feel like I'm becoming a new person. I get to spend a lot of time with my kids, I get to really focus on my art," and of course, his 'art', "and everything just feels so free out there. I didn't realize that in New York...I was disconnected from nature. That's what I was missing. The earth."
"Well, if anyone deserves to be in a place that makes them happy, it's you. And I know your kids are happy there too, so that's even better."
"I guess. It's just hard being far away from so many people. My mom, you, Noah..."
"Amanda..." you supply.
"Yeah. Her too."
"Things been okay since you got here?" Asking about Rollins is always a delicate undertaking, although not on the level it was when they both worked for you. He knows you still don't entirely approve (of her or the relationship), but that you're not going to interfere as long as it's not affecting you personally. After all, he's done the same for you many, many times.
"They're...yeah, they're good."
"That sounded sincere."
"It was! I mean, everything's great. I missed her. I just..." He shakes his head. "I dunno. Do you think she's cheating on me?"
"Nick. May I remind you that when you left, I told you I'd watch out for her. Not that I would watch her."
"I know, but you see her every day. Is she on her phone like she's texting someone? Does she act like she goes out after work? Does-"
"Enough." This is exactly what you try to avoid, being some sort of go-between, whether they're across the room or across the country from one another. "As far as I know, there's no one. But even if there was, don't you think she'd try to hide it from me? She knows it'd get back to you."
This appears to have only made him more anxious. "It's not like I can ask her- she'd kick me out on my ass."
"She would. So don't ask her. Besides, you really can't call it cheating when you two aren't even in a relationship. You never promised each other there wouldn't be other people."
"There hasn't been! At least, not for me. But...the women in California are really friendly. They find me attractive. And I say no to all of them."
"Because of Amanda?" you ask.
"No, because I'm not ready to start dating someone right now. But if she's getting offers and not turning them down-"
"Then you need to be going out with someone just because she is? Nick, don't drag some poor unsuspecting woman into this just because she thinks you have a nice smile."
He flashes you a big grin with all his teeth showing. "I do have a nice smile. But that's not why I'm...the whole reason for leaving things the way we did is so that we had some time on our own to think. And if she's not doing that..."
"Are you?"
"Yeah, at least...I thought I was. But I didn't feel like I was getting anywhere. And I thought that as soon as I was here with her I would just know one way or the other."
"It's only been two and a half months since you moved," you point out. "Maybe it's just gonna take more time."
"But if I really want to be with her for the right reasons, shouldn't that be obvious by now?"
"Well. You've figured out the wrong reasons. You knew moving in with her after you got shot would've been a mistake," and one that you were glad you were able to keep him from making, even though it meant him becoming a temporary resident in your apartment again, "and you know you don't want a relationship that's built on crisis. So it's not like you haven't made any progress. But if you rush into making a choice too soon- I guarantee that whatever you choose, you will fuck it up. And you know I know what I'm talking about here."
He's quiet for a moment, absorbing this. "So you really don't think I can ask her if she's cheating on me."
"No. You cannot do that. Trust me." You glance over your shoulder at the clock in the kitchen. "It's late, and I'm sure she's waiting for you. Just go and enjoy...whatever it is you're doing, and stop worrying about what she may or may not be up to while you're gone."
"But I just don't get it. What is it with women that they just can't be alone? Why do-"
"Nick, that is a conversation for another night. Right now, the baby and I need to sleep, okay? I'll see you in the morning."
"I think I'm gonna tell her that I've turned down everyone who's asked me out," he says as you prod him toward the door.
"Okay. You let me know how that works out for you."
{you belong with me}
"You girls finished chattin'?"
You shake your head when you hear The Boyfriend's groggy voice from across the bedroom as you finish undressing, changing into an oversized t-shirt and tossing your dirty laundry into the basket. "Go back to sleep."
He doesn't reply, so you assume that means he already has. But a few moments after you've laid down and gotten comfortable, you feel his arm snake around your torso and pull you in closer, your shirt hiking up as you move until your bare ass is pressed against his thigh. You smile into the darkness and close your eyes again, unsurprised when his palm skims across the curve of your hip.
"Don't tell my baby daddy I let you get to second base," you joke in a low voice, his hand traveling over your belly to your breasts.
"Damn, I was hoping to get further than that." Lying on your side like this, the heel of his palm rubs against one of your nipples when he rolls the other between his fingers. "I won't tell if you won't."
He nudges you to lift your arms up so he can get your shirt off, then pulls you in toward him again and rocks his hips forward so you can feel his erection against the backs of your thighs. Your legs automatically part, one bending at the knee so there's room for him to slip his hand in between.
"God, look how much you want it," he whispers, mouth next to your ear, and you let out a long ragged breath as his fingers make contact with your slick heat. He moves them at an agonisingly slow pace before holding completely still to wait for your reaction, chuckling when you start to squirm with impatience. "You want me to fuck you?"
You don't bother to dignify that with a response other than pushing back against his body for leverage, his dick nestled in the cleft of your ass as you start fucking yourself on his thick digits. "Am I gonna have to do all the work here?"
"I got you, relax." You're waiting for him to slide his fingers in deeper, but instead he pulls them out and drags his fingertips along the curve between your ass and your thighs. You inhale in anticipation when you finally feel the head of his dick pressing against your entrance, only to be disappointed when he keeps on teasing you, thrusting forward until it makes contact with your clit.
"Please, god, I need it," and you must have uttered the magic words because suddenly he's fully inside you, giving you just a brief moment to adjust before he starts moving. This isn't normally your favorite position- he can't fuck you as hard and deep as he can otherwise- but it's late and you're tired so you'll trade all that to be able to stay spooned up against each other. Especially when he keeps his arm slung over you, hand rubbing back and forth over your chest and stomach. It's scratching an itch, literally and figuratively- the pink scar tissue criss crossing your torso is starting to itch as the skin stretches, and moisturizer only helps so much. His nails might be short, but it's nothing less than orgasmic every time they make contact with your flesh and you could probably come from this alone. Not that you're going to tell him that. "Fuck, that's- right there. Right there."
He does as instructed, placing open mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. "Know what I want?"
"Ahh. No?" Chances are it's something he doesn't think you'd say yes to under normal circumstances.
"I want a picture of you."
"You mean...like..."
"Yeah. Like this," and yup, your suspicions were correct. "C'mon, we both know you've done it before, right?"
You grab his hand, moving it back to where you want it. "That was a long time ago. Before..."
"No one else would see. I'll put 'em in the safe and delete the files off the phone."
"I'm...oh God...I trust you, it's not that." You arch your neck toward him and the tip of his tongue traces your pulse point. "Why do you want it, anyway? And if you say it's cause you'll get lonely while I'm out of commission after the baby, you're sleeping on the couch for a year."
He laughs quietly, his hand wandering back between your legs. "I think by then we'll both be too tired to remember what we're missing. But it's...you can tell me no and I won't mention it again, promise."
"Yeah, I'll- fuck, I'll think about it. Really." In all honesty, it was kind of a turn on that he asked, that he felt like he could ask for something that could potentially bring up all sorts of thorny issues. You like feeling pushed slightly out of your comfort zone without being fussed over like you might break. And he was right that the old you, the you that existed years ago, would've probably said yes without hesitation (at least once you had a few drinks in you). Not that you have that option now, but you do have a newfound self confidence that comes from being able to look in the mirror and see something other than ugly memories. So...maybe?
"I mean it, y'know, if-"
"Sssh. Shut up and fuck me while we still have the chance."
{say my name, sun shines through the rain}
"Tio!" Noah squeals when he hears a knock at the door, running toward it like a puppy who just saw its owner get out the leash. After the last three days, he's just started assuming that anytime there's someone at the door, it's Nick. But in this case, he's actually right.
Nick hands you the brown grocery bag as soon as you let him in, then bends down so that Noah can climb on his back for a piggyback ride. "Why is this so heavy? I only needed eggs, Nick."
"Cause he brought you some mason jars," Amanda answers, making a face once Nick's out of sight to let you know how she feels about this idea. "He wants us to eat out of them. Plates will ruin his party aesthetic."
"We're having an omelet bar. How's that gonna work? Omelets in jars?"
"Actually, I had a better idea," Nick says, and of course he does. "Instead of doing that- when people come in, we'll just give them a couple eggs in a jar. Then they're free to do whatever they want with them. They're not constrained by your vision of what eggs should be."
"But they're our guests. That's the whole point, that we're cooking for them, not just handing them some eggs."
"They don't have to cook them if they don't want to! You're not thinking outside the box here. By doing this, you're empowering them. Plus, eggs are a metaphor for life and growth and fertility. So it works on multiple levels," he explains, and you're kinda sad that The Boyfriend is still in your room getting ready, because his reaction to all this would surely be one for the ages.
Amanda pats your arm sympathetically. "Can I help you get the food ready while Nick's decorating?"
"You're a guest too, Amanda, you don't need to do that when I'm sure he's already put you to work on...whatever it is he's been designing." You glance over at Nick, who's watching intently while Noah shows him the same toy cars he showed him yesterday and the day before. "Actually, if you don't mind, can you give me a hand putting this stuff away?"
"Sure, of course."
She follows you into the kitchen and you set the grocery bag down before you turn back around to face her. "I wanted to thank you for being such a good sport about all this...I know it's probably not how you'd prefer to spend your time while Nick's here. But it's- I really appreciate you being willing to share him. It's been good having him around this weekend."
"Course, Liv," she says, and the absolute sincerity in her voice catches you a little off guard. So often it feels like the two of you are going through the motions with one another, doing what you need to in order to coexist day in and day out. But every now and then you feel like you're genuinely connecting with each other- and not just out of your shared loyalty to Nick- and it makes you wonder if maybe he's right about her after all. "Really, I don't mind. It's kinda fun. Since I don't have nieces and nephews, and I'm sure as hell not having my own kids, I gotta live vicariously through you and Nick, y'know?" She nods toward the living room, where he and Noah are batting a balloon back and forth. "He's a lucky little guy, Noah is. Never really had these kind of birthdays growing up. In our family, it wasn't a party without someone stealin' out of Nana's purse, and someone else getting into a fistfight out on the front lawn over a card game, and then the sheriff has to come by and break it up...that's pretty much how most our family gatherings ended."
"Yeah, I never really had the whole birthday party experience either. It was always a hard time of year for my mom, so I learned not to expect much beyond maybe going out to eat with my grandparents. Which, if you knew them, you'd know that's not much of a treat." You always wanted to have a sleepover, but every year your mom would tell you no, it's too close to Christmas. Maybe next time (as if the holiday might be moved to February by then).
You trade commiserating smiles, and then your attention is diverted by Noah racing toward you to show off his new treasure. "Look! Balloon!"
"Look at that! What color is the balloon?" you ask.
"Blue?"
"That's right! It's blue!" It's a bit of a trick question, because 'blue' is the only color name he really knows right now. "You're so smart."
"Noah smart- Dad! Dad, balloon!" he says, tossing the balloon in The Boyfriend's direction as he appears in the kitchen doorway. He's so surprised that he doesn't even catch it, much to Noah's chagrin.
"Did he just say..."
"I think so," The Boyfriend replies, slightly dazed. He looks over at Noah, as if seeking confirmation, but the little boy has already given up on him and moved on to entertaining Amanda. When The Boyfriend and your son first met, you just referred to him by his first name like you always did. But at the time, Noah was going through a phase of labeling everything and everyone he didn't know as 'Pa', so you ended up adopting his shorthand. It's worked out fine up until recently, when the two of you decided to start calling him 'Dad' in front of Noah in hopes that he would catch on. You hadn't made a big deal out of it, because that's the surest way to guarantee a toddler rebellion, but you had begun to wonder if you needed a different approach because he hadn't even seemed to notice the change.
That is, until now. In the grand scheme of things, you suppose it's not really important what Noah calls him. He's his father and he always will be. But now with a new baby on the way, one who will presumably call him Dad, you don't want to give Noah any reason to someday question whether The Boyfriend is less of a father to him than to his little brother or sister. "It sounds good."
"I agree," he says, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug. "Now we just have to figure out the last name thing."
"Don't start," you chide teasingly. That's a loaded subject, maybe even more contentious than the Daniel vs. Julian debate. The Boyfriend wants little Lillian or Julian to have his last name, and you want that too, but then it leaves the issue of whether to change Noah's as well. You don't like the idea of your kids having different last names, but you can't deny that you have an emotional attachment to Noah being a Benson after how long it took to get to that point.
(Of course, you could also change your name...but you're just not ready to go there quite yet. It is, as they say, complicated.)
He chuckles softly, turning his head and kissing your temple. "You look nice."
"I didn't have many options. It was this or the same damn pants I wear every day," you explain. Right now your maternity wardrobe consists only of work stuff and stuff to hang around the house in, so you were fortunate to find a skirt in your closet with a waistband that would stretch over your bump. You had started scouring Instagram for fashion ideas, only to be met with pic after pic of cute skinny 20-somethings and realize that you more closely resemble the women who're pregnant with twins, so you gave up and had another donut and wondered where exactly one would go to purchase a muumuu. "Mmm. Hey."
"Yeah?"
You make sure Nick and Amanda are out of earshot, tucking your face against his neck so no one else can hear you. "Remember what you asked me last night?"
"About...? Yeah."
"I'll do it."
"Really?" He smells so good, a mixture of soap and the shampoo of yours that he swears he never borrows, and it's so tempting to make up a bullshit errand that'll get Nick and Amanda (and Noah) out of the house for a few minutes.
"Really. But sometime soon, before I'm massive."
"Hey you guys, can you c'mere for a second?" Nick calls out. When you reenter the living room, he holds up a small white envelope. "So I know you said no gifts...and I know I already didn't listen to you and sent Noah presents anyway. But I have one more little thing for him, and I wanted to give it to you now before everyone else gets here so they don't feel bad about showing up empty handed. Here...you might wanna help him open it."
"Nick...you've spoiled him enough already," you say as you sit down on the couch and Noah climbs up next to you. "I said no gifts because I don't want him to think he should get a present every time someone comes over."
"Whatever, just this once won't hurt. Trust me- he'll love it."
"Noah, should we find out what's in here?" you ask, and he nods enthusiastically while you unseal the envelope as everyone else looks on.
Inside is a card. A blank white greeting card that you have no idea what to do with...
until a massive amount of glitter comes pouring out right into your lap.
"What the fu-Nick!"
You're so distracted by this sparkly explosion that it takes you a moment to read the message written on the paper- a single line. Hi Mom! Get it?
You look down again at the glitter collecting in your lap and then start to cry.
It's pink.
Hi, Lilly.
{a whole life so lonely
then you come and ease the pain}