I'm back! Thank you so much for all your patience! More stories coming as I've gotten back into writing. I know I put the Christmas one-shots in here but now we're back to the timeline of the story with the babies coming home just after their July 4th birth.
And don't worry, Freed is coming really soon! xox
"Lavender and chamomile," I say to Taylor as we stand outside Ana's hospital room, waiting for the final clearance to bring her and our newborn sons home. Dr. Greene is, of course, taking her own sweet billable time. But, it offers me a moment to plan for Ana's homecoming—which has to be perfect! "I want our bedroom to be like a fucking five star spa experience when she gets there. Soft accents, florals—I need a fuzzy robe..."
"Would you like it to match your pajamas, sir?" Taylor asks.
Why does he look so excited talking about my tantamount nightwear?
"The robe isn't for me!" I say, and then I think. "But maybe you could get coordinated ones for us. So we look like a solidified newborn parental unit." A fuzzy one at that.
"Yes, sir."
"And music... no heavy beats. Something soft, lovely, with an air of classic romance— but nothing too sexually charged." That ship has sailed for the next sex weeks—I mean six. Hell, now I've got sex on the brain.
"Sheeran, sir?" Taylor says.
"What the fuck is that?" I ask.
"Ed Sheeran. A contemporary crooner with poetic flare that seems to tickle the ladies, sir."
"Uh, I'm going to try and forget that you ever said that," I glare. "Sinatra, Taylor!"
My phone buzzes. I pull it out and see it's a text from my sister. She's sent me a picture of a gargantuan glittery eye blinding blue lawn sign out front of our house that reads: It's a Boys! Welcome Home Baby Greys!
What the fuck.
Why did she put that out there? Why not just deliver the info to the overhead helicopter paparazzi via private jet that the babies are here and coming home.
What the hell is that? I text her back.
I made it for the party! ? ﾟﾎﾉ? ﾟﾑﾶ? ﾟﾑﾶ?
Party?!
And emojis... I hate emojis.
Well, except with Ana. Especially when she texts me the eggplant and the flying water along with a picture of her panties...
Sex weeks Grey—I mean six!
What party?! I type. I feel that the three question marks and exclamation really drive the point home. Without emojis.
That, and I was so frustrated with six weeks I kept stabbing the punctuation keys.
All I get is that endless fucking ellipses from her...
Like what the hell is she typing that could possibly take two trips and a backwards flip around the sun to send?
Ana's coming home party. We have t-shirts. She finally writes.
T-shirts?!
There's no party, Mia! I furiously thumb assault the keyboard on my smart phone. I hit send so fast I didn't realize autocorrect changed it to: There's no pants, Miami.
But there are tutus! She texts me back a picture of her, Phoebe and Ava in blue glitter cone hats, T-shirts that look identical to the lawn sign, and tutu style blue party skirts.
Adorable. But NO PARTY! I write.
Phoebe and Ava have chocolate all over their faces, which means the sugar quota imposed by dad has been lifted. And if Phoebe's a mess, Teddy's probably dipped himself whole into it and he's putting handprints on all the appliances. Honestly, my mother and Mia are supposed to be babysitting and it's turned into a pre-school rave.
It's just a party for the kids ? ﾟﾙﾄ? She writes back.
More emojis!
I'm distracted as I peek through the little window of where Ana's getting examined. I've remained close and in front of this window so no assholes can get a peek of Ana in her hospital gown. She's sex on legs in that thing. Of course, Dr. Greene is yapping it up in there. Every minute provides her husband another day free from employment and prime ass parking in their Grey baby financed hot tub.
I swear, what the amount of hair on that man's back must do to that drain.
"How would you like the elements dispersed, sir?" Taylor asks, turning my attention away from Dr. Greene's derelict husband and my lawn's glittery signage. I almost forgot he was there. Per usual.
"Elements?" I ask. What the fuck is he saying? I don't want to hear about Ed Sheeran again.
"Lavender and chamomile come in various forms, Mr. Grey. Oils, dried potpourri, lotions... Would you like me to provide teabags, sir?"
"Uh, no!" My hands are held up so high in protest at the notion of Taylor presenting his teabags to Ana that it looks like I'm being arrested. "However the spa at the Fairmont does it. In fact, have them do it. But better."
"Yes, sir."
I don't want Taylor picking out lotion for Ana. It's bad enough that he bought her underwear and jeans that first night at the Heathman. I know the fucker remembers.
"I want Ana to have full rest and relaxation when she gets home," I say. "She's been through a tumultuous ordeal. All she's in charge of is feedings and cuddles. No work! We'll do the rest."
"I've been practicing my swaddling, sir." He says it so buoyantly, I wonder if he practiced on himself.
"Good," I say. "I'm serious. Ana needs rest. Relaxation," I enunciate. "Stress is a four letter word."
"But, it's a five letter word, sir," he says.
"It's a four letter word now!"
"Yes, Mr. Grey."
After each of our children's births, I've insisted that Ana doesn't lift a finger that isn't absolutely necessary. I've heard about all the horror stories of over-worked new moms: no sleep, frayed nerves and then amplified odds of postpartum depression—all leading to divorce. I'm not taking any chances. At my core, I believe new mothers should rest and be cared for. They've just been through a monumental physical and emotional ordeal. They shouldn't lose sleep. It's the new fathers who should stay up nights with their drivers.
"Well, she's ready to go," Dr. Greene says, the door flung open suddenly, as she waves me inside.
I notice she's wearing new Gucci slides... probably a bonus to herself for another failed shot.
I wave Taylor off to get the car—the brand new, specially designed, top of the line SUV I had built at Audi to accommodate my growing family. Parking is a bitch but it seats twelve. They say it's supposed to withstand nuclear war if it hits, too. Plus, the rat and the turkey have car seats, via Phoebe's requests. I swear Taylor's been so high on the smell of all that premium new car leather, I almost considered signing him up for rehab.
"Dr. Greene," I nod as I find Ana's bedside and then her hand with mine. "How did she do?"
"She did well, considering... I gave her some guidance and precautions to take," Dr. Greene continues, scribbling on Ana's file. Probably adding extra zeros to the bill.
"Precautions?" I ask as I feel my throat sew up. "What do you mean by considering."
"She gave birth on a boat. I just provided her with the regular information we give to new mothers," Dr. Greene says and then frowns a bit. "Though, with the birth of twins we'll be doubly alert if anything unusual arises."
"What do you mean by unusual?" I ask. "Is she in danger?" My palms are beginning to sweat.
"Nothing to worry about. The birth went smoothly. She should be fine." Dr. Greene gives me a look and rather begrudgingly says, "You did a good job."
"Thank you," I say. "But what do you mean by unusual?"
"I'm fine, Christian," Ana says, perched on her custom bed, now dressed in the most utterly adorable little flower spotted romper. It's so adorable I want to set fire to any orderly's eyes who's seen it.
"I'm not taking any chances," I say, putting an arm around my Ana and that utterly adorable romper. "We can fly in a team from anywhere on a moment's notice."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Grey," Dr. Greene says, holding up a hand propped up by a new Rolex. "My advice to you now is to get those little boys home."
"Yes, Christian, don't you want to get our boys home. Phoebe and Teddy are waiting." Ana smiles and looks over to our two precious bundles in their custom made bassinets.
My beautiful sons...
"You're right. Let's get you home, Mrs. Grey," I say, kissing her head and nuzzling her hair. And, after all these years, she still smells like a spring garden. "I can take care of you there."
"No sexual intercourse for six weeks," Dr. Greene says sternly, startling me away from my sniff.
Like she had to fucking remind me. She thinks that's why I want to get her home? Well, maybe it was a thought that flashed through my garden sniffed brain and stabbed me right in the testicles when I re-grasped my senses, but I'm not a fucking caveman.
Well, not for sex weeks—I mean six!
"Uh, I'm familiar," I say and my dick literally wilts. "We've done this before, you know."
"Try to get your rest when you can," Dr. Greene says to her. "I know you've had experience with single births, but this will be different. Twins are twice the joy, but also twice the work. It can be overwhelming at times."
"Oh, she's going to be resting all the time. Not to worry," I say. "She won't lift a finger."
"Christian," Ana whisper-scolds me and then turns to the doctor. "He just means I'll be sure to take care of myself."
"No, I'm serious. She isn't lifting a finger that isn't necessary," I say. "I have it covered."
"Outside assistance is a good idea with twins," Dr. Greene says.
"No outsiders are caring for our children," I say. "Just me. Dad."
"You're doing everything? With no help?" Dr. Greene asks, brow raised.
"I have a driver," I say with a shrug.
Before Ana can protest further, the sound of our sons fussing steals both of us away. My chest warms. I swear if I was their mother my ovaries would burst hearing their little cries and coos. Actually, I think on some level it's happening.
"Not a worry, Daddy has everything under control," I say, tending to my sons. The most perfect little boys. Each of them with the shining eyes of their mother.
It's sweet, all my sons have her eyes, but Phoebe has mine.
"Mrs. Grey—" a stabbing voice beckons.
Oh fuck.
Speaking of eyes, I vault mine to the nurse who's just entered the room—Brenda. She's been a thorn in my side ever since we got here. Always hovering and monitoring my movements. Waiting to charge. She's like Taylor, but not on my team. Constantly jabbering: Don't set up camp in the hallways with your security detail; don't have food delivered from a five star restaurant and hand feed it to your wife in candlelight; don't spend the night in your wife's hospital bed in your boxer briefs, wrapped around her like ivy. I swear, the amount of money she spends on corn cobs to stick up her ass must be astronomical.
"I have my sons," I say to her, my lip turned up in a patriarchal protective snarl.
"There's protocol. I need to help Mrs. Grey get them ready to leave," she says with a puffed rooster feather scowl that matches her hairstyle—and her eyebrows. I swear she pencils those things on in felt tip pen in the dark. "I'm assigned to her."
"I'm married to her." I glare.
"Sir—" Barracuda Brenda pipes. "This is my territory."
"I'd suggest you colonize elsewhere. I own this wing!" I say.
She can't argue with me. It's true. She passes the sign bearing the Grey Family name everyday when she clocks in. I had it dedicated to Anastasia after Teddy was born.
"Brenda. It's fine," Dr. Greene says, nodding her away. "They can handle it from here."
"But, Dr. Greene—" Brenda says and Greene nods again. This time with more authority.
That's right, Brenda. Greene knows who's bought her the good life. My fucking sperm.
Brenda opens her mouth to speak, but then shuts it again and wags off in a huff.
Maybe she'll take the extra time to head to the Sephora store for a tutorial.
"Well, I will leave you two be. I'll see you for your next appointment, Mrs. Grey," Dr. Greene smiles at Ana and then looks to me. Smile gone. "I'm sure I'll see you, too."
"With bells," I say as Ana gives me an ocular elbow.
Funny, when I first sought out Dr. Greene for Ana's birth control all those years ago, I never thought it would constantly backfire—or that I'd be thrilled about it. But hey, here we are.
Thank God.
"We better get them changed into their going home outfits," Ana says, starting to move off the bed after Dr. Greene leaves.
"No you don't," I say, quick to block her. "I'll get them all ready.
Ana rolls her eyes—of course—but she knows I'm serious, so she points me toward the dresser.
"Their outfits are in the luggage over there," she says.
I reach into the bag and pull out an outfit, expecting soft knit baby blues with matching socks and caps, but what I'm faced with is this deranged looking purple rabbit popping off of some footie pajama set.
"What the hell is this?" I ask, then I pull out the other one, which has the face of a yellow bear who looks like his drug fix is the honey pot.
Both the cartoon animal heads are backed by this orb of white lace that looks like they're jumping out of some Victorian opiate hole and into my current nightmare.
"Kate and Elliot got us those," Ana says.
"Well, that doesn't surprise me," I say. The bear kind of looks like Kavanagh. And we all know Elliot is lost in her deranged honey pot.
"They're hand knit going home outfits," Ana says. "Kate thought the two different animals would help us tell the boys apart. You know, when we're first getting to know them."
"Uh, I know my boys. And I'm not telling them apart by whatever the hell this is." I wave the rabbit around and I swear the eyes follow me.
"She had them made special," Ana says. "Elliot helped."
"Elliot was drunk."
"They're kinda cute."
"Cute? It looks like something you'd encounter if you took a wrong turn at Disneyland."
"Christian—"
"Ana, I know my boys. I've been speaking to them for months in utero. I don't need props to help me. And I'm insulted anyone thought differently."
Ana looks up at me, batting her lashes and swishing around the bed in that little romper. "It was really sweet of them. How about the boys wear them just for one day."
I hem and haw, but my ground is never held when Ana's pleading eyes, or swishing ass, are locked on it.
"Fine, one day. That's all," I say. "A few photos and were done with these atrocities. And it's not for identification purposes. It's extended family management."
"Okay," she smiles and gives me an extra nice swish.
I quickly get my sons changed. I decide Olly may be more of a rabbit man than a bear. And I know it's impossible, but I swear Archie smiled at the big yellow face of the Winnie the Pooh knockoff.
Don't encourage Kavanagh, fellas...
I clip their little bracelets off and put them in the bag for the baby book I'm creating. I've done it with all my children. I don't make a big deal of it, and to the family I give Ana all the credit, but I have a secret love of scrapbooking.
And Pinterest...
"Let's get you settled," I say to Ana as I help her out of bed. "You sure you don't want to change?" I eye the romper—fuck, her legs are sexy.
"Why? You don't like my going home outfit?" She frowns.
"I love your outfit," I say. "I'm just afraid the orderlies will love it as well."
She rolls her eyes, straightening the shorts portion of the romper, as I guide her to the waiting wheelchair.
I guess she's not changing.
Can I insist?
No, we're so far past that.
"I don't need this thing," she says, motioning to the wheelchair.
"For my heart, please sit," I say, and thankfully she does.
I gently place our two sleeping sons in her arms. Ana tends to them immediately—rocking them, cuddling them. It's so precious, I have to reach into my pocket for my phone.
"What are you doing?" Ana asks.
"Capturing this moment," I say as I snap away.
There is nothing as beautiful as Ana mothering our children.
I kneel next to her, propping one hand on the wheelchair and brushing the other on her face. "How did I ever get so lucky, Mrs. Grey?" I whisper in a kind of awe that perpetually buckles my knees.
"I could ask you the same question, Mr. Grey." She smiles and then kisses my fingers as I touch them to her lips.
"Let's get you home," I say and then I stand to wheel her down the long hallway.
As I did with Teddy and Phoebe, I try and remember each second of this path to the car. Those first steps toward the rest of my children's lives. And those imaginary ovaries of mine warm knowing I'm the one lucky enough to walk them.
#######
We are finally home.
If I didn't know by the tree lined street, or the gate we passed through to make our way up the winding drive—or even that gigantic lawn sign my sister put up—I'd know it by the three sets of eyeballs peeking out the blinds eagerly anticipating our arrival. One being Teddy's, one Phoebe's, and the last
and beadiest belonging to the infamous rodent in pink Versace suede.
I take pause and smile. To know what being home feels like is never a thing I take lightly.
"Oh look at how sweet they are," Ana says as she waves to them out her window. There's a flutter of little hands and a whipping of the blinds before they collapse back to their normal state again. I imagine the feet belonging to those window peeking eyeballs are scampering down the hall and to the front door to greet us.
The scampering of feet who've been waiting for me is also something I don't take lightly. In fact, deep down, I know it'll disappear all too soon and be replaced with pre-teen stomps, and sneaky tip-toes post high school curfew, and then a silence that leaves me with a bill for college tuition.
Fuck my billions, their footsteps are my fortune.
But their running on marble floors is also my heart attack...
"Gail better be watching them so they don't break their necks!" I say. I have no trust for my mother and Mia today.
I nearly had a stroke when the kids decided last week it was a good idea to play slip-and-slide in their sock feet across the foyer.
Though, I do admit, watching Chester trying to hold on to Phoebe's shoulder while in a unicorn onesie and rat go-go boots was rather amusing.
"Oh, they're just excited," Ana says as she gently brushes my hand, and my anxiety immediately lessens.
"Well, of course they're excited. Their little brothers are coming home," I say, in a baby-talk fashion I never imagined my voice box could possess, as I pet Olly's sweet little head.
I glance over at Archie, who's being fussed over by Ana. His eyes are tightly knit together in a deep rest as she smoothes his hair and wipes a little dribble off his chin. Not a care or a worry as his mother cares for him. Peace.
Seeing my babies all new and innocent to the world always makes me wonder if there was ever a time when I was this new or this innocent. Did my mother wrap me up when she first took me home from the hospital? Or was there a home to come back to at all? Did she brush my hair, or make sure my face was clean of spittle, or whisper that she loved me like Ana is doing right now...
Was there ever a moment she was proud to be my mom?
Ana was just twenty-two when Teddy was born—close to the same age my own birth mother was—yet she was perfect at mothering from day one. Sure, she was married and financially well off, but I don't think that would've mattered. Somehow, even if she was all alone in it, and met with the same dire circumstances, I know my Ana would find a way to make her children's life beautiful.
And that makes the little boy inside of me feel beautiful too.
"Careful over the bumps," I say to Taylor, who lets his gorilla foot get the best of him as we finish our wind up the drive and around to the front of the house.
A new set of wheels and his excitement is fever pitch—especially with all this fine leather craftsmanship surrounding him and these big all terrain wheels. Don't even start with me on the sound system. When he's excited, he acts like he's fleeing the enemy in Desert Storm. Either that, or trying to park at Monster Truck Weekend.
"Yes, sir," he says. I notice the fucker is smiling at me in the rear view mirror, and I know it's more than all the fine leather bubbling his jolly green grin. It's such a spectacle, he's practically showing teeth. It's amazing how well I've become acquainted with Taylor's gum line in recent years. Before Ana, I thought it was all wired shut.
He probably thought the same of me.
"Is everyone here?" Ana asks, gaping at the line of cars parked along the perimeter.
Oh hell.
I thought it was just a party with the kids!
"Oh no, I'm calling my sister and mother and sending them away," I say, unlatching my safety belt, once we're stopped, and then fumbling into my pocket for my cell.
"No, don't," Ana says, brushing my arm. "They're excited to see the boys. And we promised to announce their names."
"Why do they need to know their names?" I ask.
"Christian!" she says.
"What? I mean, why can't they wait? Anticipation makes it all the more exciting. In fact, we can tell them at Christmas. Isn't that coming up?"
"It's July," she says.
"Well, all the more excitement in the anticipation."
"Honestly!"
"Honestly, you need rest!" I take her hand. "You don't need a party."
"I'm okay," she says and squeezes my fingers. "Besides don't you want to see the look on your dad's face when we tell him?"
I sigh and cut her a look. "Yes, but that can still happen at Christmas..."
My father will be touched that his granddaughter chose his name for her brother's middle one—even if she still thinks it's Carrot.
"Please..." Ana says, giving me an extra squeeze.
The squeezes do me in every time. Especially the extra ones.
"Fine, but they're not staying long," I say. "It'll be hello, names, and then goodbye."
"He's going to be so surprised, too," Ana whispers to me as she cuts her eyes to Taylor, who's now fingering the knobs of the sound system. He's probably daydreaming of Ed Sheeran.
He will be surprised. Teddy's choice of a middle name is his. Lord, once he knows my son bears his name he may think I actually have affection for him—I mean outside of my gratitude for him guarding my family's bodies and picking up my dry cleaning. And where does that slippery slope lead? Will we need to casually converse after he delivers my shirts? Or, hang out without him shadowing me with his hand on his trigger. I gasp—Will he try to call me by my first name?
No, I think him calling me Mister is actually part of our affection. Troubling as that may sound.
"My brothers are here!" I hear Phoebe yell as we all approach the door—Olly in Ana's arms and Archie in mine. The three sets of formerly window peeking eyeballs have now made their way to the front porch with a beaming Gail beside them.
"I made sure the kids didn't slide across the foyer in their socks again, Mr. Grey," Gail says to me.
"Bless you, Gail," I say.
And I see she's cleaned all the chocolate off their faces and hands.
That woman is getting another raise.
"They're so squishy faced," Teddy says as he looks at his brothers.
"That's 'cause they were folded inside Mommy for so many years," Phoebe says.
It's sure gonna feel like years at the end of this six weeks.
"Gently," I say as Phoebe and Teddy reach for them. Phoebe immediately dusts Olly with featherlight kisses when Ana leans down to show her.
"They're so beautiful, Mr. and Mrs. Grey," Gail says and then cuts her eyes to Taylor to smile. And hell, his gum line is showing again. "It'll be so much fun to have babies in the house again."
"Yeah, they could be like my dollies but with parts that move," Phoebe says.
"They aren't dolls. They're real. You have to be careful," I say.
"I'm careful with my dollies," she says. "I only lost one eye once."
"Yes, and my foot found it on my office floor," I say, remembering the twisting of my ankle and the thud to the ground, and then the emergency rush to the hospital. Not the hospital for me—the doll hospital. I have an excellent specialist at The American Girl store.
"Oh my boys!" my mother says as she mad dashes to the door, clutching her pearls, and immediately fawns all over the twins. She's so bubbly. Why do I feel like she just downed a full glass of Pinot.
"Careful, Mom," I say. "They're new and delicate. Don't rattle them."
"Son, I'm a pediatrician," she says, rolling her eyes as she tickles Olly's belly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he actually laughed. Probably at his father.
They all do.
And it delights me so.
"Daddy, Daddy, can I hold them?" Phoebe asks. "I punched some boys at school, so my arms are extra strong."
"That's a good way to train," I say and Ana gives me a discouraging look. She got mad when I gave her that t-shirt—boys are stupid, throw rocks at them, and she did.
"And Chester's been working on his must-ells with Boone in his gym," Phoebe says.
Of course our turkey has a gym in his bachelor pad apartment. He doesn't even have arms but he has a bench press—and a trainer.
"Has he?" I ask as I look at the rotund little rodent, eating a torn piece of a blue frosted cookie, on her shoulder. He's staring at me, flashing his crumb soaked, blood thirsty teeth, planning his launch.
"Tell you what, we can hold the babies together, later, when you're sitting down," Ana says.
"Can they come to my room to play space pirates?" Teddy asks. "Fritzy's here, so we got even teams."
"No, not yet. They're very small. We have to be careful," I say and then I think. "Why is Fritzy here?"
"I don't know. He's always kinda here," Teddy says.
Isn't that the truth? I just know I'm going to get a call from his father, Haskell, asking where his kid has been for days. And then, after I tell him, he'll ask if I can keep him longer.
"Where is he right now?" I ask.
"Playing fart contests with Uncle Lelliot and Great Grandpa."
I should've known.
"And you're not playing?" I ask.
"I already shot off my best one," he says.
"Ana, how are you walking after two humans came out of you?" Mia says, rushing up to hug her, in a swarm of blue tutu glory.
"That's my question exactly," I say. "She needs to be in bed. Without festivities."
"I'm fine," Ana says. "Thank you, Mia, for all this."
"What exactly is all of this?" I ask Mia, motioning to the explosion of blue that's overcome the foyer.
"The decorations for Ana's party," she says.
"No, it's not a party," I say. "It's a hello and a goodbye."
"You're as fun as ever, bro," Elliot says, entering with a skipping Ava and Kavanagh.
"The outfits!" Kavanagh says, immediately examining her hideous gifts adorning the boys. "They're gorgeous!"
Gorgeous? I'm putting them in the baby books under: Early Mistakes We Made.
"Dude, I chose the bunny," Elliot says.
I thank him with my signature fuck you side-eye.
"Ana, why didn't you wait for me to stop being sick before you gave birth? I wanted to be there," Kavanagh says, always thinking of others.
"Dude, I thought I was going to die from all that rotten fish," Elliot says.
"Oh, it's not the first time you've had bad tuna, I'm sure," I grin.
I know he wants to flip me off but the kids are here.
"What's that music?" Ana asks as the faint sounds of Sinatra come from the sound system upstairs amidst the rat-tat-tat of hammers.
The Fairmont is here.
"Oh yeah! Why are there people working upstairs?" Mia asks me. "A big van arrived—"
"Please, keep your attention on the party that's about to break up," I say quickly and she sticks out her tongue.
Ana gives me a look and I just smile and shrug. "The sound system had some issues... They're fixing it."
"You're so lucky to have baby brothers!" Ava says to Phoebe in a squeal.
"I know! I'm gonna put dresses on them and play princesses," Phoebe says.
"Can we go play princesses now?" Ava asks.
"Sure!" Phoebe says.
"No, no, no... we're not going to do that right now," I say.
"Can we have a tea party with them?" Phoebe asks me.
"Yes, a tea party is good idea. Tomorrow," I say.
"Oh goody! I made you a new tiara to match your bracelets, Daddy."
"I can't wait to see it," I say. "Let me guess, Chester has a matching one?"
"No, his is better," she says and the rodent spits cookie at me.
"Daddy, can I have baby brothers to play princesses with too?" Ava asks Elliot.
"You heard her, Elliot," I say with a grin.
"Uh, you can enjoy Phoebe's brothers for now," he says and Kavanagh shoots him a look.
Uh oh. What's that all about?
I'm not getting involved in family drama. The more I involve myself, the more likely they are to stay.
"Picture time," a far too familiar voice stabs me, rounding the corner, as flashbulbs go off.
The fucking photographer.
You can tell by his strut, and open collar striped button down, that he's still high off his theatrical debut as George Washington.
I glanced at his Instagram page while Ana was asleep at the hospital. He's got three photos of him on stage and a link to where you can buy the commemorative autographed DVD.
"You look fantastic, Mama!" he says, all eyes on Ana's legs in that romper. Why does his one chest hair seem to get erect every time he's around her.
"Thank you Jose!" she says.
"Yes. Thank you," I say with a glare, moving between them before he can wrap his serpent arms around her and poke her with that rapey hair.
"And these babies..." he says, staring at her chest area. I'm about to have Taylor remove him from existence, but then he looks at my chest area and I realize he's talking about the actual babies in our arms.
Or so he claims...
Oh fuck it, we've tried to remove him from existence numerous times and the cockroach keeps coming back.
"Taylor," I mouth to him and he slides over from his post at the wall. "Fetch Ana's fuzzy robe."
"Yes, sir. Shall I get yours too?"
"Uhh... Later," I say. Although I always enjoy being easily identified as a sweet matchy-match lovesick couple, I'd rather not have my brother and the photographer witness me wrapped in spa fuzz.
Taylor nods and takes off.
"Family picture," the photographer says, flashing away and nearly blinding me. I swear, he goes home and edits me out of these things.
"No more pictures right now," I say, just as he flashes again. "Ana needs to sit. If everyone would move the festivities from the foyer to the great room, we can start this thing so we can end it."
If I thought the lawn and the foyer were bad with the festive décor, I just entered what I imagine Smurf village might look like if they all took psychedelic drugs and spontaneously exploded over it.
Blue balloons, blue punch with blue ice, blue cupcakes... Mia's even put a blue carpet down that matches the lawn signs. It's all so blue, it reminds me less of new baby boys and more of solid mold infestation.
"I made the salad!" Kavanagh says, pointing to some gloppy wilted lettuce on the table spread.
Blue cheese. How original.
"Baby, you're here!" Ana's mother says, practically skipping to her, as we enter the room.
She didn't know we'd arrived when half the house ran to the door and stayed there for half an hour? I guess Bob's conversational skills have improved past golf and which buffets offer the biggest spreads for just under ten bucks and a coupon.
Oh wait, it's not conversation that's improved, they've dug out the good scotch. I can tell because Bob's swirling amber liquid in a tumbler and his eyes match the playroom.
"You look wonderful," Carla says, hugging her daughter and then pulling back to have a look. "I had one baby and my entire stomach and breasts dragged to the floor, not to mention the melasma... It was disgusting, but you're stunning."
"She is," I say and smile at Ana, who sweetly does the same to me.
"She looks way better than me after a full two days of throwing up," Kavanagh pipes up.
"She does," I say but this time Ana's smile tells me to knock it off.
"I'm so sorry about the food poisoning," Ana says.
"Damn, I haven't thrown up that much since rush week 2008," Elliot says.
"You weren't in college in 2008," I say.
"Oh, I was in deep in college that year," he says with a wolffish grin.
"Great party!" Bob yells out. He gives me a nod as he scoops what looks like onion dip onto a chip that's, of course, blue.
Wait—who the fuck okayed onion dip and mass marketed blue potato products in my home?
"That's my Annie girl! And the rookies on the team!" Ray says, rushing over to her with Jose Sr. in tow.
Though Jose Sr. doesn't really rush, but rather just shuffles forward, stops and stands there, staring at me. His usual greeting.
Why is that fucker always here?
"Hello, Mr. Rodriguez," I say to him as Ray fusses over Ana and the boys. "Nice weather we're having."
He grunts, "I washed my car. It'll rain."
I wonder if that's one of the photographer's mother's mother's mother's disasters... I don't ask. I like to keep the word count to a minimum with him, which isn't difficult.
"Mrs. Grey, can I get you anything?" Gail asks Ana.
"Yes, a seat and some tea," I say and then lean in to her. "And in ten minutes everyone's coats."
"Yes, Mr. Grey," Gail says.
"Let me take him, Ana," Carla says. "I want to get to know my new grandson." Ana hands her Olly, who fusses a bit but then settles.
"And let me take this precious boy," Grace says, taking Archie out of my arms. "Aren't they just perfect?"
"Oh Grace, we're grandmothers again," Carla says. "We should go out and celebrate!"
"Perfect, go tonight!" I say. "Mile High Club on me. I can get you a reservation in twenty minutes."
"Oh wonderful!" Carla says. Free top shelf booze and bone in ribeye does it every time.
Taylor rushes back in with the spa robe. It's so fuzzy it looks like he just sheared a flock of sheep out back, dyed it pink and then glued it to the collar.
"Mrs. Grey," he says, handing it to her.
"What's this?" she asks, frowning as she fingers the fuzz.
"Your legs look like they're getting cold from the exposure, Mrs. Grey," I say.
"It's summer," she says as she rolls her eyes and passes it back to Taylor.
Why did I think this was going to work?
"Well, the suspense is killing us!" Grace says, once I have Ana seated on the couch.
"We'll kill the suspense right away, so everyone can leave," I say.
"He means that since we have everyone gathered here, we can't wait to make the announcements," Ana says.
"Yes, announcements. And then you can leave," I say.
"Good. I can't wait all night," my grandfather, who's seated next to my grandmother on the corner loveseat, says. "Not after all that onion dip." And then he lets one rip.
Oh god.
"Yep! I let out a few real winners after a double scoop," Elliot says and the kids laugh.
"But I won," Fritzy says.
"And I'll never be able to un-smell that," my grandfather says and then rips one again.
"Everyone," I say as Taylor covertly disperses air freshener around. "Thank you for coming to this unexpected non-party..." I glare at my sister.
"But to move things along, so Ana can rest, and you all can go, we want to make an announcement." I motion to the kids. "Phoebe, Teddy, you want to help with what we planned."
"Yay!" Phoebe says and she and Teddy run over.
"We've chosen names," Ana says, smiling at our littlest ones—each tucked in a grandmother's arms. I give Taylor a look to watch them, though. If the scotch hits those two, he'll swoop in and scoop the babies up. No one can swoop and scoop like Taylor.
"Now, we tried to do something special with the names..." I say. "Ana and I chose their first names, but we wanted to do it as a family, so Phoebe and Teddy were each in charge of a middle name for each of their brothers."
"Oh , isn't that darling!" Grace says.
"Phoebe, why don't you start with what we practiced before," Ana says, smiling at her as she encourages her forward.
"Why does she get to go first?" Teddy asks.
"Because she's a lady," I say.
"She's not a lady, she's my goofy sister," he says.
Phoebe responds by winding up her arm with a fist at the ball end to make contact with his shoulder. Thankfully, I catch it just in time. I've had so much practice with these two, they should draft me for the Mariners.
Or maybe they should draft Phoebe.
"Phoebe," I say. "Come on, tell them the name you've chosen."
She smiles and steps to the center of the room.
"My brother that I named is called after one of my very favorite peoples," Phoebe says. "He's always here for us and plays with us and is funny..."
I see the photographer light up with anticipation that his name might be somehow stamped on one of my boys. Is he fucking serious? He's confusing funny haha with funny mental institution.
"So..." she says, swaying from princess kitten heel to princess kitten heel, building anticipation for the audience. "I named my brother Carrots,"
The room is silent.
"Is that after the hamster?" my grandfather shouts out.
Chester hisses—but of course it's directed at me.
"She means Carrick," I say and I motion to the baby in my mother's arms. "We've named him Archer Carrick Grey."
"I know. That's what I said," Phoebe says, wrinkling her little nose up to me.
"Oh, isn't that beautiful," Grace says, tearing up as she rocks my father's namesake.
"I named him after you, Grandpa," Phoebe says. "And 'cause his hair looks like carrots. And horsies like carrots. And I like horsies because horsies are just really unicorns that the fairies kissed to hide them from dragons during the battle for the magical land."
"It was a glittery war," I say.
"I know," Phoebe says. "It was."
"Oh Phoebe, that's the sweetest thing," Carrick says and wraps her in one of his signature bear hugs. The ones I could never get when I was Phoebe's age, and just had to watch from afar.
It's nice to watch up close today.
"Thank you to your mom and dad, too," he says to Phoebe, and then looks to Ana, and then to me. I give him a smile and a nod.
When he looks back to Ana again, I can see him mouth an emotional thank you. And I know it's not just because of the name.
To think there was ever a time he tried to strong-arm me into getting Ana to sign a prenup. The epic fights we had. And right before the wedding... I thought he wouldn't show up after that epic blow up I had with him the day before. Today, if I royally fucked up with her—which I will never do— he'd be first in line to be her attorney to help her soak me.
But he should know, he'd never need to. I'd always give her everything.
"That is just beautiful," my mom says, in tears now, gently touching the baby's face. "Aren't you a special boy, Archer Carrick..."
"Archie for short," Ana adds, wiping back some tears of her own.
"Did I did good, Daddy?" Phoebe asks me as the others fuss over Archie.
"You did perfect, Princess," I say and I snuggle her up in my arms and kiss her head.
"It's my turn," Teddy says, raising his arms in the air.
"You're right," I say. "Go ahead. Like we practiced." I nod, motioning him forward.
As I watch him take his place in the spotlight, I take pause. He really is a little man now. He's getting big way too fast.
"Well, I was thinking a real long time of all the best good names in the world—like Stan and Joe —and Bruce... "
"Bruce is a good one," Elliot says. What an idiot.
"But then Mommy said to pick a name of someone I really really like, like one of the mostest in the world. So, that's what I did."
"Yes!" Elliot says, arms up in victory.
I smirk. Sorry to disappoint you bro...
Wait a minute. Teddy likes Taylor the most in the world.
I'll allow myself to be disturbed about this fact later.
"So," Teddy says, " I chose it to be Uncle Taylor."
Everyone cheers and looks to Taylor, who's still holding the air freshener. He's stunned, I can tell. And if I'm not mistaken he's getting misty. Not misty like your average emotional person, but there's definitely an oasis in that desert.
"The middle name is Uncle Taylor?" my grandfather says.
"Just Taylor," Ana says with a giggle. "He's been a very special part of Christian's life for many years now. And he's a part of our family."
Oh Christ, don't lay it on so thick, Ana.
"I'm so honored, Theodore," Taylor finally says, clearing his throat of emotion. "I never expected this..."
"Oliver Taylor Grey is his name," I say. "Olly for short." And there's elation in the room again.
"Oh Taylor, isn't that wonderful," Grace says and the lot of them shower Taylor with love.
Oh hell...
Taylor's looking at me like I just handed him the testicle he thought he lost in the war.
"Oh what beautiful names!" Grace says.
"Elliot would've worked," my brother says.
"We'll get you next time," I say.
"Ana's having more babies?!" Kavanagh asks, wrinkling her nose.
"Oh yes," I say, cuddling my two oldest and kissing Teddy's head for a job well done.
"Sisters!" Phoebe says.
"We'll see," Ana says with an adorable laugh.
"Don't worry, Princess," I whisper to Phoebe. "I'll get you sisters." And we give each other matching conspiratorial winks.
After the name festivities, everyone returns to the bar, the dance tunes and the onion dip.
Oh God, I have to get them out of here...
I look over to Ana at one point and see she's yawning. And it won't be long before the babies will be fussing for a feeding. She needs to rest before then.
"Okay, the festivities need to wrap up now," I say as I stand. "Thanks for the fun but we need to restore this house to peace and quiet."
"This reminds me of what he'd do when I threw parties back in high school when Mom and Dad were away," Elliot says.
"You threw parties when we were away?" Grace gapes.
"Oh crap, you didn't know?" Elliot asks.
"I knew," Carrick says. "I found an extra large string bikini top in my liquor cabinet."
"That was Christian's," Elliot laughs.
"Takes some food, definitely some onion dip," I say to them as they start to head out.
"If you pay for the plumbing bill," my grandfather says and then lets one off again.
Taylor immediately sprays his floral scent.
After today I know it's true, roses really can smell like poo poo.
"We'll be by tomorrow to check on you guys," my mother says before exiting the front door.
"That sounds good, Mom. Have fun at the club!"
"Oh we will!" Carla says and she and Grace giggle.
"I'm so proud of you, Grace says as she touches my cheek, almost like she's looking at a stone monument come to life. It's accurate, I suppose. "You have such a beautiful family."
"Well, Ana's responsible for that." I say.
"You don't give yourself enough credit," she says and then wraps me in a hug before they all take off.
"Your mother is right, you know," Ana says as she comes up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist.
"It's all you, baby," I say, holding to her hands that are held tight to my chest. "Everything we have is because of you. You've made me a good father."
"No, you're a good father all on your own."
I turn her in my arms and kiss her. And this time is doesn't remind me of the drought ahead. It just feels good to have this connection. This love. And it's enough for me always.
It's that and so much more.
"Daddy, can we hold the babies now," Phoebe sleepily says as she holds her arms up for me to lift her.
"Since you're pretty sleepy," I say, picking her up and kissing her head. "What do you say we do that tomorrow?"
"I'm not sleepy," she says, followed by a yawn and the nestling of her head into my chest. Just like her mother when her head hits a comfortable pillow, she's out like a light.
"I think we better put the kids to bed," I say to Gail. "Keep watch over the babies." She nods and tends to the sleeping bundles in their bassinets.
They're sleeping soundly. I know that won't last. I don't want to speed up the process by jostling them around.
"Is Taylor your brother?" Teddy asks as we all walk upstairs. I keep an extra eye on Ana, who I'm delighted is using the railing. I wanted to have an elevator installed but she refused.
"No, why do you ask?" I say.
"Because we call him uncle," he says. "And teacher said all uncles are brothers."
"Is that what Tilly told you?" I ask and he nods. "Well, she's mistaken—"
"Taylor isn't your daddy's brother," Ana quickly chimes in. "But he is family." She smiles at me. "And he's like a brother to your dad."
"Am I like family?" Fritzy pipes up.
Oh hell, when did he get here?
"Did you forget to go home again?" I ask him.
"Yep," he says and I shake my head.
"Did you call your father?"
"Yep."
"What'd he say?"
"He told me to tell you to keep me until all that bad fish he ate on the boat stops coming up and then going down his toilet."
"Fair enough," I say.
Yeah right, he's all better by now. He's just got some hooker over who's polishing his love knob.
For a moment I think Chester might be lost face first in a haze of some blue cupcake frosting, but then he pops out of Phoebe's pocket. I'm not sure how it happened, but he's in full onesie pajamas now and a long rainbow striped sleeping hat.
Does he change these outfits himself?!
I don't want I know.
Once we've tucked the kids into bed, I take Ana's hand and kiss the back of it before leading her to our bedroom. "Now, Mrs. Grey, I have a surprise for you."
"In the bedroom?" she asks. "You know we haven't time hopped six weeks, right?"
"Not that," I smirk. "But something I hope you'll enjoy as well."
"You're up to something," she says, eyeballing me.
"Always," I smile.
"What's that scent?" Ana says as we reach the double doors. "It's lovely. So familiar..." She crinkles her nose, looking up at me.
Always so eager for information...
I turn the handles and swing the doors open to reveal paradise...
Ot at least the Fairmont spa on steroids.
Sinatra croons softly as soft cream linens and blush colored roses decorate.
"Christian, this is amazing," Ana says as she looks to the service of assorted herbal teas and a lavender and chamomile scented eye pillow on a tray at the foot of the bed. There are also assorted scones and cookies—and my personal favorite, our teacups to be filled with a sparkling pink lemonade that's chilling in an ice bucket.
"I know what that scent is," Ana says. "It's like the one at the Fairmont spa."
"Yes, they were here."
"Who was here?"
"The Fairmont."
"The Fairmont was here?" She gapes.
"Well, I know how you love their spa, so I had them make it here. But more enthusiastically." I point to a spring water and herb copper foot bath. "So whenever you want a pedicure, I'm your man. Well, the bathing and massage part. The polishing has to be called in."
"You got me heated slippers?" she asks as she looks over the assortment on the floor by her vanity.
"Yes and they match the fuzzy robe Taylor had for you that you rejected earlier," I say. "I have one too. So we can match."
God, I hope mine isn't so pink.
"Oh Christian, this is..." she says as she looks around. "I don't have the words..."
I cringe. "Awful? You hate it."
"No, I love it," she smiles and then cuddles up in my arms. "And I love you so much. Not just for this..." She tilts her head up to look at me. "I love you for giving me every day."
She leans up to kiss me.
"I will always give you my days, Mrs. Grey," I say just before my lips meet hers again.
Just then the alarm sounds. Well, the alarm being two crying babies downstairs heard over the state of the art monitoring system.
"I'll get them," Ana says. "They need to be fed." I can see the milk seeping through her top after hearing their cries. Fuck that's sexy.
"No, no," I say. "I'll get them and bring them to you. You get into your spa attire, and into the bed, and get your breasts ready."
"Yes, sir," she smirks.
"None of that talk for six weeks," I say and I grin as I kiss her on the forehead.
I quickly make my way downstairs to the babies. I see Gail rocking them. Not a fuss made by either of them anymore. Just a contented silence.
"Hey fellas," I say, tending to them. "You know, you're a miracle worker, Gail. How did you get them to stop crying?"
"They were hot and fussy, so I thought I'd change them so they'd be more comfortable," Gail says.
The hideous outfits are gone and replaced with new diapers and adorable little matching yellow onesies.
That raise for Gail is coming yesterday.
"Yes, thank you, Gail," I say and she smiles at me.
"You know, they also stopped fussing because they're so happy to see their dad," she says, and when I look up, she's beaming at me.
"I hope so," I say.
"I know so, Mr. Grey." She smiles. "Now then, do you need anything else?"
"No Gail, I've got it covered. Just tell Taylor to be on call later."
"Oh yes, he's been practicing his swaddling!" She grins before bidding me a goodnight and leaving the room.
Maybe he practiced on her... I don't want to know.
There was a time when she wouldn't leave me alone with a fresh head of romaine for fear of me killing it, so leaving me with two small humans shows we've improved.
"Well, you two do look more comfortable," I say, fussing over my little men. "It's good to be out of those heinous outfits..."
They wiggle and coo and I know it's their way of saying I should tell Aunt Kate to lose their Christmas gifts.
Victory!
"I don't need silly animal faces to know who my boys are..." I say. "I know you both so well. Archie, you..."
My breath grows fast and my palms sweat.
"Archie, you are...
Oh God.
I look over my matching boys. No hospital bracelets, no obnoxious cartoon animals to tell them apart. Nothing.
Suddenly a rush of panic washes over me. I feel faint, out of sorts. I'm the worst father in the world.
My worst fear is realized...
I don't know which one is which.
More to come!