Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hollywood Hills, California - May 18th, 2015

I'm in love with my life.

It's a serious, overwhelming, all consuming, wouldn't-change-a-thing kind of love. Even on the most tiring and stressful days, I go to bed feeling thankful. And rarely does a day pass that I don't wake up and spend at least a moment or two struggling to accept that, no, this isn't all a dream. It's all real, and it's all mine.

Those are my amazing kids, and this is my incredible house, and my adorable (yet slightly demented) dog, and my successful career doing exactly what I've always wanted to be doing.

And that breathtakingly beautiful guy in my bed isn't a figment of my imagination. He's my husband. My soul mate, my much better half (regardless of what he might say).

I swear, sometimes I get out of bed in the morning with the strongest urge to push both of the French doors to our bedroom's balcony open wide, throw my arms out and yell, "I'm the King of the world!" at the top of my lungs for all of the Hollywood Hills to hear. Because that's how it feels, like I'm the luckiest guy on the entire planet. Instead, I usually open the doors quietly so that I won't disturb Tommy, and then I'll stand on the balcony and stare out at the warm glow cast across the city by the rising sun. And I spend those few moments of silence before the rest of my little world wakes up letting it all sink in. Letting myself truly appreciate how far I've traveled to find this place, how hard I've fought for it, and the fact that I can stop now. I don't need to search anymore. I've won every battle that I've had to fight.

I'm the King of the fucking world!

"You're doing it again."

There's nothing I can do to keep the faint blush from spreading across my cheeks as I turn to look at Tommy. And I can tell from the smirk on his lips that he can see it, even from all the way over on the bed.

"I'm not doing anything." I reply as casually as I can, making my way back into the bedroom. "I was just looking to see what the weather was gonna be like this morning."

"There's an app for that." He informs me as I disappear into the adjoining bathroom, and only once I'm completely out of sight do I allow myself to smile.

Grin.

It's not that I don't want him to see how happy I am; he knows how happy I am. I just know that I look like a total dork right now, and there's no way he'll be able to resist giving me crap for it. I'm not gonna give him that satisfaction. At least, not right away.

I'm kind of a tease like that, I guess.

I won't lie, part of me is hoping he'll hop into the shower with me at some point. And even though I'm hoping for it, waiting for it, I'm sure I'll still scream like a little girl if he actually does it. But much to my disappointment, he never puts in an appearance. Which probably means he either fell back asleep or he was jumped on by an impatient child demanding to be fed. It happens a lot in this house.

After drying off my hair and securing the towel around my waist, I return to the bedroom to find him right where I left him. He's alone and wide awake, which automatically makes me want to pout. It means he chose to stay out here instead of joining me in the bathroom.

Because he's an even bigger tease than I am!

I can feel him watching me as I turn my back to him and open the dresser drawer. Instead of letting my towel fall to the ground before pulling my underwear on, I put my underwear on under my towel so he gets to see precisely nothing. Only then do I throw my towel aside and chance a look over my shoulder. And, of course, he's pouting.

"You're doing it again." I taunt him playfully, rummaging around for a t-shirt.

"Fuck you."

"If you'd gotten your ass out of bed and taken a shower with me, you could have. But now it's too late." I sigh as I shake my head at him sadly, earning myself a scowl in response. "Maybe tomorrow."

"You don't even have any clothes on yet!" He argues in the whiniest tone he possibly can. "Why're you being a dick about it?"

"You started it."

"Fine, I started it. Why don't you come over here and finish it?"

"Tempting..." I muse, pretending to mull it over as I take a slow step closer to the bed. "But now's really not a good time for me. I just got clean..."

He rolls his eyes, throwing the covers off and scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "If we fuck in the shower we can get off and rinse off at the same time. Problem solved!"

"You couldn't have thought of that ten minutes ago when I was actually in the shower?" I tease as he grabs me by the wrist and I allow him to lead me back into the bathroom. "You know, I feel like I should stand my ground here. I don't wanna reward you for bad behavior."

"So don't." He smiles at me devilishly, turning around as soon as we reach the shower and immediately pushing my underwear down. "Punish me."

"I don't think it counts as punishment if you ask-"

The rest of my reasoning is cut short by an incredibly demanding kiss. Usually I don't like to be interrupted when I'm trying to make a point, but I'm willing to let it slide this time. He wraps his arms around me, kissing me eagerly as I kick my underwear aside and he pulls me into the shower with him. I'm prepared for the water to be cold for a second or two when he first turns it on, but being prepared for it doesn't keep me from gasping as soon as the first surge of water hits my skin. Somehow it only heightens what I was already feeling, making me hyper-sensitive to every little touch of his skin against mine. It's difficult to hold on to any coherent thoughts right now, but there's one that's unshakeable. Just like the thoughts of thankfulness and gratitude I experience when I wake up beside him every morning and fall asleep with him each night.

It's awe, plain and simple.

We've been living together for just over two and a half years, and married for a year. I guess, to some people, this could still be considered the "honeymoon phase". In my mind, we're long past that point. And yet we still have these moments where we're all over each other the way we were any time we saw each other when we first  got together. I don't want him any less now than I did the night I met him. If anything, I want him more. Being with him is never predictable, and certainly never boring. The fact that we know each other so well in every sense imaginable, and that we've had sex in pretty much every position we possibly can without risking serious injury isn't in any way a negative. It doesn't mean that there's nothing left to learn or experience, or that our sex life is in any way repetitive.

And that's what still astonishes me about our relationship. Somehow things still feel new between us, like we haven't had morning sex in this shower more times than I could ever try to tally!

Maybe it's because there's never a guarantee that we'll even get to start, let alone finish. We got lucky this morning (no pun intended). I woke up early, which gave us a little extra alone time before the kids woke up. And since they tend to stay up a little later on Sunday nights than they do on other school nights, they always sleep later on Monday mornings. Most days don't start out quite this peacefully. Once one of them wakes up, they start making enough noise to wake everyone else in the house up.

Then, unless it's a weekend, we begin our daily routine.

I'll make breakfast while Tommy wrangles the kids into the dining room. We'll eat together, and then I'll clean up and pack their lunches while he chases them around getting them ready for school. I usually take Ezra, Penny, River and Viggo to school, since Tommy loathes driving the minivan in the Hollywood Hills, and he takes Asta over to her pre-school.

We enrolled her just after she turned two so that she could socialize with other kids her age. It was nothing new for me; I'd gone through the same thing with four other kids over the years. But it was quite possibly more distressing for Tommy than it was for Asta. In fact, when we took her in for her first day, she threw enough of a fit that he couldn't bring himself to 'abandon' her and he insisted on taking her home. I had to force him to leave her in the very capable hands of her fully trained teachers the next day, and he was miserable until we went to pick her up later that afternoon. But as it turned out, while he was at home worrying about how traumatized she might be, she had apparently started having the time of her life the moment the door had closed behind us that morning. It took a week or so for him to finally feel comfortable leaving her there, whether she was crying or not, and now it's entirely painless for both of them. I'm pretty sure his favorite time of day is still afternoon pick up, though. I can never tell which of them lights up more as soon as she spots him walking towards the playground.

The hours that the kids are in school aren't exactly downtime for the two of us. There's always something to do, especially now that Jenna has a day job as a teacher's assistant, and a serious boyfriend. She's basically only around for the post-school rush and any "date nights" we can book her for.

We usually go with the divide and conquer tactic when it comes to chores and errands. One of us will go grocery shopping while the other does laundry, or one of us will clean the kitchen while the other cleans the bathroom. That way, on a good day, we're done just in time to have lunch together, and then we have a couple of hours to spend doing whatever we want. Most of the time we end up in the studio, especially lately. But sometimes we'll get together with friends,  or go for a run, or take Duke on a hike. And every once in a while we'll simply lounge around on the couch and appreciate the complete and utter calm.

After the kids get home from school, Jenna helps them with their homework and Tommy keeps Asta occupied while I make a start on dinner. The rest of our evening is typically spent doing whatever the kids want to do until bedtime. Unless it's one of the evenings we've roped Jenna into staying late. In which case Tommy and I will wait until Asta goes to bed and then head out to see a movie, or go to a club and see a band play, or meet up with friends at a bar.

On several occasions, we've used our "nights off" to host mini jam sessions with some of our closest musician friends. It's kinda like Fool's Banquet, with artists from every genre crammed into a studio for hours on end, surviving on nothing but music and beer. I'd say at least half of the songs on the new Phases album began to take shape in our studio, not to mention the choruses of a couple of songs that have since gotten some major radio airplay. Alex often jokes that we should put out an album of all of the random (sometimes drunken) recordings we have and call it "The Wine Cellar Sessions". I'm not entirely opposed to the idea, but I'm not sure everyone else who participated would be on board.

Tonight is a little different for us. We're meeting up with Holden and his husband at one of those hip-for-five-minutes nightclubs in WeHo. We're not really all that into the club scene, and neither are they most of the time. But Holden assured me that it wouldn't become a habit, and that they had a good reason for wanting to meet here instead of at one of our regular hangouts, so...

"I think they're having some kind of joint midlife crisis." Tommy mutters to me as we approach the club, the bass from the music playing inside vibrating down the sidewalk.

"Holden said it's a one-time thing."

"Why does it have to be a thing at all?"

I can't help but chuckle softly as he petulantly kicks a stone into the street. "I don't know. He said we'd find out when we get here."

"Fine. But if I end up getting mauled by half naked body builders, I expect you to jump in and defend my honor."

"If that happens... I'll think about it."

He shoves me playfully, causing me to stumble and almost fall face first into the chest of the bouncer at the door of the club. The guy eyes us suspiciously, like he thinks we might already be trashed. Luckily he decides we're sober enough to let us in, and I quickly text Holden to let him know that we're here. As we venture further into the club, I instinctively reach out for Tommy's hand and find that he's already reaching for mine. It's funny, but for two guys who have made a living performing for thousands of people, neither or us does very well with crowds. Besides, the last thing I need is to get separated from him within the first five minutes!

Holden texts me back to let me know that he and Ryan have procured a table for us in the balcony section, which is a relief because it means we won't be stuck down here with a bunch of sweaty strangers doing whatever it is that passes for "dancing" this month. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for rubbing up against Tommy like he's a scratching post and I have an itch that won't quit, but I don't call it "dancing" and I (usually) don't do it in public.

As soon as Holden spots us approaching, he jumps up from the table to greet us. We don't get the chance to see each other nearly as much as I know we'd all like to. His work schedule is so crazy, and our home life isn't always as organized as I like to tell myself it is, so finding a time that makes sense for all of us is tricky. But whenever we do get together it feels so easy, like we see each other all the time. I don't know if it was the circumstances we met him under, or the things he saw us go through, but there's definitely a connection there that I don't tend to have with people who I see as infrequently as I see him. It's like we skipped several years of friendship in those two long weeks I was in the hospital, and now it feels as though we've known each other our whole lives.

I'm not quite as close with his husband, Ryan, but I definitely don't dislike him. Sometimes he still surprises me with how blunt and shameless he can be about certain things, but it's something I admire about him rather than finding it off-putting. He doesn't need to know someone well before feeling comfortable enough to tell them exactly what he thinks on any given topic, whereas I only feel secure enough to share my true feelings with people I trust.

"Perfect timing!" Holden tells us, letting go of me and hugging Tommy. "We just ordered a round of drinks."

"Keep 'em coming." Orders Tommy semi-seriously. "I've got a feeling drunk is the thing to be in here."

"Loosen up, Thomas." Ryan nudges him good-naturedly before we make ourselves comfortable in the booth they've picked out. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were straight."

"Who says I'm not?"

"The guy you're married to, maybe?"

"The guy I'm married to was married to a chick for ten years before he married me." Tommy shrugs unconcernedly. "Didn't make him straight."

I have to fight to keep my smile under control, but when Holden and I chance a look at each other it becomes almost impossible. It looks like it's gonna be one of those nights.

"Whatever." Declares Ryan with a wave of his hand when no better argument presents itself. "Gay, straight or otherwise, deep down some part of you is dying to get out there and dance like the diva we all know you are."

"Pretty sure the only dancing queen at this table is you, dude." He retorts.

"Do you even remember how this conversation started?" I ask Holden just as the waitress arrives with a tray of shot glasses.

"Not a clue."

"It was because-"

Holden quickly reaches out and covers Ryan's mouth with his hand, knowing that if he doesn't kill this topic now we could be debating Tommy's sexuality all night. "Honey, sometimes people ask questions they don't actually want answered."

"Then they shouldn't ask them." Ryan replies simply, like that's all there is to it. And honestly... he's probably right. "Cheers!"

Tommy and I throw our shots back gladly, not asking or caring exactly what kind of liquor is passing our lips as we do so. It really doesn't matter; they pretty much all have the same effect. I feel Tommy lean against me as he sets his empty shot glass on the table in front of us, and I automatically slip my arm around him and hold him closer. Holden and Ryan are busy having a shameless wrapped-up-in-each-other moment, and the brief break in the conversation gives me the chance to properly  take in our surroundings.

This is another one of those things that I can't quite believe is part of my reality. Even though we rarely attend nightclubs like this one, there was a time in my life where it would have been completely out of the question for me to even consider it. I couldn't be seen in a club full of gay men and go-go dancers, I couldn't just hang out in public with an openly gay couple, and I definitely couldn't be seen getting cozy with another guy. The world saw me a certain way, and I had a responsibility to everyone in my life to live up to that view.

I don't anymore.

And even though it's been a few years since Tommy and I were outed on Perez Hilton's blog, being "out and proud" is still taking some getting used to. Some days I won't even think about it, especially when we're just doing normal things like taking the kids to the beach or going out to dinner. But when I find myself in an unfamiliar setting such as this one, it really hits me how completely different my life is now.

It's freeing.

"Wanna dance?" I whisper (loudly) against Tommy's ear, causing him to pull back immediately so that he can give me a distinct 'what the fuck?' look.

"I'm gonna need a hell of a lot more alcohol in me before that's even a remote possibility."

Challenge accepted! "That's doable."

"I don't dance."

"Sure you do." I tease him, leaning in until my lips are close enough to lightly graze his as I speak. "I've seen you shake it."

"Not in public." He continues to protest, warily eyeing the gyrating crowd on the dance floor below.

"I'll dance with you." Ryan offers me with a self-satisfied grin, leaving both Tommy and Holden scowling at him and chorusing an emphatic "no".

"Ask me again when I'm drunk." Tommy concedes grudgingly. "Really fucking drunk."

Scooting out from his side of the booth, Ryan stands and reaches his hand out to Holden. "It's more fun when you're sober."

"Oh boy." Sighs Holden, taking his husband's outstretched hand and allowing himself to be pulled out of his seat. "If I'm not back in five minutes, send help!"

"Will do!"

"Hey, wait!" Tommy calls out to them before they're too far away to hear him over the obnoxiously loud bass. "When're you gonna tell us why the hell we're here?"

Holden opens his mouth to respond, but Ryan steps forward and answers before he has a chance to. "Come dance with us and we'll tell you right now."

 "No thanks." Snorts Tommy indignantly. "I'd rather let the suspense kill me first."

Without any further attempts to coax Tommy onto the dance floor, Ryan and Holden disappear in the direction of the stairs, leaving the two of us alone in a nice big booth. I'm not really one for public displays of affection. I'll hold his hand without a second thought, and kiss him whenever the mood strikes me, but we've never been one of those couples who feels the need to grope each other in full view of everyone.

This is different, though.

"If you won't dance with me, will you at least give me a lap dance?" I request playfully, my smile growing even wider when he turns to look at me with an excited gleam in his eyes. "I was kidding... mostly."

"I'd totally do it."

"I know you would." I laugh as he shifts in his seat until he's half kneeling on it, giving me his full attention. "How about we just make out until they come back?"

He doesn't need to be asked twice, his mouth is on mine almost before I've finished speaking. My whole body is instantaneously engulfed by the most addictive rush of excitement as he presses himself against me, deepening the kiss and threading his fingers into my hair. My hands trail along his sides, grasping at the fabric of his t-shirt for a moment before drifting down to his hip bones. He groans into my mouth as I tug him closer, and the next thing I know his leg is draped over my lap and he's practically straddling me. I have a flash of déjà vu, thinking back to our very first kiss and how quickly it started to spiral out of control. Part of me always wondered what might have happened between us that night if I hadn't been interrupted by a barrage of texts.

I'd be lying if I said that the possibilities of that moment haven't been the subject of several fantasies over the years...

His hips rock slowly against me, and I gasp as my hands caress his thighs and silently urge him to do it again. I'm seriously on the verge of asking him if he wants to go somewhere a little more private, because the way he's making me feel is driving me so crazy that if I don't suggest we relocate now, I might not be thinking rationally enough to do it before this gets out of hand.

But before I can force myself to break the kiss, he does it for me. I'm expecting him to ask me the same question I was about to ask him, but he doesn't. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't even look at me as he slips off of my lap and onto the seat beside me.

"You okay?" I ask breathlessly, straightening myself up a little as he starts to move towards the edge of the booth.

"I'm fine." He assures me, flashing me the least convincing smile imaginable as he gets out of his seat. "I just need to take a leak."

If he had said those words to me a few seconds ago, I would have taken it as code for "let's go find a bathroom stall barely big enough for two". It's obvious that's not what he's suggesting, though. I wrack my brain trying to figure out what could have caused such a notable shift in his mood. I try to remember exactly how I was touching him and kissing him, wondering if I somehow did something to completely turn him off. But as I sit alone in the booth, replaying the past five minutes in my mind, the music pumping through the club starts to permeate my thoughts. It takes me a little while to figure out what it is that's so familiar about it. The song isn't one I've heard more than a couple of times before, but that voice is one that I definitely recognize.

It's Adam.

Chapter Text

Just after the song ends, Ryan and Holden return to the booth. But there's still no sign of Tommy. All I want to do right now is go and find him, but if he'd wanted to talk it out he wouldn't have left in the first place. I don't want to make things worse by harassing him, so I tell myself that he'll come back when he's ready and the best thing I can do for him is wait here until he does.

"Where's Tommy?" Holden frowns as he drops down into the booth beside me and Ryan flags down one of the waitresses nearby to order another round.

"Bathroom." I tell him with a small smile, turning my attention to the dancers downstairs so that I won't have to look him in the eyes and act like everything's fine.

I used to be such a convincing liar, I had to be. But it's been so long since I've needed to deceive anyone on a regular basis, I think I'm out of practice. Usually I'd view that as a positive thing, but in moments like this I wish I was better at disguising my dishonesty.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." When I chance a look at Holden, he's got me fixed with a very skeptical eyebrow raise. "It's nothing."

"What's nothing?" Asks Ryan, glancing back and forth between the two of us curiously. "What did we miss?"

"Just... the song that was just playing while you guys were dancing was Adam Lambert's new song."

Holden's worried expression instantly morphs into one of understanding. "I can see why that'd bum him out."

"Why? Adam Lambert's hot." Ryan shrugs, completely oblivious to the entire situation. "I wouldn't say no."

"Excuse me?" Chuckles Holden. "I'm sitting right here."

"But he's on my list!"

"Your list?" I question in amusement as Holden rolls his eyes and shakes his head dismissively. "Please tell me it's not one of those 'Celebrities I'm Allowed To Have Sex With' lists."

"Uh, yah it is." He replies with a distinct 'duh' tone. "Are you telling me you don't have a list?"

"I don't. Sorry to disappoint."

"I guess that makes sense. I mean, you are a celebrity, so the odds of you having the opportunity to sleep with someone on your list are way higher than they are for the rest of us."

"Uh..."

Ryan gasps suddenly, reaching across Holden to grab my arm in excitement. "You should have a list of like... regular people you're allowed to have sex with!"

"My husband, ladies and gentlemen." Remarks Holden in mock pride.

"Can I be on the list?"

"Dude! I'm sitting right here!"

"I'm actually completely happy not having a list, but I appreciate the interest... I think." I laugh softly, grateful for the interruption provided by the waitress returning with our drinks. And as if on cue, Tommy reappears just as the last shot glass is placed on the table. "Hey! Good thing you came back when you did, I was about to drink your shot as well as mine."

"Not cool." He scowls at me, sidling back into the booth like nothing ever happened.

But the way he immediately grabs his shot and throws it back before the rest of us even have a chance to reach for ours is pretty telling, at least to someone who knows him as well as I do. What I also know is that pointing that fact out, or bringing up the Adam incident in any way is only going to tick him off. And if I don't change the subject before Ryan is done swallowing his shot, there's a damn good chance that his lack of filter will result in him flat out asking Tommy about Adam.

"So, now that you've had a chance to dance, do we get to know why we're here?" I ask hopefully, noting the grins that spread across both of their faces the second they look at each other. "What's going on with you guys? You're already married, so we know you're not about to announce that you're engaged or anything."

Holden shrugs, setting his shot glass down on the table. "We just wanted to have one last crazy night on the town with our good friends."

Tommy frowns in confusion. "You look way too fucking happy for one of you to be dying, so... why's it the last night?"

"Because I think it'd be inappropriate for us to be out drinking and partying once we're pregnant." Explains Ryan with a completely straight face, which leaves Tommy and I looking at him like he's lost his mind.

"Okay, and the real reason is...?"

"That is the real reason."

"I hate to break it to ya, man, but neither of you can get pregnant." Tommy informs him with feigned sympathy.

"We can't, but our surrogate can." Holden smirks. "At least, I sure as hell hope she can."

"And I figure the least I can do is give up alcohol and caffeine in solidarity." Adds Ryan.

"I, on the other hand, will not be giving up caffeine because it is vital to my existence."

I cannot for the life of me decide how I'm supposed to respond to this news.

Do I take them seriously?

I mean... they seem serious, but this sounds insane!

Not that them having a baby is insane, but this is the first time they've ever mentioned it. It's completely out of nowhere, which makes me think it has to be a joke. But something about the look on Holden's face right now is enough to convince me that this isn't a prank and they aren't going to laugh in our faces as soon as we offer them our heartfelt congratulations.

"You're seriously having a baby?" I finally manage to ask.

Holden nods immediately, his smile widening. "We didn't wanna say anything until we knew for sure it was happening. We weren't even going to tell anyone until our surrogate was out of the first trimester, but we were too excited to wait."

"That's amazing!" I tell them sincerely, standing up to give each of them a tight hug. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks!" Beams Ryan as he returns my embrace before accepting one from Tommy. "We've been dying to tell someone besides our parents for weeks!"

"It's been so crazy, you know? All the tests and paperwork and then choosing an egg donor and a surrogate, and waiting until we could actually do the IVF treatment..." Sighs Holden, shaking his head at the thought of it all. "It felt like we were never gonna get to this point."

"What point are you at?" I ask, completely wrapped up in their excitement and wanting to hear all about this secret they've been keeping from everyone. "You said your surrogate isn't pregnant yet, right?"

"They're doing the embryo transfer tomorrow morning, so..." Ryan crosses his fingers on both hands as Holden smiles and wraps an arm around him. "The doctor said we should know within a couple of weeks if it worked."

"Wow..."

"It's gonna work." Holden assures him confidently. "I've got a good feeling."

"Me, too." Grins Ryan. "I hope it's twins!"

"I think one would be plenty for now, sweetie."

"But if we have twins, we'll be just like Neil and David!" He pouts. "Have you seen Neil's Instagram? They're like the perfect gay dads."

"After you guys, of course." Holden amends for him quickly, giving us a knowing wink.

"Well, obviously." Ryan rolls his eyes. "I mean, look at you two. Five kids and you still look like that?! It's insane. You're like superheroes or something."

That's one I've never heard before.

"Yeah, Diaper-Man and Binky Boy. Saving the world from tantrums one child at a time, right?" I chuckle softly, giving Tommy a gentle nudge with my elbow.

"Yeah." He smiles, but just like before I can tell it's not really genuine. "I'm gonna get another drink to celebrate. Anyone else want one?"

"We can just order from the waitress." Holden tells him. "It's one of the expensive perks of reserving a table up here."

"She's busy, this'll be faster."

We reluctantly place our drink orders with him, but when I offer to accompany him to the bar and help him carry everything back he assures me that he's got it. Again, my instinct is to follow him. But again, I know that's not going to help improve his mood. At this point, I'm not sure anything will. If Holden and Ryan hadn't just made such an important announcement, I'd be tempted to fake a sudden illness as an excuse for us to leave early.

The rest of the evening is basically more of the same. We chat about kids and work in between Holden and Ryan's many trips down to the dance floor, and Tommy sits there and smiles and makes monosyllabic comments every so often in a half-hearted attempt to avoid having anyone question his mood. I manage to excuse us just before midnight by pulling out the 'gotta get the kids up for school in the morning' card, and Tommy and I leave Holden and Ryan to drink and dance the night away. Thankfully they were both tipsy enough most of the time that they didn't seem to notice how distant Tommy was or how worried I was about him. I know neither of us wanted to ruin their night, and it looks as though we've somehow successfully avoided it.

Tommy is quiet the entire drive home. Once or twice I attempt to make some kind of small talk, just to see if I can coax him out of his own head for a few minutes. But other than a couple of one word answers, he doesn't respond to anything I say. So when I finally pull the car into the driveway, and he makes a move get out, I quickly press the button to lock all the doors. As soon as he hears the sound of his escape route disappearing, he sighs deeply and slumps in his seat.

"I don't wanna do this." He mutters before I can even broach the subject of his bad mood with him. "I'm tired."

"So am I. But I know that if we go in that house right now, you're just gonna go to bed without talking about it. And then you're gonna wake up tomorrow and act like it never happened, and when I ask you about it you'll say you're over it. You've been saying you're over it for weeks, but you're not."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Adam." I reply directly as he stares at me like he seriously has no clue what I'm trying to say. "You're still upset about him not wanting you to play for him anymore. If you weren't, you wouldn't have jumped off of me mid-kiss and made up an excuse about needing to use the bathroom just because one of his songs came on. And you wouldn't have spent the rest of the night moping-"

"You think that's what I was upset about?" He asks incredulously, exhaling a bitter chuckle. "You're so fucking slow sometimes, it's ridiculous."

If he thinks he can insult his way out of dealing with this, he's sorely mistaken. "I know what I saw, Tommy."

"No, you know shit!" He snaps, causing me to literally lean back in my seat as a result of the harshness in his tone. "Yeah, hearing that song got to me. For like a minute. I was over it before I even came back from the bathroom."

"So what the hell were you so pissed off about all night?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He's looking at me like I really should know the answer to this question, but I don't. So all I can do is sit here and shrug helplessly, knowing that my lack of insight into his emotions is only going to piss him off more. "You seriously don't know?"

"I don't!"

"Two months ago I told you that I didn't want us to just talk about having another kid, I wanted to do something about it."

"I...I didn't-"

"No, you didn't. You didn't say anything about it, you didn't do anything about it, you haven't even fucking hinted at the subject again since!"

"Neither have you!" I exclaim defensively.

"Both times we've talked about it, I was the one who brought it up. And both times, you just let it go. It was pretty fucking obvious that you weren't in any hurry to even look into the idea, and I wasn't gonna hound you about it until you gave in just to keep me happy. That's not what I wanted. I wanted you to want it as much as I do. But if you wanted it, you would have said something about it by now, so clearly you don't. And that's fine or whatever, but you could've at least fucking told me you didn't wanna do it instead of just pretending like I never even mentioned it."

"Tommy-"

He reaches across me and unlocks the doors, and he's already out in the driveway and slamming the door shut again before I even have a chance to unbuckle my seatbelt. By the time I've made it into the house he's halfway to our bedroom, and when I reach the doorway I find him grabbing his pillow off of the bed and stalking back towards me.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna sleep in the movie room."

"Would you please just stop for a second and talk to me?"

He finally does stop and turn to face me, but I can already tell it's not so that he can hear me out. "No. If we talk about it, I'm gonna get even more pissed off than I already am. And then I'm gonna start yelling, and I don't wanna wake the kids."

"Tommy-"

"Just... drop it, Taylor." He sighs tiredly as he begins walking away from me again. "You've done a great job of it so far."

All I want to do is follow him to the movie room and force him to hear me out. But I know he won't believe anything I say to him right now, even if it's the truth. He'll think I'm just looking for a way to end the fight. I need to at least let him cool off before I try talking to him about all of this again, because clearly it's a much more sensitive subject than I realized.

It just feels wrong to be under the same roof as him and not share a bed with him. The only times we've slept apart since he moved in are the handful of times one of us has gone out of town for work. And as difficult as that distance was, somehow this one is even worse. He's doesn't want to be near me right now. It's not like this is our first fight, far from it. And it's not the first time one of us has left a room when things have gotten heated. But it's the first time a fight has led to us sleeping in separate rooms.

Not that I see myself doing any sleeping tonight.

I can't believe I screwed this up so badly and I didn't even realize I was doing it! As usual, in trying to do the right thing I have somehow only succeeded in hurting someone I love. When I think back over everything that was said tonight, all of the excitement surrounding Holden and Ryan's announcement, and the baby-centric conversations that followed, all I can do is cringe and wish I'd known what it was doing to Tommy. He was sitting right there beside me, becoming more and more miserable by the second, and I had no idea why.

I feel like such an idiot!

I know he said he didn't want to talk about it because he didn't want to yell and wake the kids, but maybe there's a way we can avoid that. Or at least make it so that no one will hear him if he yells...

It's around three in the morning when I pick my iPhone up off of the nightstand beside the bed and open my text messages. There are a couple of unread ones waiting to be seen, but nothing important enough to distract me from my original plans. I pull up my conversation with Tommy and quickly type a new message.

You awake?

I'm half expecting my question to go unanswered, either because he's asleep or because he still has no interest in talking to me. But after only a few seconds I receive a reply.

Yeah

It's a start, at least. He didn't ignore me, which has to be a good sign... right?

If I come in there, are you gonna get mad?

This time I get no reply. I stare at the screen, willing a message to appear. Even if it's one that tells me that he still doesn't want to speak to me or even be in a room with me. The only thing that tears my gaze from the phone is the sound of the door handle turning as someone enters the room.

"Hey..."

"Hey." He sighs wearily, closing the door behind him and slowly making his way over to the bed. I watch as he places his pillow down in the empty spot beside mine before climbing onto the mattress with me and lying down on his side so that we're face-to-face in the darkness. "I'm sorry I was a jerk."

"You weren't. You were upset-"

"And I was a jerk about it."

"I should've known what was bothering you, though. If I wasn't such a clueless idiot, I would have realized why you were acting the way you were tonight and I would have done something about it instead of making it worse."

He shakes his head faintly, his eyes leaving mine and fixing themselves on something beyond me. "It wasn't your fault. And it wasn't even the baby thing. Not all of it, anyway."

"I don't understand..." I begin hesitantly, not wanting to ruin this peace we've made by being oblivious to his feelings again. "If that wasn't it, what was it?"

"I just feels like everyone's got something, you know? Everyone's doing something. You're writing and recording for an album and planning a tour, Isaac and Sophie just bought a house, Lisa just got promoted again, Adam's got a new album coming out, Holden and Ryan are having a kid, Phases is really starting to get attention lately, and it's like I can't even fucking go on Facebook or Instagram anymore without seeing someone I know announcing they're engaged, or pregnant, or just got their dream job, or whatever... everyone's got something they're excited about or working towards. And I feel like I'm just... here, you know? I'm not doing anything, I'm not going anywhere. I'm stuck."

"Oh."

"And I don't want you to freak out and think that I'm like totally unhappy, or that you and the kids aren't enough for me. You are, it's just..."

"It's not about that, though." I reassure him understandingly. "You and the kids are enough for me, too, but I still have my career. And I'm sure Ryan is enough for Holden and Z is enough for Alex, but they all still want to keep moving forward in some way."

"Right." He murmurs softly, sadly. "And I just feel like... I can't move forward until I figure out what the hell I want. And I hate that I have no fucking idea what that is most days."

"Honestly? That's why I haven't brought up the baby thing since you mentioned it a couple of months ago." I admit, still feeling incredibly cautious about this subject. "I didn't know exactly how you felt, but I knew you weren't really sure what you wanted. The last time we talked about it was the day you had lunch with Adam, and you were upset and looking for something good to hold on to... and I guess I was worried that you latched on to the idea of us having a baby because you needed something to look forward to. Like... you needed some kind of purpose and you thought that might be it. And I know that's not going to be the answer; I watched Natalie do it for years. I figured that if it was really something you wanted, and if you wanted it for the right reasons, you'd bring it up again once things had settled down and you'd had time to really think about it."

To my surprise, he starts to laugh quietly. He turns his head towards his pillow for a moment, burying his face in it as I watch his shoulders shake with amusement until he manages to calm himself down enough to talk.

"I didn't bring it up again because I didn't wanna pressure you. I thought that if you really wanted it, you'd say something. And when you didn't, I figured you were like... avoiding it and hoping I'd just get over it. Which is totally fair. I mean, you have five kids already and you were pressured into having all of them. I didn't wanna do that to you again. I wanted it to be your choice this time. And if you chose not to do it, I'd just have to deal."

There's no way I can not kiss him after the things he's just said. I lived most of my life according to the expectations of others, even if those expectations were only perceived and never verbalized. Then Tommy came along, and everything changed. He's never pressured me into doing anything that I didn't want to do, or talked me out of doing anything that I wanted to do. And he's lying here telling me that he wants to have a baby with me, but if I don't want the same thing it's okay.

This is so completely different to how this conversation has ever gone for me before.

"I love you."

"I know." He smiles against my lips, nudging the tip of his nose gently against mine. "I love you, too."

"If I tell you I want to have a baby with you, will you believe me?"

I wait patiently, unblinkingly, while he searches my eyes for the truth. "Swear on my life that you're not saying that just 'cause I threw a fit like a fucking toddler?"

"I swear."

"Really?" He presses insistently. "Because I don't wanna do this if you don't really wanna do it."

"I swear on your life, and my life, and the lives of everyone we care about that I'm not just saying this to make you happy or because I feel like I have to." I tell him whole-heartedly. "I want to do this with you."

"So... we're seriously gonna wake up tomorrow and really do something about this instead of not talking about it for another month?"

"It's almost four in the morning. The odds of either of us being able to function at all tomorrow are pretty slim at this point." I chuckle softly as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. "But yeah. We're going to wake up, and I'm going to drink obscene amounts of coffee, and we're really going to do something about this."

"Promise?"

"Pinky swear?" I offer playfully, holding up my hand with my pinky extended towards him.

But instead of curling his pinky around mine, he grabs my hand and pulls it to his mouth, closing his lips around my finger before teasingly drawing it back out again. And suddenly I'm feeling a lot more awake than I was a minute ago.

"We're gonna be zombies all day if we don't get some sleep..." I warn him as he grins at me mischievously and pushes me onto my back. "The kids need to be up for school in a few hours."

"But I'm up right now." He tells me, climbing on top of me and grinding his erection against mine to demonstrate his point. "Besides, if we're gonna have a baby, you need to get used to barely getting any sleep at night."

"If we're going to have a baby, you need to get used to sleeping every spare second you get!"

"I will." He assures me unconvincingly, kissing his way down the center of my chest. "Starting tomorrow night."

"Right."

"Or the night after..."

Chapter Text

I think both Tommy and I were under the foolish impression that this whole surrogacy thing was going to be a lot easier than it looks like it's actually going to be.

I was prepared for it to be expensive, like really expensive, and for us to maybe have to try a few times before the IVF treatments were successful. I wasn't prepared for everything else, all of the steps we're going to have to take and hoops we're going to have to jump through before we even get to the point of starting the first round of IVF.

I don't know why I thought it would be simple at all. Maybe it was because Asta was the only baby that Natalie and I ever had to really try for. My other four kids were first attempts. Within a week or two of Natalie convincing me that we should have another baby, she'd announce that she was ovulating. We'd have more sex over the next few days than we usually had in an entire month, and a few weeks later she'd be peeing on a stick and crying tears of joy. And even though I knew it wouldn't be that quick and easy for Tommy and I to have a baby, I still underestimated just how complex it's going to be.

It's not as straightforward as picking out a donor and a surrogate, and having Tommy spend some alone time with a plastic cup. Once we've picked our egg  donor and surrogate, and they've agreed to work with us, we have to deal with the legalities of the surrogacy arrangement and Tommy has to undergo some tests (he's not particularly excited about having his sperm count checked). If that goes well, the egg donor and surrogate have to start treatment to get their cycles synced up.

Then the 'magic' happens.

Tommy gets friendly with another plastic cup, the egg donor goes through an 'egg retrieval' process, and then the IVF clinic will do their thing and hopefully create several fertilized embryos. One or two of them will be transferred to the surrogate... and then we wait.

It takes a couple of minutes to explain it, but it could take more than a couple of months to actually do it.

I could tell just by the look on Tommy's face as we did our initial research yesterday morning that he was starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed and disheartened. It went from being this amazing thing that we were both so excited about, to being this daunting thing that we weren't sure how to approach. Once we'd sufficiently freaked ourselves out, I did what I probably should have done from the start.

I called Holden.

He was more than happy to explain the entire process from the point of view of someone who was still going through it. He didn't sugar coat any of it, but he somehow made it sound less painful than any of the websites we'd visited. And he even gave us the name of the agency and clinic that he and Ryan are working with, as well as a few others that they had seriously considered before making their final choice. All of them have a lot of experience working with same sex couples, and he assured us that the majority of surrogates and donors are willing to work with same sex couples, too. We called and set up appointments with three agencies for tomorrow.

In some ways it seems like we're rushing. But it feels like we've unintentionally wasted enough time already, we don't want to wait around and waste any more. We could've had a pregnant surrogate by now if we'd started this process last Halloween when Tommy first brought it up. Or even if we'd started it in March when he mentioned it again, we'd still be much further along. But there's no use dwelling on what could have been different, because there's no way to change it. All we can do is get things moving as quickly as we can now.

Or tomorrow, since there's nothing we can do about it tonight.

We agreed that we each get to tell one person (besides Holden) about our plans. We're both too excited to keep it completely to ourselves. Tommy chose to tell Isaac, which is where he has disappeared to for the evening. And I chose to tell Zac. It was really hard to choose between him and Alex, but he's always been the person I tell everything to. It wouldn't feel right telling anyone else before him.

Which means that my will power is going to undergo some serious testing when Alex comes over in an hour or so...

After making sure that Asta is still sound asleep and that her older siblings are preoccupied with various pre-bedtime books in their rooms, I shut myself away in my own bedroom and eagerly call my little brother.

"Hey!" He answers cheerfully after a handful of rings. "I wasn't expecting you to call tonight."

"Are you busy?"

"Nah, just messing around with some painting and stuff."

I smile to myself as I sit down on the edge of the bed. "What're you working on?"

"It's... not really anything." He replies self-deprecatingly. "I was listening to that demo we finished last week and it kinda sparked this idea that wouldn't quit buggin' me, so..."

"I hate it when that happens."

"Right? It's like, leave me alone! I'm trying to watch a freakin' movie over here!"

"Although, knowing you, it was probably a movie you've already seen about fifty times." I tease him knowingly.

"More like seventy-five, but that's not the point. It's rude to interrupt!"

"It is. So are you sure I'm not interrupting? I can call back tomorrow-"

"You're fine." I hear him chuckle softly. "What's up?"

"I have a secret."

"Ooooh."

"I wanna tell you, but you can't tell anyone. Not Ike, or mom and dad, and definitely not Kate."

"Is it something really good?" He questions in his most serious tone. "'Cause I don't wanna put a bunch of effort into keeping a secret if it's totally lame."

"It's definitely not lame." I assure him, listening as he takes a deep, apprehensive breath on the other end of the line. "It's good news, I promise."

"Okay, hit me."

"Tommy and I... we're gonna have another baby." I wait for him to say something, even if it's just to crack a joke about me becoming such a girl that I've grown a uterus. But he's entirely silent. "Hello?"

"Hi."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah..." He answers slowly. "I'm not sure I totally understand what you said, but..."

"Well, we talked about it and we decided we wanted to have another kid."

"How come? You already have enough for a basketball team."

That's one way of looking at it, I guess. "We need a substitute incase one of them gets injured."

"Good thinking."

"I always told Tommy that if he ever wanted to have a kid, it was an option. And he's decided that he does."

"But is that what you want?" If it weren't for the obvious concern in his voice, I might be annoyed that he's questioning this so much. "I mean, you have a track record of agreeing to procreate just to keep other people happy."

"This is completely different." I insist earnestly, hoping he can hear how sincere I am. "I want this as much as he does. I want him to know what it feels like to be a dad."

"I thought you said that he thinks of your kids like they're his own."

"He does. He loves them, he'd do anything for them, and as far as we're both concerned he is their dad."

"So...?"

"It's different. He never got to be there to watch any of them being born, or name them, or know how it feels the first time they wrap their tiny little fingers around your pinky and hold on tighter than you'd ever think they could. He missed out on all of those things, and more, and I don't want him to miss out. Nothing compares to those experiences, or the feeling of looking at your kid and knowing that they're part of you. There's nothing like it, you know that. He deserves to know what it feels like. I want him to know."

"I guess."

"Should I take that as 'congratulations'?" I sigh, kicking my heal against the hardwood floor sullenly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rain on your Pride parade or anything, I was just trying to understand the whole thing. If this is really what you want, and you're happy, then I'm happy for you."

"Really?"

"Really." He promises me honestly. "But I'm warning you now, it's gonna be my least favorite of all your kids."

"Hey!"

"Don't worry, I won't let on. It'll be our little secret."

I probably shouldn't be laughing right now, but I know he's only kidding. At least, I hope he is...

"Jackass."

Since we talk so frequently anyway, our conversation doesn't last much longer. There's nothing new for either of us to report, and we'll probably end up studio skyping in a couple of days anyway. I let him get back to his painting and I make a quick stop at each of my kids bedrooms to tell them it's time to turn the lights off and get some sleep. As always, this announcement is met with nothing but whining and pleas for "five more minutes".

In an effort to pass the time before Alex arrives (and avoid going back online and looking at more surrogacy websites), I head into the family room and start picking up the toys that were left all over the floor and sofa the second I ordered the kids to go and brush their teeth. Usually I make them clean up their own messes, but sometimes it's quicker and easier to just do it myself. Especially on nights like this, when both Jenna and Tommy are out somewhere and I'm parenting solo. The kids' toys aren't the only ones scattered throughout the house; Duke has more than his fair share, too. And as soon as I put them away in his toy basket  in the family room, he takes them out again one by one and puts them back exactly where I picked them up from.

He's worse than the kids.

Alex shows up right on time, and as an added bonus he brought a six pack of Lagunitas with him. Sometimes I think he and I have some kind of psychic link. I think "a beer would be good right now", and he shows up with beer!

We take our drinks out onto the kitchen terrace to enjoy the comfortable warmth of the late May evening, and for a while after we've taken our seats neither of us says a word. It's nice. My days are often pretty hectic, and sometimes it feels like I spend most of my time talking. To just be still and silent, especially in the presence of someone other than Tommy, is rare for me. I can tell that Alex needs this moment of peace just as much as I do, and I don't feel any need to fill the space with pointless chatter. So we sit side by side and sip our beers as we stare out into the darkness around us.

"Where's the old ballgag and chain tonight?" He finally asks, glancing behind us into the kitchen as though he's expecting to see Tommy standing there glaring at him.

"He's with his boyfriend."

"I thought I was his boyfriend."

"I think he sees you as more of a clingy one night stand that he could never get rid of."

He tips his beer to his lips slowly, seeming to contemplate this information for a moment or two before nodding in approval. "Yeah, that's about how I see him, too."

"So how's life?" I ask him, resting my feet on one of the empty patio chairs beside me. "Ready for the craziness that comes with having a new single out?"

"I was born ready."

"I heard it on the radio when I was driving the kids to school the other day."

"Oh yeah?" He smiles proudly.

"Yeah, I told them it was your song and they made me turn it all the way up. They were dancing in the back seat so much that I swear the car was probably bouncing down the street. River has declared it 'his jam'."

"They have excellent taste."

"I like to think so."

"How about you? Still working on the new album?"

"Yeah..." I sigh tiredly, thinking about the huge amount of work still left to get done in the small amount of time we have left before we start recording the final tracks. "It's coming along. Sometimes I think that this whole long distance thing is the worst way to write music, but other days it seems like it helps us all stay more focused."

"I can see that." He nods in understanding. "And you probably get a chance to develop your own ideas more fully before having the two of them come along and start making 'helpful suggestions', right?"

"And vice versa." I chuckle softly, entirely aware of my control freak tendencies towards every aspect of our music. "I think it's good for us, though. Like you said, we get to work on our own ideas before we let each other in on it. We never really had that before."

"Is Tommy helping you write and stuff?"

"Hmm... yes and no. Sometimes he'll help me work through something when I'm really blocked, or he'll hang out in the studio while I'm recording and help out with the technical side of things. But a lot of the time he just stays out of it completely, like he won't even come into the studio. He says he doesn't think it's a good idea for him to have any input, which I think is bullshit."

"I guess I can see where he's coming from, you know?" Alex sympathizes. "I mean, if it was your music, that might be different. But it's not your music, it's Hanson's music. And he's not a member of Hanson, so..."

"I know, but we've co-written songs with other artists before, and we've worked with plenty of musicians on our other albums."

"But you weren't married to any of them. He probably doesn't want everyone thinking that he's using his relationship with you to advance his own career in some way. You know how weird he gets about that shit."

"Yeah." Boy, do I know.

"Speaking of his career... how's he doing with the whole Adam thing now?" He asks almost worriedly. "Any more drunken disappearing acts?"

"No, thank god." I sigh, leaning my head back against the cold metal of the chair. "He seems to be okay with it, mostly. He's not happy about it, but I think it's less about not working with Adam anymore and more about the fact that he doesn't know where to go from here."

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't know what he wants to do next. He was playing with some other band to kind of pass the time until Adam needed him again. But he wasn't really into it, so he quit. And then Adam basically fired him without any real explanation, so now he's just..."

"Drifting?" Offers Alex uncertainly.

"Sometimes it looks a hell of a lot more like sinking. I hate seeing him like this, because he's so fucking talented. He deserves to be doing something amazing, not sitting around feeling like everything he does is a waste of time so he shouldn't even bother trying."

"Well, he's always welcome to come and play some shows with us. I know our music isn't really his style, but whether he'll let us credit him or not, he really helped us figure out how to get the sound we were going for on the new album. Hell, 'Vertigo' basically evolved from some random bit of music he was playing. I fucking love that song, and it wouldn't be what it is if it weren't for him. He has a really good ear."

"He does." I smile fondly, wishing Tommy could hear this for himself. But I know he still wouldn't believe it. "It kills me that he has no idea how good he really is. He honestly thinks that you and I and Adam are somehow better than him just because we can write lyrics and sing or whatever."

"He doesn't need to be able to do that shit to be relevant. If you ask me, what he does is a hell of a lot harder than what we do. We try to convey an emotion or a thought through our lyrics, we spell it out for people. He does the same thing with his music, but he does it without using a single word."

"I know. But trying to convince him of that fact is like trying to convince you not to grab my ass."

His mouth falls open in disbelief. "Impossible!"

"Exactly!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in defeat. "I just wish I knew how to support him. I don't want to push him into doing anything, but I don't want to stand by and do nothing when he seems so  directionless. I don't know what he needs from me right now, and I'm not used to feeling that way at all."

"He probably doesn't know what he needs, either." Alex assures me as he places a comforting hand on my arm and gives it a gentle squeeze. "But he'll figure it out eventually. Maybe all he needs you to do is exactly what you're already doing."

"So... nothing?"

"It's not nothing. It might feel like nothing to you, but I'm sure it helps him to know that he can talk this stuff out with you when he needs to. That's what's gonna help him figure out his next step."

I hope so.

Alex stays until the six pack is finished, and we spend the entire time bouncing back and forth from serious topics of conversation to the most pointless and inane things you can possibly imagine. It's a pretty normal night for us.

Even though his original plan was to hang out until Tommy came home so that he'd have the chance to see him, too, when there's still no sign of him by midnight Alex decides to call it a night. And being one of those boring parents who rarely stays up past eleven pm, I can barely keep my eyes open anyway. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Tommy has passed out on Isaac and Sophie's couch, and that's why he's still not home by the time I crawl into bed.

But only an hour after I slip into some much needed unconsciousness, I'm pulled out of it by the feel of Tommy's lips on my shoulder blade and his arm sliding around my waist. At first I think he's just settling into bed for the night, and I'm more than happy to close my eyes and fall asleep with him. But when he starts nudging me in the back with his nose between each feather light kiss, I know he's trying to get my attention.

I sigh softly, reaching up and lacing my fingers with his as I pull his arm more snugly around me. "What's up?"

"Nothin'." We both know that's a lie, but I also know that he'll tell me the truth a lot faster if I just keep my mouth shut and let him work up the nerve to say whatever it is he needs to say. "Are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" I ask, forcing myself to wake up a little more and try to figure out what he means. "About what?"

"Visiting the agencies and stuff tomorrow."

"Not really. I mean... why would I be?"

"'Cause they might hate us and not wanna help us." He mumbles against my skin, and I can't help but smile as I roll over in his arms until the tips of our noses are almost touching. "No one looks at me and thinks, 'wow, that guy would make an awesome parent.'"

"That's because some people are judgmental assholes."

"So what if the people at the agencies are like that?"

"Even if they are, they're not gonna turn us away just because you have tattoos." I assure him earnestly. "Holden recommended all of these places. He and Ryan already met with all of them, and he said they were great."

"Yeah, but Holden and Ryan are this perfect, preppy couple compared to us. They're like a walking, talking, gay Gap ad."

"I'll tell them you said so."

"You know what I mean." He sighs, kicking me lightly in the shin under the sheets. "They look like they'd make good parents."

"Yeah, and we already do make good parents." I can tell that nothing I've said is making him feel any better, so in an attempt to at least get him to look me in the eyes, I trace my fingertips lightly along his jaw line. "You're worrying over nothing."

"You don't know that."

"Wanna bet?"

"I just... don't wanna fuck this up for us." He admits so quietly that I can barely understand what he said.

If we were even just a few inches further apart right now, maybe I wouldn't have heard him. But I did. It hurts so much to know how little he thinks of himself, and for a moment I can't think of anything to say.

"Look at me." Of course he immediately starts to turn his face away from mine, so I gently (but firmly) use my fingers to coax it back towards me. "Baby, look at me." He sighs heavily, refusing to meet my eyes for a few more seconds before he finally gives in. "Do you trust me?"

"That's a stupid question."

"If you trust me then you believe I wouldn't lie to you." I continue undeterred. "So believe me when I tell you that you are not going to fuck this up. No one is going to refuse to work with us just because you don't look like you stepped right out of a country club. It's gonna be fine, I promise. We're just gonna meet some people and ask some questions, and nothing terrible is going to happen."

"Great, now you've gone and fucking jinxed it." He mutters, prompting me to roll my eyes at him as he slowly starts to smile.

"So then if anything does go wrong tomorrow, it'll be my fault."

"I can live with that."

"But you know what we can do to drastically improve our chances of making a good first impression on the nice people guarding the lists of rentable ovaries and uteruses?"

"Offer them sexual favors?" He suggests oh-so-innocently.

This time it's my turn to kick him under the sheets. "Sleep."

Chapter Text

While Tommy may be nervous about what the surrogacy agencies might think of us, I am admittedly a little more concerned with what the kids will have to say about this whole thing. We've agreed not to say anything to them until after we've sat down with the various agencies and have more of an idea what our options are and what to expect. We figured there's no point in bringing it up when we ourselves don't necessarily have the answers to all of the potential questions the kids might ask. Once we are better informed, we will be in a position to better explain everything to them.

At least, that's the assumption we're working under.

But until then, I'm going to feel as though I'm lying to them. I haven't actually lied to any of them about it, but just knowing that Tommy and I are looking into expanding our family without mentioning it to them feels deceptive. Which is crazy, because it's not like Natalie and I ran it by them each time we tried for a baby. But for some reason, this feels different. I don't know if it's because they're all a little older now, or because of everything they've been through over the last few years. I just know that I don't want to keep this from them any longer than we absolutely have to.

Hopefully, after today, we'll have enough answers to be able to talk to the kids about it.

Our first appointment is with an agency in Beverly Hills. It's the same agency that Holden and Ryan have been using, and Holden had nothing but good things to say about them. Knowing that makes it easier for me to stay calm and composed as we make our way to the agency's offices, but Tommy seems to become more and more anxious by the minute. Beverly Hills in general makes him feel uncomfortable (he once compared himself to Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Woman', if that gives you any idea how inadequate he feels in this particular neighborhood). So pairing Beverly Hills with an entirely unfamiliar place like a surrogacy agency has him even more on edge than he was before. I'd be lying if I said I was totally unaffected by it all; I want this to go as well as he does. But over the years I've become an expert at putting on a professional facade to disguise my nerves.

I don't like it, but sometimes it's necessary.

"I shoulda worn a nicer shirt." Sighs Tommy as I finish feeding the parking meter just down the street from the agency. "You look like a grown up and I look like I don't give a shit."

"You look fine." I tell him honestly, leaning in to offer him a kiss which he barely accepts because he's too busy looking at this pants. "You're not interviewing for a job on Wall Street. You're not interviewing at all. If anything, they're the ones who need to convince us to work with them, not the other way around. They aren't the ones who're gonna be shelling out thousands and thousands of dollars-"

"They're not even gonna believe I have thousands and thousands of dollars if I go in there looking like this." He grumbles, grudgingly allowing me to take his hand and lead him over to the main entrance of the building.

I come to a stop just in front of the door, causing him to almost walk right into me, and I turn to face him as I take both of his hands in mine. "Stop beating yourself up. You look fine and everything is going to be fine."

"You could at least pretend to be nervous."

"How would that help?"

"It would make me feel like less of an idiot."

"Or it'd make you even more nervous than you already are." I counter knowingly. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

"We're always late." He points out with a hint of a smile. "Ever since you moved here I've been running on 'Hanson Time'."

"It's not my fault, it's genetic!"

We make our way through the lobby of the office building and over to the elevators. The agency has the entire second floor to themselves, and I can't decide if that's a good or bad thing. On the one hand, the bigger the agency, the bigger (I would assume) their selection of surrogates and donors must be. But it's also a little intimidating and makes me worry that they'll lack the more personal touch we were hoping for. I want to work with a company that actually cares about matching us with the right person to carry our child. I don't want to have to sift through dozens of profiles for people who have absolutely nothing in common with us just because the agency employees are too busy to do it for us. Considering how much they're going to want us to pay them just to find us a surrogate, I would hope they're going to do a hell of a lot more than merely throwing paperwork at us.

The receptionist seems friendly enough, and she offers us something to drink while we're waiting for our 'Intended Parent Coordinator'. But Tommy's too fidgety to be bothered by basic bodily needs like hydration, and I think it's in the best interests of everyone in this office if I refrain from putting any more caffeine in my system than I already have this morning.

There are a few other couples seated in the waiting room, and all of them seem nervous. Not nearly as nervous as Tommy, who can't stop jiggling his leg no matter how many times I place my hand on his knee and try to settle him, but still nervous. Some of them flip disinterestedly through magazines, others sit in silence and stare across the room in anticipation. We all watch two of the couples being approached by cheerful looking women in pristine pant suits, and then they disappear behind closed doors just down the hall from the front desk. It seems as though the tension in the air becomes more palpable after they leave for their appointments, like we're all acutely aware that we could be next.

It's not long before a young, impeccably dressed red head hurries up to the front desk with the most professional looking power walk I think I've ever seen. The receptionist nods in our direction, and as soon as the woman begins walking purposefully towards us, Tommy and I immediately get out of our seats. She smiles brightly when she comes to a stop in front of us, holding out her hand for one of us to shake.

"Hi, I'm Alyssa." She introduces herself as Tommy quickly shakes her hand. "I'm one of the Intended Parent Coordinators here."

"I'm Tommy."

"I'm Taylor." I smile back as warmly as I can. "Nice to meet you."

"Why don't you guys come on back to my office and we can go over any questions you have. Would either of you like some coffee, or water, or-"

"No, thanks. We're fine." I cut her off quickly before she has a chance to list off the entire beverage selection that the receptionist already offered us.

"Well just let me know if you change your minds." She insists kindly as we follow her out of the waiting room and down to her office. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. I was finishing up a call with a client and I hate rushing people to wrap up a conversation."

Score one for Alyssa. "Oh, no, we just got here."

"Great, well, please have a seat." Tommy hangs back and waits for me to sit down on one end of a small couch by the window before taking a seat beside me, and my hand automatically searches for his as soon as he's settled. Alyssa grabs a pad and pen off of her desk nearby and sits in the chair opposite us, and I suddenly have a flashback to being in Ezra's therapist's office. "So... why don't you tell me a little bit about yourselves and what it is you're looking for?"

"Uh..." Where do we even start? "Well... we've been married for about a year-"

"But we've been together a lot longer than that." Adds Tommy, almost as though he thinks we'll get more points depending on the length of our relationship. "We've known each other for like five years."

"Right." I laugh softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "And we already have five kids."

"Wow!" Alyssa's eyes grow noticeably wider in astonishment. "Five kids in five years?"

"Oh, no, I was married  for several years before Tommy and I got together. My kids are from my previous relationship."

"Ah, okay."

"Their mom passed away a few years ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She commiserates sincerely. "That must have been incredibly difficult for them, and for you."

"It definitely wasn't the easiest year of our lives." I acknowledge, finding myself needing to take a deep breath just from the thought of it. "But they're all doing really well now, thanks to Tommy."

He blushes instantly, which never fails to make me smile. "I didn't really do anything. I mean... I was kinda just there."

"Exactly."

"I'm sure having that support made all the difference." She concurs, which only  serves to turn his cheeks an even deeper shade of pink. "How old are your children now?"

"Well, our oldest son is almost thirteen," Shit, when did that happen? "Our oldest daughter just turned ten, then we have an eight year old son, a six and a half year old son, and our youngest daughter is almost three and a half."

"That sounds exhausting." Laughs Alyssa, shaking her head in awe. "I have one little girl and she keeps me on my toes."

"Yeah, it can get a little hectic."

"But we're used to it." Tommy insists, doing his utmost to act like it's no big deal. "We've got a good routine going, and we have a live-in sitter who helps out a lot."

"If you don't mind me asking, with five children at home, what made you decide to have another?"

"Well... like Tommy said, we're used to the craziness. We love our kids, and we feel like we make a pretty great parenting team."

"Yeah, and we're just... not done, I guess." Tommy chuckles bashfully, looking to me for backup.

"We never planned on having any more kids, because five was already a lot. But we've been talking about it, and we both feel like this is something that would make our family feel complete."

"Not that it doesn't feel complete right now or anything."

"It's okay, I understand." She smiles encouragingly in an attempt to assuage his need to clarify every little thing that I say, and I nudge him playfully with my shoulder. "I assume you contacted us because you're looking to work with a gestational surrogate?"

"Yeah."

"Do you already have a friend or family member in mind to act as an egg donor, or will you need our help finding one?"

"Oh, well... we hadn't really discussed the possibility of asking someone we know." I begin uncertainly, glancing at Tommy to see his reaction. "Would that be better?"

"No, not necessarily. Some couples prefer to use someone they know personally rather than an anonymous donor. Or they want their baby to have both of their genetics, in which case they might ask a sibling to be the donor."

"Huh..." Tommy looks mildly intrigued, but honestly all I feel is weirded out.

"I think we'll probably have to talk about that part a little more."

"Of course! It's an important decision and you should take as much time as you need. We can give you access to our online database of donors today, if you'd like, but you're under no obligation to use any of them even if you do decide to work with our agency."

"Thanks, that's good to know."

"Having said that, I want to assure you that all of our donors are thoroughly screened, as are our gestational surrogates. In fact, we have our gestational surrogates undergo the required medical and psychological testing in advance. A lot of agencies only perform the testing once the surrogate has been matched with a couple."

"Does that save time?" I ask hopefully.

"Not a significant amount, but it can definitely take a few weeks off of the process. More importantly, though, it saves you from having to worry that a surrogate you select might not pass the required tests. It's been known to happen, and it can be incredibly disappointing for couples to feel as though they've found someone that they would be willing to trust with this incredibly important and personal undertaking, only to find out that the person they've chosen isn't eligible for some reason."

"So how does the agency 'match' us with a surrogate?" Tommy frowns curiously. "And do you match us with more than one in case we don't like the one you picked for us?"

"Every surrogate completes a very in depth profile once they're accepted into the program. It covers everything from their favorite music to religious beliefs, and anything in between, as well as why they want to be a surrogate and what their hopes are for this experience. The two of you will answer a lot of similar questions for us, and then we'll search our database and select the profiles we feel best match your preferences. Then we'll send all of those profiles to you, and you will make the final selection. Normally, we try to provide intended parents with at least five potential matches."

"And if we don't like any of them?"

"We'll look again. There are new surrogates contracting with us every day. It may not happen right away, but I feel confident saying that we will find you a match. We've honestly never had intended parents cancel their contract with us because we've failed to find them a surrogate they love."

"But they have to like us, too, right?" I ask worriedly. "They could turn us down?"

"They could, yes. But I very rarely see that happen. Like I said, we try to match people based on a lot of very important criteria, as well as basic things you may have in common. It's unusual that intended parents meet with a surrogate and have the surrogate come away unhappy with the match and unwilling to work with the parents."

"And what about the egg donor? Do they have to agree to work with us, too?"

"Not if it's an anonymous donor." She clarifies. "If you want to have contact with the donor before making a selection, then there is always the chance that they will choose not to work with you. But the majority of the time there is no contact between the intended parents and their chosen donor. Neither party knows the other's names, and they aren't provided with any identifying information about you."

"So if we sign up with you today or whatever, how soon would we get profiles for surrogates?" Asks Tommy keenly, and I have to bite back a chuckle at how eager he is. Judging by the amusement in Alyssa's eyes, I'd say she's having the same problem.

"That can vary, depending on the criteria you provide us with. But I would say that we should be able to send you at least a few matches within two business days of you submitting your profile to us."

"Are you guys open on weekends?"

This time there's no way I can suppress my laughter, and neither can Alyssa as Tommy playfully tries to shrug me off when I wrap my arm around him and pull him close enough to kiss his cheek.

Really, the other two agencies we had appointments with didn't stand a chance. Not that they weren't friendly, and knowledgeable, and professional, and all of the other things we would want them to be. They both came close to winning us over. But Alyssa had already made a good enough impression on us that her competitors were fighting a losing battle. We stopped by the office again on our way to pick the kids up from school so that we could sign the necessary papers and pay the necessary fees to get the ball (slowly) rolling.

We haven't had a whole lot of time to figure out exactly how we want to broach this subject with the kids. All we do know is that it's one of those conversations we need to be well prepared for. It's going to be confusing enough for them without us half-assing it. Unfortunately, between them doing their homework, and me making dinner, and Tommy shuttling Penny and Asta back and forth to their respective dance classes, we barely get the chance to see one another again until dinner.

It's not until after dinner, when the kids are all preoccupied with various video games, tv shows and toys that we find a moment alone together. Even though there's really no chance of them hearing us from two rooms away, it's still always a good idea to keep our voices down when we're discussing things we don't want them to overhear. But doing so always makes me feel entirely deceptive and guilty.

"I guess the main thing we have to decide is if we're asking them or telling them." Tommy sums up as he hands me another glass to dry.

"We're telling them." I reply automatically before immediately second guessing myself. "Right?"

"I don't know. It feels weird either way, you know? Like, it's a huge decision and it's not like it's not gonna impact them at all. But most parents don't consult their kids before deciding to reproduce."

"I know. I never did before."

"Maybe we should just tell them that this is something we're thinking about doing, and ask them how they feel about it? It doesn't mean we're giving them a choice or whatever, but at least they can feel like we included them in the decision."

"Even if the decision is already made?" I remark playfully. "How much detail should we go into? We can't just tell them we're thinking about having a baby and expect them not to ask how. And I'm not sure the 'how' is something they can wrap their heads around. I mean, Ezra is old enough to understand it, for the most part. And Penny might be able to. But River and Viggo probably aren't going to get it. All they know is that babies grow inside a mommy's tummy. And they don't have a mom anymore."

"Well... we can just say that..." He pauses for a moment, idly scrubbing at a roasting pan while he stares out of the window over the sink and tries to find the right words. "The doctor is going to make a baby outside of someone's tummy. And then... they're going to put the baby inside the tummy of a really nice woman, and she's going to take care of it for us until it's ready to be born."  

God, I love him. "You're adorable."

"Fuck you." He scowls at me, splashing soapy water in my general direction.

"You should write surrogacy books for kids."

"And you should shut the fuck up."

I manage to side step just before he has a chance to rub his wet hands all over my face, but that doesn't deter him from chasing me around the kitchen island. Every time he passes the sink, he dunks his hands back in. And every time he dunks his hands in, he leaves a trail of dishwater all over the hardwood floor. No matter how hard I try to dodge every puddle in my efforts to evade him, I'm too much of a klutz to avoid slipping on the wet floor and falling on my ass. He's kneeling at my side within seconds, apologizing profusely and asking me if I'm hurt, but I'm laughing so hard that I can't speak. I guess that's all the answer he needs, though. As soon as he realizes that I'm fine, his hands are on my face and I'm begging him to stop.

I'm not sure if it was the loud thud I made when I fell over or the sound of me crying out for mercy,  but it's not long before the kids and Duke are standing over us, watching me squirm around on the floor while Tommy practically holds me down by my head! Duke jumps right in, licking any part of my face his tongue can get to between Tommy's fingers, leaving me thrashing around in a futile effort to make them both get the hell off of me!

"What happened?" Asks Ezra in obvious amusement, gazing down at us curiously with a very concerned and confused  Asta in his arms. "Did you guys fall or something?"

"Make it stop!" Is the only response I'm capable of, and the only response I receive is a lot of unhelpful giggling.

"I'll save you!" Viggo declares valiantly.

The next thing I know he's pounced onto Tommy's back, causing Tommy to almost collapse on top of me. Of course River wastes no time joining in, but it's impossible to tell whose side either of them are actually on. We're a heap of tangled, flailing limbs on the kitchen floor for the longest time, and I honestly cannot remember the last time I laughed this hard or felt this good.

I'm not sure if that makes this the best or worst time to break our news to them, all I know is that there's never going to be a perfect time. There'll always be a reason to put it off a little longer.

Tonight that reason is the heartfelt smile on my oldest son's face.

And the undeniable fear I have of once again being the reason that it's no longer there.

Chapter Text

We chickened out.

Or maybe it was just me who chickened out.

But Tommy let me!

Everything felt so great last night. Everyone was happy, no one was crying, or whining, or tattling on anyone else. We were laughing, and playing, and enjoying each other's company. After Tommy finally relented and helped me up off of the kitchen floor (and after I'd washed my face), we all gathered together in the family room to watch some TV. It wasn't really any different from most other nights, but I was acutely aware of every detail of it anyway. I didn't pay attention to the TV at all because I was too focused on the weight of Asta's slumbering body sprawled across my lap, and mesmerized by the way Penny twirled her long, blonde hair around her fingers as she sat with her head resting on Tommy's shoulder. River and Viggo were like mirror images of one another as they lay on their stomachs on the rug in front of us, idly kicking their legs back and forth in the air. And Ezra curled up in an armchair with Duke, his fingers combing through his fur as he slept.

I thought back to our consultation with Alyssa that morning, and I remembered telling her how we felt that having another baby would make our family feel more complete.

Tommy was right when he said that it feels complete right now.

It's hard to fathom how things could be any better than they already are. In fact, it's kind of scary to think about changing anything, rocking the boat, altering the status quo. It took a long time and a lot of tears and struggle for us to get to this place of calm contentment.

It's not like I'm having second thoughts. I would never do that to Tommy, and I do want to have a baby with him. The idea of it, of a brand new little person with his eyes, or nose, or smile makes my heart skip a beat. I'm in love with the idea.

And I'm also terrified of the idea of messing with the incredible family we already have.

"Hey!" Tommy calls out to me as I hear the front door close behind him. "Sorry that took so fucking long. Traffic sucked."

"It's okay, I only just got back." I tell him, settling myself in a chair at the dining table with my third (okay, fifth) coffee of the morning. "You ready?"

"I've been ready since we got the email last night." He smirks as he takes a seat beside me and opens the lid of my MacBook. "You were the one who said we should wait until this morning."

"I just didn't want us starting something we'd be too tired to finish."

"Well, I'm wide awake right now. And I'm assuming you're fully caffeinated."

"Getting there." I smile, taking another sip of my coffee. "What do you wanna do first? Fill out the profile for the surrogate match or look through the egg donor database?"

"I guess we should do the profile first. We've got all weekend to look through the database, but if we don't get the profile back to Alyssa today, she's not gonna be able to start looking for a match on Monday."

"Actually it'll be Tuesday, since Monday is a holiday."

"Shit." He sighs dejectedly, double clicking on the attached fillable PDF file she sent us. "Even more reason to get it done today."

"But even if we don't, it's not the end of the world. In the grand scheme of things it's just one extra day. This whole thing is going to take months-"

"Which is why we should get all this paperwork bullshit over with as soon as we can. The only thing standing between us and a surrogate match right now is us. I don't know about you, but I'm sick of getting in my own fucking way."

I feel like I should tell him to slow down, but I doubt he'd listen to me. It'd probably just piss him off or make him paranoid about me not wanting this as much as he does, and I don't want either of those things. I don't blame him for wanting to get this part over with, it feels like another hoop we have to jump through to get to what we want. But in reality, it's one of the more important parts of this whole process. What we put in this profile will determine who they match us with for a surrogate. If we don't take our time to be as specific about our preferences as we can, it'll only take us longer to meet someone we actually feel comfortable working with.

"Okay, why don't I read the questions and we can figure out the answers together?" I suggest, pulling the Mac Book closer to me. "I type faster than you."

In reality, I just want to be in control of what we type, not how fast we type it.

The first couple of pages are simple enough to get through. It's mostly questions about our interests and other less critical aspects of our lives. It's not until we get to the part of the profile where we're asked to describe our relationship, how we met, how long we've been together, our families, our religious beliefs, our political views, that we really have to stop and think about each question before we answer it. We want to be as detailed and honest as possible without writing an entire novel. It ends up taking us a total of three hours to complete it, we don't even stop for lunch until it's done. In fact, we end up eating lunch while reading it over one last time before attaching it to a reply email and sending it off to Alyssa.

Tommy wants to jump straight into searching for an egg donor as soon as we've finished eating, but I feel as though my brain is already fried from filling out the profile. I cannot look at this computer screen for another second. When I close the lid of my MacBook he automatically starts complaining and asking me what I'm doing. Rather than trying to explain myself, I attempt to silence him with a kiss.

He's not so easily distracted, though.

"Dude, we're in the middle of something kinda important." He protests instead of kissing me back, so I relocate my lips to his neck instead. "I thought we were gonna start looking at egg donors before we have to go pick the kids up."

"I changed my mind." I sigh against his skin. "Like you said, we've got all weekend for that."

"But-"

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to get your attention here." I point out to him with feigned impatience, my hand creeping seductively along his thigh while he watches it in anticipation. "Focus, please."

He groans softly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as his eyes momentarily flutter closed. "You don't fight fair."

"You left me no choice."

"My bad..." He murmurs almost mindlessly, squirming in his seat as my hand inches closer to the zipper of his jeans.

"Know what we haven't done in way too long?" I ask, my fingers coming to a slow stop just like my kisses, leaving him whining pathetically.

"Jerked me off?"

"Taken a bath together." I smile smugly at the sound of him practically purring in approval. "It'll help you relax."

"So would jerking me off." He notes as I start to get up from the table.

"Come take a bath with me, and we'll see what we can do about that..."

"Sold."

Rather than it being a race, or a groping, uncoordinated fumble all the way to our bathroom, we take our time. Tommy grabs a half empty bottle of red wine from the kitchen while I run the bath, and it's ready and waiting for us just as we finish undressing. The whole point of this wasn't just to distract him, it was to get him to slow down. And now that we're actually submerged beneath the perfectly warm water, I want more than ever for this to last as long as possible. We have just over two hours before we have to leave to pick the kids up from school, and I intend to make the most of every minute.

"Why don't we do this more often?" He asks, tipping the bottle of wine to his lips and taking a sip, his body resting comfortably against mine.

"Because we never usually have time."

"Maybe we just never make time."

"Maybe." I agree, accepting the bottle from him and drinking from it. "Maybe that needs to change."

"It definitely needs to change." He sighs contentedly as his fingers trail lazily up and down my thighs underneath the water. "We should do this at least once a week."

I laugh softly, pressing my lips to his temple and feeling him lean into me even more. "That might be asking too much. Especially once this new baby comes along."

"We should try, at least."

"We can do that." I agree in spite of all evidence to the contrary that I've gathered over the years.

Maybe all that evidence is invalid because all of my past experience came from having children with someone I wasn't desperately in love with. I didn't go above and beyond to make an effort to spend time alone with Natalie, I was happy to let each newborn baby dictate our lives if it meant that she was too preoccupied to care how frequently we had sex. But with Tommy, I have absolutely no desire to let our relationship take a backseat to taking care of a new baby. I know our priorities will have to shift, but that doesn't mean we have to become less important to each other. I've seen too many people I know do that to their relationships; they become parents and forget that they are still people. They let their marriages fall by the wayside, they become "mom and dad" and no longer see each other as anything else. Eventually the only thing they have in common is their kids.

I don't believe that's the way it has to be.

And I hope like hell that going into this knowing that I don't want to let that happen to us will help me be aware enough of it to prevent it.

"I don't ever want this to change." I whisper against his ear, wrapping my arms possessively around his bare chest in a hopeless attempt to hold on to the way things are between us in this moment. "Promise me you'll never see me as the father of your kids before you see me as the guy you fell in love with."

"What do you mean?" He frowns as he tilts his head back slightly to try to see the expression on my face.

"I mean... what we have has changed since I moved here, because we had to figure out how to be parents and be a couple. But we've never neglected us, you know? We put the kids first, we have to, but we always put each other an incredibly close second. We don't let everything else get in the way until we can't even really see each other the way we used to. Until we stop having shower sex in the mornings, or going out on dates every week, or taking baths together on Friday afternoons."

He wordlessly takes my left hand in his right, splaying my fingers out with his own and pressing our damp palms together for a second before allowing his fingers to slide between mine and clasp my hand tightly.

"I promise I will never not notice how insanely fuckable you are." He tells me, looking up at me with a self-satisfied grin. "How's that?"

"I'll take it." I chuckle quietly, turning his face towards mine and kissing him softly.

I hadn't really intended for the kiss to last longer than a moment or two, or for it to intensify in any way. But as so often tends to be the case with the two of us, that's exactly what happens. My body reacts instinctively to his faint moans and the sensation of his fingers clutching at my forearm. I can feel how much he wants me, how much he needs me, and there's nothing I want more than to give in to him.

His hand is still holding onto my arm as my fingers glide down the length of his neck and along the gentle slope of his collarbone. I feel his breath catch in his throat for a moment when my hand begins to journey lower across his chest, and his body presses even more closely against mine beneath the gently lapping water surrounding us. The closer my fingers get to his crotch, the more impatient he becomes. His hand is no longer simply wrapped around my wrist, it's pushing it down at the same time as his hips are rising to meet my touch.

The second I close my fingers around him, his head falls back against my shoulder, exposing his neck to me. And I waste no time taking full advantage of that gift, my lips caressing the soft skin and coarse stubble of his throat as my hand caresses the smooth, slick skin of his erection. My movements remain slow, at first, despite how badly I want to get him off. The slower I go, the more desperate he gets. And when he gets desperate, I get to hear him whining, and moaning, and pleading with me.

It never gets old.

But once again, he's in no mood to wait. His hand closes over mine, guiding each move it makes, forcing me to stroke him a little faster and squeeze just a little harder. And the more worked up he becomes, the more intuitive my actions become, until I barely have to even think about what I'm doing and I can devote my complete attention to the expression on his face, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the indescribable sounds drifting from between his lips with every erratic breath he takes.

Fuck.

I don't ever want this to change.

I unintentionally murmur an "I love you" against his ear, it comes out of me as naturally as the breath I exhale it on, and it pushes him over the edge. His body tenses for a moment before going limp against mine, and I hold him close as though he might slip helplessly beneath the water if I don't. It feels as though he needs me that much. I wait for him to catch his breath before reaching for a nearby washcloth, soaking it in the bath water for a moment before using it to carefully wipe off his stomach and chest.

And the whole time, his fingers stay curled around my hand. His grip is nowhere near as tight as it was, but he still refuses to let go entirely.

He offers to reciprocate, but I don't want him to. He pouts and complains about it a little, and I simply shake my head at him and assure him that I'm already more than satisfied. All I want to do right now is just be with him. When the bath water gets cold, we dry off and relocate to our bed and spend the next hour or so drifting in and out of brief moments of sleep. Usually when we get time alone together like this, it disappears in the blink of an eye. But for some reason this afternoon isn't passing us by in a blur.

It's almost as though the universe knew how much we needed it and decided to give us a break.

Despite how unhurried everything has been, it still feels like the time for us to get up and get dressed so that we're not late picking the kids up comes too soon. But when I make a move to pull back the sheets, he stops me.

"I got it." He tells me before I have a chance to ask him what he's doing. "You stay here."

"But-"

"You've barely been in the studio all week."

Oh, right. 

I've been so focused on all this baby stuff, I kinda forgot that I still have a career to worry about.

"I can do that... later." Who knows when, but I'm sure I'll find time. Somehow. "I don't want you to have to go by the school and Asta's pre-school. It's Friday afternoon; traffic is gonna be a total nightmare."

"I can deal." He assures me, pecking me on the lips and climbing out of bed. "But if you don't get the demo for that song you guys were working on finished before tomorrow, Ike's gonna be pissed at you."

"I'm used to Ike being pissed at me." I smirk as I watch him grab some underwear out of the dresser. "It's how we relate to each other."

"Stop making excuses and being so goddamn lazy." He orders before grabbing my clothes off of the floor by the bathroom door and throwing them at me. "Slacker."

"But my wrist is tired!"

His only response is to throw a dirty sock at my head before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me sprawled out across our bed, tangled in our sheets, striving to hold on to the last of the warmth he left behind him. And unable to wipe the grin off of my face.

Once Tommy has left to pick up the kids from school, I head down to the studio to set up and start working on recording some basic keyboards and vocals for the track Ike, Zac and I were writing last week. It took us several lengthy skype sessions over the course of several afternoons and evenings, but we finally got the lyrics worked out, and now I just need to put those lyrics to some actual music so it can join the other dozen or so songs we've written as a possible contender for the new album. Once the kids are on summer break from school next month, we're all headed out to Tulsa so that I can actually get into the studio with my brothers and try to record final versions of the songs that wind up making the cut.

But when I sit down with my notepad and start to read over the lyrics to re-familiarize myself with the song, I find it hard to focus. It's not that I don't like the song, I just don't want to work on it right now. Instead, I pick up my acoustic guitar and slowly begin to strum. As much as I like to stay focus and get my work done, sometimes inspiration for one song strikes you while you're trying to write or record another. I've learned over the years that if you listen to it and let it take you wherever it needs to go, you often end up with something really special.

And that's definitely the feeling I'm getting right now.

As always tends to happen when I shut myself away in the studio, I lose all track of time. One minute it's two o'clock in the afternoon, and the next time I look at the clock it's somehow almost six o'clock in the evening. I'm sure Tommy would tell me to stay down here until I'm done, but I'd rather have dinner with my family. Besides, now that I'm aware of the time and thinking about dinner, I'm hungry. I can't concentrate on songwriting if my stomach is growling!

I make my way upstairs, fully prepared to get right to work in the kitchen, but before I even get there I can smell food and hear lively chatter coming from the dining room. They're all so busy passing pizza boxes and milk cartons back and forth across the table that they don't even notice my presence at first, which provides me with the perfect opportunity to take it all in. Ezra is picking the mushrooms off of his slices and River is stealing them off of his plate to put on his own pizza. Penny is helping Asta pour some milk into her cup, despite Asta's insistence that she can do it herself (she can't). And Tommy is trying to convince Viggo that he only needs to take one slice of pizza at a time, and that there will be plenty left over if he wants more when he's done. Because he knows that Viggo won't finish slice number one before moving on to slice number two; we've been trying to break him out of that wasteful habit for nearly three years!

It's as though my hunger vanishes in an instant and is replaced by the strongest desire to go back down to the studio and keep writing. It's inspiration overload, and I could never explain how lucky I feel to have this in my life.

Every. single. day.

"Hey!" Tommy smiles at me, oblivious to Viggo swiping a second slice of pizza the moment he turns his back. "Shoulda known you'd be able to smell food from all the way down there."

"Very funny."

"Did you get the demo finished?"

"Uh..." I smile sheepishly as I approach the table and take a seat beside Asta. "I got a demo almost finished."

He shakes his head at me, rolling his eyes and opening his beer. "You're gonna be in so much trouble."

"Why're you gonna be in trouble?" Asks River with curious concern. "What did you do?"

"It's not what he did, it's what he didn't do." Tommy replies teasingly.

"You know what? You're worse than Ike." I shoot back as I nab one of Ezra's discarded mushroom slices and throw it across the table at Tommy, who is too busy gaping at me in outrage to see it coming, let alone try to dodge it. "I'll finish the demo later. I just had another idea this afternoon and I didn't wanna ignore it and forget it."

"Daddy, can I go to a slumber party at Kelly's house tomorrow night?" Penny pleads, all but batting her eye lashes at me. "All my friends are going."

"Which one is Kelly again?"

She heaves a deep sigh, as though my inability to remember details about all of her friends is some kind of sin. But before she can start listing off a bunch of pointless information about this kid that will in no way help me put a face to her name, Tommy interjects.

"We ran into her and her mom at Parent-Teacher Night last month." He explains, giving me a very telling look. "Her mom was... friendly."

"Oh... right." I remember now. That woman wouldn't stop touching me on the arm and flipping her hair around like she was in a Pantene commercial. "Um... I guess you can go. And if you ask him nicely, I bet Tommy will drive you."

"Wuss."

"Hey, if you don't wanna do it, I'll go. Maybe Kelly's mom will invite me to stay for dinner." I shrug nonchalantly, pretending not to see Tommy's glare as I reach for a slice of pizza. "I'm sure she'd like some adult company if a bunch of ten year old girls are taking over her house for the night."

"You can't stay for dinner!" Penny practically squeaks. "That's so embarrassing! No one else's dad is going to stay for dinner!"

"Yeah, Taylor." Mocks Tommy with a smug smile. "You're so embarrassing."

"I feel so unloved."

"I love you, daddy!" Viggo chimes in, flashing me a gap toothed grin. "Do you feel better now?"

"Much. Thanks, buddy."

The kids quickly go back to the conversations (and arguments) that they were engrossed in when I came to the table, while Tommy and I do what we usually do: we eat our meals and try to keep up with everything that's being said, cutting in to settle disagreements when necessary. And every so often we'll catch each other's eye across the table, and we'll share a smile, or an eye roll, or some other silent commentary on the chatter going on around us.

It would be easy to let this evening be like every other Friday evening for us. To let the kids take their plates into the kitchen and then go into the movie room and bicker over which movie we should watch. To let them go to bed, kiss them goodnight, and collapse in an exhausted heap with Tommy. It would be simpler.

But it would feel wrong.

I don't want to start another day with our kids in the dark about the life altering plans we've been making all week. So when they start to get up from the table to clear their dishes, I force myself to speak up.

"Before you guys go pick out a movie... there's something important that Tommy and I wanted to talk to you about."

Tommy freezes in the middle of standing from his seat, staring across the table at me in surprise for a moment before mouthing, "now?" I nod as confidently as I can, taking a deep breath as everyone else sits back down and looks to me expectantly.

And now I can't remember anything I wanted to say.

Chapter Text

I  can feel them all watching me, six pairs of eyes on me, waiting for me to say whatever it is I've asked them to stay seated to hear. But all that's coming to mind right now is all of the things that Tommy and I agreed we didn't want to say. You'd think that would at least narrow it down and give me a rough idea of how to start.

But you'd be wrong.

"Are we in trouble?" Viggo curiously inquires.

"I didn't do it!" River exclaims in his own defense, even though he hasn't been accused of anything. "Why do you always think it's my fault?"

Shit. "Calm down, Riv. We know you didn't do anything wrong."

"No one's in trouble." Adds Tommy. "It's not a bad thing-"

"I want ice cream." Asta announces, already bored of this conversation. If it can even be considered a conversation at this stage.

"Uh... you know what, kiddo, why don't you go play in the other room for a minute?"

"Then I have ice cream?" She asks Tommy hopefully, knowing that the odds of him ever telling her 'no' when she's done nothing wrong are slim to none.

He nods as I help her off of her chair. "Then you can have ice cream."

"How come she gets to go and play but we have to stay here?" Whines River, pouting while he watches his little sister practically skip off into the family room. "She never has to do anything."

"She's such a baby!" Viggo concurs before River has even finished making his complaint.

"Yeah, well, when you were her age you were 'such a baby', too." I point out to him with a small smile. "It's one of the perks of the job."

"But she's almost big!" He protests adamantly. "She doesn't even wear a diaper!"

"I know, but she's still not big enough to talk about stuff with us like you guys do."

"So what do you wanna talk to us about?" Asks Penny somewhat anxiously, more than old enough to know when something significant is lurking on the horizon. "Are we still going to Tulsa this summer?"

"Yeah, of course we are!" I quickly assure her.

"Is one of you gonna go away somewhere?" River guesses, looking back and forth between me and Tommy. "For a long time?"

"No, no one is going anywhere." Tommy promises him wholeheartedly. "Not until your dad has to go on tour in the fall."

"What we want to talk to you about is... something that we've been thinking about a lot lately." I begin as confidently as I can, trying my best to sound positive so that maybe they'll receive our news with equal enthusiasm. "You guys just pointed out that Asta is barely even a baby anymore. And so we've been thinking that, now you guys are all so grown up and so great at taking care of each other, it might be a good time to have another baby in the family."

The expressions on their faces range from bewildered to disgusted. I pretty much expected that Viggo wouldn't be thrilled at the idea of having yet another younger child around. As much as he wants to be treated just like Ezra and River when it comes to the movies he's allowed to watch, or what time he goes to bed, or what games he can play, the rest of the time he still likes to be treated like one of the babies of the family. River loves Asta, but he's constantly complaining about her getting her own way all the time and never having to do any chores. The thought of having to deal with another little pair of grabby hands taking his stuff probably doesn't appeal to him very much. Penny is the caregiver of the family. She adores babies, and so I can only assume that the uncertain look in her eyes is a result of not understanding how we plan to have a baby when neither of us is physically capable of carrying one.

And Ezra... I can't read him at all right now.

It's terrifying.

"Why'd you wanna have another baby?" Viggo finally pipes up. "I already have way more brothers and sisters than all my friends-"

"There's no room in the car for anyone else!" Argues River indignantly, interrupting his little brother to voice his own protests. "I get squished all the time."

"We can get a bigger car." Tommy contends, trying to keep his tone calm and casual, like their response to this news doesn't have the potential to crush him completely. "It's not a big deal."

"Penny, what do you think?"

She shrugs somewhat uncomfortably, averting her eyes to the pizza crusts on her dinner plate as she mumbles her response. "I don't get it, I guess."

"You don't get what, sweetheart?"

"How are you gonna have a baby? Are you gonna adopt someone else's baby?"

I take a breath, trying to prepare myself for the confusion that's still to come. "No, we're not going to adopt a baby."

"But... you're both boys. And boys can't have babies, only girls can-"

"Yeah!" River cuts Penny off suddenly. "You can't have a baby 'cause you're boys!"

"You're right, we can't have a baby. But there are special doctors who can help us to make a baby. And then the baby would grow in the tummy of a woman who wants to help us have a baby." Tommy tries to explain as simply as possible. "So... she'd kinda be taking care of the baby for us until it's ready to be born."

"Will she be the baby's mom?" Questions Penny, her frown deepening more and more by the second.

"No, she won't be its mom."

"Who will be the mommy?" Viggo presses insistently. "Will the baby have a different mommy than me?"

"Yeah, it will." I tell him almost sadly, wishing that this wasn't so complex for him and so disappointing for his older siblings. "The baby can't have the same mommy as you, because your mommy is in heaven, remember?"

"Who will be the baby's mommy then?" Asks River.

"Well... we don't know yet." Replies Tommy awkwardly.

"Will you be the daddy?" Viggo asks me with an inquisitive tilt of his head. "Like you're my daddy? Or will it be another daddy like it's another mommy?"

"Actually..." I glance at Tommy, offering him a supportive smile before turning my attention back to the kids. "Tommy is going to be the baby's dad."

Penny seems to consider this information for a while, pondering it silently as she puts the pieces together in her head. And the frown on her face only grows when those pieces don't seem to fit. "But... if the baby doesn't have the same mom as we do, and you're not gonna be the dad... then that means it won't be our brother or sister."

"Just because you won't have the exact same parents, that doesn't mean you won't be family. Tommy is your family; he's your dad, just like I am. So the baby is going to be a brother or sister to you, the same way that Bridget is just like a cousin to you. Does that make sense?"

"I guess..."

"Do you have to have another baby?" River sighs disapprovingly, making it sound as though this entire process is going to be so inconvenient for him. "I don't want another baby, I like things how they are now."

I can sense Tommy's sadness without even having to see his face. We didn't do this to ask for their permission, and their opinions don't necessarily have to alter our plans. But that doesn't mean that their lack of excitement doesn't put a damper on things. It would have been nice if they could have all responded with nothing but joy over the prospect of welcoming another sibling into the family, but I think we both knew that wasn't realistic.

I'm not sure that either of us was prepared for all of them to react so negatively, though.

Before either Tommy or I can respond to River's complaint, Asta comes marching back into the dining room with her hands on her hips. She stops right beside Tommy's chair, fixing him with her most no-nonsense look. For such a little girl, she has a whole lot of attitude. I always tell Tommy that she gets her brazen side from him.

"Dad, I played for a long, long time. Now I have ice cream?"

"Yeah, Brat Attack." He sighs, trying his hardest to smile for her as he gets out of his seat and scoops her up into his arms. "Now you can have ice cream."

I wait until they're out of the room before turning back to the four quiet, grumpy souls that are still sitting around the table with me. I don't know what to say to them right now. I can't force them to be happy about this, or command them to be okay with the idea. I can try to convince them that everything is going to be alright, but if they don't believe me I'm just going to have to live with that.

"Guys, I know this is a big change for all of us. But change isn't a bad thing. Moving out here was a big change, but it was a good change. And Tommy moving in with us was a big change, too. But I bet none of you wish he hadn't, right?"

"No!" Viggo instantly replies, his assertion echoed with equal veracity by River and his eyes wide with horror at the very notion that any one of us wouldn't want Tommy around. "I love Tommy!"

"I know you do, buddy. And he loves you guys. And I bet you're all gonna love this new baby, too."

"So you're gonna have it no matter what we say?" Ezra asks, breaking the silence he'd been maintaining since I asked them all to sit back down so that I could make this announcement.

How am I supposed to answer that? I don't want him, or any of them, to think that how they feel is of no consequence to either of us. Nothing could be further from the truth. But I also don't want him to think that this conversation is in some way an informal vote. I can't take this away from Tommy, not now. I don't want to.

But I also don't want to be insensitive to their very valid feelings.

"It's not that..." I sigh dejectedly, struggling to find a way to assure them that what they want is important to us while simultaneously making it clear that this isn't a decision they get to help us make. "We love you guys, you know that. Just like I hope you know that we would never do anything that we thought would be bad for this family, or that would make you unhappy. You might not think this is a great idea right now, but I really believe that everything is gonna be okay. I know you're going to love this little baby just as much as you love each other, and I really don't think that anything bad can come from us bringing even more love into our family."

It's not like I was expecting them to all instantaneously change their minds or anything, but something a little more encouraging than nothing would have been nice. Maybe they just need some time to let all of this sink in. Maybe once they've gotten used to the idea of having a new brother or sister, they'll warm up to it.

Or maybe I'm just going to have to do what I think is best, regardless of what they say they want. Just like every other parent on the planet does.

The rest of the evening plays out like most Friday evenings tend to for us, but the mood is definitely not as laid-back and cheerful as it usually is at the beginning of the weekend. We head into the movie room to eat our ice cream and watch 'Big Hero 6', but it's pretty obvious no one is interested. Asta is drifting in and out of sleep, and everyone else is... elsewhere. No one laughs when something funny happens, or gasps when something surprising happens. They're all staring at the screen, but no one is paying attention.

And no one complains when I tell them it's time to get ready for bed, either, which is really disturbing!

It's hard not to feel guilty. But I'm determined to try, because I'm pretty sure that's what they want. They're sulking in an attempt to make us see how miserable this whole 'new baby' thing is going to make them all. They're hoping that it'll make us change our minds, the way it sometimes does when they pout over having to leave the beach before they're ready, or when we tell them they can't have a second helping of dessert. But this isn't some small thing that they can puppy eye us into reconsidering. And as much as it sucks to see them looking so sad, it's not a good enough reason to give in. They can't always get what they want, and they need to accept that.

That's what I'm going to keep telling myself anyway.

With Asta, Viggo, River and Penny tucked in, I stick my head into Ezra's bedroom just long enough to tell him that he has another half an hour until it's time to turn his light out. Usually he'll tell me "okay", or at least nod, but tonight I get no response. Just as I begin to pull the door closed behind me, I hear him quietly call me back. I can't define the feelings swirling in my chest right now. I never thought that hope and dread could cause such similar sensations.

"What's up?"

He looks down at his sheets, appearing almost embarrassed as I slowly approach his bed and take a seat on the edge. "Is it happening again?"

"Is what happening again?" I ask him worriedly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"The same thing that happened with mom." He clarifies in a near mumble. "You said once that mom wanted to have more babies because you didn't love her enough-"

"Ezra-"

"Do you not love Tommy anymore?" He questions a little more boldly than before. "Are you gonna start going away on tour all the time like you used to?"

"No." I promise him earnestly. "Ez, I swear that's not what's going on. This isn't the same as what happened with me and your mom at all. Tommy and I don't wanna have this baby because there's something missing in our relationship, or because I'm not making him happy enough, or paying him enough attention and he wants something to make him feel better."

"Then why do you have to have another baby?"

"We don't have to. But... we want to. And it's not because you guys aren't enough for us-"

"But if we were enough, you wouldn't want to have another baby." He argues very reasonably. "So why do you want to?"

How am I supposed to explain this? Nothing I say is going to convince him that he and his brothers and sisters aren't somehow inadequate. His argument is completely valid; if they're enough, we don't need to have a baby. And yet, even though it makes complete sense, it's also entirely untrue! There is nothing lacking in our lives. We don't need to have another baby, but... we still want one.

"I know it's hard to understand, but I promise you that we don't want to have another baby because we're unhappy, or because you guys aren't enough. It's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"Well... okay, this is gonna sound really stupid, but you know how whenever we go to a party, Viggo always wants to have one more cupcake? Even though he already had three and he doesn't need another one? But they're really good, and even though he's full, he still really wants one more."

"Yeah, and then he always ends up feeling like he's gonna puke, and you always tell him that next time he should stop before he gets too full."

Ugh. This was a bad analogy. "Not every time."

"I just don't get it." He sighs despondently. "Everyone was happy already."

"I know. And I know you guys aren't happy about this idea right now, but I honestly believe this is going to be a really great thing for all of us. Tommy and I wouldn't do it if we thought it would make you guys unhappy or make anything harder on you."

After giving my words a moment of thought, he nods faintly. But even though I'm pretty sure he believes that I believe everything I've just said, I'm not so sure he was convinced by any of it. I know nothing else I say right now is likely to make any difference to how he's feeling, and I understand that completely, whether he thinks I do or not. I know he's been through way too much these last few years, and his life was finally back on track again. He's happy, he has friends, he's doing great in school, and he's comfortable at home. Our relationship is stable, he trusts me, and that means so much to me. I don't want to put all of that at risk, I would never want to take any of it from him. And I don't believe that I am, I wouldn't even be considering this if I thought for a second that it would hurt any of my kids. But I don't know how to make him see that.

All I can do is be as sensitive to his feelings as possible and hope that eventually he'll see that I'm right.

God, I hope I'm right.

I head back to the movie room to see if Tommy returned there after saying goodnight to the kids, but I get there to find that the projector and all of the lights are off. There's no sign of him in the family room, either, but the kitchen light is still on so I make my way in there. The sight of him sitting on the floor with his back to the cabinets causes me to stop in my tracks as soon as I set foot in the room. Duke is lying beside him, giving me the same pitiful puppy eyes that the kids have been giving me all evening. If I didn't already have some idea of how Tommy was feeling, Duke's sad brown eyes would be a dead giveaway. Sometimes I swear that Duke channels people's emotions and adopts them as his own.

"You broke the dog." I attempt to tease him gently. "You know you can't have feelings when he's in the room."

"Kinda hard to avoid it when a six year old asks you why you don't love him anymore."

"Seriously?"

He nods miserably, giving Duke a commiserative pat on the head as he takes a sip of his beer. "I tried to tell him that we don't want to have another baby because we don't love him anymore, but since I did a shit job of explaining why we actually want another baby, I'm not sure he bought it."

"I had pretty much the same conversation with Ezra." I sigh wearily as I sink down against the cabinets beside him. "He didn't say we don't love him anymore, but he was worried that I don't love you anymore, or that they're not enough to make us happy."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I totally shoulda seen that coming after everything that happened before."

"I think I kinda did, I was just hoping I was wrong." I admit quietly, taking the bottle out of his hands and raising it to my lips. "I'm wrong a lot, so I figured there was a good chance I might be this time."

"I just... I can't believe they all hate the idea. I thought that at least Penny would be excited about having another baby around, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." I offer him a small smile, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and drawing him nearer. "I thought so, too."

"Do you think we're being selfish?" He asks despondently. "Like... maybe we should just be happy with what we have and forget this whole  surrogacy thing."

"Everyone who wants to have a kid is selfish, whether they already have one or not. They're not doing it for anyone but themselves." I remark in my most rational tone. I'm not sure if I'm trying to convince him or myself, but hopefully I'll succeed with at least one of us. "No one goes into it thinking 'I must reproduce for the future of mankind!' Except maybe the Duggars."

"Well, fuck. Why'd you have to bring them into it?"

"Sorry, I forgot how terrified you are of them." I chuckle softly, pressing my lips to his forehead. "I don't wanna give you nightmares."

"Can we can watch 'The Exorcist' before we go to bed so I'll sleep better?"

"You're such a freak."

"So maybe we shouldn't be passing my freak genes on to another generation." He points out semi-seriously. "You have better DNA than I do; we already know you produce good kids. What if my spawn comes out all psychotic and chainsaw massacre-y."

I pretend to give his concern some genuine consideration before taking a long, deep breath and presenting him with my solemn response. "It doesn't matter if this baby grows up to be the next President of the United States or the next Manson-"

"Charles or Marilyn?"

"Does it matter?"

He glares at me scathingly, snatching his beer out of my hand and attempting to shrug my arm off of his shoulders. "I want a divorce."

"No you don't."

"Well I at least want a blow job."

"That you can have." I grin while he continues to scowl at me disapprovingly. "Seriously, though-"

"What do you mean, 'seriously, though'? I am fucking serious! If you're gonna insult one of my favorite artists, you can quite literally suck my dick!"

"And I will, gladly. But not until I'm done telling you that I don't care if it turns out that you do produce a baby with serial killer tendencies. I don't care if you produce a baby with two heads, or no head, or hair like Donald Trump." He almost spits his mouthful of beer all over the floor as he covers his mouth to try to contain his laughter. "I'm gonna love this kid no matter what, because it's yours."

"I can get on board with it being the next Dexter Morgan, but if it looks anything like Donald Trump I'm gonna disown it faster than you can say 'you're fired!'."

He's so full of shit, and he knows it. "Whatever you say, baby."

"So... if we're joking and shit, does that mean we're still gonna do this?" He asks, suddenly a lot less lighthearted than he was before. "Even though the kids all hate the idea?"

"Of course we are... aren't we?"

"Well... I mean... I know I want to, but-"

"That's it, then." I cut him off adamantly, holding his skeptical stare. "I meant what I said when I told them that having this baby was only going to bring more love into our family. It's going to make things better than they already are, even if they can't see that right now."

"Are you sure?"

Mostly.

"Completely."

Chapter Text

What the fuck was I thinking?

"Give it back!"

Who the fuck needs six kids?

"No!"

Who the fuck needs five kids?!

"Tommmmy!"

Jesus fucking Christ! "What now?!"

Asta comes running into the kitchen at full speed (or her version of it, anyway), wielding River's giant, plastic Thor hammer.

"Dad!" She squeals, clutching the stolen toy in both hands as she scurries to hide behind my legs. "He's gonna hit me!"

"She took my hammer!" River accuses the second he sets foot into the room, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Make her give it back!"

"You weren't playing with it!" Comes her defiant response, even as she grasps at the leg of my jeans in fear. "I wanna be Thor!"

"That's stupid! You can't be Thor. You're a girl and Thor is a boy!"

"I can so be Thor!" She all but screams in retaliation, stomping her foot on the floor. "Girls can be same as boys can be!"

Fuck yeah! That's my girl!

"Fine! Be a dumb girly Thor, just give me my hammer back!"

"No!"

"Tommy!"

I hate my own name right now.

"Dude, were you playing with the hammer?"

River's mouth falls open in outrage. "It's mine!"

"But if you weren't playing with it, does it really matter if your sister plays with it for a-"

"Yes!"

"Why?" I sigh wearily, reaching down and covering Asta's face with my whole hand when I notice her sticking her tongue out at him. "You're not using it-"

"She'll break it! She breaks everything!"

"Like what?"

"She broke the wheel off my LEGO Turbo Tank!" He argues immediately.

"And your dad fixed that."

"She burst my blow up lightsaber!"

"And you got another one the next day." I remind him as calmly as I can. "Is it really that big a deal? She probably woulda gotten bored of it by now if you hadn't kicked up such a fuss about wanting it back. You know it's just gonna make her want it more."

"I don't care! It's mine and I want it!"

I have two choices here, and both of them make me the bad guy. I can either tell River to get over it and let Asta play with the stupid Thor hammer, which will lead to him hating my guts and accusing me of always taking her side (which I don't!). Or I can tell Asta to give River the hammer back, even though he wasn't playing with it, which will result in her having a melt down and making me feel like an absolute jackass.

I want to let Asta have her way...

But it is River's toy, whether he was playing with it or not. And I do kinda need to score some points with him right now and prove to him that having babies around the house doesn't mean that his toys will always be stolen and his needs won't ever be met.

Parenting fucking blows.

"Asta, give him his toy back."

"But I want it!" She whimpers helplessly, gazing up at me with those big, innocent brown eyes. "Please!"

"I'm sorry, bug. It's his toy and he wants it back."

"But he wasn't playing with it!"

Ah, shit, now she's crying.

I hate making her cry. I hate making any of them cry, even after all this time.

I suck at this!

"I know, but it doesn't matter, it's still his toy." I explain to her gently. "If you don't give it back, I'm gonna do it for you."

She stares at me for a few seconds longer, letting her lower lip tremble uncontrollably just to make me feel as shitty as possible. Then she throws the hammer as hard as she can in River's direction (unfortunately for her, it barely travels two whole feet), and tears out of the room in a hysterical sobbing fit. River victoriously reclaims his Thor hammer and exits the kitchen without a word, leaving me feeling like any energy I had left over after spending all day on "Daddy Duty" is now gone.

Don't get me wrong, I love Taylor and I support his career one hundred percent. But sometimes, when he disappears into a little soundproof room all day to work on demos or have skype writing sessions with his brothers, and the kids are on top of their tattling game... I just wanna march them all down there, open the door, shove them inside, say "you deal with it!", and get the fuck out of the house!

And to think we're planning on bringing another screaming, crying, needy little human into this insanity!

But as crazy as it seems, I still want it. My mind might be berating me for being a goddamn idiot, and all logical arguments might be against us doing this... but for whatever fucked up reason, I want it. I want it more than I've wanted anything in a long time, whether I can put the 'why' into words or not.

After Taylor told me that he hadn't brought up the idea of us having another kid because he wanted to make sure that I wanted it for the right reasons, I put a lot of thought into whether or not his suspicions were even partially correct. It's not like I'd wanna do something as fucked up as bringing a baby into the world just to give myself a sense of purpose. And after many hours of dissecting my own thoughts, I can say without a doubt that's not why I want this. I don't need another kid to make me feel necessary; I already have plenty of that in my life! And honestly, I don't even want this kid just to have a child that's biologically mine. I don't give a shit if I'm the father or Taylor is. Hell, part of me would even prefer it  if he was, just so that all of our kids are genetically linked by at least one parent.

It matters to him that I'm the father, though, and it matters to me that he's happy.

I guess, for me... it's all about being there from day one. Before that, even. I know I've been there since before Asta was even a year old; I'm the only other parent she has ever or will ever know. I did raise her. And I love her like she's my own, I love all of them that way. I don't feel like that's something I'm lacking in my life. But as selfish as it may be, I want to know what it feels like to find out that I'm going to have a kid, to see that first sonogram picture, to hear their heartbeat, to pick out a name, to watch them being born and hear their first cries, to bring them home from the hospital to a nursery that I helped to decorate (I probably was less helpful in that situation than I imagine I'll be, but still...).

Mostly, though, I want to know what it feels like to do all of those things with him.

It just sucks that we can't do all of this by ourselves, and that we have to pay a bunch of total strangers to help us conceive a child and carry it to term. But it is what it is, I guess, and I'll do whatever I have to for us to have this baby. It's just that, in all my life, I never imagined that one day I'd be picking out surrogates and egg donors with my husband. I didn't have it all planned out or anything, but I always kind of assumed I'd end up with a woman and we'd have kids the old fashioned way. I know it's stupid to wish it could be that simple for me and Taylor, but... it's hard not to be kinda resentful. Not of him, not even slightly, but of this situation. Which I know makes me the most ungrateful asshole on the planet. I have it so fucking good, I have nothing to complain about.

And yet, here I am complaining.

"How're you holding up?" I hear Taylor ask from somewhere behind me, causing me to turn around so quickly that I almost trip over my own damn legs. "Sorry! I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"Yes you did." I mutter, grasping the kitchen island for support and taking a deep breath to calm my frazzled nerves. "You're fucking creepy like that."

He smiles smugly as he walks over to me, snaking his arms around my waist. "You know you like it."

"You know what I like? I like that you're done being a rock star for the day. It's about damn time you got back to being a parent, ya deadbeat!"

"Aw, did the kids give you hell?"

"It's like they were conducting some kind of twisted experiment to see how fucking crazy they could make me."

"How 'fucking crazy' did they make you?" He asks with a soft chuckle, leaning in to kiss the side of my neck.

"Very." I answer petulantly, but with each graze of his lips against my skin, I become more and more unclear on exactly what it was the kids did to push me so close to the brink of insanity. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Mmm..." His kisses trail up to the corner of my jaw, and I shudder as he murmurs in my ear. "What am I doing?"

"You're trying to distract me so I'll forget the torture your children inflicted on me."

"Is it working."

Yes. Fucker. "No."

"Not even a little?" He questions innocently as his fingers begin to creep under the hem of my t-shirt. "Not even a teeny... tiny... eensy... weensy..."

"Daddy!" Viggo exclaims cheerfully, running straight at us and almost knocking Taylor over like a bowling pin with the force of his hug. "Are you done working?"

"Yup." Taylor does his best to smile, like he wasn't just rudely interrupted while kissing my sanity better. "What've you been up to all day?"

"Tommy took us to the park, and then we had sandwiches, and then me and River and Ezra made a really awesome fort!"

"Oh yeah? Where exactly did you make this really awesome fort?"

Viggo shrugs, unconcerned by Taylor's wary tone. "In the family room. Tommy said we could so long as we put it all back when he says so."

"Which is gonna be in ten minutes." I warn him. "You're not going to the movies with Jenna until everything is cleaned up. And that doesn't mean shoving it all under the couch until tomorrow."

"They're going to the movies?" Taylor asks, a hopeful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are we going to the movies with them?"

"Nope." I announce proudly. This wasn't exactly how I planned for him to find out, but I'm used to having my 'secrets' blabbed by overexcited kids. "Jenna's gonna drop Penny off at her slumber party thing, take Asta to my sister's for the night, and then take the boys out for dinner and a late movie."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"'Cause I do."

"What're you gonna do if you don't come see the movie?" Frowns Viggo, suddenly worried that Taylor and I are going to be stuck here all alone. "Won't you be so bored?"

"Well, your dad's gonna make me dinner, for a start." I tell him matter-of-factly, earning an eyebrow raise from Taylor.

"I am?"

"Yeah, rock star, you are. And I'm gonna go sit in a dark, empty room and drink beer while you do it."

"They really did a number on you today, huh?"

"I used the word 'no' so many times it lost all meaning. To them."

He laughs quietly, reaching out to give my arm a comforting squeeze.  "I'm sorry."

"Nothing a little alcohol can't cure." I assure him with a tired smile.

Once the kids are all out of the house and Taylor is busy in the kitchen making something that smells way too good for me to be within sniffing distance and not eat it before it's actually ready, my plans to hole up in a dark room and do some drinking change. Not that it doesn't sound appealing, but I got some random and unexpected urge on my way to the movie room, and I ended up taking a detour to the studio instead. Thankfully, it looks like Taylor shut down everything he spent all day working on, so I don't have to worry about somehow fucking it all up by pressing the wrong button or something.

It feels like it's been for-fucking-ever since I came down here to play my own music rather than to watch Taylor recording (because fuck me if that's not some kind of porn), or to hang out with some friends and help them with their ideas. To be honest... I haven't really felt all that motivated to pick up a guitar recently. I wrote some music at the beginning of the year, and then some more a couple of months ago, right around the time I lost my job. But since then... I don't know, it's like any desire to do anything music related has been absent.

I guess when you get thrown off of the horse, it makes you kinda hesitant to get back on it.

The miserable, self-loathing part of me took what happened with Adam as a sign. Over a decade of struggling to make it in band after band and getting almost nowhere didn't deter me, but getting axed by the guy who finally took a chance on me did. It felt like the universe was pointing at me and laughing, saying, "You seriously thought you were good enough for this?" It didn't help that a bunch of assholes on Twitter were basically saying the exact same thing, it just reinforced every negative thought I had in my head. I let myself believe them.

I shut down.

I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do next, or what I wanted, or which direction I was supposed to go in, so I just... didn't. I haven't moved forwards, I haven't taken a step, I've just stayed here, paralyzed by self-doubt and indecision. I'm too afraid of making the wrong choice, so I haven't made any choices.

I don't want to lose anything more than I already have; I don't think I can handle it right now.

It feels as though I've been down here for hours when I look up and see Taylor standing in the doorway. He's staring at me in a way that immediately makes me blush and put my guitar down, which is stupid because he watches me play all the damn time. Or... he used to watch me play all the time. I guess it's been a while. Apparently my confidence in my abilities needs more rebuilding than I thought.

"I didn't know you were working on new stuff." He smiles as I get out of my chair and walk towards him. "It sounds awesome."

I shrug awkwardly, averting my eyes to the floor so I don't have to deal with him looking at me like that. "It wasn't anything new. I mean it was, but it wasn't like I was writing or anything. I was just messing around."

"You mess around better than most people."

"Bullshit." I protest, forcing myself to face him again. "I've seen you sitting at that piano a thousand times, playing random bits and pieces, making stuff up. And you know what's crazy? Those made up bits and pieces are better than most of the stuff on your albums." His mouth falls open in indignation, and I roll my eyes at his uncanny ability to take a compliment and turn it into a fucking criticism. "I'm not saying the stuff you record isn't good, it is, but... you're not showing people what you're capable of. I know it doesn't fit into Hanson's 'sound', I just think it sucks that you have to tone it down or whatever."

"Dumb it down, you mean?" He smirks, poking me in the stomach and causing me to recoil for a second before I smack his hand away.

"Your music isn't dumb, and that's not what I said." I correct him firmly before pushing my way past him to leave the room. "I'm done talking to you. What's for dinner?"

We head up to the dining room, but there's nothing on the table, not even silverware or salt and pepper. I can smell food, so I know dinner actually exists, I just don't know where he put it.

"It's out on the terrace." He explains in amusement after letting me frown at the table for a while. "I figured it was a nice night, no point sitting at a big empty dining table when we could be sitting under the stars."

"There are no stars in Los Angeles. There's too much light pollution."

"Fine, we can sit under the light pollution instead." He chuckles, gesturing for me to go ahead of him as we walk through to the kitchen and out onto the terrace.

"Why're you being all like... chivalrous? I don't need you to wine and dine me, you know I'm a sure thing."

"I actually wasn't trying to romance my way into your pants. I mean, if it happens, it happens, but..."

"Right." I reply suspiciously before taking my seat and looking down at my plate for the first time. "Lasagna? You made me lasagna and you're seriously gonna sit there and tell me you're not trying to get any?"

He holds up his hands in defense, trying to act all shocked and offended that I would accuse him of such a thing. "I just wanted to make you  a nice meal to say thank you for dealing with the kids alone all day so I could get some work done."

"You're welcome."

"You know, if you wanna spend a day in the studio sometime, just say the word." He offers sincerely. "I feel like lately it's always me in there and you out here."

"Yeah, 'cause you're trying to finish writing for the new album before we go to Tulsa next month."

"That doesn't mean my music is more important than yours."

I open my mouth to argue that it is, but I stop myself before the words can leave my mouth. I really don't wanna get into it with him and ruin the entire evening. "It's not like I'm working on anything specific right now, though. I know I can go down there anytime, but I don't see the point when I'm not recording anything."

"You don't have to record anything. You can just mess around like you did tonight. Who knows, maybe while you're messing around, you'll come up with something you actually want to record."

"Maybe." I agree quietly in hopes that giving in a little will put an end to this conversation. "I'll think about it."

"Good."

I don't know why I've started to react like this whenever he tries to encourage me to work on something. I get all pissy for no reason. It's not like he's forcing me into the studio, he's just offering. But it feels like if I take him up on the offer, I'm agreeing to actually write a song, like I need to have something to show for my time. And I know that's all me. It's not coming from him, he has no expectations and he's not making any demands. He's trying to be supportive, but for some reason all it does is put me on the defensive.

I'm such a fucking mess.

"Do you wanna take a look at the egg donor database for a while before Jenna brings the boys home?" He suggests in an obvious attempt to coax me back out of my dank shell. "We didn't get a chance last night, and I know you really wanted to."

"Sure."

"We should probably figure out what it is we're even looking for first." I know what I'm looking for, but I'm not gonna find it in that database. "Just basic stuff like hair color, and eye color-"

"Before we go looking at pictures of a bunch of strangers... maybe we should think about what Alyssa said? About how some people ask a sibling to be the donor."

His face falls. It's only a little, and only for a second, but I was watching him closely enough to notice it. "You... you think you'd really wanna go that route?"

"Maybe." I shrug uncertainly, prodding at my lasagna with my fork. "I mean... why spend hours searching a database for someone when we could just ask one of your sisters?"

"I don't know..."

"Think about it. If we could get one of them to help us, then at least the baby would actually be related to you and the kids in some way."

"I just don't see Jess jumping at the chance to help us have a baby. She's still barely comfortable with the idea of us being married."

"Well, what about Avery?" I press insistently, even though it's obvious his hesitance has nothing to do with whether or not we can get either of his sisters to agree to it. "She's always been pretty supportive of us."

"I know, but... I wouldn't feel right asking her to do something like this."

"Why not?"

He exhales a heavy sigh, setting his knife and fork down as he sinks back in his chair. "She's too young."

"She's like in her mid twenties. There are probably dozens of donors in that database who're younger than she is."

"It's different. She's my little sister, Tommy." He argues apologetically. "And even if that wasn't such a big issue for me, I still wouldn't wanna ask her or Jess."

"I just figured that since we can't both be the biological parents, this could be the next best thing, you know?"

"I know, and I get why you think that, but... think about how weird it'd be. You'd basically be having a baby with my sister-"

"It's not like I'm gonna fuck her or anything! And I'm not suggesting we ask her to carry the baby as well. That would be fucking weird."

"It doesn't matter if she carries the baby or not, she's still gonna be the biological mother. I don't wanna just cross my fingers and hope that if we all act like that's not true, none of us will care. I mean... at least with an anonymous donor, they never have to meet the baby. They don't have to see a kid walking around at family gatherings with their eyes or their smile. Avery would. And who knows how difficult that may or may not be for her. Besides, how are we gonna explain it to our kid when they grow up and ask who their mom is? It's gonna be difficult enough explaining this whole thing to them without having to tell them that their aunt is actually their mom."

"I guess."

"I'm sorry." He reaches out and places his hand over mine, and I let go of my fork so that I can wrap my fingers around his. "I didn't mean to just shoot you down. I didn't realize this was something you'd been seriously considering."

"It's not. Not really. I just... I wanna do this, however we have to do it, but... I guess it bums me out that I can't do it with you. Like... I just want it to be us. I know that's stupid-"

"I don't think it's stupid; I feel the same way." He assures me gently, his thumb soothingly stroking the back of my hand while I pout at my plate like a fucking five-year-old who can't have what they want. "We could pretend it's just us, if you want?"

"How the fuck are we supposed to do that?"

"I could get really fat." Damn him. I wasn't done being grumpy yet and now he's making me laugh! "If I start eating for two-"

"Are you kidding me?" I snort incredulously. "You already eat enough for four."

"Fine, I'll start eating enough for five, then. I'll complain a lot about how swollen my ankles are, and you can rub my feet. And you can go to the store in the middle of the night to buy me whatever food I happen to be craving."

"And what do I get out of this?"

"You can talk to my tummy." Asshole. "And tell me I'm beautiful when I tell you that I feel like a whale."

"You know what, I take it back." I tell him teasingly, tugging my hand away from his. "I'm really fucking glad I can't knock you up, 'cause it sounds like you'd make my life hell!"

"Hey, I had to play the father-to-be five times! It's my turn to be pregnant, I earned it!"

"You really wanna play at being pregnant?"

"Maybe I do." He smiles smugly as he loads up his fork with another bite of lasagna. "I was just joking around originally, but it's starting to sound like a pretty sweet deal."

"Okay then, mommy, no more caffeine for you!"

He freezes, with his fork poised in mid air, mere inches from his open mouth. And he stays that way for a good five seconds or so before his mouthful of lasagna falls off of his fork and back onto the plate. It's hard to contain my laughter, but I do my best to keep a straight face as I reach over and give his arm a reassuring pat.

"How about we just file that one under 'It Seemed Like A Good Idea Until I Actually Put Some Fucking Thought Into It', and pretend you never said it?"

"Yes please."

Chapter Text

For some reason, I thought that choosing an egg donor was going to be one of the easier parts of this process. They'd all been screened by the agency; the women in the database had made the cut. They were intelligent, psychologically stable, and they had good family medical histories. So all we had to do was figure out what else we were looking for in a donor and pick one, right?

Yeah, I know, I'm stupid.

It was pretty obvious from the start that Tommy was looking for someone with as many of my physical characteristics as possible, and I wasn't about to fight him on it if it would make him happy. But he passed over profiles for dozens of tall, blonde haired, blue eyed women who I could see nothing wrong with. After a while it was no longer clear to me exactly what it was he was looking for and not finding in all of them. When I asked him, he shrugged and said he wasn't sure. He just "wasn't feeling it".

We had to give up on our initial search when the kids came home from the movies with Jenna, but any time we found a spare hour or so to ourselves over the next couple of days, we went right back to skimming through profiles. As often as possible, I convinced him to at least note down the numbers of the profiles he'd given a little more thought to before he'd dismissed them, just in case he went through every blue eyed blonde in the entire database and couldn't find anyone who met his undefined standards.

It was ridiculous. He was rejecting a lot of bright, beautiful, talented women and he couldn't (or wouldn't) tell me why.

Until last night.

I finally got it out of him by telling him that I wasn't interested in looking at any more profiles with him if he wasn't going to tell me exactly what he was looking for, and then I left the room. I was being overdramatic, but I was also making a point. And it worked. He came after me and very awkwardly admitted to me what it was that was holding him back from making a choice.

It was their eyes.

Apparently it didn't matter if they were blue, they weren't the right blue. At least, not in his opinion. Being very careful not to sound condescending or dismissive about it, I gently pointed out to him that none of my kids had inherited my blue eyes, and there was probably very little chance that the baby would inherit the donors blue eyes. I could tell he already knew that, deep down. The look on his face when I said it wasn't one of realization, only resignation. I felt like I'd stripped away yet another one of his attempts at making it feel like this baby was ours, not his.

But as I explained to him, it doesn't matter whether or not this baby is related to me by blood, or if it even looks like it could be mine. I'm going to love it just as much as he loves my kids. Because it will be part of him, and I love him more than I could ever attempt to put into words.

It was obvious that he knew that, too. But maybe hearing me say it out loud helped to snap him out of whatever was holding him back from making a choice.

We went back to the bedroom to go over our 'short list', with Tommy finally giving them all serious consideration regardless of the shade of blue their eyes were. It took a while, but we narrowed the list down to two; one is a music major at UCLA, and the other is an aspiring actress who apparently won several singing competitions in high school. The plan was to sleep on it and try to make a final decision in the morning.

Well, it's officially morning.

I know what my choice is, and it's kind of nerve-wracking not knowing his. What if we haven't come to the same conclusion? Then one of us is going to have to give in to what the other wants. I mean, I guess it's not a huge deal; we liked both of these girls, either one would be a good donor... it would just be nice if neither of us had to give up on what our gut told us was the right choice.

Tommy is already home when I get back from dropping the kids off at school. It's usually the other way around, because their school is much closer to home than Asta's pre-school. But Ezra has been dragging his feet a lot these past few days, doing his utmost to make us late (and make me crazy). I refuse to let him, though. I know he's testing me, and I will not fail.

To be fair, it wasn't only his fault that the school drop off took me so long this morning. I got cornered by some women wanting to know if I would be willing to hand out awards to kids at the end of year talent show that the school is having next week. I guess I must have been the only 'celebrity' they could find on such short notice. And it's not like I'm going to say no to helping out with something at my kid's school. Regardless of the fact that I want to be involved whenever possible, the last thing I need is a bunch of angry mothers scowling at me on a daily basis because I wouldn't pin a participation ribbon on their kid's shirt!

Actually, the last thing I need is for one of those women to start criticizing my parenting on social media. I wouldn't put it past a single one of them, which is why I generally do whatever I can to stay on their good sides.

"What happened to you?" Asks Tommy as I walk into the kitchen and make a beeline for the coffee pot. "Yet another Real Housewife of Beverly Hills got a crush on you?"

"Sadly, no."

"Sadly?" He smirks. "I fucking knew you loved the attention."

"It's sad because at least when women flirt with me, I can escape them just by dropping your name into the conversation and politely excusing myself." I sigh tiredly, taking a long sip of my coffee. "But when a bunch of middle aged women invite me to take part in a school event, I can't really use the same tactic."

"Uh oh. Whatcha signed yourself up for this time? Bake sale? Field trip chaperone?"

"Nah, I just have to hand out some awards at a talent show."

He rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head in disbelief. "Every time, dude. Repeat after me: 'I'm sorry, I can't, I'm really busy'."

"I've tried that one before, but they have very selective hearing."

"You're just afraid of them."

"Damn right I'm afraid of them!" I exclaim as I follow him into the family room. "They hunt in packs!"

"And you're easy prey." He points out, practically falling backwards onto the couch and watching me as I take a seat beside him and set my mug down on the coffee table in front of us. "I've dropped the kids off before, I've seen the way most of the other dads stay in their cars and say goodbye out of the window-"

"I don't wanna be like them, though. I'm not a cab driver, I'm a parent."

"I know. You're one of the good ones. That's why the Botox Brigade comes after you all the fucking time."

"Great." I mumble unenthusiastically, sinking back against the couch cushions.

Neither of says anything else for a few minutes. I silently sip my coffee, and Tommy half-heartedly plays tug of war with Duke and his tatty rope toy. Usually we can sit together without speaking and feel completely at ease, but right now there's a definite tension lingering between us. It's the fear of the unknown, and the unwillingness to be the first to bring it up.

But one of us has to broach the subject, otherwise we can't move forward in one direction or the other.

"So-" We both begin at the exact same time, leaving us laughing quietly.

At least the tension has been broken a little. "Moment of truth, huh?"

"I guess..." He nods, taking a deep, unsteady breath as he sits up a little straighter. "I don't know why I'm nervous. It's pathetic."

"Well, you're not the only one."

"What are we supposed to do if we didn't choose the same donor? Flip a coin?"

I can't help chuckling to myself, even though I can't think of a better alternative. "It's weird to think that anything about this could ever be determined by something like that."

"I know, but... I don't want us to like get pissed at each other because neither of us wants to budge. I don't wanna fight about it."

"Me either."

"Flipping a coin kinda seems like the only fair way to decide." He shrugs almost helplessly.

"We might not even need to, though."

"Only one way to find out, right?"

"Music major or actress... on the count of three." I attempt to smile in an effort to lighten the mood, but I don't think it works on either of us. "One... two-"

"Wait!" Tommy anxiously grabs my arm to stop me before I get any further. "Are we saying it after three or instead of three?"

Before I can answer his question, my phone starts ringing. At first I plan on ignoring it, but when I glance at it to see who's calling and see the name of the surrogacy agency on my screen, I'm too curious to let it go to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Taylor?"

"Yeah. Alyssa?" I ask hopefully, noticing how Tommy's expression instantly morphs from annoyed to attentive in a split second when he hears her name.

"Is this a good time? I can call back if-"

"No!" I cut her off quickly. "This is a great time. What's up? Is everything okay? "

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to give you a heads up that I'm about to send over the first handful of matches that I've come up with for you guys." I think I unintentionally held my breath a second ago and now I can't remember how to exhale. "Taylor?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just a little surprised. I mean, I know you told us you could have a match for us within a couple of days, but it still feels so fast."

"I understand." She laughs softly. "I hope you aren't feeling rushed, because no one on our end has any expectations as far as how much time you take to make a decision. Like I said at our first meeting, you're under absolutely no obligation to choose a surrogate from this first set of matches, or any future matches we might send you."

Now it's my turn to laugh, because Tommy is sitting so damn close to me in his attempts to try to hear the other side of the conversation that he may as well just sit on my lap. I guess I could put Alyssa on speaker phone... but this is more fun for me.

"Thanks, we appreciate that."

"Okay, well, I'll send the email your way within the next few minutes, and you take all the time you need looking through the profiles."

"We will."

"Have you had any luck looking through the egg donor database?" She inquires hopefully. "I know there's a lot to go through, and you've had access to it for less than a week, but if you have any questions about any of the profiles, I can do my best to answer them."

"We did find a couple of donors we were really interested in. We were just about to make a final choice when you called, actually."

"Perfect! I'll let you get back to it, then. Feel free to call or email me whenever you've made your decision."

"Thanks, Alyssa."

By the time the call ends, Tommy is staring at me so expectantly that he vaguely resembles Duke when he's waiting for a treat. I kinda want to keep him in suspense a little longer just to see if I can get him to beg, but I know how much I'd hate it if he did that to me.

"That was Alyssa."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that part out already." He tells me impatiently. "What did she say? Did she find us a match?"

"She found us a few. She's sending them over now."

His face lights up instantly, which somehow makes any and all anxiety I was feeling evaporate entirely. It just reinforces the fact that his happiness is more important in all of this than getting anything my own way. Honestly, it just doesn't matter as long as he keeps smiling like that.

 "It's so weird to think that by the end of today we might have chosen a donor and a surrogate."

"That would be amazing, but I don't think we should get our hopes up just yet." I warn him as sensitively as I can. "This is only the first set of matches, and she said she would send more if we didn't find anyone we really liked the first time around, so-"

"Could you possibly be any more negative about this? You're right, maybe we won't find anyone we really like this time. But maybe we will." He insists almost naively.

I've never seen him like this about anything before. As much as I want him to be happy, sometimes it kinda scares me how optimistic he's being. I don't want him to be pessimistic or anything, but I worry that he might be setting himself up for disappointment. Usually he'll hope for the best while preparing for the worst. But when it comes to this baby, he seems to be so wrapped up in hoping for the best that he's forgotten to prepare for anything else.  I feel like I'm trying to prepare enough for the both of us, which I know is ultimately going to do no good. Apparently trying to convince him to rein in his expectations isn't going to do any good either, though, so I guess I should just keep my mouth shut.

"Okay, well, before we even start on the surrogate search, let's put an end to the donor one."

"Count of three again?"

"After three." I nod apprehensively, turning a little in my seat so that I can look him right in the eyes. This could be it, the first bump in the long road to parenthood... "One... two... three..."

I unintentionally close my eyes as I blurt out my donor choice, like I'm afraid to see his reaction. We're both silent after we've spoken, and it takes me a moment of two to work up the courage to slowly open my eyes again and find out if I heard him right when he said "music major".

 And judging by the grin on his face, I did.

"Thank fuck." He exhales in relief, slumping backwards into the plump cushions behind him.

"I seriously thought we were gonna pick different donors." I admit with a weary chuckle as I allow myself to follow his example and relax completely for the first time all morning. "I'm so glad we don't have to depend on a coin toss to figure it out."

"Yeah, no shit."

"I feel like I need to take a nap; being nervous is exhausting."

"You shoulda been less negative about it, then you wouldn't have been so nervous." He chastises me teasingly.

"Oh, like you weren't even a little nervous?"

"I wasn't! I knew I picked the right donor, so I had nothing to be worried about."

Liar! "You just said you were nervous five minutes ago!"

"I was trying to make you feel better." He shrugs, doing his utmost to keep up his nonchalance. "I'm considerate like that."

"You're so full of it."

Reaching behind me, I grab one of the smaller couch cushions and quickly swipe it right at his head. Unfortunately for me, he saw the attack coming and he manages to block it with his arm and then snatch the cushion out of my hands. I try to tackle him before he can put his new weapon to use, but even when I'm on top of him he still manages to rain down a relentless barrage of cushion beatings on my head and back. I don't put a lot of thought into my next action, it's survival instinct!

I lower my mouth to his chest and bite his nipple through his shirt.

"Ow!" He yelps, his whole body bucking beneath mine before he unceremoniously shoves me so hard that I roll off of him and onto the floor. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"I don't know!" I admit honestly, unable to control my laughter as I try my hardest to fend off Duke's over excited attempts to jump on me. "Are you okay?"

"No!" He grumbles as he pulls the neck of his t-shirt out in front of him so that he can look down at his chest and see how much damage I've done. "I'm probably gonna need to have my damn nipple surgically reattached!"

"Oh, come on! I've bitten you harder than that before, you've asked me to!"

"That's different." He grabs his cushion again and whacks me in the face with it. "I know it's coming when I ask for it."

"I'm sorry. Will you let me make it up to you?" I ask, giving him my best baby blues as I push myself up until I'm sitting on the floor in front of him.

His glare only becomes more perceptible, which means I'm close to winning him over even though he doesn't want me to. "How?"

"You can bite me back."

"Where?"

"Wherever you want."

"That's a dangerous offer." He retorts, raising a skeptical eyebrow at me. "Wanna make any exceptions?"

"Nah." I shrug unconcernedly. "I know you won't risk damaging anything that your sex life is dependent on."

After giving my confident assertion a moment of thought, he pouts as he realizes that I'm completely right. So he picks his cushion back up and hits me over the head a few more times. And I let him, because I know that I more than deserve it. In fact, I even throw in some feigned sounds of discomfort each time the cushion connects with my body, just to give him a bigger sense of achievement.

Both of us would like nothing more than to check my email and look at the surrogate profiles that Alyssa sent over, but it's going to have to wait. I have a record company meeting with my brothers and some of our staff via conference call, which will probably last until lunch time because these calls always do. It's better than it used to be when we were all in the same room, though. Back then our meetings could go on all damn day. It's harder for us to get off track when we're on the phone; there are fewer tangents and people are much less likely to get the urge to pull up random youtube videos that they suddenly feel the need to show everyone else in the room.

When the kids are at school, I generally conduct conference calls in the dining room. I'll put my cell on speaker phone so that I can keep both hands free. One for drinking coffee and one for typing notes or scrolling documents on my Mac Book. Every so often Tommy will wander through the room, and if either of my brothers voices is coming out of the speaker on my phone, he'll mockingly mouth along to whatever they're saying. I try to focus my gaze on my Mac Book screen instead of him so that I won't laugh, but I still know he's there and I know what he's doing.

He's highly distracting.

Today he's coming in and out of the room more frequently than I think he ever has during one of my conference calls, because today he's more impatient than usual for it to be over. And so am I, which is probably why it ends up going straight through lunch. Lucky for me, I have an amazing husband to bring me food so that I won't have to suffer on an empty stomach. And as ready as I am to be done with all of the talking, and planning, and debating (or arguing), at least by the time we say our goodbyes we've finalized enough issues to make another record company meeting unnecessary until I'm actually in Tulsa next month.

Almost the second my call with Ike and Zac ends, Tommy appears in the doorway again. He's looking at me eagerly, like he's waiting for me to give him permission to come in and sit down. Honestly, as much as I wanted to get back to our surrogate search as soon as possible, I also want to get my ass out of this chair before they meld together for all eternity!

There's no way I can really say no to that face, though, so I gesture with a nod of my head for him to join me.

But I don't even have chance to open my email before my phone starts ringing again. At first I'm nervous that it's one of my brothers calling to rehash one of the many topics I thought we'd already discussed to death, so I'm relieved to see Holden's name on the screen when I cautiously turn my phone over to look at the caller ID.

"Hey! What's up?"

"Are you busy?"

Something about the tone of his voice instantly has me on edge. "No, why? Are you okay?"

"Not really." He sighs so heavily that it feels like whatever weight it is he's under has just settled on my  chest. "Our surrogate took a home pregnancy test today. It was negative."

Shit. "I'm sorry, Holden. That really sucks."

"Yeah, it does. I mean, technically it's still 'too early' to know for sure. We have our beta hCG test on Monday, but I doubt it's gonna tell us anything different."

"Maybe it will, though."

"That's what Ryan keeps saying, but I think he's in denial. It's been eight days since the embryo transfer, and I've done enough research to know that a lot of surrogates have positive home test results even earlier than this. I don't wanna get my hopes up and cling to a 'maybe', and then be crushed all over again when we get the test results next week."

"Yeah, I get that." I acknowledge sympathetically. "Is there anything we can do?"

"You're doing it right now. You and Tommy are the only two people besides our parents who even know that we're doing this, and I know that if I call my mom she's going to give me a pep talk and tell me to stay positive, like Ryan. I just... I can't hear that right now."

"Do you have to work today?"

"Yeah, I'm on my break. I'm actually glad I don't have to be at the apartment; I can hardly stand Ryan's 'everything is rainbows' crap via text messages, so I doubt I'd handle it too well in person."

"I know it's hard to be around that kind of blind optimism when you're trying to accept reality, but you know it's just his way of dealing." I remind him gently, hoping that it's not going to result in him being pissed at me, too. "Deep down he's probably feeling just a shitty as you are, but he doesn't want to feel shitty."

"But he's going to have to. All he's doing by pretending there's still a chance is delaying the inevitable, and then he's going to be an even bigger mess on Monday when the doctor confirms what the home test already told us."

I wish I knew what to say to him, but this is the first time I've ever had to console someone over a failed IVF treatment. When Natalie and I were trying to get pregnant with Asta, and we had months of negative home pregnancy test results, I perfected my "maybe next time" commiseration speech. But I can't use it on Holden. I can't tell him that they just have to keep trying and that it'll happen when it's meant to, because every time they try it costs them more money.

There are only so many times they can go through this whole process before they wind up babyless and broke.

I feel so useless. He's been there for us through so much, and this is the first time he's ever really needed support from me on something more important than a petty argument with Ryan... and I've got nothing.

"What time is your shift over?"

"Officially I'm off at seven, but I'm usually here until almost eight."

"Wanna come over and get drunk when you're done with work?" I offer sincerely.

When I hear a quiet breath of laughter on the other end of the phone, I feel like even if he doesn't accept the invitation, at least I managed to cheer him up for a second.  "Tempting... but I should probably just go home. I don't want Ryan to be sitting around all night by himself in case he somehow snaps out of his happy haze and has a meltdown."

"You're a good husband." I assure him sincerely, coaxing another soft chuckle from him. "He's lucky to have you."

"I'm not sure he'd agree with you on that right now. I'm not sure I agree with you." He takes another long, tired breath before groaning in dissatisfaction. "I have to get back to work."

"Call us if you need anything, okay?"

"I will."

"And that offer to come over and drink your sorrows away is a standing one."

"I wouldn't be surprised if we both take you up on it at some point soon." He tells me in a distinct warning tone. "Like maybe Monday night soon."

"I'll stock up just in case."

"Thanks, Taylor."

"Any time."

I can't bring myself to look at Tommy after I've ended the call. I could feel his curiosity throughout the entire conversation, and I'm confident he must have come to a pretty accurate conclusion of what it was we were talking about. He doesn't want to hear it anymore than I want to say it, but we both know there's no way we can avoid it. We can't just pretend my phone never rang and go back to what we were doing before Holden's call.

"No baby?" He eventually asks, his sad brown eyes dark with dread.

I shake my head faintly, my gaze still trained on my cell phone so that I won't have to see the expression on his face. "No baby."

We've been full steam ahead with this whole surrogacy thing, and somehow Holden and Ryan's misfortune feels like a fallen tree on our tracks. I don't expect it to derail us or put a stop to our journey or theirs.

But it's forcing us to pause.

It's forcing Tommy to pause and realize that, no matter how smoothly things seem to have been going for us so far, there could still be heartache ahead. And when I finally summon the strength to turn and face him, I can tell by the look in his eyes that he's realized just how unprepared he is for that.

Chapter Text

After receiving Holden's phone call, our plans to dive right into choosing a surrogate came to a screeching halt. It was as though our excitement evaporated, and all either of us could bring ourselves to do for the rest of the afternoon was sit together in silence on the couch and 'watch' TV. We were both too lost in our thoughts to even notice what shows were on as they came and went, and even though Tommy was snuggled up against me, there was a definite sense of distance between us.

I guess being off in your own world has that effect.

Having the kids home from school helped to distract us from the negativity and uneasiness we'd been living with all afternoon, and for a few hours it was like nothing had even happened. But once we were alone in our bedroom at the end of the night, it all came rushing back. We looked at each other as we began to undress for bed, everything just stopped for a moment, and then we wordlessly walked towards each other. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, and he sighed so heavily that it felt as though he must have been waiting all evening to do so. It was a relief. A release.

We admitted to each other that Holden and Ryan's bad luck had shaken us, and that the idea of going through the same thing was much more difficult than we'd realized. We'd both been aware of the possibility that it could take more than one attempt for our surrogate to become pregnant, but just like Holden and Ryan, we'd gotten too excited to truly believe it would happen to us. It suddenly felt a lot more like a distinct possibility than a remote one, and it was terrifying. But as much as I think we both wanted to reassure each other that it would be okay, that we would handle it just fine if it took several tries before we got a positive pregnancy test, we knew it was pointless. Neither of us could say for sure, and pretending anything else would have been tantamount to lying. To ourselves and to each other.

No matter how intimidating the thought of dealing with multiple IVF attempts was, though, it wasn't enough to scare us off. We may have needed a moment (or an afternoon) to come to terms with reality, but that was all. When we woke up the next morning, that fallen tree had been lifted off of our tracks, and we were ready to start moving forward again.

Unfortunately, none of the surrogate matches that Alyssa had sent us really stood out. They all sounded great, there was nothing wrong with any of them. Maybe it's naive of us to think that when we come across the profile for the person who's going to carry our baby we'll somehow know that they are the one. But that's how we both feel, and we aren't willing to give up on that just to move things along faster. So we sent an apologetic email to Alyssa declining to arrange a meeting with any of the matches she'd sent us, and asking her to let us know as soon as she finds more.

That was Thursday evening, and neither of us was really expecting to receive more matches on Friday... but that doesn't mean we're handling the waiting all that well. We've been doing our best to be patient and to focus on other things, but it's undeniably frustrating. This whole process is frustrating, and daunting, and expensive, and so many other things that most straight couples don't have to experience when trying to get pregnant. I'm already sick of filling out forms and reading profiles, and we've barely even started. It makes me feel selfish and ungrateful to think this way, and maybe I am those things...

But that doesn't make it any less unfair that Tommy and I can't just have a whole lot of sex in order to have a baby! Unlike the surrogacy process, that would be satisfying, relaxing, and completely free!

I've decided to put my pouting and impatience on hold as much as I possibly can, though. Penny was trying to tell me about something that happened at school while we were having dinner on Friday night, and I missed most of her story because my mind was so preoccupied with all of this surrogacy stuff. I felt like shit as soon as I realized that I'd been tuning out the kids I already have in order to stress about one that doesn't even exist yet! So I made a promise to myself that I'm not going to think about it when I'm with them. I'm going to be present and engaged, I'm going to give them the attention they need and deserve.

The same goes for my relationship with Tommy. I told him last week that I didn't want what we have to fall by the wayside just because we're having a kid. And even though things between us haven't really changed much, I still feel like all of this is constantly on our minds when we're together now. Sometimes it feels like it's all we talk about anymore, and that's ridiculous. Not only because there's so many other things going on in our lives, but because there's really nothing new to discuss. We're just going over and over the same things, making this wait seem even longer and driving ourselves crazy.

We always have much more fun when we drive each other crazy instead.

"Damn, you feel good..." I hear Tommy moan breathlessly, his fingertips digging into my hips as he thrusts into me relentlessly with so much force that it almost hurts. But only almost. He's an expert at pushing me right to the edge of that thin line between pleasure and pain, but never quite sending me over it. "I swear you're tighter in the morning."

"If you keep saying shit like that, I'm gonna come!" I warn him earnestly, grasping desperately at the sheets beneath me with one had as I mindlessly stroke my erection with the other.

"Don't you fucking dare."

I feel his right hand release its bruising grip on me, and only a second later he's grabbed my wrist and pinned my arm behind my back with enough power to push my entire upper body down onto the mattress. And he never stops fucking me for even a second. I can tell from his breathing that he's close, but having him dominate me like this is enough of a turn on that I still feel like I could come at any second, whether he allows me to touch myself or not!

His body slams violently into mine one last time, and I feel him pulse inside of me as his movements immediately slow and come to a gradual stop. I let out an involuntary whimper as he abruptly pulls out of me, but instead of releasing his grip on my arm so that I can finally get myself off, he turns me over onto my back. My head is spinning uncontrollably, and the sudden and unexpected sensation of his hot, wet mouth on me does absolutely nothing to slow it down.

Just knowing that this is why he didn't want me to come is enough. He wanted me for himself, and I've never been any good at denying him.

I've never wanted to.

When we're both completely satiated, he leaves a lazy line of kisses across my stomach and chest until his lips find mine. The difference between his current demeanor and the way he was treating me only a moment ago is night and day, and the contrast makes his gentle kisses and caresses feel even more loving.

"Holy shit." He gasps in exhaustion before collapsing in a heap beside me on the bed.

I can't help but laugh softly to myself over his choice of words. Holy. It's strange to think that only a few years ago I would have been in a church back in Tulsa right about now, listening to some preacher talking about a God I haven't believed in since I was a teenager.

This is definitely my preferred way to spend my Sunday mornings.

"What got into you this morning?" I ask, summoning what little energy I have left so that I can turn my head to look at him. "It was like you were already inside me before I'd even opened my eyes!"

"I don't know." He admits with a devilish smile. "I was just horny as fuck for some reason."

"Sex dream?"

"Maybe."

"It better have been about me." I tease him, nudging his thigh with my knee. "I won't have you dream cheating on me."

He rolls his eyes at me, smacking me playfully on the chest. "Who would I dream cheat on you with?"

"How should I know? Maybe your subconscious has conjured up some gorgeous, young, sexy-"

"Why the hell would I bother creating some imaginary fuck buddy? The sex we have in reality is way better than any I've ever had in my dreams. If I'm gonna have a sex dream, odds are it's gonna be about something we already did together."

"Well, if I have a sex dream anytime soon, odds are it's gonna be about what we just did. Because fuck."

With a smug smile, he pushes himself up onto slightly shaky arms and crawls on top of me, pecking me temptingly on the lips. "You're welcome."

I'd love nothing more than to lie here with him all day, but a brief glance at the alarm clock on my nightstand reminds me that we're living on borrowed time. The kids are going to start waking up any minute now, and neither of us is in any state to be making them breakfast.

"It's getting late." I sigh disappointedly, combing his messy hair away from his face with my fingers, only to let it fall delicately back into place again. "We should get cleaned up."

"Don't wanna." He mumbles before turning his face towards my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. "I like being dirty."

"Then you can stay here and be dirty." I tell him as I hold on firmly to his hips and practically lift him off of me. "I'm gonna take a shower and start on breakfast."

I hear him whine in protest, but I do my best not to let his sulking sway me from my very adult decision to get out of bed. He continues to pout at me as I make my way to the bathroom, until eventually I have to force myself to look away so that I won't give in to him. It's not like I'm enjoying being the responsible one; I don't wanna get up any more than he does. I honestly cannot remember the last time we spent an entire day alone together, and the idea of lounging in bed with him from sun up to sun down sounds more appealing to me right now than anything has in a long time.

But sadly, it's just not in the cards for us today.

What is in the cards is spending some quality time with the kids outside of the house, because it feels like they've been cooped up indoors all week. Whether they're at school or at home, they barely get a chance to run around and expend some of their seemingly endless energy. And even though we've all been home together every night this week, and we were all here yesterday, we haven't really spent time together as a family. Everyone is off doing their own thing, and ever since our big announcement about bringing another baby into the family, things haven't felt entirely right. Tommy and I have been distracted, and the kids have been almost standoffish with both of us. Especially Ezra.

I need to snap them out of it, and I've decided that the best way to do that is to force them to hang out with us until they like us again!

After breakfast I order everyone to go back upstairs and grab a change of clothes, and to make sure they're wearing something that they don't mind getting wet. Meanwhile Tommy gathers up everything on the hastily scrawled packing list I gave him, and I make enough sandwiches to feed a small village. Viggo and Asta are excited to go on an 'adventure', but their older siblings aren't quite as enthused. That lack of interest only increases after I tell them to leave all books, toys and handheld games behind when we leave the house.

The forty minute drive out to Altadena feels twice as long because of all of the whining and bickering going on in the backseat. It's almost enough to make me turn the minivan around and take them all home to their precious DVDs and video games. But I keep reminding myself why I'm doing this, and it strengthens my resolve to get us where we're going.

Thankfully, the complaining stops once we arrive at Eaton Canyon Falls. River realizes where we are, and he's suddenly ten times more excited than he was just seconds before. I honestly can't tell who is more desperate to get out of the minivan, him or Duke. There isn't necessarily anything extraordinary about this place. There are plenty of other hikes, nature trails, and waterfalls in the Los Angeles area. But when we came here for the first time last summer, everyone had such an amazing time. We spent the whole day exploring and laughing together, and everything felt right. I guess I was hoping that if I brought them back here, maybe some of that nostalgia might rub off on them.

Then perhaps they'll remember that Tommy and I aren't all that bad to be around sometimes.

The trail to the falls from where we've parked is only half a mile long, but it's rocky and takes us close to an hour to navigate because Asta insists that she does not want to be carried. River and Viggo don't mind the slow pace she has set for us; it gives them ample time to climb onto and jump off of every boulder they see. Penny seems to be enjoying the sunshine and helping her little sister navigate the uneven path, but Ezra is still a lot quieter than I'd hoped. The only thing he's interested in is Duke, who is dragging him back and forth across the trail and into the surrounding brush as he investigates every smell he comes across. 

When we finally get to the falls, I'm relieved to see that it's not too crowded yet. There a few other families and some hikers, but the wading pool at the foot of the waterfall isn't teaming with people. Tommy and I find a spot in the shade with a clear view of the water, and the kids all take off  towards it at varying speeds and degrees of excitement. The boys stomp and splash as Duke pounces in and out of the water around them, while Penny and Asta opt for taking it a little slower and staying a little drier. Any time Duke lunges eagerly towards them, Asta screams and holds her hands out in an attempt to keep him at bay. And each time, Penny takes her by the hand and coaxes her a little further away from their rowdy brothers and a little deeper into the water.

Within five minutes or so, I get tired of sitting by and watching them have all of the fun. Tommy insists that he's fine hanging out by himself if I want to go and play with the kids, but I refuse to accept that. He tries to resist when I grab both of his hands and struggle to pull him up onto his feet, but I'm stronger than he is. The second he's standing, I bend down and wrap my arm around his waist before attempting to throw him over my shoulder. It doesn't really go the way I'd planned, and I basically end up half carrying and half pushing him over to the water. He loses his footing on some slippery rocks pretty quickly, and topples over backwards into the wading pool with an enormous splash that soaks Penny and Asta from head to toe. But after their initial gasps and squeals of shock and horror, they both start laughing along with their brothers.

Tommy sits up in the water, pushing his soaking wet hair out of his eyes and then fixing them on me with a death glare. "Get him!"

I don't have a chance to protest or plead for mercy, all I can do is run for my life (as much as anyone can when they're up their knees in water). It's a totally unfair fight, there's six of them and a dog, and they're coming at me from every direction! So eventually I simply give up and accept whatever payback they decide to inflict on me.

It doesn't take long for the kids to get hungry. Between the drive, the hike, and chasing each other through the water, they've definitely worked up an appetite. We sit together on some rocks in the shade and eat the lunch I packed for us, watching as more and more people arrive at the falls. By the time we're done eating, the wading pool is packed and therefore much less appealing to the kids than it was before. Duke is quickly getting restless, itching to explore, so Tommy suggests we take a look around. Everyone but Ezra seems enthusiastic about the idea, and usually I'd go with a 'majority rules' approach and force him to tag along anyway.

But I feel like I'd be missing an opportunity if I take that route today.

"Why don't you guys go ahead." I tell Tommy, hoping that holding eye contact with him for long enough will somehow convey my thoughts to him. "We'll catch up later."

"Okay..." He frowns slightly as he glances back and forth between me and Ezra. "I doubt we'll get too far if Asta insists on walking by herself again."

"With any luck, she'll be so tired after all of this that she'll be begging to be carried back to the car."

He holds up both hands with his fingers crossed, mouthing silent pleas to the sky before following the kids over to the trees nearby. Ezra is still pretending to be oblivious to everything going on around him, but I know he's not. And I know he's completely aware that I stayed behind with him for a reason. I just hope it means that he's willing to talk to me.

"We should do stuff like this more often." I begin hopefully as he picks up a pebble from the ground and begins turning it over and over between his fingers. He's fidgeting, which means he's anxious, which means there's a good chance he'll clam up if I say the wrong thing. "You looked like you were having a good time before." For a moment there's nothing but silence from him, and he's completely still. Until finally he nods faintly. "It was nice to see you playing with your brothers and having fun."

"I guess."

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he has no interest in talking to me at all. It sure as hell seems like he wishes I'd just shut up. But I'm me, so I can't. "You've been quiet lately."

He shrugs, tossing the pebble aside. "I didn't have anything to say."

"Well... do you have something to say now?"

"I don't know." He mumbles glumly. "You probably won't listen to me anyway."

"I am listening, Ez. I'm right here, and I'm asking you to talk to me."

"But you don't hear me when I talk. I already told you how I feel, and you just say I'll feel differently later. But what if I don't? None of us want another baby around. Not me, or Penny, or River, or Viggo. We don't need another baby."

"You know, I remember when you found out that your mom was pregnant with Viggo, and then again with Asta." I venture bravely, fully aware that I'm grasping at straws and hoping that bringing up Natalie in any small way isn't going to shut him down completely. "You weren't all that thrilled about it back then, but you love them both now, right? You're a great big brother-"

"Yeah, 'cause they're here and I have to love them." He impatiently points out. "But you don't have to have another baby."

"Can you tell me why you think it would be so terrible?"

He heaves a heavy sigh, as though my cluelessness is tiring him out. "Because it was before."

"Before? You mean... with Asta?" I study him closely, every tiny move he makes, everywhere his gaze goes. His silence is really all the answer I need, but I don't want to go down this road with him if it's going to make him even more upset. "Ezra-"

"Everything was better before she came along." He snaps, and it seems as though he immediately feels ashamed of himself for it. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut and shakes his head slowly, sadly. "I know it's not her fault, and I don't hate her anymore or anything. But... it was just better before she was born."

Part of me is undeniably broken hearted to hear him say it out loud. I wasn't stupid enough to believe that he would ever prefer a life without his mom to one where she was still here. I just foolishly thought that we'd moved past it. That he'd accepted the way things were and he'd found a way to be happy and live his life without the constant cloud of her death hanging over him.

Maybe he had.

And maybe telling him about our plans to have a baby brought it all rushing back to him just when he'd started to leave it behind.

"You're right." I tell him quietly, and he immediately looks up at me in surprise. I want to kick myself for letting him think for even a second that I'm agreeing with him about things being better before. Maybe they were for him, but they weren't for me. I really don't want to go there though; he doesn't ever need to hear me say those things again. "It wasn't Asta's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault." I continue, watching in regret as his whole body seems to deflate. "I wish I could make things the way they used to be for you, buddy, I honestly do. But no one can change the past. The only thing any of us can do is hold on to the memories that are worth taking with us and try to move forward."

"You just want me to forget about mom and be okay with you and Tommy having another baby."

"What I want is for you to be happy. And for your brothers and sisters to be happy, and for Tommy to be happy..." I shake my head helplessly as I try to figure out how the hell to explain this to him. "I want us all to be happy, and I don't know how to make that happen when everyone wants completely different things."

"So you want me to say that I want what you want so that everything is easy, even if I don't want what you want." He accuses bluntly. "I don't even get why you're trying to make me be okay with it. You don't really care what I think."

"That's not true, Ezra. I want you to be okay with it because I want you to be okay. Period. I thought that after everything we've been through, you knew that."

With an unmistakable roll of his eyes, he gets to his feet and brushes the dirt off of his shorts. "I know that having a baby is gonna ruin everything. And I know you're gonna do it anyway."

He stalks off in the direction of the path we took to get here from the car, leaving me sitting alone in the suddenly way too cold shade. I can't take my eyes off of him until he's out of sight, and even then I just stare at the last place I saw him before he disappeared onto the trail.

I want to get up and go after him. I know I need to go after him in case he doesn't go straight back to the car and wanders off somewhere by himself.

But I can't seem to make my legs work.

I can't make anything work.

I don't know if it's shock or fear flowing through my veins right now, but something has me paralyzed. I feel as though I can't make a move without it being the wrong one. No matter which direction I choose, I hurt someone I love. If I follow Ezra, I leave Tommy behind. I know that right now it's really only a matter of ensuring that my son doesn't get lost in the San Gabriel Mountains, but deep down it feels as though I'm making a different choice entirely.

Once upon a time, this feeling of being torn was incredibly familiar to me. But over the last few years I haven't felt it at all. I was whole for the first time in my life. No loose threads. No frayed edges.

Now it feels as though it's all beginning to unravel again.

The kid I just had a conversation didn't sound like the one I've been living with for the last two years. He sounded a hell of a lot like the kid who spent months shut away in his room, refusing to speak to me in full sentences, refusing to even sit down and eat a meal with his family. The kid who got suspended from school for cussing out a teacher, who destroyed a hand painted mural on his bedroom wall, who ran away from home...

The kid who ran out onto a busy Beverly Hills street to get away from me and almost got hit by a car.

I feel like I'm on the verge of losing my son all over again.

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Chapter Text

When I finally felt capable of getting to my feet and going after Ezra, I quickly sent Tommy a text to let him know that we'd meet him and the rest of the family at the car whenever they were ready to head back. It took several attempts to send because the reception out in the canyon was so hit and miss, but after much cussing on my part, it eventually went through.

I had to run to catch up to Ezra, he had a good head start and his pace was much faster than usual because his anger was doing all of the driving. I didn't try to talk to him because I could tell he didn't want to listen. I had no idea what to say to him anyway, I was too afraid of making it worse. So I kept my distance and followed him back down the trail to the car. He wouldn't even look at me as I unlocked the doors to let him get in, and I couldn't help thinking that me joining him would only make us both feel claustrophobic. So I took a seat on a nearby log instead and waited for Tommy and the kids to return.

I managed to get through the entire afternoon without having to tell Tommy about my conversation with Ezra. Mostly because one of the kids was always within earshot. I was grateful for their presence, because trying to explain everything  to Tommy is unlikely to go very well when I have no idea how I feel about anything anymore. But I know I can't hide from him forever. He knows something pretty significant happened after he left the two of us alone together at the falls. I tried to act like everything was totally fine, but Ezra had no incentive to hide his mood from anyone. He was silent and sullen for the rest of the day, and I think it's fair to say that even Asta knows he's upset at this point.

But dinner is quickly coming to an end here. And once the kids scatter to various other rooms and leave the two of us alone to clean up, I'm not going to have any excuses left. Which is why I just slipped my phone out of my pocket under the table and texted "SOS" to Zac. If I tell Tommy I need to make a call, he'll tell me it can wait until after I've filled him in on what happened with Ezra. But if someone calls me, there's a good chance he'll put his curiosity on hold until I finish my conversation.

I hope.

My phone starts to ring almost as soon as I've stood up to carry the dinner dishes through to the kitchen, and even though Tommy scowls at me in disapproval when I excuse myself, he doesn't stop me from answering it.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask in my most convincingly cheerful tone as I make my way quickly out of the dining room (and out of Tommy's hearing range).

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Zac replies uncertainly. "What's the 'SOS' thing about?"

"Dude, I am having the worst day."

"Did someone die?"

"No."

"Did your dick fall off?"

"No!"

"Then it's not the worst day." He informs me matter-of-factly, ever the level-headed realist. "You're being over-dramatic. As usual."

Glancing over my shoulder to make sure that no one has followed me, I shut myself in the studio and lock the door. "Ezra basically told me that he hates the idea of me and Tommy having another baby."

"That's normal. Shep didn't exactly jump for joy when we told him we were having another baby last year-"

"It's more than that. He's not just unenthusiastic about it, he really doesn't want us to do it. He said it's going to ruin everything and that he knows I'm still gonna do it anyway because I don't care."

"Seriously? That sounds like something twenty-twelve Ezra would've said."

"When I was talking to him this afternoon, it almost felt like I was talking to the kid he was three years ago." I sigh miserably as I sink down into one of the desk chairs by the mixing console. "I can't just stand by and watch him pull away from me like that all over again, Zac. But I'm afraid that if Tommy and I go through with having this baby, it's gonna mess up my relationship with Ezra."

"Yeah..."

"And I'm afraid that if I tell Tommy that I've changed my mind about us having a baby, it's gonna devastate him."

"Again, you're being over-dramatic." Insists Zac as gently as he can. "He might be disappointed, but I doubt it's gonna devastate him."

"A year ago, I would've agreed with you. But he's been pretty down recently. He feels like everyone else is doing all these big, exciting things and he's got nothing to look forward to. The idea of us having a baby made him so happy, it gave him something to be excited and hopeful about... I don't want to take that away from him."

I hear my little brother inhale slowly on the other end of the line, and I can practically see his face right in front of me, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he tries to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do to rectify the shitty situation I've found myself in. But when he exhales a long, defeated breath, I know he's as clueless as I am.

"I don't know what to tell you, man. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I didn't even really expect you to know what I should do, I was just trying to buy myself a little more time to come up with something to tell Tommy."

"Maybe just... tell him that you still wanna have a baby, but you think you guys should wait until the kids have had more time to get used to the idea. Then you'll have time to let Ezra cool off, and you can try to gradually convince him that having another kid in the family wouldn't be the end of the world."

"What if I can't convince him?"

"Then..." He sighs heavily. "I guess you're gonna have to decide which of them can handle the disappointment better. I mean, Ezra has been through hell. And that hell was related to having a new baby in the family. It's not like you can blame him for reacting this way. But you also don't want him thinking that he can act out and get his way whenever you do something he doesn't like."

"I just don't want him to think that I'm not taking his feelings into consideration. And right now, that's exactly what he thinks."

"Well hopefully getting Tommy onboard with putting the baby plans on hold for a while will help prove to Ez that you do care."

It sounds so simple when he says it like that. But it still doesn't feel simple from where I'm sitting. Even though asking Tommy to be okay with waiting a while isn't as bad as asking him to give up on the idea of having a baby entirely, it's still going to upset him. And the fact that I can't tell him how long we'll have to wait isn't going to help at all.

How am I supposed to put a time limit on it, though? What if I say a month, and then a month isn't long enough? What if six months isn't long enough? What if nothing I say or do changes Ezra's mind? Am I just supposed to say, "Oh well, time's up, we're having a baby whether you like it or not!"?

Or am I supposed to tell Tommy that it's just not going to happen?

And what if this is some kind of deal breaker for him? I don't think it will be, I doubt anything could ever drive a big enough wedge between us to ever cause any permanent damage. But I didn't think that Ezra was going to react this badly to the prospect of us having another baby, either. I was worried that he wouldn't be happy about it, but I never expected him to shut down the way he did today. If I was wrong about that, there's a chance I could be wrong about how Tommy will handle me asking him to delay our plans.

And I'm terrified to find out.

I'm given a temporary reprieve for the rest of the evening while we watch TV and play board games with the kids, but I can tell the whole time that Tommy is struggling to keep himself from pulling me aside. He wants to know what the hell is going on, he deserves to know. And as soon as the kids are tucked in for the night, there's no good reason for me not to answer his questions anymore.

"Are you gonna tell me what happened with you and Ez this afternoon?" He asks, casting a knowing look at me over his shoulder as we descend the stairs together. "Or are you expecting another conveniently timed phone call?"

Damn.

He knows me way too well.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be sorry, just tell me what the fuck is going on between you two. Did you have a fight or something?"

"Not exactly." I mumble, making a beeline for the refrigerator as soon as we step into the kitchen, and grabbing us both a beer. He accepts the bottle from me, but he places it on the kitchen island beside him without opening it. His eyes never leave my face. He's definitely not messing around. "I'm worried about him."

"What do you mean?"

"The way he's been acting towards me lately, and the things he said to me today... it's all a little too familiar."

He shakes his head faintly, and I feel his impatient demeanor soften almost instantly. "It's nowhere near as bad as it was when you guys first moved here."

"I just don't want to hurt him again." I sigh, leaning against the counter behind me. "He's been doing so well the past couple of years, but ever since we told him that we're having a baby it's like he's gone back to the way he was before. Around me, at least. He's scared, and upset... and I think he feels like everything is going to get messed up again."

"And I get why he'd think that, but it's not gonna happen." Protests Tommy adamantly. "This is totally different-"

"I know that, and you know that... and maybe deep down he knows it, too. But right now he doesn't believe it."

"So like... what're we supposed to do? I mean, we can keep telling him that it's not gonna be like it was last time, that no one's gonna get hurt, that it's not gonna change everything, but we can't make him believe it."

"I know."

It's like I can feel the next sentence that I need to say lodged somewhere in my throat. There's a voice in my head repeatedly telling me to just do it, just get it over with. It's not fair to Tommy for me to put it off for even a second longer than I already have. But the longer I stand here with him, the longer I spend looking into his curious and concerned eyes, the harder it gets. My mouth is dry, my tongue feels like sandpaper, I try to swallow but those words stuck in my throat make it painful to do.

I guess the struggle and the guilt must be written all over my face, because it's not long before I'm watching the realization of what I'm not saying dawn on him.

"You don't wanna have a baby anymore?" He asks quietly, as though he can't believe he even needs to say the words, he can't believe I would do this to him.

"I do." I assure him wholeheartedly, reaching out and taking his hand in mine. "I swear I do. But... maybe we should just slow down for a while, you know? Things have been moving really fast since we decided to do this, and we're not giving the kids a chance to let it all sink in. If we just give them some time-"

"How much time?"

"I..."

I can't even look at him right now. I feel like I'm doing something incredibly cruel, taking something from him that I'd only just promised him he could have. But the hurt and disappointment in his eyes isn't all that different from what I saw in Ezra's eyes this afternoon.

How am I supposed to choose who to hurt? Because that's the only choice I really have here.

"A few months... maybe?" I eventually manage to respond, begging him with everything I have to agree to this, to let it be okay. "Just until Ezra starts to come around a little."

For the longest time, he doesn't say a word. He doesn't look shocked, or angry, or confused. Only disheartened. He stares at his unopened beer, unblinking and unmoving, as I wait with baited breath for his reply... until finally I see him begin to nod. It's barely perceptible, but I'm sure I'm not imagining it.

And then suddenly that small sign of agreement becomes something else. He's no longer nodding, he's shaking his head. And I feel my heart drop to my stomach with dread as he pulls his hand out of my grasp.

"I asked you..." He begins, his voice unsteady. "After we told the kids that we wanted to have a baby, and they were all pissed about it, I asked you if you were sure you still wanted to do this."

"I was sure. I-"

"I gave you an out. You should've fucking done this before we even got started. But you said you still wanted to go through with it no matter what the kids said. I mean... fuck, we chose an egg donor already, we're supposed to be choosing a surrogate-"

"I know and I'm sorry. But after everything Ezra said to me this afternoon, I can't-"

"He's a kid, Taylor!" He snaps at me in frustration. "Yeah, he's scared and he's upset. He's been through a lot, and some of that's on us, and I feel like shit about that, I really do. But that doesn't mean we should let him decide whether or not we can have a baby!"

"I'm not saying we're not gonna have a baby at all! I just want to give him a little more time to-"

"What if a few months doesn't change anything? Then what?"

I knew he was going to ask me this question, no matter how desperately I hoped that he wouldn't. I just wish I had any kind of answer for him. "I... I don't know."

"Are we just never gonna do it? Or do you wanna wait six years until he leaves for college?"

"I don't know! All I know is that... I don't wanna hurt him again."

He holds my pleading stare in silence for a moment, and all I want to do is pull him nearer and try to comfort him somehow. I doubt he'll let me touch him right now, but I stupidly attempt to do it anyway because I can't not. My hand doesn't even make contact with his arm before he steps out of my reach.

And then he turns and leaves the room.

At first I assume he's going up to our bedroom or down to the movie room, and he probably doesn't want me to follow him. But when I hear the faint sound of keys in the foyer, I take off at a run in the direction of the noise. Tommy already has the front door open when I get there, and when I grab his arm to keep him from walking out on me he irritably shrugs off my grip.

"Let me go."

"Tommy, come on-"

"Look, I get it, okay?" He sighs sadly. "You had to make a choice-"

"It's not that simple!"

"It doesn't fucking matter how complicated or simple it was; there was a choice and you made it."

"He's my kid." I protest earnestly, imploring him to understand.

The scary thing is, I know he already does.

"And I love him, too. I don't wanna hurt him, I don't wanna hurt any of them. I'm not saying you made the wrong choice, Taylor. But I can't just pretend like I'm totally fine with it, like it doesn't fucking matter to me one way or the other..." He shrugs helplessly before pulling the door open even further and beginning to turn his back on me. "I can't."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know."

I follow him out onto the front steps of the house, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that it feels like each beat might actually break it. "When will you be back?"

The lights on his car flash to life when he presses the button on his keys to unlock it. "Later."

"Tommy-"

"Just let me fucking have this!" He demands emotionally as he irritably yanks open the driver's side door. "I need to not be here right now. Don't you get that?"

I do.

I hate that he feels this way, that he needs to get away from me rather than letting me be here for him. But I understand why he can't be around me right now; I more or less betrayed him. And if space from me is what he needs in order to deal with his disappointment, then it's the least I can give him after what I just took from him.

Watching him get into his car and pull out of the driveway hurts like hell, but I can't make myself move until he's gone. And even then, all I can do is step back into the house, close the front door behind me, and collapse against it in exhaustion. I squeeze my eyes shut, silently telling myself that it's going to be okay, that he'll come back when he's had time to come to terms with everything, and that the best thing I can do for both of us and our kids is to stay calm and try to get some sleep.

But it's kinda hard to hear that rational voice over all of the screaming that my anxiety is doing.

"Dad?"

My eyes fly open in surprise to find Ezra standing on the staircase on the other side of the room, frowning at me with worry. "I thought you were asleep. What're you doing up?"

"I was going to the bathroom. I heard you and Tommy yelling at each other."

Shit. "Sorry, buddy. We didn't mean to wake you-"

"You didn't, I was already awake."

"Well... you should probably go back to bed. You've got school tomorrow." I tell him as lightly as I can, forcing a reassuring smile as I make my way over to the stairs. "I think I'm gonna head up, too."

"Where'd Tommy go?"

"I... he just... needed to get out of the house for a while."

It obvious he's not buying it; he's studying me so closely that I feel guilty even looking him in the eyes. "When's he coming back?"

"Soon." I hope. "He'll come back when he's ready."

"He never leaves when you guys fight... it must've been pretty bad."

"We weren't... it wasn't really a fight. It was just..." What the hell was it? "I said something and it upset him. But he'll feel better when he's had some time to think about it."

Placing my hand on Ezra's shoulder, I try to gently guide him upstairs with me. But we barely make it three steps before I feel him resisting. "What choice did you make?"

"What?"

"When you guys were arguing, Tommy said that you made a choice. Was he mad because of the choice you made?"

"Yeah. Kind of."

Kind of completely.

"So... what choice did you make that he's so mad about?"

"I..."

Why is it so hard to know when I should tell the truth and when it's better to lie? If I tell him the truth, it'll probably make him feel bad. But if I lie, and he can tell I'm lying, it'll probably make him even more mad at my than he already is.

A middle ground would be nice right about now.

"I decided that it would be better if we waited a while..." I explain awkwardly. "To have a baby."

I'm expecting him to keep questioning me about the whats and the whys of my fight with Tommy, but instead he simply follows me upstairs without another word. I tell him goodnight again before we part ways and retreat to our separate bedrooms. And as soon as the door has closed behind me, I pretty much just want to sink down onto the floor right where I'm standing. I'm not even sure that I have the energy to walk across the room and get into bed.

Honestly, even if I had the energy, I'm almost dreading getting into bed. I already know I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. How can I? I don't know where my husband is. I don't know when he's coming home. And I don't know how long it's going to take him to forgive me. It doesn't matter if he understands why I made this choice, it doesn't even matter if he believes it was the right choice.

It hurt him.

And when something hurts you the way this hurt him, no amount of reason makes it feel any less shitty. Knowing it was justified or necessary doesn't make it any easier to accept. The only thing you can do is wait and hope that eventually you will be able to accept it, and then maybe it won't feel so shitty anymore.

After sitting on the floor for almost an hour, I force myself back up onto my feet and drag myself over to the bed. My whole body aches, and all I want to do is close my eyes and go to sleep, but my mind won't slow down and shut up. I can't stop myself from checking the clock on my nightstand every five minutes, and every time I see how late it is, I feel a little worse. I keep thinking back to the argument we had two weeks ago, when he said he was going to sleep in the movie room but he eventually came back up to bed with me.

I'm waiting for the door to open, for him to come over here and curl up against me and let me apologize. But I don't think he's going to.

Not tonight.

It's sometime around four am when I finally fall asleep. At least, that's the last time I remember seeing on the clock. One minute it's four, and the next it's seven am and my alarm is blaring. Usually I'd get out of bed and go straight to the bathroom to take a shower, but this morning my instinct is to check every room in the house for any sign of Tommy. I start with Asta's room, since that's where I found him the last time he disappeared for hours and came home in the middle of the night. But she's sleeping soundly and he's nowhere to be found.

He's nowhere.

Not in the movie room or the studio or the family room or the kitchen. And when I check the driveway (which probably would have been my first stop if I felt at all capable of thinking clearly), his car is still gone.

He never came home.

As soon as I realize that he's not here, I make a mad dash back up to the bedroom to find my phone and check for any texts or voicemails. I already know there won't be any; I'm sure if I'd gotten any they would have woken me up. But I'm still disappointed to see that I'm right. I immediately try to call him but it goes straight through to his voicemail, which means he either turned his phone off or the battery died. Either way, I can't contact him. I can't ask him where he is, if he's okay, if he's coming home soon...

Any minute now our kids are going to wake up and want to know where he is. And I'm going to have to lie to them and act like everything is fine when in reality I'm going out of my fucking mind!

Just as I expected, none of them have even taken a bite of their breakfast before they're interrogating me about why I haven't made any food for Tommy. I chance a look at Ezra, willing him not to contradict me when I tell his little brothers and sisters that Tommy had a really early appointment at the dentist this morning. They all seem to buy the excuse, and thankfully Ezra keeps his mouth shut and lets them believe the lie. But I can tell that he's even more worried about what's going on between us now than he was last night.

And he's not the only one.

Chapter Text

I should've known this would happen.

I wanted it too much, and it actually looked like it was gonna pan out, so of course it was all about to go to shit.

How did I not see this coming? I'm so fucking stupid. With the way things have been going for me this year, I don't know why I thought this would turn out any differently. I know I'm being melodramatic, sitting here wallowing in self-pity. But I think I fucking earned that right! It feels like things are being taken from me everywhere I turn, even if in reality I know it's only been my job. And now this baby.

Only...

It's not like those were small things to lose, not for me. And losing them has left me lacking in other things. Confidence, possibility, hope.

And now what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just get over it and pretend like I never wanted it all that badly? I don't know if I can do that this time. I did it when I lost my job with Adam; I acted like it was fine and I was over it even when I wasn't. Until eventually I (mostly) was. But this is different. Even if I could somehow put on a convincing enough act to fool Taylor into believing that I'm fine with this, I'll still know how I really feel.

That's why I had to get the hell out of that house. If I'd stayed, he would have spent all night apologizing to me and trying to explain things to me. And I don't need that. I don't want that. He doesn't have anything to apologize for, and I already understand why it has to be this way. But just because I understand it, that doesn't make it feel any less like a loss. And if he'd kept on at me about it, trying to make me feel better before I've even had time to fully feel like shit, I would've totally blown up at him and everything would've been a hundred times worse than it already is.

As masochistic as it sounds, I need to feel like shit right now. If I don't, if I just push it away and pretend it's not there, it's only gonna come back and bite us both in the ass later.

I just wish I had somewhere to go...

I can't go to Lisa's or my mom's, they'll just badger me with questions about why I can't go home. Same with Alex; he'll try to talk me into going back and making up with Taylor. Isaac is off in fucking Napa with AWOLNATION, and I'd feel like a total dick going to Holden and Ryan. They're dealing with their own shit right now. They don't need me bitching about the fact that Taylor is indefinitely pausing our plans to have a baby while they're getting over the disappointment of their first IVF attempt failing.

I know I have other friends I could go to, outside of the small circle that Taylor and I share, but honestly... I haven't really spent a whole lot of time with any of them in months. It'd be kind of a douche move to show up on someone's doorstep in the middle of the night and be like, "hey, sorry I haven't made any effort to hang out with you in forever, but can I sleep on your couch?"

I never wanted to be this guy. This family focused loser who neglects his friendships and gives up on his career so he can chauffeur his kids to soccer practice and ballet classes. A guy who would rather spend every night in front of the TV snuggling with his significant other instead of out at a bar or hanging at a friend's house. I was always so adamant that I'd never let this happen to me, that I'd never "settle down".

Hell, it's not unfair to say that the idea of it fucking terrified me.

And then I fell in love.

My whole world became about Taylor and the kids, and somewhere along the way it started to feel like my role in their lives defined me. And I was actually totally okay with that. I wasn't afraid of it anymore, it became safe and comfortable. I felt like I had a purpose, a reason to exist. I was finally where I was meant to be, and everything would be okay if I just stayed there.

I guess trying to change it, even just by bringing another kid into the family, messed everything up. If it's not broke, don't fix it, right? I should've just been grateful for what I had. But no, I had to go and fuck with it by wanting more. There was nothing wrong with the way things were, and if I hadn't gotten so hooked on the idea of having this baby, none of this would've happened. I'd be at home right now in our bed, not sitting in my parked car at some random overlook on Mulholland.

Looking out at the endless sea of lights below me, I begin to feel increasingly lost and alone. I'm staring at a city full of people... and it only makes it clearer to me that I have nowhere to go, and no one to go to.

And that's my own fucking fault.

Eventually, I force myself to start the car and finish the winding drive through Laurel Canyon and down to West Hollywood. Almost as soon as I turn onto Santa Monica Boulevard, the bright red 'vacancy' sign of a nearby motel catches my eye and I pull into the parking lot out front as though I'm on autopilot. It feels weird to be paying money for a motel room in a city that I live in. But the idea of spending the night lying on some ugly ass bedspread is more appealing to me right now than going home. I needed somewhere I could go to feel shitty, and this place looks like it was built for the job.

It doesn't hurt that there's a store right across the street where I can pick up a bottle of Jack to keep me company.

It's not until I'm about halfway through the bottle that I start to question whether or not drinking was a good idea. I never really know what alcohol is going to do to my mood when I'm down. It could either improve it or amplify it, but there's no way to tell until it's too late.

Tonight it's the latter.

I'm my own worst critic and worst enemy under normal circumstances. So when I'm going through a hard time, I basically want to hang myself just to get my own thoughts to leave me the fuck alone. No matter how much I try to argue with that malicious voice in my head, it won't stop bitching at me until it convinces me that I'm the worst person on the planet. I'm selfish, I'm ungrateful, I'm thoughtless, I'm mean, I'm pathetic, I'm stupid, I'm talentless, I'm a failure, I'm just plain fucking wrong.

I know it's lying. About some of it, at least. I know it's not selfish of me to want to have a baby with the guy I love. No more selfish than him wanting to have a family and a career. And I don't consider that selfish. But I'm the exception to every rule I apply to everyone else in my life. It's okay for them to want more, for them to continue to grow, and change, and move forward. But me? Fuck no! I'm not allowed to move forward. I'm not allowed to move at all. I should be thankful for what I already have and focus on not losing it. Any sudden movement on my part could bring it all crashing down around me.

Isn't this whole shitty situation just proof of that?

But what if I can't stay still? What if never moving an inch while everyone around me is busy chasing their dreams eventually leaves me feeling nothing but bitter and resentful? Why am I the exception? Why aren't I allowed to want more without it making me a terrible person?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

That's the last thought I can recall floating around my head right before I pass out.

It's strange waking up in a room that I don't recognize. Our bedroom at home is light and open, and this motel room is dark and cramped. Usually the first thing I see when I roll over in bed in the morning is Taylor. Today it's a flat, uncomfortable looking pillow, and what's left of my drinking buddy sitting on the nightstand. I grab my phone to see what time it is and check for any calls or texts, momentarily forgetting that the fucking battery died before I fell asleep last night. I feel a pang of disappointment as I stare at the black screen, because it means I can't just send a text to let Taylor know that I'm still alive. I'm going to have to go home, and I'm honestly not sure if I'm ready yet. I don't really feel any better now than I did when I left last night. My emotions might be more subdued, but they're still there. If I go home, I'm going to have to act like everything's normal. And with all of these thoughts still tearing me to pieces, I don't think I can do that.

I roll off of the creaky, lumpy mattress, grabbing my wallet and keys before heading to a cafe across the street to get some coffee. My caffeine consumption has definitely increased since I moved in with Taylor (it's nowhere near his level, though). Freshly brewed coffee is one of the first things I smell every morning when I head down for breakfast, it's a smell I've come to associate with home and with him. That's usually a good thing, it's calming and comforting. But on rare occasions like this morning, when we're in the middle of a fight, or he's out of town, or something just isn't right, the smell of coffee makes me miserable. I've barely opened the door to the cafe before the scent of ground coffee beans hits me like a punch in the face.

So I turn around and walk right back out again.

When I get into my car I suddenly remember that I have an iPhone charger cable in the glove compartment, so I can charge my phone while I'm driving. If I believed in a higher power I'd be thanking it right about now, because now I can text Taylor and I don't have to go home yet. I still have time to figure out what I want to say to him before I see him.

But I have no idea how long that's going to take me.

Since it's no longer the middle of the night, I feel like I can get away with calling a friend and asking if they wanna get together for lunch or something. Inviting someone out for lunch after not speaking to them for months is totally different from asking them to let you crash on their couch, no questions asked. In fact, if I did shit like this more often, maybe I actually would have had someone to reach out to last night.

It takes me an hour or so of calling people and having that awkward "how've you been" conversation before I give up on finding someone who isn't working or doesn't already have plans. But despite my failure to find company, I still feel a little better. I figure that at least I made contact with like five people I hadn't really spoken to since Christmas. I made an effort and hopefully put myself back on their radars. So maybe next time they're looking for someone to get a drink with or see a movie with, they'll shoot a text my way.

I'm in the middle of trying to decide what the hell to do for the rest of the day when my phone starts ringing, and I'm pleasantly surprised when I look down at the screen and see Isaac's face and caller ID.

"Hey stranger."

"Hey Beb, what's up?"

"Not much. How's-"

"Liar!" He accuses abruptly, leaving me momentarily speechless. "If 'not much' was going on, your husband wouldn't have texted me first thing this morning asking me if I'd heard from you."

Ugh. Damnit, Taylor! "My battery died. I already texted him to let him know I'm okay."

"I know. He texted me again to tell me that you were fine before I'd even woken up and read the other text. But he didn't explain why he needed to ask me if I'd heard from you."

"It's a long story-"

"Yeah, well it's my day off. I already had like three glasses of wine before lunch, and my only plan for the afternoon is to drink three more glasses of wine before dinner." He informs me in an unmistakable 'don't fuck with me' tone. "I'm not in any kind of hurry here, so start talkin'."

"I just... I kinda walked out on him last night." I sigh wearily, slumping in my seat as I watch the cars rushing by outside. All these people have somewhere to go and something to do; they have ambition and motivation and passion. Or maybe they just have a shitty job to get to, which is still more than I have. I'm just sitting here in my parked car on the side of the road like a fucking loser. "It was stupid. I was upset, and I freaked out a little, and I felt like I needed to get the fuck out of the house before it got any worse."

"But you didn't tell him where you were going?"

"I didn't know where I was going."

"It must've been a pretty bad fight for you to drive off in the middle of the night and leave him texting your friends to find out where you went."

"It wasn't even really a fight." I explain, shaking my head sadly and wondering how it all got so screwed up so quickly. "I mean... I guess it was... I don't know."

I hear Isaac sigh heavily on the other end of the line, and I can't help but smile faintly as I picture his expression. I know exactly what kind of look he'd be giving me right now. He manages to pull off the whole incredulous yet sympathetic thing so well.

"Was there yelling?"

"A little."

"Yelling generally goes hand in hand with fighting."

"I don't even know why we were fighting, though! He wasn't wrong to do what he did. But... I wasn't wrong to be upset about it, either. I don't know, everything's so fucking messed up -"

"You're gonna have to elaborate a little." He prods gently. "What did he do and why wasn't it wrong?"

"He told me he thinks we should wait a few months before we do the whole surrogacy thing, because he wants to give the kids time to get used to the idea first."

"Okay... that's reasonable. But how come he's just figuring that out now?"

"'Cause Ezra's only just started to seriously kick up a fuss about it. None of them were all that happy about the idea when we told them, but Ezra's like really against it. To the point where he's got Taylor thinking that everything between them could end up being as bad as it was when they moved here."

"Well... shit." Mutters Isaac quietly.

"Yup."

"So that's it, then? You guys are putting the baby thing on hold until Ezra gets over it? If he gets over it."

"I guess. I don't know what else to do. I don't wanna push Taylor into doing it if he doesn't feel right about it, and I don't wanna upset Ezra any more than Taylor does. But..."

"I know."

He really does know. I don't even have to say it. He was the first and only person I confided in when Taylor and I decided to start the surrogacy process. He saw how excited and anxious I was, he celebrated with me and assured me that everything would go great.

He couldn't have known that only a couple of weeks later we'd be having this conversation.

I sure as hell didn't.

Spending another half an hour on the phone with Isaac gives my mood a further boost and helps me organize my thoughts a little more. And listening to him talking about his latest few shows and the upcoming tour he's going on is a very welcome distraction from all of my bullshit. Even if I am a little jealous.

Almost as soon as we've said our goodbyes, my phone starts ringing with yet another call. This time it's one of my ex-roommates showing up on the caller ID, and it takes me several seconds to answer the call because I'm so taken aback by the fact that he's calling me out of the blue.

The reason for his call comes as an even bigger shock than the call itself, and yet somehow it feels like exactly what I've been waiting for, whether I was aware of it or not.

When it's time to pick Asta up from pre-school, it's like my body knows it. I guess I've been doing it for so long that I've developed some kind of internal alarm clock that goes off regardless of where I am or what I'm doing. I know that I could just text Taylor and tell him to pick her up, but there's really no reason for me not to go and get her myself. I can't keep avoiding him forever, I don't want to. Besides, it's not fair to him or the kids for me to stay away any longer than I already have. So I send him a text telling him that I'm on my way to get her and I'll see him at home.

Picking Asta up is almost always one of the best parts of my day. Any day. Yeah, sometimes she's cranky and difficult, or she's in the middle of something and doesn't want to leave, so I end up spending twenty minutes sitting on the floor while she plays with plastic dinosaurs. And getting her out of the classroom is never a guarantee that the worst is over, because sometimes she insists on opening her lunchbox halfway to the parking lot and emptying every last container out of it so that she can retrieve the one grape she didn't eat at lunch... but most days she's just excited to see me. It doesn't matter if I'm in a pissy mood the entire drive to her pre-school, as soon as I get out of the car and see her running around on the playground, whatever I was pissed about escapes my mind completely.

Today is no different. The second she sees me, she ditches whatever disorganized game it was that she was playing with her friends and makes a beeline for the playground gate. She's practically climbing the damn thing by the time I get to it, so instead of opening it I reach out and lift her over it first. Apparently this is going to be an easy pick up day, because she insists that I'm not allowed to put her down. Not while I'm talking to her teacher about how her day went, or signing her out, or getting her lunchbox from her classroom. Not until we're back at the car and she has to get into her car seat.

I guess this is what happens when I'm unexpectedly absent for an entire day.

We arrive home just as Taylor pulls the minivan into the driveway, and I can tell simply by looking at him that all he wants to do is come over and hug me before he's even unlocked the car door to let the kids out. But I also know he's not going to, because that would clue them in to the fact that something is wrong.

It's supposed to be a normal Monday evening, so that's exactly how we behave. Jenna gets home from her second job and helps the kids with their homework for a while, Taylor makes dinner, and I hang out in the family room with Asta and try to help her build a castle out of LEGO DUPLO bricks. Apparently my help isn't all that helpful, though, because she removes every brick I place and puts it somewhere else. But at least she's kind enough to explain to me why everything I do is wrong (even if it still makes absolutely no fucking sense to me).

It's not until after dinner, when the kids are all preoccupied with their chosen activities for the evening, that Taylor and I find ourselves alone for the first time in almost twenty-four hours. I help him carry the dishes into the kitchen, and as soon as we've set them down by the sink he turns to me and pulls me into a hug so tight that I can barely move my arms to hug him back.

"I'm so sorry." He mumbles against my shoulder. "I never wanted to hurt you-"

"I know."

"I was so worried about you."

I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face in his t-shirt, breathing him in and trying to remember why the hell I ever walked out on him. This feels so much better. "I shouldn't have left like that."

"It's okay." He tells me sincerely. "You needed some time to deal with everything, and that's totally fair."

"But I should've handled it differently. I should've called you when I knew I wasn't coming home last night, I didn't mean to just leave you wondering where the fuck I'd gone."

"Where did you go?" He frowns as he pulls back a little to look me in the eyes, gently combing some hair away from my face. "Did you stay with a friend or something?"

"No, I just... I drove around for a while, and then I ended up at some crappy motel in West Hollywood."

I can see the guilt in his eyes as he lets my answer sink in, and then he wraps his arms around me protectively again. "I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't come home."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is." He protests insistently. "You didn't want to be around me-"

"I didn't wanna be around me." I correct him, earning myself another look of confusion and concern. "Apparently it doesn't matter how many fucking times I try to do it, I never learn that I can't run away from my own thoughts."

"What thoughts were you trying to run away from?"

A bitter breath of laughter escapes me before I can suppress it, and I shake my head as I look away from his inquisitive gaze. "You don't wanna know."

"Were they thoughts about us?"

"No, just... thoughts about me. About who I am, and what I am... and what I'm not."

He looks even more worried now than he did before, and I feel like I'm totally fucking up in my efforts to explain myself to him. "What do you mean? Is there something you think you should be that you think you're not? Or something you are that you don't want to be?"

"Both." I answer as honestly as I can. "Don't get me wrong, I love our life, and I love you and the kids more than anything... but it's like I love you so much that all I care about is what you want, and what they need... it's more important to me than what I want or need. I'm starting to feel like... like I've forgotten myself, I guess. I barely have a life outside of the life we have together. I haven't put any effort into having one because I got so comfortable with how things are and the routine we have, I didn't care if I had anything else. But... it's not good for me."

"What're you trying to say?"

"Ever since I lost my job with Adam, I've been trying to figure out what I want to do next. And it's like I keep second guessing myself and stalling 'cause I have no fucking idea what to do or how to even start. The only thing that feels right to me anymore is us, but... I need something else, something that has nothing to do with us. Like you have the band, you know? That's your thing. I don't have anything like that anymore-"

"But you could!" He declares quickly, the fear painfully obvious in his unsteady voice. "You can do whatever you want, I would never stop you from doing something that makes you happy, you know that."

I nod slowly as I take a deep breath and try to prepare myself for what I need to say next. "You remember Dave? My old roommate?"

"Yeah, kind of... why?"

"He called me this afternoon. It was totally random, I haven't spoken to him in forever, but... there's this band that his old band used to open for sometimes when they played local shows. And he's still good friends with them and... anyway, I guess their bassist had some kind of accident or something this weekend and broke a bunch of fingers, and they need someone to stand in for him for a while. Dave mentioned me to them and sent them a few links to some videos of me playing and stuff. I guess they liked what they saw, 'cause they wanted to meet me."

He smiles proudly. "That's awesome! You haven't played a show in months, I think it'll be good for you to-"

"They're heading out on tour a week from today." I cut him off, giving him a moment to let what I've just told him fully register before I continue. And when I feel his anxious grip on my arms start to loosen, I know I need to tell him the full story before he gets too lost in his own thoughts to hear it. "It's just a three week thing... like fifteen shows. The first one is in Hollywood on Saturday, so I'm gonna have to rehearse with them every day this week if I wanna be anything even close to ready-"

"But we're supposed to leave for Tulsa in a couple of weeks."

"I know. I figure you and the kids can go and get settled in and everything, and I'll meet you there when the tour ends."

"So... you're definitely gonna do it?"

"I told them I would." I admit remorsefully. "I'm sorry, I know it was a dick move not talking it out with you first, but they needed an answer, and I didn't want them to pass and find someone else. I think I need this. I just... I feel like things keep slipping through my fingers-"

"Tommy-"

"I don't want you to be one of them. I can't lose you, but I'm fucking terrified that if I don't do something, if I can't get myself out of this rut,I'm gonna become someone I don't wanna be. Someone you won't wanna be with."

I don't think he's ever looked at me the way he's looking at me right now. I can't even define what I see in his eyes, I just know that I wish it wasn't there. I wish I hadn't put it there. Nothing I've said to him is untrue, though. If anything I've buffered my feelings to spare his.

I can't take any of it back.

"I will never not want to be with you." He finally replies, but when I open my mouth to tell him that he can't know that, and that he can't talk me out of this, he continues. "But if you feel like this is something you need to do for you... after everything you've done to support me, there's no way I'm not gonna support you."

The relief doesn't just wash over me, it hits me like a fucking ten foot wave. I feel as though I practically collapse against him, wrapping my arms around him and holding on with every bit of strength I have left. And he holds on to me as though I might disappear if he doesn't.

But that's exactly why I have to do this.

If we want to hold on to what we have, I think we need to let go first.

Chapter Text

Mere minutes after Tommy had broken the news of his plans to leave on tour, I got a phone call from Holden asking if he and Ryan were still welcome to come over and get drunk. I almost told him that it wasn't the best time, but before I could actually say the words, I realized how wrong I was. It was the perfect time; they needed to numb their emotions with tequila, and so did we. So once the kids were in bed, the four of us broke out the Patron and spent the rest of the night commiserating each other on our various losses.

I think it helped all of us to feel heard, understood, and a lot less alone in our melancholy.

Unfortunately, for me and Tommy, the worst part wasn't over. We still had to tell the kids that he was going to be leaving for three weeks, which is by far the longest they've spent away from either of us in years. I was mostly concerned about how Asta and Viggo would take it. I was sure that their older siblings would be sad, but I was just as sure that they would handle the news relatively well. And I was right. Penny was disappointed, River was pretty indignant that we had "lied" to them when we'd said that neither of us would be going anywhere until the fall. And Ezra was... silent. Verbally, at least. The concern that I saw in his eyes before he averted them to the tabletop betrayed his unaffected exterior.

Viggo was horrified by the idea, begging Tommy to change his mind and "quit his job", and Asta reacted as though we'd told her that he was up and leaving her that very minute. She cried unrelentingly, no matter how many times he reassured her that he would be back and that everything would be okay. She basically fell asleep sobbing in his arms on the couch. And even after she had passed out, and her tears had dried, her body would still shake with residual sadness every time she drew a shuddering, unsteady breath.

I don't think I've seen him look so guilty since the last time he had to leave them to go on tour. Back then, Asta was too young to realize what was happening. Viggo threw a fit, but she didn't shed a tear. And even though it made him feel terrible to see Viggo in such distress that day, I know it was worse for him to watch Asta go through it this time. He never blatantly plays favorites with the kids, but it's undeniable that his bond with Asta is different than the one he shares with her brothers and sister. It always has been. And they both took his imminent departure extremely hard.

After he'd carefully carried her upstairs and tucked her into her bed, he told me that he'd changed his mind. He said he'd made a mistake, it had been a impulsive decision that he'd made when he wasn't thinking clearly, and he couldn't go. And as much as I wanted to just nod and tell him that it was his decision and I would support him either way, to let him throw in the towel after only one day of rehearsals, to let him stay... I couldn't.

I knew he needed to go.

He needs  to get away from everyone and everything and figure out what the hell it is he really wants. He can't do that here, there's too much in the way, too many distractions. He deserves the chance to clear his head and get back to doing what he loves. I've watched him struggling for months, I even told Alex that sometimes I felt like Tommy was sinking right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it. If I'd talked him into staying, or if I hadn't talked him out of it, it would have been the equivalent of holding his head under the water.

So I reminded him of what he'd said to me the night before, about needing to go, and being afraid of becoming someone he didn't want to be. And even though he shook his head as though nothing I was saying was registering at all, I could tell that he was hearing me.

As hard as it's going to be, for all of us, it's the right thing to do.

This past week has been one of the most challenging we've had in months. Maybe years. But it has also been filled with glimmers of hope that things will be better once all of this is over. Tommy has been at rehearsals every day, from just after breakfast until just before dinner, so I've been driving all of the kids to and from school, and I've been taking care of everything at home, too. But I guess I should get used to it, because by this time tomorrow, I won't even have his help with getting them up in the morning and putting them to bed at night.

Last night was the first show of the tour. They played the House of Blues on Sunset, and it went about as smoothly as can be expected after such a condensed rehearsal period. Honestly, their music isn't really my thing. I think it's a lot closer to the music Tommy used to make with the bands he was in before he met Adam. But even though I won't be blasting their songs on my iPod anytime soon, I can still appreciate a well executed performance. And watching my husband do one of the things he does best was especially easy to appreciate. The crowd seemed more than satisfied with the show, too. I was probably the only person who noticed how tense Tommy was (because I was probably the only person paying such close attention to every move he made... or didn't make).

I can never take my eyes off of him when he's playing, whether he's on a stage in front of a crowd of people, or in the studio alone.

Several of Tommy's friends, including Isaac, Sophie, and Dave, showed up to see him play. I think the fact that there were so many familiar faces in the audience actually made him more nervous. But I know he was grateful that they were all there to support him, and when we all went out to grab a late night snack at one of his favorite restaurants after the show he was the happiest I've seen him in a long time. He seemed lighter, I guess. More like the laidback guy he was when we first met rather than the responsible family man he's been for the last few years.

I love both of those sides of him equally; how can I not? I fell completely and irrevocably for one of them, and committed the rest of my life to the other. But... I'll admit that it was a little nerve-wracking to see brief glimpses of who he was before. Before he ever told me he loved me, and moved in with me, and found his place in my kid's lives. I know nothing can undo all of that, but some irrational part of my mind was freaking out about the possibility anyway.

Tonight he has a show in San Diego. It's the last within driving distance; they head up to San Francisco first thing tomorrow morning. And after that I won't see him again for a torturously long twenty-two days.

It took a lot of brainstorming (and a little arguing), but we finally figured out how tonight is going to play out. I wanted to go to San Diego with him, because I never pass up the opportunity to watch him play, but also because I don't want to waste any of the time we have left together. But that would have meant that we'd either have to wake the kids up at dawn tomorrow to say goodbye to him (which is a horrible idea, because they're always more emotional when they're sleepy), or he'd have to say goodbye before heading to the show, and then I would have to ditch them to go down there and be with him. It wasn't fair to them for us both to disappear at once.

If he was going to leave, I was going to have to stay.

Eventually we decided that he would say goodbye to the kids before leaving, get a ride down to San Diego with Isaac, and then have Isaac drive him back here later tonight after the show. That way we at least get to spend a handful of hours alone together before he has to catch a cab downtown and meet the rest of the band on their way up to San Francisco tomorrow morning.

It's not often that we ask Jenna to work much on weekends anymore. We might ask her to babysit on a Saturday night, but other than that the two of us usually have it covered. This weekend I asked her to work both days. I needed her yesterday so that I could go to the Hollywood show, and I'm going to need all the help I can get in a few minutes when Tommy walks out that door and Asta has a total meltdown.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" She asks me in a near whisper as we stand just outside the family room and make sure that none of the kids can escape long enough to see Tommy bring his favorite bass guitar up from the studio and take it out to Isaac's car. "Is there a plan?"

"Hug them a lot. And repeatedly tell them that it's only three weeks."

"Right."

"And remind them that this time next week they'll be in Tulsa with their cousins. Hopefully that'll take their minds off of how much this sucks."

She nods as she takes a deep breath, and then she laughs softly to herself as she exhales. "For some reason, I didn't think I was ever going to have to do this again."

"Do what?" I frown.

"Try to keep the kids calm when one of you has to leave on tour. It's been so long, and the last time either of you went away for more than a few days, we all came with you. Tommy hasn't been on tour in over two years now, so I guess I just assumed that he was done with it, you know? He seemed so settled."

"Yeah... he did."

"Is everything okay?" She questions carefully as I turn to her, shaking my head in confusion. "Between you and Tommy, I mean?"

"Of course it is! What makes you ask?"

"I don't know. It's kinda felt like something has been different recently, and then he suddenly decided to do this tour... I was just wondering if there was any reason-"

"No." God, I hope not. "It was only sudden because the guy he's replacing got hurt at the last minute. It's not like he was looking for an excuse to leave or anything. Everything's fine between us. Better than fine."

I can hear the uncertainty in my own voice as I speak, and I can see the pitying look she's giving me. Apparently I didn't do a good job of convincing either of us. I wish I could, because it's hard enough watching him leave without being afraid that he won't come back. And the stupid thing is, I wasn't even slightly afraid of that until now. When he told me he'd taken this job, there was no doubt in my mind that he was doing it for himself and that it wasn't a problem with us that was pushing him to jump on the first tour bus out of town. But I've had a knot in my stomach all morning, and it's only getting bigger and more uncomfortable. I wasn't sure what it was at first, and I wrote it off as nerves and stress. Now there's no doubt in my mind that it's fear.

And nothing I tell myself seems to quell it.

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I nearly jump out of my skin when Tommy gently places his hand on my shoulder to get my attention. Any other day he'd probably tease me for being overdramatic, or he'd apologize for scaring me and then try to flirt his way back into my good graces. But today he says nothing. He smiles, but it's not a smile of amusement or contentment. Not even close.

"Ready?" He sighs tiredly.

"When you are."

His gaze drifts from my face to the family room, and he watches our kids in silence for a moment. I don't know if he's working up the nerve to start the process of saying goodbye or simply taking it all in one last time. Either way, he doesn't get chance to finish. Viggo looks up from the TV and sees us standing here, and his hasty leap off of the couch is enough to disturb everyone else and draw their attention to us.

"Don't go yet." Pleads Viggo as he throws his arms around Tommy's waist and holds on to him possessively. "Why don't you stay just for lunch and then you can go later?"

"I wish I could, dude, but I have to get down to San Diego and get ready for the show."

"Just a little longer?"

"Even if I stay for a while, it's still gonna suck just as much when I have to leave later." He tells Viggo apologetically as the rest of the kids slowly make their way over. "I'm not gonna be gone for long, okay? It's not like last time, when I was gone for over a month. I'll only be gone for a few weeks."

"And then you'll come meet us in Tulsa for the 4th of July." Penny adds calmly. It's not a question, it's more of a command, and her eyes lock onto Tommy's face, searching for any sign of hesitancy.

She's never been afraid to be brazen with him; he encourages it most of the time. He wasn't used to having a kid calling him on his shit, especially not a little girl. She's kept him on his toes since the day they met; she rarely lets him get away with even the smallest of white lies, so most of the time he doesn't even attempt to tell them.

"I'll be there."

"You have to promise."

This time when he smiles it's entirely genuine. It's still small, but it's not quite as sad as it was. "I promise."

She holds his stare, challenging him to look away and reveal his dishonestly. But he doesn't so much a blink, and finally it's enough to win her over. Within seconds he has another set of arms wrapped around him, and then another when River rushes forwards and makes himself comfortable in what little space is left in Tommy's personal bubble. Ezra isn't as eager to get in on the group hug, but Asta starts squirming impatiently in his arms and demanding to be put down. And the second her little feet touch the ground, she runs right over to Tommy and pushes her way past Penny's legs in order to latch on to his.

He doesn't hesitate to sink down amongst them, until he's closer to their level and can at least attempt to hug them all back. I can't figure out if my heart is melting or breaking right now. I think it broke and then the pieces melted. I wish I could put this moment on pause for the next three weeks, so that he never has to leave and they never have to let him go. But I keep reminding myself that there's a reason he has to do this, no matter how much harder it gets to see that reason with every passing second.

Asta continues to cling to his legs even after the others reluctantly release their hold on him. The only one who hasn't hugged him is Ezra, and he shows no sign that he's planning to do so. But it's not hostility or indifference I'm sensing from him right now, if anything I think he feels like he shouldn't try to hug Tommy. We've done our best to reassure the kids that Tommy isn't leaving because of anything they have done, or because he wants to be away from us, and the only one who still doesn't seem to believe us is Ezra. It's not like anyone can blame him for being suspicious. He heard us fighting, he saw Tommy walk out on me, he knows he didn't come home that night.

And now, one week later, he's leaving us.

"You too cool for hugs now?" Tommy teases him in an attempt to ease the tension. "Can I at least get a fist bump or something? Or do you just wanna like nod and say 'later'."

For what feels like the first time in days, a smile starts to spread across Ezra's face, and he takes a few hesitant steps forward. Despite having a three year old hanging off of his leg, Tommy makes the effort to meet Ezra half way, and I'm hit by a wave of relief as the two of them embrace. I actually can't remember when they last hugged; Ezra isn't a big hugger, at least not anymore. And he's had so many growth spurts since his tenth birthday that he's now almost taller than Tommy!

"Take care of your dad, okay?" I hear Tommy tell him semi-seriously. "I'm counting on you to stop him from making any stupid decisions."

"Hey!"

"Like what?" Ezra asks as he and Tommy let go of each other, completely ignoring my indignant protest.

"Like dying his hair black, or adopting a cat, or... buying a new house. You know what he's like."

"Is your opinion of me really that low?" I pout pathetically.

Tommy shakes his head at me before reaching down and picking Asta up. "My opinion of you is ridiculously high. My opinion of your decision making abilities, on the other hand..."

"Whatever. You can go now."

"You know I'm right." He smirks as he walks over to me. "And you know you love me."

I do. God, I do.

And all I want to do right now is grab onto him unashamedly and refuse to let go, exactly  the way our daughter has. Even though I know he'll be back tonight, that this isn't our goodbye, I'm still kicking and screaming on the inside. Just like Asta will be in a few seconds when he tries to hand her to me. She's allowed to let her feelings show, they all are. But I'm the grown up (apparently), I'm the parent. So I have to lock my emotions away in a box at the back of my mind in order to help them cope with theirs.

"I gotta go, bug." He murmurs against Asta's ear, and I can see her body tense in his arms. "It's okay, your daddy's right here and I'll be back soon."

"No!"

Our eyes meet, and I can tell without him having to say a word that he needs to get this over with. Because he knows that nothing he says right now is going to soothe her, it's only going to prolong this and make it more painful for both of them.

The second I so much as touch her, she starts screaming so loudly that her older brothers immediately cover their ears. She has every available inch of her little limbs wrapped around Tommy's torso and she's holding on for dear life. I can't hold her and pry her off of him at the same time, and he can only untangle himself from her arms or her legs, but not both at the same time. Eventually Jenna has to step in and help, and as soon as Asta realizes that she's doesn't stand a chance, she stops screaming and starts bawling. Which is somehow even harder to hear.

If Tommy gets too close she'll grab hold of him again, so he grudgingly keeps his distance. He takes her hand in his and kisses it quickly, telling her that he's sorry, and that he loves her. Then he turns to Ezra, Penny, River and Viggo to tell them that he loves them, too.

And then we all watch him leave.

No one says or does anything for what feels like minutes. The only sound in the house is Asta's sobbing and repeated cries for her dad. It's like we're all staring at the door, waiting for him to walk back through it and tell us that he changed his mind. But we all know it's not going to happen.

"Come on." Jenna coaxes the kids gently. "Let's go see what we can find for lunch."

"I'm not hungry." Mumbles River, even as he traipses into the dining room after her. "Can we have ice cream?"

I carry Asta over to the stairs, lowering us onto one of the bottom steps so that I can keep her close, and so that I won't have to worry about my arms getting tired. She resists my attempts to comfort her at first, she pushes against my chest and tries to turn around and struggle her way out of my hold. But my arms remain wrapped around her no matter what she does, until she finally gives in and goes limp against me. I sit there with her until she stops crying, hushing her softly and telling her that he'll be back. I'm not sure if she actually believes me, but at least she eventually calms down.

She spends the rest of the day either in my arms or following me around the house like she's afraid I'll leave her if she doesn't keep an eye on me. When I go to the bathroom she waits outside the door, asking me if I'm done yet and telling me she wants to come in! Any other day this kind of attention would be too ridiculous for me to handle, and I would tell her to go and play in her room or something.

But today I simply let her be ridiculous and I don't say a word about it.

Jenna and I do our best to keep the kids entertained and distracted with whatever activities they show even the slightest interest in. She ends up baking and decorating cookies and cupcakes with Penny and Viggo, which seems to cheer them up considerably. River isn't feeling quite as sociable, and he asks to be allowed to go down to the studio and bang the hell out of our drum kit. Asta wants to cuddle up in the movie room with me and watch 'Frozen'for the millionth time, and Ezra opts to sprawl out on the couch in the family room with Duke and play video games.

By the end of the day, I'm exhausted. It's not like I really did all that much, but it's unreasonably exhausting to pretend to be totally fine when you're not. I had planned to stay awake until Tommy got back from San Diego, but I find myself drifting in and out of sleep on the couch while half-heartedly watching movies. One minute Katherine Heigl is getting knocked up, and the next  a forty-year-old Steve Carell is trying to lose his virginity. When I open my eyes in the middle of some crappy Matthew McConaughey chick flick, I turn the TV off altogether and surrender to sleep completely.

I'm not sure what time it is when I wake up again. Tommy is kneeling on the floor beside the couch, stroking the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of my nose with a feather light touch until I open my eyes. He smiles at me fondly, and I automatically smile back as I slowly sit up and rub the back of my sore neck. Part of me wants to ask him what time it is, just so I have some idea of how long we have together before he really has to leave. But an even bigger part of me doesn't want to know.

I just want to take him by the hand, lead him upstairs to our bedroom, and spend however much or however little time we have left together entirely wrapped up in him.

So that's exactly what I do.

Everything between us is unhurried and intentional, every touch, every move. It's wordless, because there's nothing to be said that we're not already saying to each other with every look we share. All I can think is "twenty-two days". Twenty-two days until I can kiss him. Twenty-two days until I can feel his lips and fingertips on my skin.

Twenty-two days until I can feel whole again.

I know it's nothing in the grand scheme of things. Three weeks and one day. It's not even the longest we've spent apart since we got back together almost three years ago. But it's been so long since we last spent more than a couple of nights away from each other. After everything that has happened between us lately, those seemingly meager twenty-two days feel like an endless stretch laid out before us.

And I'm scared.

I know he'll come home...

But I'm afraid that when he does, he might be different somehow. I don't want to lose what we have, I don't want what we are to change. A month ago I thought that we'd made it, that we had no more battles to fight and no more hills to climb. Suddenly I don't feel quite so safe and secure.

"Promise me you'll come back." I blurt out into the darkness around us, and he lifts his head from my shoulder to look me in the eyes.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Of course I'm gonna come back. Where else would I-"

"No..." I cut him off, holding his confused stare as I take a deep breath and try again. "Promise me you will come back."

It takes him a long moment of frowning at me before what I'm saying starts to sink in. I'm expecting him to swear up and down that in three weeks he'll still be who he is right at this moment. In fact, I'm expecting the promise to come so immediately and so easily that I'm not even sure I'll be able to believe it.

But instead he begins to shake his head slowly, remorsefully.

"You know I can't." Do not freak out, Taylor. Do not freak out. "I mean, I can promise if you want me to, but it's not gonna mean anything. I seriously doubt a few weeks on the road is gonna change who I am, but... who the hell knows what's gonna happen?"

"Do you want it to change you?"

"I..." He sighs heavily as he gives a unsure shrug. "I don't wanna be a totally different person or anything, but I don't wanna feel the way I have been."

"I know." I acknowledge sympathetically, my fingers travelling slowly down his arm with my eyes following every step of the way. Over his John Wayne tattoo, the ridge of his elbow, along the stem of the rose that paints the length of his forearm, until my fingers lace with his. "I don't want you to feel that way anymore, either."

His forehead rests against mine as he squeezes my hand appreciatively. "I know."

I stupidly glance at the clock when he lays his head back down on my chest, and I see that it's nearly five am. He told me he'd have to leave by six, and knowing that we now have minutes instead of hours together is enough to leave my heart pounding so hard that it almost makes me nauseous. I think he can feel it, because he untangles his fingers from mine and begins to trail them slowly across my chest, over and over, until the panic gradually subsides and I feel as though I can breathe evenly again. It's so soothing that I find myself drifting further and further from consciousness, no matter how many times I try to pull my mind back to this moment and focus on him.

He must be able to feel that, too.

"If you fall asleep... I won't wake you up when I go." He whispers.

"But-"

"I don't wanna do the whole goodbye thing, I fucking hate it. And it's pointless, 'cause it's not goodbye. I'm gonna see you in three weeks."

"I don't want to wake up and have you just be gone." I object despondently. "I hate waking up without you."

"Would you rather watch me leave?" No. "I did a lot of research that first year we were together, and believe me, it's better if you fall asleep now and wake up after I'm gone. It's like surgery, you know? You're unconscious while your guts are being ripped out. It's less painful."

"Not by much."

"Not much is still a hell of a lot better than not at all." He smiles sadly as he raises his head to look at me again. "Something else I learned that year."

I know he's right. It'll be marginally easier on both of us if I'm unaware of his departure while it's actually happening. I remember when I used to have to leave him, and it was always a hell of a lot harder to know he was watching me walk away.

"I'm gonna miss you." I tell him, my voice wavering as I fight to keep my ever intensifying emotions under control. "So much."

His hand reaches up to cup my face and his thumb lightly strokes my cheek before he leans in to kiss me. It's slow and soft, an unmistakable goodbye  without him having to say that one, excruciating word.

"I'll see you soon, baby."

Chapter Text

The last two weeks have been a harsh reminder of just how unsuited I am for single parenthood. They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, I have five children, so even with a village it's still an exhausting, uphill struggle.

Despite the fact that I had extra help from Jenna while we were still in L.A., the kids were almost late to school several days of their last week before summer vacation. I forgot which day Penny's dance class was on, I nearly forgot to show up for the talent show I'd agreed to hand out awards at, and we had takeout for dinner more times than I'd like to admit. I'm still trying to repress the memory of the near catastrophe we had on the morning of our flight, when I realized that I'd forgotten to take Duke (along with his food, toys and bed) over to Dia's house.

Thankfully, Jenna very kindly volunteered to do it for me so that we wouldn't be late getting to the airport. If she hadn't been there, I could have been seriously screwed!

I thought things would be better once we got to Tulsa; I'd have dozens of people ready and willing to help out with the kids, and I'd be spending all day almost every day in the studio with my brothers. And in some ways, it has been easier. My mom had already put together a "schedule" for who was going to be babysitting and when, so all I had to do each day was get the kids up, dressed, fed, and delivered to whichever family member had volunteered to have them. But honestly... it's all been a little too much like it used to be before we moved to L.A.

Before Tommy came back into my life.

I think the kids are feeling it, too. They were excited for a break from school, and they've been having a lot of fun with their extended family. But even though we don't all come home to the same house we lived in with their mom, those evening hours when it's just the six of us are a lot quieter than I'm used to. The only time they perk up is when we Skype with Tommy before they go to bed and he hits the stage.

And then once they're all asleep, I'm alone in the house I grew up in. It's the place I called home before anyone outside of Tulsa knew who I was, and I've always felt safe there for that very reason. I still do, for the most part. But at night, when it's just me, I'm surrounded by memories of my past. And though the majority of the memories I made in that house are fond, the past is not a place I like to visit too frequently. For the first time in my life, I prefer my present. Or I did before Tommy left on tour. Now I devote a lot of mental energy to thinking about the future.

Nine days from now, to be specific.

It's hard to tell how Tommy's feeling through a computer screen or over the phone. He says everything is "good" and "fine", but he doesn't really go into much detail about how his time on the road is going. Sometimes, when he doesn't seem to be having the time of his life, I'm selfishly relieved. It's not that I don't want him to enjoy himself, but I can't help thinking that maybe, if he's not happy out there, he won't want to go back on tour again anytime soon. And whenever I have those thoughts, I want to kick myself in the nuts. Because at the end of the day, more than I want him to be home with us, I want him to be happy. I want us all to be happy, but as usual, it's pretty much impossible to please everyone.

I might understand why he needs to do this, but the kids don't. Not entirely, anyway. We told them that it's his job, but in their minds everything had been just fine these past couple of years without him touring. And if we tell them that not touring is making him unhappy, all they'll hear is that being at home with them makes him unhappy.

It's not like when I used to tour or work all the time and they stayed home with Natalie; they were born into that lifestyle and it was pretty consistent for most of their lives. But everything changed when Natalie died and we moved to L.A.. They got used to things being different, to both of us being there day in and day out.

And then out of nowhere one of us up and left.

I don't think it's unfair or unreasonable for them to be afraid that life as they know it is about to change all over again. I'm afraid, too. But if that's what's in the cards for us, then we'll just have to make it work the way we always do.

If there's one silver lining to come out of all of this, it's that Ezra seems to want to spend more time with me now than he usually does when we're at home. The first couple of days we were in Tulsa he went with his younger siblings to Pam's or my parent's for the day while I went to the studio. But on the third day he asked if he could come with me instead. I told him that I would be working all day and he would be bored. But he said he'd be fine, so I let him tag along. And he's tagged along every day since. He mostly hangs out in the control room with Ryan, our engineer. He reads, and draws, and plays video games with Zac during our down time. And whenever I'm not needed for recording, I go back there and spend time with him. He's been listening to the songs coming together and giving us his opinion, though it took a little prodding from us to get him to admit that he even had an opinion at first.

Every day it's as though I can see him gaining confidence in himself. And in me. I thought things were good between us back in L.A., before the baby announcement, but now they're even better than that. It's possible that our relationship is better now than it has been since before Natalie died.

"I wanna do another take." Zac sighs as Ryan cuts the playback on the drum track he just recorded.

I can't help but roll my eyes at him, and I'm pretty sure that Ike and Ryan are doing the same thing. "You're being way too critical. There was nothing wrong with that last take, it was great."

"It was fine." He argues. "It could be better."

"Dude, come on, there's like a million other things we could be working on right now instead of indulging your anal-retentive tendencies." Protests Ike with a weary groan. "That last one was great, and if there was anything about it you don't like, we have more than enough previous takes we can pull from. So let's just move on for now, and if we have time later maybe you can do another take."

"You just wanna move on because you know that if we do we're gonna get totally distracted, and then we'll never come back to this!"

"Zac, as much as it pains me to say it, Ike is right."

"Thank you." Ike nods triumphantly. "And also, screw you."

"You're welcome." I smirk, glancing over at Ezra and noticing the way he's smiling to himself as he doodles in his sketchbook. "Ez, what do you think about the drums?"

He shrugs unconcernedly, never looking up from the paper in front of him. "They sounded good to me."

"See?"

"See what? That you're all wrong? Yeah, it's pretty obvious."

"No, that even an impartial third party thinks it sounds good. And he heard all the other takes, too, which is more than can be said for anyone who's gonna hear the finished version of this song." I contend in my most even and reasonable tone. But it's obvious that no amount of reason is going to sway him on this. "Tell me exactly what it is about that take that you think you could improve on in the next one."

He scowls at me, knowing full well that he can't tell me exactly what it is because he doesn't even know. He's being overly critical of his own performance, and it's completely ridiculous because there's nothing to be critical of! I'm the crazy perfectionist of the group, anyone who has ever spent five minutes in a studio with us can attest to that. So if I can't hear anything wrong with it then chances are there is nothing wrong with it.

"Whatever." He mutters petulantly. "Let's just move on."

"Hallelujah!" Exclaims Ike, throwing his hands up in exaggerated praise as he turns his desk chair back to the mixing console. "Okay, Tay, you're up."

After taking a long swig of my almost cold coffee I start to make my way out of the room, only to have Zac grab me by my elbow and pull me back. He's still got that grumpy little glare going, and it takes everything I have not to crack a smile and piss him off even more.

"Just know that when you come in here whining about how you wanna do one more take on the B3 because 'it didn't feel right' to you, I'm gonna duct tape you to a chair, gag you with your own beanie, and beat you with a tambourine."

"Noted." I nod solemnly.

As usual, we get so wrapped up in making music (and arguing about making music) that we lose all track of time. It's not until Ezra asks if we can order pizza that any of us realize how late it is. I was supposed to be at my parent's house to have dinner with them and the kids almost half an hour ago, and it's going to take us almost twenty minutes to drive there from here.

Sometimes in my quest to be a good musician, I wind up being a terrible father and son.

I give my mom a call to apologize profusely and let her know that we're on our way, and she tells me she saved us some food and to drive safely. She doesn't even sound annoyed, in fact she sounds kind of amused. I guess this is familiar territory for her; I used to be late for family meals constantly because of work. But even if my one-track mind is funny to her, to me it's unsettling. I've done my utmost to avoid incidents like this one over the last few years. I want to be there for my family, they have to come first.

When we get to my parent's house it turns out that everyone is relaxing and enjoying themselves, which helps alleviate a little of my guilt. Zoe is painting Penny and Asta's toenails, and the boys are engrossed in a game of Zingo. So engrossed that they barely even acknowledge our presence with more than a distracted "hi" when we enter the room.

"There you two are." Mom greets us cheerfully. "I was starting to think you'd gotten into one of those heated arguments with your brothers that takes hours to resolve."

"Almost." I chuckle tiredly at the thought of it as Ezra and I follow her into the kitchen. "Sorry again for not calling sooner to let you know we'd be late."

"You act like this hasn't been the norm since you were ten." She teases. "Even before you had your own studio, trying to coax you three out of the garage and away from your music long enough to eat a meal was like an endurance trail."

"Well, I'm sorry for that, too."

"You're impossible."

I sigh glumly, as though I'm not fully aware that she was kidding. "Again, sorry."

"Be quiet and eat your dinner." Demands mom sternly, placing a plate of meatloaf and vegetables in front of me and turning her attention to Ezra. "How was your day, sweetheart? Did they feed you at all?"

"Of course I fed him!" I exclaim before Ezra has a chance to answer. "And I made sure his water bowl never went empty."

"I wasn't asking you."

"It was good." He laughs softly as he picks up his knife and fork to cut into his food. "I finished one of the books on my summer reading list, and uncle Zac showed me the stop motion animation he's working on."

"And he helped resolve several disagreements." I add, winking at him conspiratorially when mom rolls her eyes at me. "He's very wise."

"He's twelve! He shouldn't be spending his summer vacation mediating petty fights between grown men! Maybe it's not such a good idea for him to be spending so much time with you while you're working. I know what the three of you can be like with each other sometimes, and he definitely doesn't need to be around that. Nobody does."

"It's not that bad." Protests Ezra. "They only use curse words when they get really angry."

"Taylor!"

He's so my son. "It wasn't me, it was Ike!"

"I don't know where I went wrong." She mumbles to herself as she turns and leaves us struggling to contain our laughter until she's out of the room.

Since we're running late tonight, there isn't enough time for me to drive the kids home for our Skype date  with Tommy before he has to go on stage. So instead I commandeer my parent's laptop, and the six of us shut ourselves away in the den. The first time we Skyped with him after he left on tour, it was total chaos. The kids couldn't agree on who got to speak first, so they spent half the time arguing with each other and complaining that they couldn't see the screen properly. It took us a few tries, but eventually we got a system down that seemed to work for everyone. They each get a chance to speak to him, starting with Ezra because he's the oldest. Once whoever's talking to him is done, they step aside and let the next person have a turn. Sometimes they still try to interrupt each other, but it's definitely a lot easier for him to understand what's being said than it was when they were all talking at once.

Even though I try not to dwell on it or let it show, those first few seconds after his face appears on screen are always painful. It's just a reminder of how far away he is.

"Hey!" He smiles, taking a moment to figure out where exactly he should be looking. Just like he always does. "How's it going?"

"Same old, same old." I shrug as I try my best to smile for him (and keep the kids at bay). "I got stuck at the studio a little later than usual, so we're still at my parent's house."

"How'd recording go today?"

"Good. We're still a little behind schedule, but-"

"I wanna talk to him!" Viggo cuts me off impatiently. "Can't you just talk to him later?"

"It's not your turn." I remind him. "Ezra goes first."

"But if you spend forever talking before Ezra goes, then I have to wait longer!"

"Yeah, Taylor." Agrees Tommy playfully. "You talk too much."

"Fine, maybe I just won't talk to you anymore."

"Fine." He retorts with such feigned derision that I can't keep myself from smiling as I move aside and let Ezra take my seat in front of the screen. "Hey, Ez."

"Hey." Ezra replies somewhat awkwardly. He's the only one who ever seems to feel even slightly uncomfortable during these nightly chats, which is crazy because the two of them have no problem talking when they're in the same room together. "Where are you?"

"Toronto."

"Cool."

"Yeah, I guess." Chuckles Tommy, glancing over his shoulder at the room he's in. "We just got here this morning. I haven't really seen much of the city, but at least they actually let me cross the border."

"Anyone can get into Canada! They're not picky!" I heckle him from off screen, and I know he's flipping me off, despite the fact that he's holding his other hand in front of his middle finger to hide it.

"So what did you do today?" He asks Ezra, pretending to ignore me entirely. "Did you hang out at the studio again?"

"Yeah. I like it there."

"How's the new music sounding?"

"I think it's good, but they keep arguing about stuff. I don't even hear anything wrong with it, but they're always saying something is too slow, or too fast, or too... whatever."

"And you enjoy that?" Tommy questions skeptically.

"It's kinda funny." Smirks Ezra, bringing a similar expression to Tommy's face. "They fight over how stuff sounds the same way River and Penny fight over what movie to watch. Only they  say the F word a lot."

"Okay, Penny's turn!" I announce abruptly (and only semi-seriously).

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Have a good show."

"Thanks, dude." Tommy smiles fondly, waiting until Ezra has gotten out of his seat and Penny has taken his place. "Hey!"

"Hi!" She waves, causing her own nails to catch her eye. "Look! Me and Asta had a mani-pedi day with Auntie Zoe. She used some of her new nail polish on us."

"Oh yeah? What color did you get?"

"It's blue with sparkles." She tells him while she moves her hand back and forth in front of the camera until it's as in focus as it's going get. "But you can't really see the sparkles on the computer."

"Well if you still have the same color on when I get there, I can see it then."

"Yeah..." Her shoulders visibly slump in disappointment as the fact that he's so far away really sinks in for her. I feel like it hits her just as hard every night. "I probably won't still have it on, though. It doesn't last that long."

"It's only like nine more days now." He reassures her remorsefully. "We're over halfway."

"I know."

His well meaning attempts to cheer her up aren't really very successful, they hardly ever are, and he's forced to say goodnight to her without improving her mood first. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier on them both, on all of us, but the only thing I can do is continuously reassure everyone that we'll all be together again soon.

At least his conversations with River and Viggo are more upbeat, for the most part. They always give him unnecessarily detailed accounts of their day, and he always smiles and nods and acts like it's all vitally important. Because to them it is. They do the same thing at home all the time, but at home there's no limit on our time with them at the end of the day. No matter how positive their Skype sessions with Tommy are, their smiles immediately start to fade when I ruefully remind them that he needs to say goodbye.

His interactions with Asta are pretty amusing to watch. It's probably a good thing that she goes last, that way at least he gets to end these chats on a high note. She has a lot of trouble keeping her hands off of the screen while she's talking to him, it's like she's trying to reach through it and touch him. And she actually believes it's working because he plays along. He puts on a show convincing enough to make her think that he can feel her palm when she presses it to the screen, which in turn convinces her that she can feel him when he does the same. Don't even get me started on her futile attempts to kiss him goodnight.

It's kind of completely adorable, and I may or may not have several videos of it on my iPhone.

I don't really get to talk to him before the kids go to bed; I don't want to take away from their time with him or leave him feeling rushed to get ready to perform. But he calls me once the show is over and he's all packed up. Typically I'll be in bed by that point, and there have been a couple of instances when his calls have woken me up. I don't mind, though, it's my favorite part of the day (or night). Sometimes we'll talk almost non-stop for the entire call, about my day in the studio and his day on the road. And other times we'll hardly talk at all, even though those calls still last just as long as the ones that are full of conversation. I'm not ashamed to admit that I've fallen asleep while lying in silence with him on the other end of the line. My phone battery is dead when I wake up, and it's completely worth it.

After getting the kids back to my family's old house and going through our usual bedtime routine, I settle in for a night of Netflix. At home, Tommy and I end most nights together in front of the TV, whether we're watching what's on or using it as background noise while we're making out on the couch. It's the perfect way to unwind from the day. Sadly, lying in bed alone and watching Breaking Bad on my laptop isn't nearly as effective at helping me decompress.

I'm so disgustingly co-dependent.

Just as I feel myself starting to drift off in the middle of an episode, my cell starts to ring and I snatch it off of the nightstand like someone else might beat me to it if I'm not fast enough. But then I let it ring a couple more times so that he won't have yet more proof of how desperate and needy I am.

"Hey, rock star."

I hear him giggle quietly, and the sound of it leaves me grinning. "Hey, loser. Were you sleeping?"

"Nah, I was just watching TV." I tell him, closing my laptop for the night because I know I won't be needing it again. "How was the show?"

"Great! Probably the best yet, actually. It's like each show is better than the last, 'cause the more we get to know each other and play together, the tighter we sound. It's kind of a shame we're just hitting our stride when we only have like four shows left."

"Yeah."

"I mean, I'm not saying I wish we had more shows or anything." He clarifies carefully. "Just that we'd had longer to practice and stuff before the tour started."

"I get it. No musician wants to perform any less than their best. No good musician, anyway. You always wanna put on the best show you can. But just because you guys are sounding better with each show, that doesn't mean you all weren't giving it one hundred percent before now."

"I guess."

"I know you. Even when you don't absolutely love the music you're playing, you still play it like you do."

"I've got you fooled." He jokes, and I scowl at him even though he's not here to see it. "I don't wanna talk about me anymore. You never got to finish telling me how things are going in the studio."

"Fine, for the most part. It feels like we waste a lot of time and energy bickering about totally minor stuff. But I know that at the end of the day it's not really a waste because it all contributes to making the best album we possibly can."

"Think you're gonna finish by the time we head back to L.A.?"

I really hope so. "Yeah, we'll be fine. We always do this to ourselves, and then we have like this big surge of productivity right at the end and it all comes together. Doesn't make falling behind feel any less stressful up until that point, though."

"'Cause you're a fucking stress magnet." He taunts with a soft chuckle. "You stress out about anything you can think of to stress out about. And if you can't think of anything to stress about, you create something to stress about. I think you thrive on it."

It's so true. That's the most accurate description of me I've ever heard.

"That's completely untrue!"

"Go on, stress out about the fact that I called you a stress magnet. You know you want to."

"Fuck you."

He groans longingly, causing goosebumps to rise all over my body. "I wish."

I wish, too.

I wish I'd never said it, because now it's all I can think about! We made this stupid bet the first night we spoke on the phone after he left L.A.. Usually when we're apart for more than one night (which is incredibly rare), we end up having phone sex. What can I say? We're like crack addicts.

But during that first phone conversation, just as we were flirting our way to the fun stuff, he started teasing me. And not in the seductive way I was expecting. He said that he bet he could go longer without trying to initiate sex than I could. Something about him having more willpower than I do. Which, again, is completely true. But I wasn't about to just lie there and take his smug taunting!

So like the idiot I am, I took the bet instead.

Every night since then has been a constant battle between my dick and my dignity. Sometimes I tell myself I'm just going to give in and let him win, that it'll be worth it. But I really don't like to lose bets. So we haven't had sex of any kind in almost two weeks now, which is by far the longest dry spell we've had in well over two years!

And somewhere along the line... I decided that it would actually be better to wait. I know that makes me sound like some chaste virgin saving myself for my wedding night, and we all know what a joke that is. I just can't help thinking about how incredible that first time we're together after three weeks apart will be. It would've been amazing even if we'd had phone sex every night; I can only imagine what it's going to be like if we haven't gotten each other off at all the entire time we've been apart.

So I don't care how bad the cravings get or how painful the withdrawal symptoms are.

This crack addict is determined to wait it out!

Chapter Text

Today has been one of those days.

You know how some days seem to fly by too quickly when you have a laundry list of things to get done? This was not one of those days. It was the kind of day that drags on and on. Which is stupid, because it's been just like every other day for the past two weeks. I got up, got the kids dressed and fed, delivered them safely to my parent's house, and went to work. But today, rather than losing all track of time because it's going by so fast, I'm counting down the minutes until I can call it a day and get the hell out of here.

Because as soon as I leave here, I get to go to the airport and pick Tommy up.

His flight from L.A. to Denver is about to land at any minute. And then his connection to Tulsa will take off in just under an hour. He'll be here in less than three hours. Finally. It's like my heart beat quickens more and more the closer he gets!

I wasn't entirely sure that I'd have the self-control to survive the twenty-five minute drive from Tulsa International to my family's old house in Jenks without pulling over on the side of the road and pouncing on him. The fact that he texted me right before he left L.A. and jokingly told me that he was bringing some lube with him in his carry on "just in case" didn't really help. So immediately after I got his message, I went online and booked us an airport hotel room. It's nothing fancy, but it doesn't need to be. It has a king size bed and room service, and that's all we need.

Actually, those things aren't even necessities, they're a bonus!

"Tay?"

"Huh?"

Zac quirks an eyebrow at me in amusement. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Nothing."

"You were having impure thoughts, weren't you?" He laughs quietly as my cheeks begin to burn. "Yup. You're turning red; the color of the devil. Heathen!"

"I was not having impure thoughts!"

"Uh-huh."

"Can we please stop debating whether or not Taylor's thinking about butt sex and do some actual work before I pour acid in my ears?" Sighs Ike, shaking his head as he turns his attention from the computer screen in front of him to my guilty face. "You ready to finish those group vocals now, or do you need some 'alone time' first?"

Quite honestly, I would prefer to sit here and continue thinking about what I'm going to be doing later this evening. But that's probably not going to pass the time as quickly as working will, so I force myself off of the leather couch and out into the studio with my brothers.

It's crazy to think that we're (supposedly) so close to being done with the majority of recording for our next album. It's been a year in the making and now the finish line is in sight. In just over a week I'll be on my way home, and we need to have as much as possible done by then. Ike and Zac will be coming out to L.A. in a few weeks so that we can work on mixing and any minor re-recording we need to do, but minor stuff is all we want to be tackling at that point. Right now, that seems like an impossible feat. I'm sure they're moderately frustrated with me for taking off early tonight, and for taking the entire day off tomorrow; it's time we could be putting to good use in the studio. And I'm not saying that I don't feel slightly guilty for that...

But  no way in hell am I going to spend any less than twenty-four hours with Tommy after almost as many days away from him!

I try my best to be as present as possible for the remainder of our time in the studio, and I personally think I deserve some kind of award for how productive I end up being. Thankfully, productivity really  does make the time pass faster, and I'm not even aware that I'm free to leave until my cell phone alarm goes off. Then I can't get out of the building fast enough. In fact, I'm moving so fast that I'm on track to get to the airport with way too much time to spare, which is going to drive me (and everyone forced to stand in the arrivals terminal with me) crazy.

Just as I take the exit for Tulsa International, I realize that I could put my spare time to good use by checking into the hotel. That way we won't have to bother with it after I pick him up, we can just go straight up to our room.

I love it when it feels like the universe is on my side and actually wants me to have sex!

Once I finally make it to the airport, I do my best to find a parking spot as close to the main terminal as I can get. And as I close the car door behind me, I get a text alert to let me know that Tommy's flight has landed. I know it's pointless to run all the way to arrivals, because there's no way he's going to get there before I do, but I'm that excited to see him. I want to be there the second he rounds that corner and comes into view, I don't want to miss even the tiniest glimpse of him.

Sometimes it still surprises me just how addicted to him I am, even after all this time. I'm just as eager to be with him now as I've ever been. It's like I can't accept that having him in my life every day isn't remarkable anymore, that it's just... my life.

I think it'll always be remarkable to me.

As soon as he comes into view I have to restrain myself from shoving several people aside and charging the wrong way through that revolving "exit only" door with the bored TSA agent sitting beside it. That guy is just praying for someone to do something they shouldn't so that he can tackle them to the ground, and he's not the one I want to be tackled by. Instead of doing something impatient and stupid, I will Tommy to walk faster, and I swear he actually does pick up his pace. I get as close to the door that's separating us as I think I can without having security order me to step back, but when Tommy steps through it I stop worrying about remaining an appropriate distance away.

He's right there!

Public displays of same-sex affection are still pretty rare in Oklahoma, even in more progressive (and I use that term very loosely) cities like Tulsa. A few years ago I was a lot more aware of how we behaved in public places here than I ever am when we're in L.A., but I try my hardest not to care anymore. People are going to disapprove with silent scowls and disgusted headshakes, sometimes they might even make rude comments or call us names. It's a waste of time trying to make them see that we're not what they think we are, and that's time I could be putting to much better use.

"Could you have been in less of a hurry?" I tease Tommy between breathless kisses. "It was like you were moving in slow motion."

He bites my lower lip in retaliation, just sharply enough to make me gasp. "My bag is heavy."

"Poor baby."

"And my pants don't stay up when I run."

"So?" I smirk.

"So I really don't think the old lady behind me wanted to see my ass."

"Maybe she doesn't, but I do." Pecking him on the lips one last time, I reluctantly let him go and take his insanely heavy backpack from him. "What the hell did you put in here? A dead body?"

"A week's worth of clothes and a bunch of other shit." He shrugs, effortlessly slipping his arm around my waist and leaning against me as we make our way through the airport. "I didn't wanna waste time waiting around for them to unload my bag, so I stuffed everything into that one."

"So you're saying you don't have a checked bag?" I ask hopefully, practically grinning when he shakes his head. "I love you."

Because he's so smart and well prepared, we get to bypass the baggage carousels completely, which spares us several minutes of standing around with a bunch of strangers and trying not to grope each other (or wasting all of our pent up sexual tension on a five minute bathroom stall encounter). When we get to the car, I have to exercise an incredible amount of self-control and start the engine instead of grabbing him. He, on the other hand, has nothing else to focus his attention on. We haven't even made it out of the parking lot before I feel his hand on my thigh. It's not unusual for him to put his hand on my leg while I'm driving, but most of the time it's a hell of a lot closer to my knee than my crotch. Or at least somewhere in between! I have to keep reminding myself that we're just a few minute's drive from the hotel...

All I have to do is concentrate on not crashing (or coming) before we get there!

"How far to the house?" He asks, his fingers inching further along the inside of my thigh. "Like... twenty minutes?" He gives a brief squeeze and I make some pathetic little sound as my hands grip the steering wheel more tightly. "Twenty-five?"

"We're not going to the house."

He laughs softly, obviously not taking me seriously. "So where are we going? A moonlit corn field? Or maybe a nice romantic barn-"

"A garden."

"Huh?"

"Inn."

"What?" He frowns in total confusion before I point straight ahead at the quickly approaching Hilton Garden Inn Hotel. "Wait... you got us a hotel room?"

"It was either that or the back seat of this car somewhere between here and Jenks. I figured a bed would be comfier."

"I love the way you think!" He beams as I pull the car into one of the few vacant parking spots left. "When you actually bother to think."

"Is this your idea of foreplay?"

"Why, is it turning you on?"

Hell yes, it's turning me on!

I know it probably seems twisted for me to be getting excited over him insulting me, but it has less to do with what he's saying and more to do with the way he's saying it. He could babble absolute nonsense, and as long as he does it in that tone and with that gleam in his eyes, I'm going to get off on it.

"You know what would turn me on even more?" I reply as nonchalantly as I can, and he raises an eyebrow in question. "You getting out of this car and into that hotel. Unless you'd actually prefer I drag you by your hair into the backseat, 'cause we're about five seconds away from that becoming a real possibility."

"You're making it sound pretty fucking tempting..."

No, Taylor.

You did not pay for a hotel room so you could have sex in the hotel parking lot!

"Get out of the car."

"Make me."

After holding his challenging and extremely flirtatious stare for a few more seconds, I force myself out of the car. I'm aware that his eyes are following me every step of the way as I walk around to the passenger side and open his door, and it's impossible to ignore the smug little smile on his face when I lean across him to unbuckle his seatbelt. Despite my best efforts to resist, my lips are on his before the belt has even finished retracting, and he moans eagerly as I grab the front of his shirt, tug him out of the car with me, and push the door shut behind him. I know I should pull away, or at least attempt to navigate us in the direction of the hotel entrance, but I can't bring myself to let him go, and I don't want to be any further away from him than I am right now.

He pulls me up against him as his back hits the side of the car, and the soft sounds he's making seem so much louder than they really are when they dissipate into the quite parking lot around us. His short fingernails dig into my shoulder blades through my t-shirt, and his breath against my ear as I hungrily kiss his neck sends a shiver down my spine.

"I seriously don't think I'm gonna make it past the elevator if we go in there..." He warns me with a defenseless little whimper, leaving me feeling just as weak as he sounds. "You shouldn't have kissed me."

"You shouldn't have let me." I practically growl as his hands drop to my hips and he pulls me closer, even though there was barely any space left between us before.

His body bucks against mine, and I brace myself against the car for a moment as I try to catch my breath and remember how to think rationally. But then he does it again, and any chance of me having a rational thought is basically lost. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to think at all when he starts unzipping my pants, but I somehow manage to summon the presence of mind to reach out and open the back door of the car. As soon as he realizes what I've done, he wastes no time taking me by the hand and pulling me quickly around the door and into the backseat. I want to laugh at how crazy this is, and maybe later I will, but right now I'm too busy pushing his backpack off of the seat and onto the floor to make room for him to lie down.

I can't remember the last time we had sex in a car. I do remember that it's always cramped and clumsy, but I don't remember ever caring. Not for a second. No matter how awkward it is to get undressed, or how many times I bump my head on the roof when I sit up, or how nervous I get about someone seeing us, I don't want to stop. And the thought of relocating to somewhere more spacious and private never crosses my mind.

My mind is too preoccupied with him, with how he feels, and how he sounds, and how he moves.

By the time we've both shed our clothes, I'm so turned on that I'm honestly surprised I don't come the second his tongue touches my erection. I bite my lip hard, hoping that if it hurts enough it might distract me from how incredible his hot mouth feels wrapped around me, his lips gliding effortlessly along the length of me while all I can do is watch him in awe. Maybe I shouldn't watch him. Maybe if I close my eyes...

No.

Not being able to see what he's doing just makes the sensation ten times as intense. Besides, if I close my eyes I'll still be able to see it in vivid detail in my mind. And then I'll start thinking about what I want to do to him, and if I do that, this will be over before it's even really begun!

"Fuck! Tommy... I can't..." I gasp anxiously. "Y-you have to stop."

He knows better than to tease me any more than he already has, and the satisfied smile on his face as he allows me to coax him into a heated kiss is enough to make me moan before our mouths even meet.

I fucking love the way he kisses.

I knew even before our very first kiss that it was going to be incredible, I just knew. It's like he knows what I want before I do, I swear he can change my whole mood with the faintest brush of his lips over mine. It's never too much, and if it's ever not enough then that's entirely intentional on his part and designed to drive me crazy. One stroke of his tongue against mine can make me utterly weak, and one soft gasp against my lips, like the one he just breathed, can make me feel completely in control.

Holding him against me, I try my best to shift him onto his back without us having to end our embrace for even a second. It doesn't go quite as smoothly as I'd hoped, but the inevitable fumbling and uncoordinated repositioning leaves us both laughing at how wonderfully absurd this whole situation is. His back arches off of the seat as I trail my mouth slowly down his chest, feeling it rising and falling rapidly in anticipation the lower I go. My lips ghost over him, touching him with barely more than a breath, leaving him begging and pleading (interspersed with more than a little profanity). I kiss the inside of his left thigh, then the inside of his right, my hands caressing the soft skin just above his hip bones as he squirms hopelessly beneath my touch. He grabs at my hair in a desperate attempt to guide me back to where he'd prefer me to be, but I resist. Instead of putting my mouth on him the way he's begging me to, I curl my fingers around him, making him whimper in frustration even as his hips instinctively thrust towards my touch.

My mouth resumes its lazy exploration of his inner thighs, gradually making its way closer and closer to his erection. I feel his hand tighten in my hair as my lips come within an inch of him, hesitating for just a moment before venturing lower. He moans suddenly, and so loudly that if anyone is out in that parking lot right now, there's no way they didn't hear him.

"Shh." I chuckle quietly as I raise my head to look up at him.

"You fucking shh!" He pants impatiently, shoving my head back down between his legs again.

As I return my focus back to the teasing my tongue was previously occupied with, I can hear him groping around for his backpack and attempting to undo the zipper. I'm tempted to stop and see what he's doing, but I'm pretty sure I already know. I hear the sound of a zip-loc bag being pried open and its contents being carelessly scattered all over the floor. Except for the one thing he was looking for. I kinda wanna tease him about the fact that he actually put lube in his carry-on, for all the TSA screening agents to see. But that can wait until later. I knowingly reach out for the lube without pause, and he gladly shoves the small bottle into my palm. It takes only seconds for me to coat my erection and toss the bottle aside before turning my attention back to him.

I watch him closely, my gaze never leaving his face as I slowly begin to push into him. His teeth sink into his lower lip as he inhales sharply, but his hands grasp at my waist and insistently pull me nearer. The feeling of being inside of him is sheer relief. Not just for me, for him as well. I can see it in the way his brow unfurrows, his teeth release his now swollen lip, and the tension evaporates from his entire body. We've waited weeks for this moment, not what came before or what comes next, but this precise moment of simply being back where we belong.

As we kiss, our bodies instinctively begin to move. Slowly at first, but soon enough we find ourselves back in that frantic, needy, breathless place we started from. His legs curl against my sides, his heels digging into my lower back and intensifying the force of every thrust. I don't need him to tell me he needs more, I can feel it. I quickly hook my arms under his legs, changing the angle just enough to make all the difference, and his reaction is immediate. Every sound of pleasure he exhales provokes every move I make, even as I hopelessly attempt to quiet him with kisses.

After we're both spent, and I can hardly keep myself from collapsing on top of him completely, I can't seem to stop kissing him. I can barely catch my breath, but right now breathing is secondary to showering his shoulders and neck with affection.

"Now I'm not gonna be able to make it up to the hotel room for a totally different reason."

 "Which is?" I ask before returning my lips to his collarbone.

"I can't feel my fucking legs." He laughs exhaustedly.

"And getting cleaned up before we go inside isn't going to be easy, either."

"We didn't really think this through, huh?"

I smirk as I look up at him. "I don't think either of us was doing a whole lot of thinking."

He looks around us at the dark interior of the car, searching for a solution to our problem. But the longer he takes in our surroundings, the more confused he starts to look. "Is this a rental car? It's kinda old."

"No, it's my dad's car..." I reply, freezing as the realization of what I've just said dawns on me. He tries to contain his amusement, but once I start cracking up he stops holding back, too. "I guess I finally fulfilled the 'doing it in the backseat of your parents car' cliché."

"Yeah, like fifteen years late. Apparently you missed a few spot while you were busy trying to live your entire fucking life before you turned twenty." He mocks playfully. "Speaking of missing a few spots... we should probably get this thing detailed before you give your dad his keys back."

Oh, God. "Definitely."

"Why the hell are you even driving his car anyway?"

"It's just easier." I explain as we try our best to make enough room to lie down together. It doesn't really work, I'm practically teetering on the edge of the seat. But he doesn't need to know that. "I've been trading cars with whoever has the kids for the day, since no one has a car big enough to drive them all anywhere. Plus, getting the car seats in and out twice a day would be a pain in the ass."

"Makes sense." The corners of his mouth curl into a devilish grin, and I already know that whatever it is he's thinking is totally inappropriate. "Next time, we should do it in Pam's car."

I give him a pathetic shove on the shoulder, partly because I'm still too wiped out to manage anything more forceful, but mostly because I'm not as appalled as I'm pretending to be. "Be nice!"

"That is me being nice! There are way worse things I could do in her car if I wasn't being nice."

"You're terrible."

Except that he's not. No matter how much shit he talks, he'd never actually do any of the awful things he claims he would. Not because he doesn't have the guts, but because he has too much heart. Even if someone treats him like crap, the most he'll ever do in retaliation is tell them to go fuck themselves.

Sometimes he won't even do that.

"How long do you think we can stay out here before someone sees us? Assuming they haven't already."

"Hmm..." I pretend to give it some serious, in depth consideration for a moment before meeting his smiling eyes. "Maybe another five minutes?"

"Okay." He takes a deep breath before settling against me. "Should be long enough to regain sensation in my legs."

"If not, I'll just have to carry you in there."

"You wouldn't make it from here to the fucking lobby."

"Wanna bet?"

He gives an unconcerned shrug. "Sure, why not? I just won our last bet, so-"

"Like hell you did!" I exclaim incredulously. "You were the one who practically begged me to fuck you on the backseat, telling me you couldn't make it up to the hotel room-"

"Yeah, 'cause you were humping me against the side of the car so hard it probably left a dent."

"Only because you were being all feisty and disobedient!"

"That's just my personality!" He protests, somehow managing to keep a straight face. "I can't help who I am."

He's so full of shit; I totally won that bet!

But I'm totally going to let him think that he won instead. Because even though I could happily lie here with him all night and debate which one of us is more responsible for what just transpired on this backseat, I'd much rather spend my time kissing him.

"Fine." I sigh grudgingly. "You win."

A smug smile spreads across his face as soon as I say the words. But despite the fact that I'm pouting on the outside, I don't feel like the loser in this situation at all.

Chapter Text

I may have booked us a hotel room so that we could avoid having sex in a parked car, but I was completely okay with that plan going to hell. It was inevitable; I should have known better than to try to fight the inevitable. And since no one saw us (that we know of), there were definitely no regrets on my part.

Even though our reunion hadn't started quite how I'd thought it would, the rest of the night played out pretty much as I'd expected. Once we'd made ourselves presentable enough to venture into the hotel, we headed for our room, dumped our bags on the bed and made a beeline for the shower. If we hadn't just had sex, there's no doubt in my mind that we would have been all over each other before the water had even had chance to warm up. Instead, we took our time simply standing together under the steady spray, surrounded by a thick shroud of steam, completely absorbed in each other. Aside from a little flirtatious commentary on how boring our showers had been without each other, and how we'd had to resort to actually using them for personal hygiene, neither of us really said anything much.

We were content to just be.

After our shower, we collapsed on the bed in our bath towels and I ordered us some well earned dinner from room service while Tommy scanned the TV channels for something to serve as semi-interesting background noise. We talked while we waited for our food, not about anything in particular or anything even slightly important. I was just enjoying the sound of his voice, right there beside me and not coming through a computer speaker or out of a cell phone. It was one of those silly little things that I'd become so used to having in my life on a daily basis, I took for granted how good it sounded. Not having it for three weeks reminded me of just how much I love it, and all of the other seemingly insignificant things he does that I hadn't been able to experience firsthand since he left on tour.

Something else I was enjoying was how relaxed he seemed. It wasn't just late night sleepiness, or post-sex satisfaction (although there was definitely plenty of that, too). It was something more, something deeper. And I sensed it could possibly be something lasting. Even though I'd been aware of his frustration in the months before this tour came along, I hadn't realized how much I could feel it. It was like he was radiating ever increasing  levels of discontent, and it wouldn't have been long before it began contaminating everything he cared about.

I can't feel it anymore.

Maybe that will change as we go back to our 'real life'. Maybe he'll need to get out on the road on a regular basis in order to recharge and feel as though he's where he's meant to be, doing what he loves to do.

And if that's the case, I'm just going to have to deal with it.

Because I want him to feel this way. I want him to be content. I want him to have his dream job, like I do. Even if that means I have to go through more and more three week periods without him. But as much as I want it, I'm still terrified of it. I know it sounds crazy, but as usual, the right thing isn't necessarily the easy thing. It's one of those difficult to swallow pills, but you need to swallow the damn pill if you want to get better.

I tried to ask him about it last night. I wanted to ask him if he felt different, if he thought that the tour had helped, and if he wanted to find a job that would allow him to tour more often. But all I could manage was, "So did you have fun on tour?" And the only response I received was a drowsy, "Mmmhmm" before he passed out with half of his body sprawled across mine. All I could do was lie there and listen to his slow and steady breathing as he slept, my fingers idly stroking the back of the hand he had inadvertently placed over my heart.

I didn't get much sleep.

I drifted in and out for hours, but I had too much on my mind to keep it quiet for long. So I spent most of my time trying to figure out what I wanted to say to Tommy when he wakes up, and what to tell the kids when it comes time to explain to them that Tommy is going to be going out of town a lot more from now on. I know they'll get used to it eventually, no matter how hard it is. They'll be sad at first, and so will I. But if he's happy, we'll all be happy, too.

It's just after seven am when he slowly begins to stir. For a minute or two all he does is squirm intermittently against me, making little sounds of disappointment over the fact that he's waking up. I love watching him wake up, regardless of how 'creepy' he thinks it is. He's freaking adorable, doing everything he can to avoid opening his eyes and surrendering to consciousness. He stuffs his face into his pillow (or my chest, in this case), and then throws his arm over his head to block out any remaining light. Only this time when he goes to cover his head, he winds up smacking me in the face, which immediately wakes us both up.

"Shit! I'm sorry!" He exclaims guiltily, pushing himself up onto one elbow so that he can look down at me and figure out how hurt I am and how sorry he should be. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'm bleeding!" I whine, refusing to take my hand away from my eye no matter how much he tugs on my arm.

"Don't be a fucking baby, let me see."

"I'm blind!"

"You're not completely blind." He informs me unsympathetically. "I only got you in one eye. Want me to do the other?"

I scowl at him as I finally lower my hand from my face. "You're mean."

"You're pathetic."

"Oh yeah?"

He shrugs one shoulder dismissively, like it's not even worth his time and energy to answer me. So I place my hand on that indifferent shoulder of his and push him forcefully onto his back before maneuvering myself on top of him.

"Now how pathetic do you think I am?"

A mischievous grin spreads across his face, just for a second, and then he's back to pretending to be unaffected by anything I say or do. "You're a little less pathetic now, I guess..."

So it's like that, huh?

I reach down and grab his left wrist, pulling it up above his head and pinning it to the mattress, then I go to do the same to the right. But just as I'm about to place my hand down across his wrist, something catches my eye and leaves my hand frozen in mid-air.

"Why'd you stop?" He protests impatiently. "Don't be a fucking tease!"

"What's that?" I ask, my eyes still fixed on the inked mark a couple of inches from his right hand.

He turns his head to look, smiling when he sees what it is that's got my attention. "Oh, right. I got another tattoo last week."

"How come you didn't mention it?"

"I wanted to surprise you. I was gonna show you last night, but I got a little... distracted." He smirks as he intentionally bucks his hips up towards mine. "You like it?"

I tilt my head to the side a little, trying to view it from a slightly different angle. But no amount of head tilting helps me to discern what I'm looking at. "What is it?"

"You seriously don't know?"

Oh, crap. I bet it's something really important, and if I can figure out what it is, it'll totally offend him! Except that apparently he seems to find my obliviousness more amusing than insulting.

"Well... I don't know." I admit somewhat apprehensively. "It's... lines... letters, maybe?"

"What letters?" He urges.

"An H?" He gives a slow nod of approval in answer to my uncertain reply. "And... J?"

"Yup. If you can guess the last one, you get a cookie."

"Um... is it an I?"

"Nope." I frown in confusion while he gazes up at me with a playful smirk on his lips. "I'll give you a hint: an important part of the third letter is also part of the first."

As soon as he points it out, I can see it so clearly that I don't know how I didn't see it before. "T!"

"Yup. And technically the third letter is the second letter and the first letter is the third..."

"Did you mean for that to make absolutely no sense?"

He rolls his eyes at me impatiently, but the smile never leaves his face. "How about you actually stop for a second and give it some fucking thought?"

Okay... think, brain. Think!

The third letter is the second letter...  so the second letter is T. And the first letter was H, but it's actually the third letter. Which means the real first letter must be J.

JTH.

That's not even a word! There are no vowels in it, I don't even know how to begin to sound it out! And it's not any kind of abbreviation I recogni-

Wait...

"My initials." I realize aloud, my eyes immediately darting from his tattoo to his blushing face. "You got my initials tattooed on you?"

"Yeah." He responds simply, like it's no big deal. "We had some downtime in Quebec, and a couple of the other guys decided they wanted to get tattoos. I was just gonna hang out at the hotel, but then I got a reminder thing on my phone saying it was the five year anniversary of the day we met, and... I dunno. I just felt like doing something to commemorate it or whatever."

"You should've told me!" I sigh, shifting off of him and settling on the bed beside him. "I would've done it, too."

He reaches out and takes my right hand in his, turning it over to expose my own tattoo. "You already did, remember?"

"It's not the same."

"It means the same." He insists sincerely, smiling fondly as he watches the pad of his thumb lightly stroking over the small, black bass clef. "You knew. You hadn't even known me for six months, but you were so damn sure about your feelings for me that you wanted to have a permanent reminder of them inked into your skin."

"I was sure. I knew how I felt about you from day one."

"I know you did. You never tried to pretend not to feel it. Unlike me."

"You had good reason to avoid how you felt." I remind him understandingly. "You didn't want to fall for someone you couldn't be with. Which is totally fair."

"No, it's not. I mean... you didn't wanna fall for someone you couldn't be with, either. But you did. You tried to tell me how you felt about me every fucking chance you got, and I wouldn't let you-"

"You couldn't let me." He shakes his head regretfully at the thought of everything we went through back then. Everything we felt, and everything we put each other through as a result of those feelings.

"Doesn't matter anymore. I just... I want you to know that I am sure. I've been sure for five years, even if I gave you plenty of reasons to doubt it. Even if I still do."

"You don't-"

"I run. I try not to, but it's just like... instinct."

"You don't run, you haven't for years-"

"I just did." He admits ashamedly, unable to look me in the eyes for a moment. But when he does look up at me again, there's so much certainty in his stare that it makes my heart beat quicken in anticipation of whatever it is he's about to say. "It was a shitty, selfish thing to do to you and the kids, but... I felt like I had to. I can't really explain it... it was like I was moving in slow motion but everything around me was still moving at normal speed. I just needed it all to stop so I could try to catch up. And I know it didn't actually stop; everything kept going, I just wasn't there to see it. But not being there to see it made it easier to pretend, you know? Like I could catch my breath for a minute without it all getting away from me again. But I need you to know that I wasn't running away from you."

"I get it." I assure him honestly, my fingertips trailing soothingly down his arm in an attempt to offer him some kind of solace. "And for the record, I don't think it was shitty or selfish. It's a lot, our life. Some days it feels simple, but it's not. We just get so used to the crazy. I don't want you to feel like you can't keep up with it all or catch your breath. So if you need to take another break, or several breaks... I understand."

The look on his face right now is one I can only describe as amazement. Somehow he must have had it in his head that the last three weeks were a one-time thing, that he wouldn't be allowed to do it again, because it's obvious he can't believe that I'm lying here telling him that he can take all the time-outs he needs. That he can take anything he needs, I'll give him anything he needs. I just want him to keep breathing.

I want us to survive.

He doesn't say anything else. Not "thank you" or "I love you". But the way he kisses me pretty much says it all. The lighthearted play-fighting our morning began with has become something much more meaningful, driven by both certainty and uncertainty. Faith in what we have and fear of somehow losing it.

If I was a more selfish person, I'd try to convince him to stay in bed with me until well into the afternoon. But as much as I want to keep him all to myself for as long as possible, I also don't want to keep him away from the kids any longer. They've all waited long enough. And besides, I'm way too excited to see the looks on their faces (and his) when he walks into the room. They don't know he's in Tulsa yet. Well, Ezra knows because I had to explain why he couldn't come to the studio with me yesterday. But I told his younger brothers and sisters that they were all staying overnight with their grandparents because I had to work really late last night. As far as they know, I'm going to pick them up sometime before lunch and we're going to go to the airport to meet Tommy later this afternoon.

I love it when I get to be sneaky for a good cause and not just to cover my own ass!

After taking another quick shower and running by Starbucks for breakfast, we make a pit stop at a full service car wash on the way to my parent's house. I tell the guy directing cars into various lanes that we want 'The Works', which includes both exterior and interior cleaning. He doesn't seem to think twice about the request until Tommy loses the fight he was putting up against an impending giggle fit, and then the guys looks at us like we're playing a trick on him. I think it's probably better that he assumes that rather than knowing the real reason for our childish amusement.

While we wait for the car to be cleaned, I call my mom and tell her that we're on our way. She's almost as giddy as I am to see the kid's reactions, and she promises to do her best to keep them all occupied and away from the windows so that the surprise won't be ruined.

It's not until we turn onto my parent's street that it becomes obvious to me that Tommy is nervous. No one else would probably be able to tell, but I know the signs. The fidgeting, the nail polish picking, the numerous deep breaths. When it gets to the point where he starts biting his nails, I have to reach across the gear shift and pull his hand away from his mouth.

"Why're you so nervous?"

"I'm not nervous." He laughs unconvincingly, giving me his best 'you're crazy' look.

But I'm not fooled. "I've known you for five years, I know when you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous." He reiterates before taking another of those deep breaths. "I just... I dunno. I haven't been away from them for this long in like years. I know I talked to them every day, but it's not the same as being there."

"They haven't forgotten you."

I somehow manage to dodge his attempt to smack me on the arm, so he resorts to glaring at me instead. "That's not what I was trying to say."

"So what are you trying to say?" I ask as I pull the car into my parents driveway and shut off the engine. "Are you worried they won't be happy to see you?"

"No." He mumbles, which probably means he's at least partially concerned about it.

"They missed you." I tell him honestly. "They even made a little countdown calendar so they could cross off the days until you came back. They've been waiting for this since the moment you left."

"Really?"

"You'll see it when we go back to the house tonight, it's on the fridge. They brought it with them from L.A."

After one last breath to calm his nerves, he opens the passenger side door of the car and gets out. He waits for me to make my way over to him, and then we walk up to the front porch hand in hand. We already went over the plan in the car, how I was going to go in alone and pretend I was there to pick them up, and then he would come in a few minutes later. But it takes him a moment to let go of my hand so that I can open the front door.

"See you in a minute." I grin as I lean in and peck him lightly on the lips, and he nods as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and watches me step into the house.

I'm halfway down the hall when I hear a triumphant shout of "Uno!" from the family room, which more than clues me in to the activity my mom chose to keep the kids occupied with. When I first walk into the room, they're all so engrossed in their game that no one even notices I'm standing here. In fact, my parents  and Zoe seem to have managed to arrange their seating so that the only ones facing the entrance to the room are the three of them. And Asta, who is sitting on my mom's lap and is therefore the first one to see me.

"Daddy!" She beams happily, waving her arms in what she probably intended to be a 'come here' gesture. "I won last game."

"No, grandma won the last game." River corrects her.

"I'm not really playing. I'm only helping Asta make sure she picks the right cards." Mom explains good-naturedly. "She got most of them right all by herself, didn't you sweetheart?"

"I know my numbers to ten! Penny showed me how."

"Are we gonna go pick Tommy up now?" Asks Viggo, all but ready to throw his cards aside and leave, but his face falls when I shake my head and take a seat on the ground beside him.

"Later."

"But how much later?"

"How about you just finish your game, dude?" I suggest hopefully in an attempt to get him to refocus his attention on the cards in his hands so that he'll be less likely to spot anyone coming into the room behind him. "We've still got plenty of time."

It takes a lot of restraint on my part to stop myself from glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. I don't want to draw attention to the fact that I'm looking for something. Luckily, my dad catches my eye and does a pretty good job of keeping me silently updated on whether or not Tommy's in the room yet. When his smile suddenly grows noticeably wider, I have to bite my lip to keep myself from grinning. My eyes flit around the circle of people before me, waiting for one of them to look up and gasp in excitement. But they're all staring too intently at their cards and the card that was just placed on the pile in front of them!

Until Tommy clears his throat.

"Can I play?"

There's a sudden explosion of activity in the previously quiet room. Uno cards are scattered everywhere as Tommy's name is repeatedly shouted and screamed in excitement. I literally duck and cover my head for fear of being trampled when our kids get to their feet and charge towards him. All of them except Asta. She stays seated on my mom's lap, too shocked and confused by all the commotion to say or do anything. It's like she doesn't quite believe he's really here. She was told he wouldn't be, and so his presence doesn't make sense to her.

But as she watches her older siblings embrace him in a tangle of over-eager arms, to the point where he's almost knocked off his feet, she slowly accepts that it's really happening. He's really here. Her lower lip starts to tremble and her eyes brim with tears, and much to everyone's surprise she starts bawling.

"Aw, it's okay!" I console her, trying my best not to laugh at her over-emotional reaction, even though that's all I want to do right now.

This is just like what happened at pick up time on her first day of pre-school, only way more extreme. Tommy and I walked into the classroom to find her happily making playdough shapes with her new friends, and as soon as she saw us she burst into tears. Her teacher assured us that it happened with a lot of kids during their first week, and that she was pretty sure it stemmed from an overwhelming sense of relief that mommy and daddy (or in our case, dad and daddy) actually did come back, just like they said they would when they left them there that morning.

"Come here." She reaches up helplessly as I lift her into my arms and carry her across the family room.

Viggo frowns, letting go of Tommy to look over at his baby sister. "Why's she crying?"

"She's just happy." I tell him.

"She doesn't look happy." Remarks River skeptically as he watches me hand Asta to Tommy.

"Trust me, buddy, she's probably never been happier."

She wraps her little arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder while she cries, and he holds her tightly against him as he murmurs hushed words of comfort into her ear. Eventually she lifts her head, taking a few shuddering breaths and studying his face closely. I feel like I might cry when she places her hands on his cheeks, feeling them rise in a smile. Her fingers continue to explore his face, his nose and lips (and he kisses them playfully as they pass), and his hair. Until she's completely satisfied that he's not a figment of her imagination.

"I miss you." She sniffles weakly, draping her arms back around his neck as he kisses her on the forehead.

"I missed you, too." He tells her wholeheartedly.

"You gotta stay here now, 'kay?"

"'Kay."

River steps forward and wraps his arms around Tommy's waist once again, and Viggo and Penny are quick to follow suit. Ezra stays back by me, but it doesn't look as though he feels unwelcome in the same group hug he was participating in only a moment ago. He seems happy, at ease, just like the rest of us.

I notice movement close beside me, and when I glance over to see what it is, I find my little sister standing beside me holding her cell phone out in front of her. On the screen is the exact same scene as the one before her, and on her face is a relaxed smile that wouldn't have been there only a couple of years ago. She didn't know how to react when she saw me or the kids being affectionate with Tommy, it confused her and made her uncomfortable. But now she's so used to it that she can genuinely appreciate an loving reunion like this.

"Can I get a copy of that?" I whisper to her.

"Can I put it on Instagram?" She counters shrewdly.

"Deal."

Chapter Text

When I left L.A. three weeks ago, I honestly had no clue what to expect. I didn't know how the tour would go, or how I would feel during and after it. I didn't know if it would make me feel better or worse. I didn't know if it would make me feel anything at all. But I hoped that it would. I had to hope, because it felt like it was some last ditch effort to get my shit together and figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next, and I didn't want to waste it. I wasn't naive enough to think that I'd leave for a few weeks and come back a totally together person with my entire life mapped out... but I wanted to change.

I needed to change, and I think maybe I did.

One thing that didn't change, and that I doubt will ever change, is how much I missed my family while I was gone. I knew I would, but I underestimated how much. Just like I underestimated how good it would feel to be with them again. It's not like I had a totally shitty time on the road; it was a lot of fun, the guys were great, and it was good for me to get out there and play live again. But any time I had even a second to myself, I missed them. I missed Taylor. I seriously  don't know how to be away from him for more than a day or two without it hurting. Like physically hurting. It's always been that way, but I haven't had to deal with it in so long now. I guess I forgot how bad it can get.

It's done now, though. I did what I needed to do, I figured some stuff out, and now we can all just... move on.

I hope.

I don't think I'm gonna know for sure until we get back to L.A. and our lives go back to normal. Or as normal as they ever get, anyway. Being here in Tulsa isn't real life, not to me. It's like a vacation, even if I don't find it all that relaxing to be around the entire Hanson clan for extended periods of time. Don't get me wrong, most of them are pretty cool, and they treat me like less and less of an interloper every time they see me. But I feel like they're always gonna think of me as the guy who corrupted one of their own, stole him and their grandkids away to another state, and changed all of their lives forever. It's easier (and more convenient) for them to go back to seeing Taylor as the same son and brother he was before. They have those memories of him, it doesn't require them to adjust their views too much. But me? Let's just say it's been a challenge trying to get them to see who I really am.

Trying to let them see who I really am.

It's like I constantly have my guard up, even if it's only a little. Because I'm convinced that deep down none of them actually believes I'm good enough for him. Which is fair, because I don't believe it, either. I probably never will. But for some fucked up reason, he believes it. I'm what he wants, and until that changes, I'm not going anywhere.

"How was tour?" Walker asks me as I take a seat on the couch beside Taylor, with Asta still in my arms.

Her brothers and sister have already gone back to their card game with Zoe, but I have a feeling Asta's not going to let me put her down or leave her sight any time soon.

"It was good." Judging by the expectant looks on his and Diana's faces, 'good' isn't an adequate answer. Apparently I'm expected to elaborate. "It took a little getting used to, 'cause it been so long since I was out on the road and everything, but it was fun. I liked the band I was playing with, and their music was good..." I don't know what else to say if that isn't enough. "It helped."

Shit.

Shoulda quit while I was behind.

"Helped?" Frowns Diana. "Helped with what?"

"Um... nothing." That's not gonna cut it. "Just... you know..." No, they don't know, which is why they're both so confused. "I'd just been kinda..."

"Restless." Taylor interjects in an effort to dig me out of this hole I'm in. "Right?"

Wrong. "Right. I was... restless."

Unfortunately, that explanation only makes their worried frowns worse. "Restless how?"

"Like I used to get when I hadn't been on the road in a long time." Clarifies Taylor. "You remember what we were like anytime we were home for long periods, we'd start going crazy and taking you all down with us."

"I remember." Walker chuckles softly, seemingly less concerned than he was before. Diana doesn't look too convinced, though. "Ike and Zac still get that way. But I've gotta say, you were always the worst."

"Oh, I'm totally aware. I never tried to hide it."

"Do you think you'll do any more tours with this band?" Questions Diana, trying to act like she's just showing an interest when really she's probably trying to figure out if I'm gonna abandon her son and grandkids again soon.

"I doubt it. I was only covering for their regular bass player 'cause he messed up his hand. They probably won't need me to do any more shows."

"And you're definitely not going to be working with Adam Lambert again?"

"Mom!"

"I was just wondering!" She exclaims innocently, holding her hands up in defense. "Honestly, sometimes I think you and your brothers all got together and took an oath never to tell me anything that's going on in your lives once you turned eighteen."

Walker rolls his eyes as he puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her on the cheek. "There was no oath, honey. It's an incurable disease that every man contracts by the time he turns twenty, not a personal attack on you."

"Well, I don't know what's wrong with you all. I always told my mother everything."

"Because you're a woman, and women love to talk." He teases her. "They cannot be stopped; I know, I've tried."

She scowls, pretending to push him away. "We're not the only ones who cannot be stopped. I wish you had a mute button sometimes."

"No you don't. You find me charming and irresistible, always have." Proclaims Walker confidently. "It's not your fault, it's a trait all Hanson men are born with."

I can't help but glance at Taylor, and of course he's smiling smugly back at me. Charming and irresistible my ass. "Must've skipped a generation."

"Whatever." He replies dismissively. "You can't live without me and you know it."

I do know it.

"So, what do you guys have planned for the rest of the day?" Asks Walker. "Are you thinking of taking the kids out somewhere, or just heading back to the house to relax?"

"We haven't really made it past going out for lunch." Taylor shrugs, looking to me for suggestions. "What do you want to do?"

"I-"

"I wanna go to the park." Asta suddenly pipes up. "Can we go to the park?"

I smile down at her as she snuggles closer to me, holding on tightly to my wrist with both of her little hands to keep is wrapped securely around her. "Sure."

I'm probably going to be responding with 'sure' and 'yes' to pretty much anything she wants for at least a few days. I haven't stopped feeling guilty for leaving her the way I did since the front door closed behind me three weeks ago!

"You're more than welcome to come over for dinner this evening, if you don't feel like eating out again or cooking." Offers Diana, much to Walker's amusement.

"I'm sure they want to spend some time together as a family."

"Yeah, mom. It's a really nice offer, and we'll definitely wanna take you up on it another time, but I think we're probably just gonna hang out at home tonight."

"We're going home tonight? To my real bedroom?" Asks Asta, gazing up at me with those big, hopeful brown eyes. They might not be blue like her dad's, but they still have the same effect on me.

"Not tonight, bug." I tell her apologetically. "We're gonna stay in Tulsa a little longer."

She sighs dejectedly, resting her head against my chest again. "I miss my house."

I miss our house, too. And I was there yesterday!

But it wasn't the same being there without them. I thought it would be a relief to have the place all to myself after being surrounded by other people for weeks, I was actually excited to have a night at home alone before I had to pack up and get on a plane to Tulsa. It was too empty, though. Too quiet. And quiet in our house is only a relief for so long. Continuous quiet is unsettling, because it's generally a sign that somebody is doing something they shouldn't.

I used to love my quiet time, my 'Tommy Time'. I needed it. Being around other people for too long, even people I loved, left me feeling drained. But at some point over the last few years that changed. I'm not saying that I don't ever need time to myself; I doubt any parent on the planet would turn down the chance to have ten minutes a day of total solitude. But it's not like it used to be. Now whenever I have to go without Taylor or the kids around for too long, I don't know what to do with myself. I might be okay for a couple of hours, but then I get totally antsy. It doesn't feel right. I guess I don't know how to be without them now. That's not my life, that's not my 'norm'.

I don't want it to be.

This is my norm now. Taking my kids out to lunch with my husband, letting them eat more of what's on my plate than what's on their own, using every napkin on the table to mop up the glass of water that Viggo knocked over, then asking Asta a dozen times whether she needs to use the bathroom before we leave and having her repeatedly tell me no... only to change her mind as soon as we pull out of the parking lot.

It's crazy-making, and unrelenting, and totally fucking exhausting.

And it's mine.

After lunch (and stopping at Walmart so Asta can use the bathroom), we take the kids over to their favorite park in Tulsa. It's one of those awesome places where they can play happily for hours, until they completely tire themselves out, and all Taylor and I have to do is stay within eyesight and earshot and let them do their thing. Except that they've only just got me back after a lengthy absence, so I'm required to play with them for a while. But I'm not opposed to that, because I've missed them as much as they've missed me.

Even after they've ditched me in favor of going off and playing some game that I can't even begin to understand because I'm not seven, Asta continues to come over every five minutes and checks to make sure that I'm still present. It makes me feel like shit to know that she's so anxious about me disappearing, like I've planted this seed of doubt in her mind. I never wanted her, or any of them, to doubt that I'd come back.

There's no way I wouldn't.

It still kinda surprises me sometimes that I feel the way I do about them, that this is my life and I fucking love it. I never would've thought that someday I'd be sitting on a park bench (in Tulsa, of all places) with a guy I love more than I've ever loved anyone or anything, and that we'd be watching our kids playing. Kids that aren't mine biologically but who still feel like mine. And even if I could've somehow imagined that life would land me here, I don't think I ever would've believed that I would be this content. Contentment, for me, used to come from being alone, or maybe being with a few close friends. It came from drinking beer, and playing video games or watching movies, and not feeling obligated to anyone.

Now I've got obligations coming out of my a-... ears.

And I've never been happier.

Okay, well, maybe that's not true. I mean, I am happy right now, it's hard not to be when I've got Taylor's arm around me and I can hear our kids laughing and shouting as they run and climb all over the playground in front of us. But it's also hard to ignore the looks that some of the other parents are shooting our way. It's like I can feel how badly one of those nosey bitch moms wants to come over here and say something about how the two of us sitting so close is "inappropriate". She doesn't need to say it to our faces, though, her disgusted scowl says it all. And I really wanna flip her off or something right now, but I know that's not an option. The only option I have, besides leaving, is pretending not to notice her. Or any of them.

By the end of the day we're all totally wiped out. We pick up takeout on the way back to the house, and the kids all start falling asleep in the middle of the movie that it took them half an hour to agree on. Even though it's a little earlier than they would normally go to bed, none of them puts up a fight when Taylor tells them it's time to brush their teeth. But once they're all tucked in and the lights are out, it takes forever to get Asta to fall asleep. Again, it's because she's afraid that I won't be here when she wakes up. And again, I feel like such an asshole for putting her through this.

Despite fighting it for way longer than she usually does, Asta eventually drifts off to sleep while making me promise for the twentieth time that I won't go anywhere. I sneak out of her room as quietly as possible to find Taylor waiting for me just outside of her bedroom door, and we wordlessly head into the kitchen to get a couple of beers from the fridge. He follows me without question as I walk over to the front door and open it, stepping outside into the balmy evening air. There's no front porch to sit on or anything like that, but there are some steps that make for pretty decent seating. They might be made of wood, but I still feel way more comfortable sitting on them than I feel sitting in that living room.

Or anywhere else in this house, really.

I don't know why I'm uncomfortable here, it's not like I personally have any bad memories of this place. I didn't grow up here, I should feel totally neutral about it. Even Taylor doesn't have any negative associations with this house, not that he's told me about anyway. Yeah, this was his home when he was a scared, confused pre-teen trying to deny his sexuality, but it's also the house he was living in when he wrote some of his first songs, when he learned to play the piano, and when he found out that he'd finally gotten a record deal at the ripe old age of thirteen.

The cartoons he and his brothers drew on the walls are still there, faded but clear enough to make out. Most of the furniture is left over from when his family lived here, too. Apparently, when they bought a bigger house after the band first became famous, they pretty much bought all new furniture to go in it. The couch in the living room is the one he probably sat and watched Saturday morning cartoons on as a kid. The bunk beds that Viggo and River are sharing are the same ones that he and Ike shared when they were young. The bed we sleep in is his parent's old bed, which was kinda kinky the first time we fucked in it, just like with his dad's car last night. But when we're not fucking it's just... weird.

Don't ask me how that works, 'cause I have no fucking clue.

"What're you thinking about?" He asks quietly, and I try to act casual as I shrug and take a sip of my beer.

"I was just thinking that it's kinda nice out here." I tell him, avoiding his eyes and opting to watch the fireflies flickering in the dusk. "I think this might be my favorite place in Oklahoma."

"This house?"

"No, this step."

He laughs softly as he drinks from his own bottle. "I can't tell if that was sarcasm or not."

"Not."

"So what's so special about this step?"

"I dunno." I reply honestly. "It's just... different out here. Almost feels like I'm not in Oklahoma anymore."

"You really hate this state, huh?" He smirks at me.

"Not just this state. I don't really like any of the states in the middle of the country. Or the south. I mostly just like the west coast. And Arizona's okay... and some of the east coast, I guess. But mostly the west coast. I wish we could like... cut right down the state lines of Washington, Oregon and California, and just float that part of the country out to sea."

"Wow."

"And it'd be cool if we could float it closer to Hawaii, 'cause I like Hawaii, too."

Shaking his head at what he seems to think is my totally irrational disdain for this part of the country, he pats me condescendingly on the knee. "Maybe you should write a letter to Obama about that, baby."

"Maybe I will."

"I'm sorry you have to spend so much time in a place you can't stand."

Damn.

Now I feel like a total dick.

"I'm only half serious." I lie as convincingly as I can. "It's just weird being here, you know?"

"Weird how?" He frowns curiously.

"Well, like... in L.A. I never even have to think twice about kissing you or holding your hand in public most of the time. No one cares. We can go out with the kids as a family and it's no big deal. But here it's different. People actually stare at us when we hold hands, they can't believe we'd do something like that in front of other people. And when we go out with the kids we get dirty looks, it's like they think we're hurting them somehow. I swear half of them want to call social services on us. I hate it. I just wanna scream at them to mind their own fucking business, but I can't with the kids around."

"I didn't know it bothered you so much." He puts his beer down and scoots a little closer to me on the step, curling his arm around me, and I gratefully lean into him. "You're always the one telling me to ignore that kind of thing."

"I guess I'm telling both of us to ignore it."

"I thought you didn't care what anyone thinks of you?"

"I don't." I declare honestly. "I don't give a fuck what people think of me, not unless it affects you or the kids. But this stuff is different. It's not me they're judging, it's us. It's our family, and I'm not okay with that."

"Me either." He sighs sadly as I rest my head on his shoulder. "It's getting better, though. Maybe Oklahoma isn't anywhere near as accepting of us as California, but people are more tolerant than they used to be."

"I don't want them to fucking tolerate us, I don't even want them to approve. I just want them to get the hell over themselves and focus on their own empty little lives."

"That's just it, though. Their lives probably are empty, and they have nothing better to do than judge us so that they won't have to think about their own mind-numbingly uninspiring existence."

"I guess."

"You won't have to tolerate being tolerated soon, anyway. We'll be home in a week, and then... everything can go back to normal." He assures me, though for some reason he doesn't sound all that certain of what he's just said.

Fuck, I hope he's not gonna try and talk me into staying here longer so he can keep working on the album.

I will, but I don't want to.

I hear him take a deep breath, I feel his body tense against mine, and then my body tenses as a result. I can almost hear him ask me that dreaded question before the words even leave his mouth, and I feel like a total douche bag for sitting here and willing him not to ask it.

"If that's what you want?"

Wait... what? "If what's what I want?"

"For things to go back to normal." He clarifies apprehensively.

I lift my head off of his shoulder so that I can look him in the eyes and try to figure out what the hell he's talking about. "Why wouldn't I want that?"

"Because... it wasn't what you wanted when you left. That's why you left. And I don't wanna just pretend it never happened and go back to the way things were if it's going to make you feel like you felt before. I want you to do what you want to do-"

"It is what I want to do." I promise him sincerely. "I didn't leave because I didn't like the way things were, I left because I didn't like the way I was."

"Exactly! And if we go home and everything goes back to the way it was before, you'll go back to feeling the way you did before."

"I don't think I will." I shake my head at him sadly as I turn a little in my seat on the step to fully face him. "I'm sorry I keep doing such a shitty job of explaining stuff to you."

"You don't-"

"I do, otherwise you wouldn't have said any of what you just said."

"But-"

He stops immediately when I place my hand over his mouth, and I wait for a moment to make sure that he's not going to try to talk again before slowly lowering it. "I love our life. I love our version of 'normal'. You and the kids were never the problem. I mean, yeah, I was upset about us needing to put the baby plans on hold indefinitely, it wasn't how I wanted things to be, and it hurt... it hurts. But you know there was way more going on for me than that. And it's been going on for months, since before I even first brought up the idea of us having a baby."

"I know." He acknowledges, sympathetically stroking my thigh.

"It's like... ever since I was a kid, and I first started playing guitar and decided I wanted to be in a band, I thought I had to be performing or recording for it to actually count. Like playing just for me wasn't enough, it didn't make me a musician. I was only a real musician if people gave a damn about my music, if I could pay the bills just by playing shows and selling CDs or whatever. And it took me years to get to that point, to feel like I'd finally done it, to be able to quit my shitty job and just go out on stage and do what I loved doing and have people get it... so when that changed, it was pretty fucking scary. I wasn't worried about not being able to pay the bills or anything, 'cause we were living together, and you were still touring and recording, so I knew we'd be fine. But I hated that I wasn't contributing at all, I couldn't because I wasn't working. And all those little side projects I did were fun, but they never made much money. And the longer I went without a decent, paying gig, the more I started to feel like... like I was losing it, you know? Like this amazing thing I'd wanted and worked for my whole life was disappearing right in front of me. But I kept holding out for Adam, because I was so sure that I couldn't fail if I stuck with him and we kept doing what we'd been doing. I thought that once his new album was finished and he was ready to start doing promo shows, he'd call me and everything would be fine. So when he didn't want me to play for him anymore, I just... I didn't know what to do. I didn't feel like I could do anything, like I was even capable of it. I wanted to be okay with it, to just get over it, but it seriously felt like I'd fucked up my whole career and I was never going to get back what I'd lost."

"You didn't fuck anything up, you didn't do anything wrong-"

"But it didn't feel that way to me. It felt like I must have done something wrong, or not done something I should've done, or that I just wasn't fucking good enough, so nothing I did or didn't do would make any fucking difference. I watched everyone I'd worked with move on to bigger and better things, and I started thinking that there must be something wrong with me if I couldn't do the same. But then I got the call about this job... they didn't even ask me to audition, Taylor, they just wanted to know when I could start rehearsing! It felt like a second chance, like if I took the job and didn't fuck it up, maybe I'd get another job, and another, and then I could go back to doing what I loved and everything would be okay. But it turns out... that's not what I want."

He doesn't look happy, or doubtful, or even surprised by what I've just said, only confused. "I don't understand."

"I don't really understand, either." I laugh quietly, giving a helpless shrug. "It just kinda hit me while I was on the road... I don't wanna do it anymore. My first tour with Adam was my first real tour, and it was incredible. And I figured that must be what it's like to be a 'real' musician, that must be what it feels like to be on tour and play music every night. But it's not. That tour was like... a one in a million experience; I won the fucking lottery the day he hired me. But it was never the same after that. It was never bad, it just wasn't ever as good. And this tour was a lot of fun, and I loved playing shows, but it still wasn't... enough. It wasn't enough to make me want to do it again, to make me leave you and the kids again. Honestly... I don't think any job ever will be."

"Tommy-"

"It's okay." I cut him off before he can try to talk what he thinks is sense into me. "I'm okay. I thought about it a lot while I was gone, and I feel like I finally accepted it. Like maybe I'd been stuck in this loop or something, going through the first four stages of grief over and over, and I finally got out of it."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm not saying I'll never tour again, but... that part doesn't matter. What matters is that I know I can do it. I'd convinced myself that I couldn't, that I sucked, and if Adam didn't want to work with me then no one would. But now I know that's not true. If I decide I wanna play shows again someday, I'll figure it out when the time comes. But even if I don't want to play shows or tour anymore, it really doesn't matter. I was so fucking wrong all those years, thinking that I had to be performing or recording to be a 'real' musician. It's bullshit. The only thing that stops me from being a musician is if I stop making music. I don't need to play for thousands of people, or even just one... I just need to keep playing. So that's what I'm gonna do."

At first I'm not sure if he believes that I'm really okay with this, that I've made peace with it and realized what it is that truly makes me happy. So I hold his concerned stare determinedly until he finally begins to smile. He looks so relieved, and I'm sure it has a lot to do with knowing that I'm not planning to up and leave again anytime soon. But I know there's more to it than that.

He's not just relieved for himself, he's relieved for me.

"You're kind of amazing, you know that?"

I can't even look at him anymore, so I turn my attention to picking at the label on my beer bottle. "No, I'm not."

"I think you are."

"Why? 'Cause I figured out that the thing I thought I wanted for the last twenty years isn't what I actually want?" I chuckle softly before taking a sip of my drink. "That doesn't make me amazing, it makes me slow. I should've figured this shit out months ago, then I wouldn't have put you and the kids through all of this."

"You didn't put us through anything." He insists wholeheartedly, trying to force me to face him again. But I'm a stubborn mother fucker, so he's outta luck. "I mean it. You did what you needed to do, and that's okay. It's always okay. And yeah, I think you're amazing for actually taking the time to stop and think about what the hell it is that makes you happy, and what's holding you back from it, because most people never bother. They just keep doing what they're doing, no matter how miserable it makes them, and they think it'll all just work itself out eventually. But you knew that wasn't gonna happen for you, you knew you couldn't keep going the way you were. I know you think that you did this awful, selfish thing by leaving, but it's not true. It wasn't only what was best for you, it was best for all of us. Because watching you doubt yourself for months, watching you convince yourself that you weren't good enough, and seeing how lost you were... that was way harder than being without you for a few weeks. So if you hadn't gone, if all that stuff you were going through had gotten worse..."

He shakes his head sadly at the idea of it, and even I have to take a breath as I think of the path of self-loathing and resentment I was headed down less than a month ago. I can see it so much more clearly now, but when I was on it I couldn't see far enough ahead to even be sure that I was going anywhere at all. It was like I kept glancing over my shoulder, watching the light behind me fading, until where I'd come from was almost as unclear as where I was going. And that fucking terrified me.

That was when I knew I couldn't keep going the way I had been. And even though I'd gone too far to go back, I could still get the hell off of that path and find a new one. Or make a new one.

His fingertips graze along my jaw line, turning my face towards his, and it causes goosebumps to rise all over my skin despite the fact that it's still so warm outside. "I'm glad you found your way out."

I feel the same sense of relief that I saw in his eyes just a few minutes ago, and it's like every last shred of tension evaporates from my body in an instant as I practically melt into his touch. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Waiting around for my sorry ass."

He smiles flirtatiously as his forehead falls gently against mine. "Your ass is always worth waiting for."

Chapter Text

I love holidays.

Mostly because of the food, but I hold a special place in my heart for the ones involving explosives, too. I've taken a lot of crap in my life for being "feminine", and maybe I do happen to enjoy certain things that are more traditionally thought of as "girly". Blowing shit up is not one of them. I guess I have kind of a destructive streak, and I'm not referring to my self-destructive tendencies. I'm talking about smashing things, demolishing things, lighting them on fire and watching them burn. I don't do it very often, but whenever I get the chance to, I get an undeniable rush out of it.

I guess it's just nice to intentionally destroy something instead of doing it because I'm a klutz.

Fourth of July is kind of a big deal in the Hanson clan. Partly because it's an excuse for us all to get together and spend all day eating, drinking, and blaring music... but mostly because of the fireworks. The females of the family don't get nearly as excited about it as us men do. They sit around and play with sparklers, and they enjoy the firework display we put on at the end of the night, but they don't want to actually participate. They don't even really want us to participate, because they're convinced that at least one of us is going to wind up in the hospital. Their lack of faith in us is kind of insulting; we haven't blown ourselves up yet!

This is only the second Independence Day that Tommy and I have spent in Tulsa since I moved to L.A.. In some ways I wish we could come out here for every holiday, because I love spending them with my family, and the kids love seeing all of their cousins. It makes everything feel bigger and more exciting. But aside from the fact that Tommy's family likes to see us on holidays, too, I know that these get togethers aren't exactly Tommy's idea of a good time. For the rest of us it's relaxing, but for him it's pretty stressful. I've told him repeatedly that he doesn't need to try so hard, but it's like he's convinced that his every move is being scrutinized. Which is ridiculous because they're all too busy enjoying themselves to judge him.

Okay, maybe not all of them.

Kate still barely acknowledges him. And that's normally not a big deal, because there are so many of us at these family events that no one would probably notice if neither of us interacted with her at all. Except maybe Zac. But he's done trying to build bridges for us at this point, it's a waste of his time and energy. No one is fighting or making snide comments, so we just... live and let live.

Pam does better now. It's not like she loves us or anything, but we've spent enough time around each other because of the kids that we've figured out how to co-exist peacefully. She'll still question our parenting from time to time, but I do my best to let it go and remember that she just wants to feel as though she has a say in how her grandchildren are being raised. Tommy tends to take it a little harder than I do. Not that he particularly cares if she thinks he's a good parent or not, but it's understandably irritating to feel like you're being critiqued on the way you treat your children. I guess Pam doesn't see it that way, because Pam still doesn't see them as his children. She never will.

I'm not sure if any of my family will, honestly.

They don't make a big deal about it, or make Tommy feel unwelcome at all. They treat him like he's my partner, and for the most part they respect our relationship. But if one of our kids is hurt, or upset, or asking someone for permission to do something, I'm the one who gets called on to handle it, not Tommy. Which is probably why he can't wait to get the hell out of here and go home tomorrow. Hopefully this party is the last round of Hanson Hell he'll have to endure for this trip...

"How long until the fireworks?" River sighs impatiently as he watches Zac and I unpacking another box of aerial shells.

"It's not dark yet, Riv."

"Yeah, dude." Concurs Zac, inspecting each of the shells individually, as though they're priceless jewels. "It'd be a tragic waste to start setting them off before the sun goes down."

"But I'm bored."

"I thought your grandpa gave you some smoke balls." I remind him.

He rolls his eyes at me in silent disgust. "Smoke balls are for babies."

"No, sparklers are for babies." Smirks Mac as he tosses River some bottle rockets. "Go make some noise."

"Make sure you ask a grown up for help!" I call out after him as he races away excitedly, but I doubt he heard me over all of the shouting he was doing to get his cousin's attention. "Great. Now my kid is going to blow himself up."

"Oh, come on!" Ike scoffs condescendingly. "You were younger than him the first time you launched a bottle rocket."

"Yeah, and I almost lost an eye."

"Well, lucky for you, your kids are smarter than you are. Or ever have been."

"And yet I'm still smarter than you. So at least I have that going for me, right?"

The scowl on his face is totally worth the mortar tube he throws at my head, and I smile to myself as I go back to unpacking and sorting various explosives. But when I glance up for a moment and my gaze settles on Tommy, my good mood takes a hit. It's not that he looks upset or even lonely; he's hanging out with Nikki, as he tends to do at Hanson family events whenever he and I get separated for whatever reason. The two of them almost immediately bonded over being "outsiders". They aren't really made to feel like outsiders by anyone else, but compared to the other in-laws in the family, they've been in our lives the shortest amount of time.

Since Tommy had no interest in setting up fireworks, I had to leave him to fend for himself with a bunch of females. But as long as he has a beer in his hand and Nikki or Avie to talk to, he usually does okay. I just wish that everything could be simpler, for all our sakes. I wish my mom didn't have to flit back and forth between Kate and Pam's side of the yard and Tommy's in order to make everyone feel included, or that Tommy felt as though he could come and hang out over here, even if it was just to watch and not to handle explosives. But because Mac is over here, and he's still uncomfortable with the idea of me being gay, Tommy probably thinks he would be ruining our brotherly bonding.

I've tried to find a way to make Mac more accepting of our relationship, but it's not something I can force him to feel. It's also not something he's going to get used to by avoiding it whenever he can, though. But I can't make him spend time with us as a couple, or even a family. He moved to L.A. last year to pursue a career in acting, but we still hardly ever see him unless it's one of the kid's birthdays. It's like he thinks that if he doesn't see me with Tommy, he can pretend everything is "normal".

Jess doesn't do much better with the whole situation, but she tries. She wants things to be okay, and she's willing to endure the tension in order to attempt to move on and accept the way things are. It still hurts to see how difficult it is for her. For both of them. They were so close to Natalie, she was never not family in Mac's eyes, and she was one of Jess's closest friends. I respect that completely, and I don't expect them to ever forget her or how important she was to everyone in our family. But they don't need to forget her or miss her any less to accept Tommy as my husband and their brother-in-law. I'm not sure if they know that, though. And I'm not sure that having me tell them is going to help them figure it out.

"I'm gonna grab another drink." I tell my brothers, standing up and brushing some dirt from my jeans. "Anyone want anything?"

"I'll take another beer." Ike replies quickly as Mac shakes his head, and Zac tips the Dr Pepper can beside him upside down to demonstrate that it is empty.

"Got it."

I make my way across the yard, narrowly avoiding a water war being waged between my kids and my nieces and nephews. Well, the ones who are old enough. Hans and Abe are busy being fussed over by their moms and grandma, and Odette is gleefully attempting to pluck daisies (and mostly ending up with fistfuls of grass) from the ground at Nikki's feet. It's impossible for me not to notice how intently Tommy is watching her, even as he carries on a conversation with Nikki and sips his beer. And it's impossible for my heart not to ache at the painfully obvious look of longing on his face.

"Hey, ladies." I greet them cheerfully, trying to pretend everything is totally fine. Because I know that's exactly what he's going to do, and what he needs me to do. At least until we're no longer surrounded by my entire family.

"Who you callin' lady?" Tommy scowls at me playfully, dodging my attempt to kiss him. "Just 'cause I'm not hanging out with a bunch of idiots who literally wanna play with fire."

"Who you callin' idiot?"

He raises a cocky eyebrow at me before giving an indifferent shrug. "Which one of us is trying to blow their own head off for fun?"

"I'm not gonna blow my head off. Or anyone else's." I protest indignantly. "I know what I'm doing, I've done it a hundred times before."

"Which means that every time you successfully set off a firework without killing yourself, the odds that you'll die doing it the next time increase."

"That's what I told Ike!" Exclaims Nikki, like this illogical logic of theirs is supposed to make some kind of sense. "But he never listens."

Tommy shakes his head in mutual disapproval. "Men."

"Amen!" Nikki laughs softly as the two of the tap the necks of their beer bottles together.

"Mind if I borrow my wife for a few minutes?" I ask Nikki, tugging on Tommy's arm until he relents and gets out of his lawn chair. "I need him to help me... get some stuff."

"Yeah, sure." She smirks knowingly. "You guys go 'get some' stuff."

"That was really subtle." Tommy teases me as I lead him towards the house and away from everyone else. "I think she totally fell for it."

"You know what? There's only one thing I care about right now, and it's definitely not how convinced Nikki was by my lame excuse to get you alone."

"What the hell got into you?" He laughs bemusedly, following me through my parent's family room and into the quiet, empty kitchen.

"You." I inform him plainly, turning to face him so quickly that he almost walks right into me. That's fine, though. The closer he is, the better. "You know you can't taunt me like that and expect me not to be turned on by it."

"I taunt you all the damn time! You make it so fucking easy."

With a nod of acknowledgement, I back him up against the kitchen counter. I don't even have to touch him; I take a step towards him and he takes a step back, never breaking the stare we're locked in. "That's why I'm in a near constant state of arousal whenever I'm around you."

"That's why?" He asks with a wicked gleam in his eyes as I pin him between my body and the cabinet behind him. "And here I was thinking it was 'cause you have absolutely no self control."

There he goes again, making me want him even more simply by mocking me.

As soon as my lips meet his, it's like I completely forget where we are. Or maybe I just want to forget. We've barely had any time alone together all week. On his first night at the house, Asta woke up crying because she thought he wasn't there. The only way we could settle her down before she woke everyone else up was to let her sleep in our bed. But she's still so paranoid about him leaving again that she refuses to sleep in her own bed for fear that she'll wake up and he'll be gone. We've tried moving her once she's asleep, but she wakes up every single time! So we let her sleep with us, between us. And if either of us so much as attempts to get off of the bed, she wakes up and wants to know where we're going, so we haven't even been able to sneak off and fool around in another room! We've warned her that once we get back to L.A. she'll have to go back to sleeping in her own bed again, but that's still one whole night away...

"Can't we just go lock ourselves in the basement, or a bathroom, or like... a closet or something?" Whines Tommy pleadingly as I kiss my way along the edge of his jaw, giving a teasing nip to his earlobe before continuing down to his neck. "Or we could use your dad's car again..."

"Don't tempt me."

He groans faintly, turning his face towards me as his mouth eagerly seeks mine. "We should volunteer to go to the store."

"For what?"

"I don't know... lube?"

I can't help but laugh at his suggestion, but I also can't stop kissing him. "I knew this party was lacking something."

"Please?" He sighs hopelessly, dragging his short nails down my chest in a way he knows will drive me crazy, and then hooking his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans to pull me even closer.

"Even if we could somehow come up with something to go buy that my mom hasn't already bought or made, there's no way Asta's gonna let you leave this party without her."

"We can sneak out." He proposes with a grin, pecking me on the lips. "No one has to know."

"No one has to know what?" Asks Zac as he breezes into the kitchen, completely unaffected by and unapologetic about the fact that he just interrupted us.

"That you're a cock-blocking doucheb-" Begins Tommy in a mumble, but I quickly cover his mouth with my hand to silence the rest of his statement. And thankfully Zac was too busy rummaging around in the fridge to hear him anyway.

"Nothing. We were just... uh..."

"Making out?" Zac offers smugly as he grabs an obscenely large pack of cheese slices and shuts the door. "I would say not to worry, and that I won't tell anyone, but everyone pretty much knows what you're doing in here anyway, so..."

"What?" I squeak in mortification. "How?!"

"Well, let's see. You offered to get us drinks and never delivered, and you were last seen disappearing in here together for no apparent reason and then failing to come back outside again within a decent amount of time." He shrugs nonchalantly. "We're not stupid."

Tommy coughs in a half-assed effort to disguise a "yeahyouare", clearing his throat a couple of times while Zac rolls his eyes. "Sorry, that barbeque smoke has been getting to me all afternoon."

"Aww, poor TommyJoe. I sure hope you don't choke to death or anything."

"Play nice, you two." I warn them semi-seriously.

"We are playing nice." Zac assures me with a sweet smile, patting Tommy on the back a little harder than necessary. "If we weren't, I'd have threatened to light a Roman Candle and shove it up his-"

"Is that cheese? I love cheese." I cut him off quickly, snatching the pack out of his hand. "I bet dad's finished cooking the burgers by now, so we should probably get out there before everyone else eats them all."

"If they all get eaten, we could always go to the store and buy some more..." Tommy suggests innocently.

"It's cute that either of you thinks mom would ever run out of food. None of us are getting out of here without our share of leftovers; we're gonna be eating hotdogs and potato salad until Labor day."

With enough cheese to feed the entire city, the three of us head out into the back yard again. I wasn't wrong about the food being ready, and everyone drops whatever activity they were previously engaged in and starts hovering around the barbeque live vultures. The kids get to pick what they want to eat before the adults, because even though we're all just as hungry as they are, we're (supposedly) more patient than they are.  

Once everyone has piled their plates high with food, that obvious but unmentionable segregation resumes. I try to ignore it and focus on the people who have chosen to sit and eat on 'our side' of the invisible line down the center of the yard, but it's not easy. Zac has to sit with Kate, and since dad has decided to sit with me and Tommy, mom very courteously sits with Pam. We get Avie and Ike, they get Mac, Jess and Zoe. We get Ike and Nikki's kids, they get Kate and Zac's. Penny and Viggo want to sit with Shep and Junia, while River and Ezra choose to stay with us.

Asta still wants to be wherever Tommy is, so that's a no brainer.

I can't help wondering if it'll always be this way. I don't expect that Kate will ever be okay with Tommy's presence at family events, or with me in general. But I want to believe that someday, hopefully not too far from now, the people I love won't have to choose sides. Rationally, I know it's not my fault. Maybe it was, initially, because my choices were the cause of all of the angst that fractured our family. But I've since done everything in my power to repair any damage I caused, and my attempts to make peace have mostly been successful. I'm not holding grudges and refusing to forgive.

I do, however, refuse to beg for forgiveness anymore.

I've done my part. I've waved my white flag and compromised as much as I can possibly stand to. If it's not enough, if it's never enough... I guess I'm just going to have to live with that.

"Out of everyone here, who do you think would win in a hot dog eating contest?" Avie muses aloud, shaking me out of my thoughts. From the way she's looking right at me, I get the feeling that was exactly what she was trying to do. "My money is on Mac."

Dad shakes his head in disagreement, swallowing a mouthful of potato before making his argument. "Zac, no question. Mac might have a bigger mouth, but Zac eats much faster."

"My dad can shove a whole hot dog in his mouth in one go!" Declares River proudly, causing both Ike and Tommy to almost choke on their food. "Show 'em, dad!"

"Uh... maybe another time, dude. I already ate most of mine and I don't really feel like having another one right now."

"Tay's actually pretty good at chugging stuff, too." Ike informs us all before I can even try to shift the subject away from the various tricks I can perform with my mouth. "It doesn't even matter what it is; water, soda, beer... I can do like half a can, but then I end up with the rest of it all down my shirt."

"I'm trying to learn how." River tells him. "Wanna see?"

"Riv, maybe that's not such a..."

As usual, my kid has decided to tune me out entirely and do what he wants to do instead. He gets about three gulps into his Coke before he starts choking and spits it all over Ezra, who then drops his plate of food all over the picnic blanket in surprise.

"Dude!"

River cringes apologetically, wiping his mouth on his sleeve until Nikki passes him her napkin to use instead. "Sorry! I told you I was still just learning."

"You'll get there." I encourage him. "It's all about timing, it's hard to do when you're a kid."

"I'm almost ten, so I'm almost not a kid anymore."

"You're almost nine." Ezra corrects him, still trying to pick his food up off of the blanket we're all seated on.

"So? Nine is right before ten, so I'm almost ten!"

"Fine, then I'm almost fourteen." His brother challenges him childishly.

"No, you're not." I object in horror. "I'm not old enough to have an almost fourteen year old son!"

"You're not really old enough to have an almost thirteen year old son." Remarks Ike unthinkingly, earning himself a smack on the arm from both dad and Nikki. "But you look old enough."

"Gee, thanks."

Nikki rolls her eyes at him as she shakes her head. "Great job, honey. You totally dug yourself out of that hole."

"I don't think he looks old." Frowns River, cocking his head to the side and carefully scrutinizing my appearance. It's stupid for me to feel self-conscious, he's just a kid, but I can't help squirming a little while he conducts his silent appraisal of my face. "He has a lot of hair. And he never wears a suit. My other friend's dads wear suits, and they don't have much hair."

"Well, that's one thing you won't have to worry about." Dad nudges me playfully. "Hansons-"

"Have great hair." Drones Ike, having heard this statement too many times to count. "We know. It was kind of a focal point of our careers when we were younger, remember? It wasn't 'those three kids with awesome harmonies', or 'those three kids who write all their own music and play their own instruments'. It was 'those three kids with long blond hair'."

"Who look like girls." I add resentfully.

"That was mostly just you, though." Avie points out bluntly.

"Shut up." I mutter, throwing a half eaten carrot stick at her head.

"Poor Taylor." Coos Tommy, shifting closer to me on the blanket and wrapping his arm around my waist. "I think you were a very pretty girl, if that helps."

"A little." I pout until he smiles and kisses me on the cheek.

By the time everyone is done eating, the sun is well on its way to setting. Which is good, because the kids are all starting to get tired and cranky, and we're almost out of sparklers! I've made myself so comfortable with Tommy that I almost don't want to get up and finish getting the fireworks ready. It could also have something to do with the fact that I ate way too much food. I feel like I need a forklift to get me up off of the blanket and onto my feet again.

Tommy tells me to at least attempt to avoid getting my hands blown off, because he's very fond of them. Then he kisses me and lets me venture off into the descending darkness with my brothers. Everything  is mostly ready to go, we're just waiting for daylight to disappear entirely before we ignite the first firework of the evening. As we stand together, and I listen to them cracking jokes and laughing boisterously beside me, I realize that tonight is the last time we'll all be together like this for a while. Ike and Zac will be in L.A. in a few weeks for work, but other than that, none of us have any set plans to see each other again for the rest of the year. I'm sure Tommy and I will bring the kids back here for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but nothing has been decided yet. I'm still not used to seeing my family so infrequently after spending thirty years of my life living just across town from them all, and it's moments like this that remind me how much I miss the closeness we used to share.

But right now it doesn't feel any different than it used to. It's just like any other Fourth of July in our family's history. I guess it's nice to know that we can set everything aside and go back to the way we were before, even if only for a few minutes.

Chapter Text

You know that feeling you get when you have something you really want to do, and something else that you really need to do, and a bunch of other stuff that you probably should do but you don't really want to do, and you have zero time to do it in?

I think it's called panic.

I knew I wanted to take Tommy over to the studio and let him listen to what we have of the new album so far. And somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that we were going to need to find time to stop by my parent's house on the way to the airport so that we could drop off the house keys and say our goodbyes. Somehow I totally forgot to factor in time to pack up and clean the house. Probably because I hate packing, and so does Tommy, and so do the kids. Which means "packing" will probably boil down to a five minute scramble to shove everything we can into any available suitcase or bag we have, and hope that those suitcases and bags actually close (and stay closed) once we're done.

Basically, every last second of this day has been allocated, some seconds have been double booked, so everything had better go according to my hastily scribbled schedule or I may have a nervous breakdown!

"She's late." I mutter, pacing back and forth by the front door while Tommy watches me in amusement. "I told her she could come over this morning, I was trying to be a decent human being, but-"

"She said she'd be here at nine." He points out nonchalantly.

"Yeah, and it's three minutes past."

"Would you chill out? Seriously, if you're gonna give yourself a fucking stroke over it, maybe we should just forget about going to the studio and-"

"No!" I protest grumpily. "I want you to hear what I've been working on."

"We don't have to do it right now, though. I can just listen to it in our studio when we get home."

"But it's not the same. I-" My whining is interrupted by a knock on the door, and I practically dive on the handle to open it. "Hey, Pam."

"Hello, Taylor." She smiles politely as she steps past me into the house. "Tommy."

He nods in greeting, forcing a small smile of his own. "How's it going?"

"Fine, thank you. I'm just glad I have the chance to spend a little more time with the children before you all leave."

"Yeah, we're glad, too." I tell her, grabbing Tommy by the arm and tugging him towards the door (which I never bothered to close). "They're all supposed to be getting their stuff together to pack later, so if you could help them finish up with that, I'd really appreciate it."

"Okay, I can-"

"Kids, Nana Pam's here! We'll be back before lunch!" I yell back into the house before pulling the door shut behind us and practically jogging over to the car.

Tommy opts for a slower pace, so I'm already in the car with the engine running and my seatbelt on before he even opens the passenger side door. I swear he's doing it on purpose to see how flustered he can make me, and the look on his face as he takes his seat only serves to reinforce that suspicion. But berating him for it will take time that I don't have; we're already five minutes late! Luckily traffic into downtown Tulsa is minimal since it's a weekend (and everyone is probably still recovering from their Fourth of July parties), so we just about make those five minutes up by the time I pull into one of the parking spaces outside of our record company offices.

I was so worried about staying on track with everything that I had planned for today, I didn't really have chance to think about how it would feel to have Tommy listen to the songs I've been working on for the last few weeks (or for the last year, all told). But now that we're actually here, I'm so nervous that I fumble with my keys when I go to open the door!

The office is quiet and empty, and every little sound we make as we walk through the halls towards the studio seems ten times louder than it actually is. Something else that's loud, to me at least, is my own heartbeat. I swear I can hear it, it's not only pounding in my chest but in my head, too. What if he hates the album? Our music has never really been his thing, but he's still always been able to appreciate it by removing his own personal tastes from the equation and focusing solely on the lyrics, musicianship and production. Which makes his opinion even more important to me, because I know he's hearing it for what it is, and not what he wants it to be.

And I know he'll be completely honest with me, too, which is both refreshing and terrifying.

"Okay, so... there're like fifteen tracks right now, but we're gonna narrow it down to twelve once they're totally finished." I babble nervously as I click through a bunch of folders on the computer in the control room. "Most of the songs are pretty much done, they just need some tweaking before we mix them."

"I know." He tells me in a slow, condescending voice as he drops down into one of the desk chairs in front of the mixing console. "You already told me that in the car on the way here. And last night when you asked if I'd come to the studio. And last week when you-"

"Okay, point taken. I'll stop disclaimering myself now."

"Thank you."

"But keep in mind that-"

"Taylor." He cuts me off pointedly. "Would you just press play or whatever already?"

Taking one last deep breath, I place my hand over the mouse and guide the cursor on screen to begin the first track. It's a good thing I took that deep breath, because as soon as the music starts, I stop breathing. At first I don't want to look at him. I mean, I do, but I'm too anxious. And when I finally get up the nerve to glance his way, he's entirely straight-faced and unreadable. Which I should have expected, because that's how he always looks when I play him stuff for the first time. I can't tell if he does it to torment me or if he's listening so intently to the music that he forgets to have facial expressions, but it definitely doesn't make me feel any better.

I can't do this!

"I uh... I'm gonna go... do something." I mumble as I get out of my chair and make a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?!" He calls out to me incredulously. "This is your music I'm listening to! Don't you wanna be here to-"

"Nope."

I don't give him a chance to respond before I slip out of the control room and close the door behind me, shutting out the sound of my own voice. As soon as everything is quiet, I feel as though I can breathe easily again. But now I have to find something to occupy my mind for the next hour so that I don't spend every second of it wondering which song he's listening to and what he thinks of it. It's not something that's easy to distract myself from, though. There are a lot of musicians in the industry whose opinions I respect; my peers as well as artists who inspired me to become a songwriter to begin with.

Tommy's opinion means more to me than all of them combined.

I shouldn't be this crazy about it; I have twenty-three years of experience with performing in front of people and having to deal with receiving a negative or lukewarm reception. I have eighteen years of experience in the music industry, having everyone from music critics, to other artists, to millions of people of all ages all over the world critiquing my singing, my playing, my songwriting, my everything. It never stops. Even now, almost two decades after its release, we're still getting feedback on 'MMMBop'! I learned a long time ago that the only opinions that really matter in the end are ours. We can't please everyone, no matter how hard we try to. So we stopped trying to. We make music we love, that we're proud of, and we put it out there and hope that other people will love it, too. But we know that not everyone will, not even our own fans. It's something we can't afford to let ourselves dwell on, because there's nothing we can do about it, and all that we'll achieve by paying too much attention to the opinions of strangers is doubting ourselves and questioning our choices.

I should be able to tell myself that it doesn't matter what Tommy thinks of it, because he isn't even into our style of music, so I can't realistically expect him to love it...

But I really want him to.

Everybody else in the entire world could hate it, we could sell zero copies, and as long as he can honestly say that he thinks it's good, I'd feel like it was a success.

In an effort to hide from my nerves, I shut myself away in my office. Except that it's not my office anymore because I'm never here enough to use it. Now it's Ike and Zac's office, and the desk that used to be mine has become a dumping ground for stuff they don't want cluttering up their own desks. Which I guess is fair. And since neither of them are very good at keeping things clean, organizing all of the crap they've discarded gives me something to do to pass the time. Most people probably wouldn't bother making neat piles of junk mail, empty boxes and obsolete memos, but I'm not most people.

I've just finished sorting a stack of year old invoices by date when I hear someone knock on the doorframe, and my slow and steady heart rate doubles instantly.

"You're done?" I ask, trying to sound casual. The waver in my voice doesn't help.

"I'm done." I should look at him. It'd probably be weird for me to keep obsessively straightening a bunch of stuff that belongs in a recycling bin somewhere. But I'm weird, so... "Whatcha doin'?"

"Um... neatening some stuff up."

"Craft store coupons for Christmas supplies?" He questions as he picks up one of the pieces of junk mail closest to him and studies it in bewilderment. "You're straightening up junk mail? From last year?"

"Well, people just dumped it here in a big pile with a bunch of other stuff!" I argue obstinately. "There might have been something important-"

"Are you hearing yourself right now?"

Yes, unfortunately. "I needed something to do, okay? If I'd spent all this time sitting around thinking about you listening to the album and wondering what you thought of it, I would've gone crazy."

"Would've?" He teases with a smirk, leaning against the edge of the desk beside me in a way that strikes me as entirely flirtatious. "I think making neat little stacks of crap might be a sign that you actually did go crazy."

"Maybe."

"So... you wanna know what I thought of the album?"

Seriously?

"Am I supposed to answer that?"

His only response is to smile at me in the most enticing way imaginable as he effortlessly slides along the desk until he's perched on it directly in front of me. Then he reaches out, grabbing me by the front of my t-shirt and tugging insistently until I get out of my chair and step into the space between his parted legs.

"What're you doing?" I ask dumbly, gazing down at his hands when I feel him starting to unbutton my jeans.

"Telling you what I think of the album." He replies as he boldly pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

I'm so taken aback that all I can do is stand here, opening and closing my mouth like an idiot while he slowly begins to push my own t-shirt over my stomach, kissing a lazy trail up the center of my chest until he has to stop in order to remove my shirt entirely. And despite the fact that my brain is still struggling to catch up with what's going on, I somehow muster enough sense to help him.

"We don't have time." I tell him apologetically, right before pulling him closer and kissing him hungrily. Because how can I not?

"Says who?"

"The schedule."

Laughing softly against my lips, he carelessly pushes some of my perfectly organized piles of paper off of the desk, sending them fluttering to the ground at my feet as he makes himself a little more comfortable. "You'd better fucking do some rescheduling then, 'cause there's a very lengthy and in-depth review waiting for you on your desk, and it demands your immediate attention."

Well damn.

I guess I just won't have lunch.

Who needs food anyway?

Tommy's "review" ends up being by far the most enjoyable experience I've ever had in my office. At first I assumed that he was going to show me what he thought of the album rather than tell me, but I was wrong. He did both. At the same time. And I swear it was such an insane turn on that it damn near killed me!

There were a couple of moments where I thought the desk might not survive, either. But it held up pretty well, considering...

We get back to the house right around lunch time, which I guess means I only lied to the kids a little when I told them that we'd be back before lunch. I just didn't expect that we'd be cutting it so close, because I had no idea that any of what just happened was going to happen! Not that I'm complaining. At all. Asta is the one doing all of the complaining, because Tommy didn't get her express permission before leaving. But I'm sure he'll spend the rest of the day trying to cheer her up and bribe his way back into her good graces, so I doubt she'll be pouting for too long. Even Pam seems to be in a relatively good mood, probably because she got more alone time with her grandkids than she thought she would.

I had sex and everyone wins!

"The boys were complaining that they were hungry, so I made lunch. I assume that's okay?" Pam tells me as she follows me into the kitchen.

"Yeah, definitely. Thanks for doing that."

"There wasn't very much left in the way of food." She continues somewhat disapprovingly. "But I did my best with what I could find."

"I figured we had enough food to get us through today. I didn't want to bother buying more groceries when we weren't going to be here to use them." I explain, trying hard to keep any hint of hostility out of my tone.

Sometimes I get tired of trying to be patient and understanding when she talks to me this way, but then I remind myself that it's probably her way of dealing with how hard it is to spend so much time away from the kids. She needs someone to blame, and I'm really the only person it makes sense for her to direct her resentment at.

Plus, I cheated on her daughter. So I really have no place complaining about anything she says to me.

Ever.

"Dad?"

I turn around in surprise at the sound of Ezra's voice and find him standing in the doorway looking noticeably uncomfortable. "What's up?"

"Uh..." His eyes flit from me to Pam and then back again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Ignoring the look of suspicion on Pam's face, and trying not to be too smug about the fact that he doesn't want to talk in front of her, I follow Ezra out into the hallway. He glances around us to make sure that no one else is nearby, which definitely piques my interest. I'm not used to him being so secretive, which gives me the distinct impression that whatever it is he's about to ask me or tell me is very important to him.

"Is everything okay?" I ask him worriedly, noting his continued vigilance of our surroundings.

"Yeah. Kind of. I..." He meets my eyes for a moment, but only for a moment, and then he looks away uneasily. "I know you're busy, and we have to get ready to go home and everything, but... I wanna visit mom."

"Oh..."

So not on the list of things I was expecting him to say.

As far as I'm aware, he hasn't visited Natalie's grave since he moved back to L.A., maybe not even since the time that Pam took them all to the cemetery on Christmas morning. It was too hard on all of them, too confusing and painful. And since I've assured them all repeatedly that they don't need to visit her grave in order to talk to her or for her to be with them, none of them have felt the need to go again. I'm not trying to dissuade them from going at all, and I'm definitely not encouraging  them to forget her. I talk about her with them all the time; we bake a cake on her birthday and they make cards for her on Mother's day so that I can send them to Pam for her to take to Natalie's grave when she visits. And I've made it clear to all of them, repeatedly, that whenever we're in Tulsa all they have to do is ask if they want to visit her, and the answer will never be no. 

"Okay, well... maybe your grandma can-"

"No." He stops me quickly before I can suggest that we ask Pam to take him. "I mean... can you come with me?"

"Um..." It's not like I can really say no, regardless of how much stuff I still need to get done today. This takes priority over all of it. "Of course I can. Let me just see if any of your brothers or sisters want to come-"

"Can it just be us this time?" He pleads hopefully, almost anxiously.

And again, there's no way I can look him in the eyes and refuse his heartfelt request.

I know Tommy will never forgive me if I ditch him with Pam, so I very subtly ask her to leave by telling her that I have some errands to run and then calling all of her grandkids to come and say goodbye to her. She seems a little disappointed, but not too offended. And quite frankly I'd rather disappoint her than Ezra or Tommy. At first when I ask Tommy to keep the kids occupied and try to get as much of my endless 'to do' list done as he can, he's less than pleased. But when I explain to him why I need his help, he's more than happy to hold down the fort while Ezra and I sneak out of the house.

Even though he doesn't ask me to, I stop by a Walmart so that Ezra can pick out some flowers to take with him. It takes him a while to decide which ones to buy, it's as though he's afraid to choose the wrong kind. But I remind him that Natalie always loved flowers, any kind of flowers, and so whatever he picks out for here will be just what she would want. In the end he settles on a simple bouquet of a dozen white roses.

He's quiet for the remainder of the drive, and each time I glance over at him to see if he's okay, his attention is entirely focused on the petals of the flowers in his lap. I'm not sure if he's inspecting them so closely because he doesn't want to bring her anything that's less than perfect, or as a way of dealing with his nerves. I wish there was something I could say to make him less tense, but he's so deep in his own thoughts that I doubt he'd even hear me.

We walk silently side by side through the cemetery, weaving carefully between the rows of headstones as we make our way towards his mom's grave. I can't remember who it was that first told me it was disrespectful to walk across people's graves, but ever since I was a kid I've always been careful to avoid it. Just after my grandmother passed away when I was ten, we went to visit the cemetery on her birthday. I accidentally cut across a strangers grave; there was a small, stone plaque on the ground, but it was hidden by grass and I didn't see it soon enough. I felt awful. I wanted to apologize to someone, but there was no one to apologize to, so I said sorry to the small plaque instead. Ike teased me about it for the rest of the day.

When Natalie's headstone is within sight, I start to question how much further I should go. Does Ezra want me to stay close, or would he rather do this part alone? I feel as though this is something private, and that I should wait here and let him go on without me. But I don't want him to feel like I'm abandoning him. It almost reminds me of how I felt about Tommy the last few months, wanting to be supportive without being pushy. He needed me to stay out of it and let him figure it out for himself.

But I don't know if that's what Ezra needs from me right now.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I ask hesitantly, slowing my pace until we come to a gradual stop. "It's okay if you want me to wait here. But if you want me to stay with you, just say the word."

He looks towards his mom's headstone, taking a long moment to weigh his options and decide what feels right to him. Eventually he turns to me with a faint blush on his cheeks and a guilty look on his face. "I think I wanna go alone."

"That's totally fine." I place a hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. "No rush, okay? I'll be right here whenever you're ready to go."

With a barely perceptible nod he turns and begins to walk away, and all I can do is stand here and watch him go, wishing there was something more I could do to make this easier on him. It's so strange how he looks so different to me here than he does anywhere else. He's gaining on me in height; at the rate he's growing I wouldn't be surprised if we're eye to eye before he starts high school. I see him growing up so quickly in so many ways, and sometimes it's pretty scary to think that in a few months I'll officially be the father of a teenager.

Right now he doesn't look tall to me, and he doesn't seem too grown up at all.

Rather than hanging around and staring at him the whole time, I turn my back in the hopes of offering him more of a sense of privacy. It's hard to believe it's been almost three years since I was last here. In some ways I feel horribly guilty for not bringing Natalie flowers every single time I come to Tulsa. She may not have been exactly who I thought she was, not as innocent in everything as I'd always assumed, but she was still my wife for ten years. She'll always be the mother of my children, and I'll always be grateful to her for that gift, and for raising them to be the incredible people they are.

I don't think that flowers from me, or even just a few moments of silence in front of her headstone, would mean very much to her, though. Maybe they would have before I married another man and let him adopt her kids. But if she is up there somewhere, looking down on us, I doubt she'd want the man I am now coming anywhere near her final resting place.

I'm not sure how long I was expecting Ezra to want to stay at the cemetery, I just know that he's ready to go a lot sooner than I thought he would be. Maybe he intended to spend more time here, but once he was stood at her grave he realized that he didn't feel any closer to her here than he does anywhere else. Right now that feeling might be a disappointment to him, but I hope that one day it will be comforting to know that he can feel connected to her no matter where he is. I know that's how Tommy feels about his dad. He still goes with Dia and Lisa to visit his grave on his birthday, but that's more for their benefit than his own. He remembers his dad in his own way, he misses him in his own way, and he deals with it in his own way.

Everyone does.

Just as I start the car to take us back to the house so that we can finish getting ready for our flight home, Ezra reaches out and wraps his hand around my forearm to stop me. He looks nervous again, maybe even more so than he did before we got here, and I find it impossible to tear my eyes from his face as I turn off the engine and pull the keys out of the ignition.

"What's wrong?"

"If I ask you something... do you promise you'll tell me the truth?"

Oh boy...

There are so many potential questions he might have for me right now. There's no way I can even begin to figure out what he might be about to ask me, so there's no way I can know how much damage the truth might do. But I do know that I've told enough lies in my life, and I've been trying hard to avoid telling them whenever possible, especially to Tommy and the kids. Ezra may not seem all that grown up to me right here in this moment, but deep down I know that he is. He's older than he should have to be. He's been through the worst thing that any kid could go through, and he's survived it. He's stronger than most kids his age, even though he's so soft spoken and gentle that you'd never know it.

If he wants the truth, it's the least I can give him.

"I promise."

He nods faintly, taking a moment (and a very deep breath) before looking me in the eyes again. "How did mom die?"

"You know how she died, buddy." I reply uncertainly, watching him as he shakes his head in dissent. "There were complications-"

"What complications?"

"Ez-"

"All anyone ever says is that there were 'complications' when she was having Asta, but no one will ever say what that means."

"Because you're still just a kid. It's hard to explain, and hard to understand-"

"Can you let me try?" He begs me earnestly. "She was my mom, I wanna know why she died."

"I can tell you what happened, but there is no why, Ez. I know you want one. I do, too. But there just isn't."

"So then just tell me what happened. Please?"

I never wanted to have to do this, I never wanted any of them to have to know more than they already did. For some reason I thought I would be able to avoid having this conversation. I hoped that they would never question what they'd been told, as vague as it was, or that they wouldn't ever want to know more. Which was stupid of me, because of course they're going to want to know what happened to their mom. They have a right to know.

I just wish I'd spent more time thinking about how to tell them instead of hoping I'd never have to.

"While your mom was in labor, the doctor told us that something was wrong... they didn't want to wait for Asta to be born naturally, they said they needed to do something sooner." I tell him, choosing every word I say as carefully as possible. I don't want to leave him with more questions than he already has, but I don't want to completely overwhelm him, either. "They wanted to do a c-section. Do you know what that is?"

"Is it when they have to cut the baby out?" He asks apprehensively.

"Yeah. But... your mom didn't want them to do a c-section. She wanted to let Asta come on her own. I think she felt like... if she let the doctors cut Asta out instead of letting her be born naturally, it meant that she'd failed somehow."

"Why?"

I shake my head sadly, giving a helpless shrug as I take in the troubled frown on my son's face. "She just... she believed she could do it herself. She wanted to do it herself."

"If they'd let her do it like she wanted to... would Asta have died?"

"Probably." I reply gently, watching him closely as he tries to absorb all of this information and decide how to feel about it. "And when your mom realized that not letting them do the c-section would put Asta in danger, she agreed to let them do it."

"Did they do it wrong? Did they hurt her?"

"No, it wasn't anything like that." I assure him as I reach out and take his hand in mine. "No one did anything wrong, and there wasn't anything anyone could have done differently. It was... it just happened. Even when it's a really simple surgery that the doctors do all the time, and most people recover from it just fine... sometimes something happens that no one could have predicted."

"But why?" He presses, his eyes brimming with tears of frustration.

As hard as I try to stay strong, seeing him in so much pain and being unable to do anything about it hurts too much. I can't keep my voice from faltering as I answer his question. "I don't know. The doctors did everything they could, they did everything right, she just... she lost too much blood."

"Was she scared?" He cries mournfully, his eyes squeezed tightly shut in an effort to erase the images that everything he's just heard has probably conjured in his head. "Did it hurt?"

"No, it didn't hurt. They gave her something before the c-section so that she wouldn't feel anything. And when they knew something wasn't right, they probably gave her something to make her unconscious, too. I think, for her... it was just like falling asleep."

"Really?"

It's not hard for me to look him in the eyes and nod, I don't feel deceitful because I sincerely don't believe that I'm lying.

If I am lying, it's because the doctors lied to me that night when I asked them if she'd felt anything. I've been clinging to what they told me ever since. Any time my mind tried to drag me back to that night, to force me to see her lying on that operating table, machines beeping frantically, doctors scrambling to stop the bleeding... whenever I started to panic thinking about her final moments and what it must have been like for her, I'd take a breath and tell myself that she was unconscious the whole time. She had no idea what was happening to her and she didn't feel a thing.

I need to believe that.

And I need Ezra to believe it, too.

"She didn't feel it, I promise."

It's obvious that he doesn't know what to do with all of this information, he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel. He's angry, and heartbroken, and relieved all at once. And it's too much. It would be too much for anyone, but for a twelve-year-old it's hopeless. I should be able to do something, but there's nothing I can do or say to take away any of the grief he's feeling or make this any easier for him to carry. There never has been. I haven't watched him break down like this in years, not since Christmas eve right after he moved back to Tulsa with my parents. I remember how powerless I felt in that moment, too. All I could do for him was hold him and tell him that it was okay. It didn't feel like enough then, and it doesn't feel like enough now.

But the way he clings to me as he sobs into the shoulder of my t-shirt tells me that it is.

Chapter Text

This morning I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, freaking out about how much I needed to get done and how little time I had left to do it in. This afternoon, I don't give a crap about any of that stuff. I can't even remember why I thought it was so important or why I was wasting so much energy on it. I guess watching your kid fall apart after begging you to tell him exactly how his mom died really puts things into perspective.

As much as I'd been dreading having that conversation with any of my kids, now that's it's over I'm glad that it happened. I know that sounds weird; what parent is glad to tell their kid something so awful? But he needed to know. He had too many questions, and not having any real answers had left him to come up with his own version of events. Now that the 'complications' have been uncomplicated, he doesn't have to live with those false truths haunting him. Hopefully he can find some sort of peace in the fact that his mom didn't suffer, and that there were no mistakes made, there was nothing that could have been fixed.

There are no 'what ifs' left to plague him anymore, he knows that no 'what if' could have made a difference.

When we eventually find our way back to the house, it's Tommy who is running around like a chicken with its head cut off. He doesn't even hear the door open because he's too busy calling out questions to the kids as he rushes from room to room. At first I feel terrible, because I know he's only doing it for my sake. If he didn't think I would be a stressed out mess if none of this stuff got done, he wouldn't do it. He doesn't give a crap about being organized, he's never made a 'to do' list in his whole life!

And realizing that makes me feel the exact opposite of terrible. It's kind of impossible to feel bad when I have (very frazzled) proof of how much he loves me right there in front of me the second I walk in the door.

Ezra wordlessly makes his way down the hall, narrowly avoiding taking a duffle bag to the head as it rolls off of a precarious pile of luggage like a boulder in a rock slide. He doesn't give it more than a brief over-the-shoulder glance before continuing into the bedroom he has been sharing with his brothers.

"Asta, come on!" I hear Tommy groan in frustration from the family room. "We just cleaned those up! Put them away."

"But they're mine and I wanna play!"                                               

"I know, but I told you we're not playing with this stuff right now. We're packing it up to take it home. Why can't you just play with some of the toys Junia let you borrow?"

When I step into the room, I find him on his hands and knees in front of the couch, scraping together the scattered Calico Critters that she apparently just tipped all over the floor.  And she sits by and watches him without lifting a finger to help, because it's hard to help clean up when your arms are so firmly crossed over your chest and you're putting all your energy into maintaining a petulant scowl. All our kids have their own distinctive grouchy faces, and half the time it's hard not to laugh at them. Asta has the best one of the bunch, hands down. Her forehead gets so crinkled, and her eyebrows knit together so tightly. In my mind I picture a little storm cloud floating over her head, with lightning flashing more and more violently the madder she gets.

Don't even get me started on that pout. It's more of a pucker, really, and it makes her look like she's being forced to kiss a toad.

"Daddy!" Asta suddenly cries out in relief when she notices my presence, rushing across the room to throw herself into my waiting arms. "He won't let me play with my toys!"

"Oh, so I'm 'he' now?" Exclaims Tommy in exaggerated offense.

She snuggles against my chest as though I'm the answer to all of her problems, and after everything that just happened with Ezra it's nice to feel as though I'm still capable of protecting my kids sometimes.

Even if it is only from Tommy telling them no.

I kinda love it when I get to be the good guy in Asta's eyes. Usually I'm the one telling her no, and I don't mind doing it; it's part of parenting. But whenever I tell her she can't do something or have something, she goes running to Tommy to complain about me. It's pretty rare that he finds himself in a position where he's forced to tell her no before I do, and so it's rare that I'm the one she comes to for comfort. Which, again, is fine by me. I'm still Penny's hero, and Viggo thinks I'm cool most of the time, so it's not like I feel rejected or jealous in any way. But I'll admit, I do enjoy these few and far between moments where Asta treats me like a superhero. Even though I'm well aware that she's only doing it to pit Tommy and I against each other in hopes of getting her own way.

I kiss the top of her head softly as I hold her close. "I'm sorry, kiddo. I bet that made you really sad, huh?"

"Mmhmm."

Tommy glares at me playfully and very clearly mouths the words 'suck up'. "But we need to pack all the toys away because we're going to the airport."

"To go home." She acknowledges with a gentle nod before tilting her head back to look up at me. "Can I play with my Bridgie when I get home?"

"Not right when we get home, 'cause it'll be late and we'll all be tired. But I promise we'll see her soon, okay?"

"Okay." She sighs heavily, resting her head on my shoulder once again. "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

It's hard to keep myself from laughing out loud as I watch Tommy very dramatically roll his eyes and pretend to gag, but after biting my lip for a couple of seconds I feel confident that my amusement has died down enough for me to speak. "I love you, too."

With that she begins squirming, which is my cue to put her down so that she can go and find something else to get into that we'll no doubt have to clean up later. I walk over to Tommy and offer him a hand to help him up, but he grabs the arm of the couch and gets to his feet without my assistance just to make a point.

"Traitor." He mumbles before intentionally bumping me with his shoulder when he leaves the room.

"It's not every day I get to be her favorite for five minutes!" I protest, playing along with his act as I follow him into the kitchen. "You can't blame a guy for enjoying the moment."

"You know what I was enjoying about that moment?" He asks, turning to face me with a somewhat smug smile once we're far enough away from prying ears. "How completely fucking obvious it is sometimes that's she's your kid."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She gets it from you! The big eyes, the fake innocence... she's just like you. She even has your 'I'm so fucking cute you can't stay mad at me' smile!"

"Really? I wasn't aware I had one of those." I tease him as he shakes his head at me. "Must be why we both have you wrapped around our little fingers."

"It's disgusting." He mutters, trying his hardest to keep a straight face while I slowly snake my arms around his waist. His arms hang limply at his sides, even as I pull him up against me possessively. But no matter how little he smiles or responds to anything I say or do, I can see in his eyes that he's barely managing to maintain his stand-offish demeanor. "You're disgusting."

"And you love me, so what does that make you?"

"Batshit crazy, apparently."

"Apparently." I nod in agreement, grinning as I lean in to peck his pouting lips.

"We don't have time for this." He mocks, his hands grasping my forearms and pulling them loose from around him. "It's not on the schedule."

"Fuck the schedule."

"Okay... who are you and what the hell did you do with my disgusting dictator of a husband?"

"I am your disgusting dictator of a husband." I reply matter-of-factly, shaking off his ineffective grip on my hands and holding him close again. "I just realized that there are way more important things in life."

His mischievous expression softens in understanding as a sad half-smile curls the corner of his mouth. "You didn't happen to realize that while you were at a cemetery with your son, did you?"

"Maybe."

He doesn't ask me what happened, he simply wraps his arms around me and hugs me. He knows that I'll tell him about it if I need to, if I want to. And if I don't, it's okay. The only questions he asks me are if I'm okay and if Ezra is okay, because that's all the really matters to him in all of this. It's all that ever really matters to either of us; the wellbeing of our family is the single most important thing in our lives. We'd sacrifice anything for it, we have sacrificed for it, and there's no resentment about it. Because what we have means more to us than anything we could possibly give up.

We reluctantly return to our responsibilities at a much less hurried pace than before, doing only what absolutely needs to be done and refusing to stress about the rest. I don't know why I don't approach every aspect of my life this way. I make a mental note that sometimes reducing your stress levels is achievable by simply deciding not to be stressed.

I'm sure I'll have misplaced that note by the time we get to the airport, but at least I tried.

Once the packing is finally completed, and I've cleared out the fridge and kitchen cupboards, taken out the trash, and stripped the beds, all that's left to do is load up the car. The bags go in much easier than the kids, but that's nothing new. While Tommy works on getting Asta into her car seat, I do one last sweep of the house to make sure there's nothing glaringly obvious that we forgot to either clean up or take with us.

It's always kind of weird leaving this place, seeing it so empty. It reminds me of the day my family and I moved out. I was almost fifteen, Zoe had just been born, and everyone was more than ready to move into a bigger place. I'd been sharing a room with Ike and Zac for years, it would be the first time in our lives that we'd each have our own bedroom. Ike was probably the most excited of anyone in the family; he was seventeen, and he was sick of sharing a cramped room and bunk beds with his kid brothers, no matter how close friends we were. I wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of having some privacy, either. But at the same time, I was sad to be letting go of what we'd had.

There's no doubt in my mind that the bond the three of us shared came from the way we were raised. We travelled a lot when we were younger, which meant we mostly had only each other for company. We were homeschooled when we finally settled down in Tulsa again, so we were never separated into different grades like other siblings. We grew up in a modest sized house; three bedrooms and two bathrooms shared between two parents and six kids. The idea of leaving that all behind, of moving to a house that was basically a mansion in comparison, was undeniably scary to me. We went from using our basement garage as a makeshift practice space, to having a custom built, state-of-the-art recording studio in a detached three car garage. From having a tree house and a tatty soccer net in our backyard, to having a pool house, a pool, and over one hundred acres of land to ride our new dirt bikes on! The amount of space our success had afforded us was as terrifying as it was incredible.

I didn't want us to lose what made us who we were.

It was pretty much a non-issue, though. The same success that had made it possible for us to buy our family a new home kept us away from that home for long periods of time. Between all of the traveling, sleeping in hotels and on tour buses, and then shutting ourselves away in the studio all day every day when we weren't on the road, we lived in each other's pockets for years. In the end ,that constant closeness I'd been so afraid of losing played a big hand in driving us apart.

And then that distance somehow brought us back together again.

Life is weird like that.

As I come to a stop just inside of the open front door, I reach out to turn off the light. But something keeps me from simply flipping the switch and pulling the door closed behind me. Instead I turn around and take a moment to truly appreciate my surroundings for the first time since we got here three weeks ago. It's been almost twenty years since I last called this house home, but for some part of me I think it will always feel like home.

"Thanks for having us." I smile fondly, leaving the house in near darkness before closing and locking the door.

By the time I get out to the car, Tommy is very obviously in one of his 'tattle trances'. He started having them within his first year of living with us, and I think they're responsible for his sanity still being (mostly) intact. It's a coping mechanism, I guess. He spaces out when the kids start bickering about unimportant stuff, because he learned pretty quickly that trying to mediate such bickering matches is completely exhausting and entirely pointless. Unless they drag him into their petty disagreements, or start taking violent action against each other, he stays out of it for as long as he possibly can.

"Ready for several hours of this on a plane?" I ask him semi-seriously, placing my hand on his thigh to snap him out of his daze. He looks over at me almost as soon as I touch him, frowning at me in confusion like he doesn't understand me at all.

Probably because he didn't. "Huh?"

"Nothing." I reassure him with a gentle squeeze of his leg. "Keep doing what you're doing."

"I wasn't doing anything."

With a knowing smile, I start the car and begin backing it out of the driveway. "Exactly. Keep doing that."

If it weren't for the fact that none of us have really said goodbye to my parents, I'd opt for skipping that stop on the way to the airport. Or at least making it so brief that I'm the only one who has to get out of the car. It's not because I don't want to see them, not at all. But I know Tommy and I are both close to wiped out already, and having to get all of the kids out of and then back into the car again is just one more thing to tire us out further. There's no way my mom is going to settle for saying goodbye to any of them while they have their seatbelts on, though, so there's no way around it.

It's not like either of us is inexperienced at running on fumes. It's kind of a job requirement to be able to keep giving even when you feel like you've got nothing left. Then you go to bed, (hopefully) get a decent night's sleep, wake up the next day recharged and refreshed... and do it all over again. And just when you start to question how the hell you're going to cope, or how much more you can take, one of them will say something, or do something, or maybe even just look at you and smile. And in that moment you know that there is no "how" about it. You just will.

Whatever it takes, however much it takes, whenever you have to.

"We're not staying long." I remind the kids as I pull over outside my parent's house and put the car in park. "Don't go starting any board games with Zoe or watching a movie with Mac, 'cause you're not gonna be able to finish them."

"How come?" Pouts Viggo.

"Because if we're late to the airport they won't let us on the plane." Tommy points out, opening the passenger side door so that he get out of the car and help Asta with the buckle on her car seat harness. She's probably going to whine and tell him that she can do it herself, but it's such a habit for him that it'll take a lot of whining on her part before he remembers not to do it for her. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to go home."

"Me too!" Concurs River enthusiastically before practically climbing over Asta and Tommy in order to get out of the car. "I'm bored of all the games I brought with me, I want all my other ones, too."

"And I miss Duke." Penny adds, exiting the vehicle much more gracefully than her little brothers. "Do you think he'll remember us? We've never left him behind for so long before."

"Of course he will." I declare with absolute certainty as I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her up the front path. "Dogs have really good memories. Even if we went away for a year, he'd still remember us." 

She smiles gratefully, reaching up to lift my hand from her shoulder and hold it in hers. And I file that smile away safely in my memories, because it's this kind of seemingly insignificant moment that I can cling to when it feels as though I am the most hopeless parent on the planet. She probably won't remember this in a year from now, but I will. Along with all of the other evidence I have of my ability to do this 'dad' thing right. I know I'm not solving all of her problems, all I did was convince her that her dog hasn't forgotten her. And that's all she needed right now. I was able to reassure her, I was able to make her smile.

Some days that's more than enough.

Mom is already waiting for us with the door wide open before any of us have even made it onto the front porch. It's almost like she hasn't seen us in months, not like she's preparing to go months without seeing us.

Leaving Tulsa is always hard for me. Not because I miss living here, even if there are things about this city that I do sometimes miss, and not even because I hate having  to say goodbye to my family. It's watching my parents say goodbye to their grandkids that kills me. I feel like such an asshole for putting them through that, regardless of the fact that I know that thousands of grandparents all over the country have to do the same thing after every family holiday and special occasion. And I know that my parents aren't resentful, they don't blame me for moving the kids to another state the way Pam does.

But knowing that doesn't make it any less painful.

Mom welcomes us all into the house warmly, offering us drinks and snacks despite me having told her on the phone earlier that we wouldn't have time. It's hard to be annoyed by it though, and it's not like I wasn't expecting it. And I guess if I'm going to be stealing her grandchildren from her for months on end, the least I can do is let her spoil them (and their dinner) before I do it.

"I tried to get the house cleaned and the dust sheets back on the furniture, but time kinda got away from me." I tell her apologetically, following her into the kitchen while Tommy and the kids make themselves comfortable in the family room with my dad and younger siblings. "I did as much as I could, though."

"You didn't have to do any of that!" She sighs, shaking her head at me in disbelief. "I told you not to worry about it, your father and I can take care of it tomorrow."

"I know, but you shouldn't have to. You weren't the ones who made the mess."

A small smirk lifts the corner of her mouth as she nudges me gently. "That never seemed to bother you or your brothers when you were growing up."

"Well, I'd like to think I've matured at least slightly since I was thirteen."

"You have." She replies somewhat condescendingly. "Slightly."

"Thanks." I grumble in feigned dejection, wrestling the house key off of the rental car keychain as an excuse to keep my eyes downcast. "I love you, too."

"What time is your flight?"

She knows what time our flight is. I've told her repeatedly over the last few days, and she has it written on a piece of note paper that's stuck on the fridge behind her. I think she's hoping that maybe it got delayed for a few hours, but unfortunately for her that's not the case.

"Five-thirty." I remind her. "So we need to be at the airport by three-thirty, because we've gotta return the rental car and get about five bags checked, not to mention grabbing sandwiches from Quiznos to take on the plane..."

We both automatically look to the clock on the wall across the room from us, watching as the second hand passes twelve and the minute hand shifts grudgingly from two-fifty-five to two-fifty-six. I can give her another fifteen minutes, but anything more than that would be really pushing it (and putting my mental health in serious jeopardy).

"Come on." I tell her, nodding towards the sound of loud chatter coming from the next room. "You're wasting time on me when you could be squeezing the life out of small, defenseless children."

"Just a second." She stops me, surprising me by taking me by the wrist and holding me back from leaving the kitchen. "There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about, but... there hasn't really been a good time."

Okay... "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine-"

"Is dad-"

"He's fine." She assures me before I can start freaking myself out with all of the potentially serious things she might be about to discuss with me. "Everyone's fine."

"Good."

"At least... I hope they are."

I frown in confusion, trying to figure out how I'm supposed to react to that statement. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to be upset with me, or think that I'm questioning your relationship with Tommy-"

"Wait... what? Why would I think that?" Unless that's exactly what she's about to do. "We're fine."

"Really?"

"Mom-"

"I know you think I'm prying, or being over-dramatic, or whatever else it is that you and your brothers all seem to think I am whenever I show even the slightest hint of concern, but I'm not."

I didn't think she was being over-dramatic until about two seconds ago when she started being over-dramatic! "There's nothing for you to be concerned about. I don't even know where you'd get the idea that there might be."

"I'm sorry, but some of the things Tommy said the day he got to Tulsa raised some red flags for me." She explains, pleading with me to take her seriously and not just dismiss everything she's trying to say to me.

It's ridiculously hard not to tell her that she's imagining things and walk out, but I know that if I do, she's going to be worrying about this, whatever she thinks it is, for the rest of the year. So I take a deep breath and try to stay calm. "Like what?"

"That going on tour 'helped'. I know you said it helped with him being restless, but I got the feeling there was more to it than that. And him going on tour out of the blue in the first place was-"

"The guy he was filling in for got hurt right before his band was supposed to hit the road." I tell her plainly, trying to take comfort in the fact that it's not a lie. Not really. "If he'd known sooner that he was going to be offered a job, it wouldn't have been out of the blue."

She studies my face silently, and I do my best to hold her stare and not so much as blink until she's satisfied that I'm telling her the whole story. "I'm not trying to cause trouble where there isn't any, but it all felt... off to me. And I can't help worrying about you and the kids-"

"There's nothing to worry about."

"I don't want him to get more and more 'restless', and wind up leaving you high and dry with five children." She sighs worriedly.

"He's not going to leave me high and dry! He's not going anywhere."

"Are you sure?"

Ugh. She's not gonna let this drop unless I give her something to assuage her fears. And I guess the whole truth is probably my best bet. "Look... you're right that there was more to it than him being restless. But it's not what you think it is. There's nothing going on between us, we're not having problems, I promise. He's just been in a bit of a rut since he stopped working with Adam, and he needed some time to figure out what he really wants."

"And what is that?" She asks with obvious concern. "To start touring with other bands?"

"No, actually, it's the exact opposite. Going on tour last month made him realize that it's not what he wants right now. Because he doesn't want to be away from home all the time."

Her eyes narrow in suspicion, and I can't help but roll mine in response. "Are you just telling me that because you think it'll make me feel better?"

"No. I hope it made you feel better, though, because otherwise you're going to be worrying over something that isn't even happening. At least, not outside of your twisted imagination." I see the smack coming before she even attempts it, so I'm able to step out of reach and avoid it completely. "Are you done accusing Tommy of wanting to abandon me and the kids?"

"I wasn't-"

"You were."

"I was just worried about you." She maintains. "All of you."

I shake my head at her before taking her by the arm and pulling her into a tight hug, which she doesn't hesitate to return. "Now you can stop."

"Never."

Despite telling everyone that we couldn't spend long at my parent's house, I end up going against my own insistence that we leave at the exact time I'd told myself we needed to leave by. I know it's going to result in a lot of rushing around the airport, and worrying that we're going to miss our flight or have no time to get dinner before we board. But I just can't bring myself to tell my kids and my parents that it's time to say goodbye until I absolutely have to. I may have had it all planned out in my head, down to the last minute, but for the third time today my carefully thought out plans come in a far second to making sure that the people I love get what they need from me.

Thankfully, I have an awesome husband who is really good at being calm and rational whenever I start being the polar opposite of those things. So when we get to the airport and I start losing my shit trying to keep the kids from whining about waiting in line, or getting underfoot at security, or over-complicating their sandwich orders at Quiznos, or emptying out their backpack at the gate just to look for a specific book or toy, he remains almost entirely unaffected and level-headed. You'd think it'd be the other way around, given the fact that I have twenty years of experience with hectic schedules, busy airports, and traveling with children. But being a total control freak always seems to get the best of me. He's spent enough time with me to know this, and he's always prepared for it.

Somehow I never am.

But that's part of what makes us so good for each other. It's rare that we're both losing our minds to equal degrees at the exact same time. One of us is always more stable than the other, so neither of us ever has to worry about everything falling apart. And it's never the same person holding it all together, we both have our moments, which is why we make the perfect team.

Somehow we make it onto the flight without major incident, and without the gate staff having to announce over the PA system that the plane is about to leave without us. That's not the end of the drama, though, because seat assignments still haven't been decided. Really, we should just randomly hand a boarding pass to each of them and force them to sit in whatever seat number is on it. But since there are three seats on either side of the aisle, and seven of us, someone has to take the single seat in the row in front, and it's not like that someone can be Asta. Tommy is about to volunteer to take it when Ezra slips past him and takes the seat instead. Which is kind of perfect, because then Tommy and I can each sit in the aisle seats to keep the other four from getting up during the flight and being run over by the beverage cart (it's happened more than once).

Just after takeoff, when all of the kids are happily preoccupied with music, books, or the in-flight entertainment, I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean forwards to tap Ezra on the shoulder. He takes his earbuds out and turns in his seat to look at me, and I smile hopefully as I ask him if he's okay. I watch him intently, trying to read his expression as he opens his mouth to reply. Something seems to catch his eye, distracting him enough that for a moment he forgets to answer to my question. And when I follow his gaze to find out what it is he's looking at, I see Asta sitting on Tommy's lap. His seatbelt is fastened around both of them, and he's listening to his iPod while she watches 'Dora The Explorer' on my iPad.

"Ez?"

His eyes shift suddenly from Tommy and Asta to me, and much to my relief there's a genuine smile on his face. "I'm fine."

Chapter Text

I love my bed.

I love it just as much today as I did the day we bought it. It's the best bed in the world. I compare all other beds to this bed. Whenever I have to spend the night in a hotel, or we stay at my family's old house in Tulsa the way we just did, I miss this bed.

But right now what I really miss is only having to share it with one other person.

Even though we told Asta before we even left Tulsa that she was going back to sleeping in her own bed once we got home, and even though we put her to sleep in that bed last night after our exhausting trip back to L.A., I still woke up this morning to find her occupying the space between me and Tommy. I don't know if he let her come in, or if she just snuck in by herself in the middle of the night when we were both too dead to notice her presence. Tommy was in complete agreement with me about her needing to go back to her own bed so that this habit she picked up in Tulsa doesn't continue indefinitely. But I wouldn't be shocked if he brought her in here because she was crying at some point during the night.

I guess it doesn't really matter how it happened, what matters is figuring out how to make it stop.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not completely heartless. I have never stopped any of my kids from getting into bed with me when they've woken up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, or a storm, or because they're sick. Those are infrequent and usually isolated events, though. I know Asta was scared of Tommy leaving her again, and maybe she still is, but this is getting out of hand. Hopefully now that we're at home things will feel more consistent for all of us, and she'll quickly figure out that there's nothing to be afraid of anymore.

I need her to figure that out, because I miss having sleepy morning sex with my impossibly beautiful husband!

Carefully reaching across our slumbering daughter, I tap my pointer finger against Tommy's forehead, over and over again, until eventually his brow crinkles in irritation and he blindly swats my hand away like a fly.

"Wake up, traitor."

He grudgingly cracks one eye open just long enough to let me know he's awake, then he groans pathetically to let me know he's not happy about being awake. "It's Sunday, you sadist."

"Don't try to change the subject."

"It's too early for subjects."

Why does he have to be so damn adorable? "There's a girl in our bed."

"Oh... yeah."

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop inviting girls into bed with us?"

"But she's so cute!" He yawns, draping his arm over Asta's body and scooping her right up against his chest. She grumbles a little in her sleep, but aside from clutching at his wrist with her tiny fingers, she doesn't stir. "Can I keep her? Please?"

"You can keep her, but she has to sleep in her own bed." I warn him playfully, earning myself the most pitiful pout in response. "Either she goes or I go."

"Okay."

"Okay... what?"

He breathes a contented, undisturbed sigh as he snuggles down deeper under the comforter and nuzzles into his pillow. "Okay, you can go."

I kinda want to shove him out of bed right now, but there's a good chance our three-year-old will end up as collateral damage, so I resist the urge. When I fail to respond in any way to his dismissive insinuation that he'd prefer to snuggle with Asta than with me, he curiously opens his eyes again to try to gauge how offended I am  by the look on my face.

And when he sees me scowling at him, he grins so smugly that it's impossible for me to remain in bed with him any longer when I can't do anything in retaliation! If Asta wasn't in here, I would've had him pinned to the mattress several sassy remarks ago. But she's basically being used as a human shield, so I'm completely powerless. I mutter something about not staying where I'm not wanted as I throw the comforter off and roll out of bed, and he doesn't do a thing to stop me. So when I pass him on my way to the bathroom, I make sure to pull back the sheets on his side of the bed, exposing his back to me and smacking him on the butt.

He squeaks, his body jerking so suddenly that it automatically wakes Asta up. "Rise and shine!"

"I don't wanna."

"Too bad. Your mom is expecting us for brunch, and no one's gonna have an appetite if you smell like that."

"I smell better than you do." He retorts childishly.

"Your mouth is stinky." Asta informs him, lifting his arm away from her body just enough so that she can crawl out from under it. "You gotta brush your teeth!"

I have to fight like hell to keep a straight face when he rolls over to look at me, his mouth hanging open in indignation. "Are you hearing this?"

"Sorry, dude." I shrug helplessly. "Your morning breath never bothered me, but.... I'm not the one you wanted to share a bed with, so..."

"I changed my mind." He pouts. "I like you more now."

With a nod of acknowledgement, I smile and continue on my way to take a shower. "Good to know."

"Come back to bed!"

"Not a chance."

Going to brunch at Dia's this morning seemed like an inspired idea when I accepted the invitation last month. I figured it would kill two birds with one stone: spending time with Tommy's family after being out of town for so long, and feeding my kids without having to go to the grocery store before I'd fully recovered from the journey home. I forgot to factor in how much the kids had missed our house, their bedrooms, their toys, their pool, their movies...

Trying to get them excited about leaving all of those things when they only just got them back a few hours ago is nearly impossible. It doesn't matter that they'll be back here again before dinner, or that Dia has their dog and they've missed him like crazy, too. The only one who is genuinely happy to be going to brunch is Asta, and that's mostly because she'll get to see her best friend. It's not that the kids don't like spending time with Dia, they enjoy being around her almost as much as they enjoy being around my parents and Pam.

But even my parents and Pam come in second to video games and TV sometimes.

Somehow we manage to get over to Burbank on time, we even beat Lisa to the house, which is completely unheard of! It makes Tommy almost giddy, despite the fact that he was dragging his feet this morning just as much as the kids. Apparently getting here first makes him "the good one" (possibly for the first time ever).

"I know you guys would rather be at home right now, but Dia has missed you way more than you've missed your toys, okay?" I inform the kids as we head up the driveway. "I don't wanna hear any whining."

"Okay." Mumbles River.

"And the first one of you to ask me if we can go home yet, isn't coming home with us at all."

Viggo's eyes grow dramatically wider at the implication of being left behind.  "Not ever?"

"Not today. I'm sure Dia would love to have you sleep over."

"I doubt it." Snorts Tommy.

Apparently Dia's "Mom Radar" isn't as advanced as my mom's, because if it was my parents we were having brunch with, my mom would have had the front door open before we even reached it. We have to knock several times before Dia answers the door, and when she does she looks entirely caught off guard and unprepared for our presence. And I don't mean "I haven't finished cooking" unprepared, I mean "I'm still in my bathrobe" unprepared.

"You told me she said ten!" I smack Tommy lightly in the arm.

"She did!" He exclaims defensively before turning to his mom. "You did!"

She frowns at us for a moment or two longer before it seems to dawn on her why there are five hungry kids and two under-caffeinated men standing on her doorstep. "Oh my gosh... I completely forgot!"

"You mean there's no food in there?" Asks Tommy warily. "'Cause we promised them waffles, and if there are no waffles then they might eat your damn couch."

"Can we see Duke, please?" Penny interrupts politely. "We missed him so much."

"Of course you can, honey." Dia forces a small smile in an attempt to appear less flustered than she clearly is. "He's out in the back yard, go on through."

"Are you sure you want us to come in?" I question worriedly even as I follow Tommy and my kids past Dia and into the house. "We can just pick Duke up and get out of your hair-"

"Oh, no, please stay!" She insists, grabbing Tommy and pulling him into a tight hug before he can get out of her reach. "I feel like I haven't seen any of you in months."

"You saw me less than a month ago." He reminds her, rolling his eyes at me over her shoulder. "Seriously, why are mothers so over-dramatic? Is it like some kind of hormone imbalance that happens after childbirth or something?"

"I suppose I should be grateful that you're this much of a brat, otherwise I'd probably miss you a lot more." She teases with a playful scowl as she lets him go.

Just as she's about to close the front door behind us, Lisa's car pulls into the driveway. I notice Dia's smile falter for a second when she looks down at her robe fretfully, tightening the knot in the cord at her waist. I feel so bad for her; I know how annoyed I'd be at myself if I invited ten people over for brunch and then totally forgot they were coming. Especially if over half of those people were under the age of thirteen and not exactly patient about being fed as soon as their stomachs start to grumble.

"Hey, Dia, why don't I make a start on brunch while you-"

"I can't let you do that!" She objects guiltily. "You're my guest."

"Let him cook. He likes it."

"Well..."

"Mom, come on." Sighs Tommy in exasperation. "You're in your fucking bathrobe-"

"Language!"

"At least let us make some coffee or something while you put your clothes on?"

It's obvious that she knows she's not going to win this fight. She's outnumbered, and for once Tommy and I have common sense on our side. But it's also obvious that she doesn't want to just give in, no matter how futile it is for her to decline our offer to help. She wants to believe that she has this under control, and that she can get dressed and make brunch for almost a dozen people without killing herself in the process. Deep down she knows she can't, and that she needs our help whether she wants it or not. And again I feel awful for her, because it's never fun admitting defeat.

"Fine." She grudgingly relents. "You can start while I get dressed. But I'm more than capable of handling it myself-"

"No one said you weren't." Tommy assures her somewhat condescendingly as he puts and arm around her and all but drags her down the hall towards her bedroom. "Don't forget to brush your hair."

"You are my least favorite son."

"I'm also your most favorite son." He smiles proudly, opening the door for her and giving her a gentle push towards it. "You know ya love me."

"But I don't know why."

"Don't hurt yourself trying to figure it out."

I've barely made it into the kitchen and started filling the coffee pot with water (I have priorities) when Lisa, David and Bridget come into the room. Usually it's not that big of a deal when we see each other, we rarely go more than a couple of weeks at a time without having some kind of get-together. But between Tommy going on tour , and all of us going to Tulsa, and everything that was going on for us in the weeks leading up to those things, it's been well over a month since we've all been in the same place at the same time. At first all of the hugging and "how have you been" chatter distracts them from the fact that there's no food (except Bridget, she left in search of Asta as soon as saw me and realized that she was probably here, too).

"Why don't I smell waffles?" Lisa asks suddenly, cutting short the conversation Tommy and David were having about his time on the road. "And where's mom?"

"Mom forgot she invited us all over and promised to feed us."

"She's getting dressed." I explain, nudging Tommy playfully with my hip. " And I was just about to start making waffle batter."

"I'll help." She cheerfully volunteers, already opening the refrigerator to grab some butter, eggs, and milk.

Tommy and David stand aside for a minute and watch us work, not wanting to seem unhelpful by leaving but also having no interest at all in doing anything even vaguely resembling cooking. I can tell that Tommy is waiting for me to either delegate a task to him or dismiss him, but I still feel like he owes me for this morning, so I do neither. Lisa is feeling much more merciful than I am, though. I guess David didn't all but kick her out of bed.

"Why don't you two make yourselves useful and keep an eye on the kids?"

"Good idea." Agrees her husband dutifully, sharing a relieved glance with Tommy as the two of them quickly make their way towards the back door before either of us can think of something else we'd rather have them do.

I watch Tommy join our kids (and our dog) in the back yard. He's immediately pulled into the chaos, and Duke starts jumping all over him with unrestrained excitement over their reunion. I should be used to this kind of thing by now; it's my every day. But it's been my every day for almost three years, and sometimes I still find myself frozen in place, incapable of doing anything except staring at him as he plays with our kids or rough houses with our dog. It used to be because I couldn't quite believe he was real, his presence in my life was astounding to me. I know he's real now, though, we've been together long enough for me to be convinced. But I'm still astounded by the fact that I'm this lucky. It's not just that he's my husband, although that reality still baffles me completely. It's that this didn't just happen. Our paths didn't simply cross and gradually merge into one with no detours or road blocks. It wasn't as easy as him choosing me, or vice versa, and us living happily ever after.

I know how many stars had to align for any of this to be possible, and I know that it will continue to stop me in my tracks and take my breath away from time to time for the rest of my life.

"You must have missed him a lot while he was on tour." Lisa observes, pulling my gaze away from the kitchen window and leaving me blushing faintly when I see her amused smile.

I shrug nonchalantly, trying to keep myself from smiling back at her as I pretend to be indifferent. "A little, I guess. I was pretty busy, so I kinda didn't notice he was gone most of the time."

"Uh huh." She shakes her head at me for a moment before rolling her eyes. "You've been married to my brother for too long."

Not long enough, in my opinion.

When Dia is finished getting dressed, she joins us in the kitchen. Well, I say "joins", but it was really more like she walked into the room and told us both to go outside with our kids and let her finish cooking. But I'm not someone who gives up on something once I've started it, and stubbornness runs in the Ratliff family, so she can't get rid of either of us that easily. Or at all. With all three of us in the kitchen, the working conditions are cramped to say the least, and even though it takes us a while to stop getting in each other's way, we eventually figure out a system that makes preparing brunch ten times faster than it would have been if any one of us had tried to do it solo. Which is good, because just as we're finishing up and about to call everyone inside to eat, River comes in from the back yard looking for food.

Having family gatherings at Dia's or Lisa's house always makes me feel guilty, because it's a challenge finding enough room to seat everyone comfortably, and even more of an ordeal making enough food to feed everyone. Especially with my three growing boys who have garbage disposals where their stomachs should be. Tommy and I have way more space and a much bigger kitchen, but trying to convince his mom and sister to let us host every meal is impossible. They won't even let us contribute by bringing a salad or dessert!

At least our kids are generally on their best behavior whenever we come to Dia's, so aside from Asta and Bridget putting raspberries on their fingertips and then eating them off one at a time, their table manners are... passable. Any time we can get through a meal without any of them raising their voice, or spilling their drink, or dropping their food all down their front, or crying, I call it a win. I'm sure some people would say my expectations are too low, and to those people I say take all five of my kids out for a meal at the same time, then come and talk to me about how high my expectations for their table manners should be.

After everyone has stuffed themselves, the kids decide to go back outside and run it off while us adults opt for collapsing in lawn chairs and hoping our stomachs don't explode. I know that I had the same amount of energy as them, once upon a time, but right now I'm having a hard time remembering how it felt.

There's no way around it, I'm getting old.

"I can't even look at them." David groans in discomfort as he sinks down further in his chair, trying to find a way to get as close to being horizontal as possible without ending up on the ground. "They're abnormal."

"There are so many of them." Sighs Lisa. "And they move so fast!"

"They're like gremlins." Tommy remarks with a hint of fear in his tone. "Maybe one of you should go put the hose away so they don't get wet."

Dia chuckles softly as takes in the sight of us all sleepily slumped in our seats. "You're all pathetic."

"Thanks, mom." He grumbles sarcastically.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Asta practically takes a running jump onto Tommy's lap. I can't tell if it was his stomach she landed on or something else, but either way he nearly doubles over as he tries to bite back sounds of pain. Asta is, of course, completely oblivious to what she's done.

"You can't get me!" She yells at her younger brother as he runs across the yard in pursuit.

"That's cheating!" Viggo declares in outrage, coming to a stop on the patio right in front of Tommy's chair. "You have to stay on the floor!"

Her only response is to stick her tongue out at him while he whines at the rest of us to "make her get down".

"I know I say this almost every time we see you, but... I don't know how you guys do it." David tells us in genuine amazement. "Five kids... I can't even imagine."

"Don't even imagine." Lisa demands playfully. "We have one, and we're done."

"How come you're not gonna have more babies?" Asks Viggo, frowning curiously at Lisa. "Don't you like babies?"

"We love babies, sweetie, we're just..." She pauses for a moment, glancing at David for assistance in explaining their fertility issues to a child.

"We're too old to have any more." David concludes for her.

Viggo looks even more concerned by this information than he did by the idea of them not liking babies. "How old are you?"

"You can't ask people that, buddy." I tell him quickly. "It's rude."

"Why?"

"'Cause people who are as old as Lisa don't want anyone knowing their age." Explains Tommy with a devious smirk.

"Shut up, jerk face!"

"So when people get old they can't have babies anymore?" Viggo continues to pry.

Lisa smiles at him fondly as she shakes her head. "Some people can, but we can't."

"Maybe someone else can have a baby for you?" He suggests innocently. "My daddy and Tommy were gonna ask a woman to look after their baby until it was born."

For a moment Lisa, David and Dia all seem completely baffled by what he's said, as though it's some strange kind of kid logic that he made up off of the top of his head. But when Lisa realizes what it is he's trying to say, her eyes grow wider than I think I've ever seen them before. And as soon as she figures it out, David and Dia seem to catch on, too.

"Oh my God!" She practically squeals,  scooting to the edge of her seat and staring at us in shock. "You're having a baby!"

"No, we-"

"I can't believe it!" Exclaims Dia emotionally, her had flying to her mouth as her eyes begin to shine with tears. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Oh, this is so bad.

"I'm gonna have a new baby to play with?" Asta looks up at Tommy inquisitively. "A real baby?"

"We're not having a baby." Tommy tries to clarify and calm every one down before all of the excitement catches the attention of the rest of our kids. But it's too late, they heard Lisa's shriek and now they're all coming over to find out what happened to cause the commotion. "We thought about it, but it just... wasn't a good time."

Dia's smile fades so fast that there's no way I can not feel guilty. "Why isn't it a good time?"

"A good time for what?" Penny asks, looking back and forth between the two of us expectantly just like Tommy's family has been doing for what feels like forever.

I don't know how to answer their questions, and neither does he.

Saying that Ezra didn't want another baby in the family is like blaming him for our decision, blaming him for the disappointment on Dia's face, and I can't do that with him standing here. I wouldn't do it even if he wasn't here! But... he is the reason this isn't a good time. The only reason, really. If he hadn't been so against the idea, there's a good chance we'd have a surrogate by now, we could have even been days away from our first IVF attempt for all I know.

"We just... we want to focus on the kids right now." I tell them, being very careful to make it sound like this was entirely our choice.

"Right." Agrees Tommy, offering his mom an apologetic smile. "It's not a bad thing, okay? Nothing's any different now than it was five minutes ago."

"I know, you're right, it's just..." She sighs deeply, staring off across the yard at something that isn't even there. Her lips begin to curl into a small smile, but only faintly, and I have a feeling that she's thinking about what could have been, not what is. "A baby would have been... I would have loved it, that's all."

"I know." He nods as he reaches out to her and takes her hand in his.

He doesn't need to say how much he would have loved it, too. It's written all over his face.

The "we're having a baby... only not" bombshell pretty much put a dampener on the rest of the afternoon, and as soon as Asta started to get even slightly cranky I used that as an excuse for us to head home. It was as much for Dia's sake as for ours; it was obvious that she wanted to be alone but didn't want to ask us all to leave.

Tommy was quiet on the drive home, and even the kids seemed more subdued than usual. I think they could tell that something was bothering him (it's rare that our moods have no effect on them), and none of them wanted to do anything to upset him. I definitely didn't want to bring him down any further, either. So as soon as we got home I sent him off to do something to cheer himself up, whether that was watching a movie, playing video games, messing around in the studio, or taking Duke for a walk. I asked the kids not to bother him, and to come and find me if they needed anything, and after putting Asta down for a nap I set to work unpacking our bags and doing a mountain of Tulsa laundry in an attempt to keep myself busy.

This past week it felt as though we were starting to move on from all of this. I knew he wasn't over it, he still wanted it. We both did. But it really seemed as though we'd both made peace with the idea of not having another baby, and we'd made some kind of unspoken agreement to focus on the family we already have, to appreciate how lucky we are and to let it be enough. And now... I'm pretty sure that recently healed wound has just been ripped open for him. He's feeling it all over again, and just like before, I know there's nothing I can do to make it less upsetting for him. He just needs space.

"Dad?"

I look up from the pile of clothes I was folding, surprised to find Ezra lingering in the doorway of the laundry room. "What's up? I thought you guys were watching TV."

"We were. Everyone else still is..."

"You okay?" I ask in concern, setting down the t-shirt in my hands and giving him my full attention.

"When Tommy went away on tour..." He lowers his eyes to the ground at his feet, nudging the grout between the tiles on the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Did he go because he was mad?"

"Mad? About what?"

"About me not wanting you to have a baby."

"He wasn't mad." I assure him honestly.

"Well... was he sad, like Dia was today?" He presses, and even though I open my mouth to tell him that Tommy didn't leave because he was sad, I can't bring myself to say it. I don't want to lie.

"He was sad, but it wasn't just about the baby. It was about losing his job, and not knowing what to do next. But going on tour helped him figure that stuff out, and he feels a lot better now."

I can see him taking in what I've said and deciding whether or not he believes that everything is as okay as I'm trying to make it sound. It's hard for me to just stand here and let him figure things out for himself, but I know that's all I can do. All I should do. If I keep talking and trying to convince him, he's not going to have a chance to get there by himself.

"Why does he want to have a baby so bad?" He questions eventually. "Really."

"We-"

"And don't make it about Viggo and cupcakes like last time."

I can't help but laugh softly as I run a hand through my hair and try not to dwell on that horrendous analogy. It was not my finest moment. "It's not because we're not happy, or because you guys aren't enough-"

"I know." He cuts me off quickly. "You already said that before, but you didn't tell me how we're enough even when you still want another baby. I don't get it."

"You know... being a dad doesn't start when the baby is born. It starts way before that. The first time I went with your mom to see her doctor when she was pregnant with you, you weren't even big enough for anyone to be able to tell she was pregnant. But you had a heartbeat, and the second I heard it... that was when it became real for me. That was when I knew you were real and I was a father. And then watching you grow, and seeing you come into the world... it was amazing. I'd never loved anyone or anything as much as I loved you, I'd never felt the way I felt the first time I held you or heard you cry. I don't think anyone can know what it's like until it happens to them."

At first he seems lost, as though nothing I've said has made anything any clearer for him, it's only confused him further. But I can see him working through it all, until he finally looks me in the eyes. And as soon as he does, I'm sure that he understands what I was trying to say.

"You know what it feels like, but Tommy doesn't."

"Yeah."

"And he never will unless he has a baby, too?"

"It's not because he doesn't love you guys, or because he doesn't feel like he's your dad. He does, it's just..."

"Not the same." He concedes sadly.

"It's okay, Ezra." I place a hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze before gently pulling him closer, and he doesn't resist as I wrap my arms around him. "We'll be okay, no matter what."

"How do you know? Sometimes things aren't okay, and you can't make them okay no matter what you do."

"I just meant that Tommy and I will be okay if we don't have a baby."

"I know, but if you did..." He pulls out of our hug slowly, and I can see on his face how troubled he is and how important this is to him. "You don't know it'll be okay."

"No. But... no one ever knows that about anything. We can't know. The only way we can avoid ever having anything bad happen to us is to lock ourselves in an empty room and never leave. But even that's not a guarantee. I mean, you could choke on your food. And if you're locked in an empty room alone, there's no one to help you!" He rolls his eyes at me, but I can see him starting to smile and it only spurs me on. "Or the room could get struck by lightning and catch on fire, or destroyed by a tornado, or swallowed up in an earthquake, or-"

"Okay, I get it!" He laughs, giving me a half-hearted shove to push me away. "You can stop now."

"My point is, there's no way to avoid things going wrong, no matter how hard you try or how much planning you do. It sucks, but it's just a fact. And trust me, I spent most of my life trying to make everything okay when it wasn't, but nothing I did really made any difference. Everything I'd spent years trying to keep from happening eventually happened anyway, and then some."

"I know."

"Sometimes horrible things happen, and it hurts, and we feel like we'll never get over it. But even if things can never be the way they were before, we do get over it. We keep going, and we keep trying, and good things happen to us. They might never make up for the bad things, but they still make life worth living."

He nods slowly, contemplatively, and then without another word he turns and walks back out of the room, leaving me to dazedly return to the chore I was preoccupied with when he came in. But just as I pick up the half-folded t-shirt on the top of the pile, he reappears in the doorway.

"Dad?" I look up at him, still too mystified to respond verbally. "I hope it's a boy. I really don't need another sister."

Chapter Text

It took a few minutes for what Ezra had said to me to truly sink in, for the meaning of his words to fully register. He didn't wait around for a response, he was gone again as soon as he was done speaking. And I just stood there like an idiot, staring at the t-shirt I was holding, trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened. My heart was on some runaway rollercoaster ride, climbing to dizzying heights and then suddenly plummeting to nauseating lows. One minute I was convinced that he had just given me his blessing to have another baby, and my hopes soared. But the next I was second guessing that conclusion, assuming that he must have meant something else, and my hopes crashed.

Eventually I made my way out of the laundry room and back up to the family room where all the kids were watching TV. There was still no sign of Tommy, I honestly wasn't even sure if he was still in the house. I was sure that wherever he was, he would come and find me when he was ready. And unless there was some kind of emergency, or I had something really important to tell him, it was best if I left him alone. But I wouldn't know if I had something really important to share with him until I'd pulled my son aside and made sure that we were both on the same page.

I'd never forgive myself if I went running to Tommy and told him that Ezra was on board and we could get back to our surrogate search, only to find out that Ezra hadn't actually approved of our plans at all.

The fact that Ezra seemed intent on avoiding looking me in the eyes as he obediently left the family room with me made me more than a little nervous. It was obvious he felt uncomfortable, but I couldn't tell why. I was scared that even if he had been giving me the go ahead back in the laundry room, if I screwed up somehow, he might change his mind and take it back. And since I'm the King of screwing up, I was understandably on edge. Which made it even more of a challenge for me to know how best to approach the subject. I seriously felt like I was trying to defuse a bomb; red wire or blue?

Choose the wrong one and it's all over.

Luckily, the bomb defused itself, so I never had the chance to blow everything up. Before I could even open my mouth to speak, he boldly looked me in the eyes and said, "I meant it." I was careful to ask him what he meant, because I didn't want to leave any room for uncertainty. He told me that if Tommy and I wanted to have a baby, if it would make us happy, we should do it. But he also stressed that he was still afraid that something would go wrong, and that things wouldn't be the same anymore. I knew it was pointless trying to tell him that everything would be okay. There was no way he could believe it, even if he wanted to. What had happened with Natalie had changed his entire life, torn his world apart. And though rationally he knew that there was no way that could happen again, reason wasn't enough to chase his fears away. The only promise I could make him that I knew I could keep was that, even if something went wrong somewhere along the way, we would still be okay. I was sure of that.

If we could survive everything we had already survived, I couldn't imagine anything the universe could throw at us that we wouldn't be able to overcome.

As soon as our conversation was over, all I could think about was finding Tommy and telling him what had happened. I didn't want him to have to spend another minute feeling sad about something that wasn't even an issue anymore. He isn't always an easy guy to find, though. Especially when he doesn't want to be found. I checked the studio first, then the movie room, and I even opened the front door to check that his car was still in the driveway before heading upstairs to our bedroom...

Only to find the door locked.

"Tommy?" I tap my knuckles against the door lightly and then listen closely for any sounds of movement on the other side. "Are you awake?"

"I'll be out in a minute." He replies grudgingly, clearly not ready to put in an appearance anytime soon.

"Can you let me in?"

"I just said I'll-"

"I need to talk to you about something. Now." I tell him hopefully. "It's important."

"How important?"

My forehead falls against the door with a dull thud as I sigh in frustration. He's so fucking stubborn sometimes, frequently to his own detriment. "I don't wanna talk about this through a door."

He doesn't respond, and for a moment or two I hear absolutely nothing that would suggest he's even so much as sat up on the bed, let alone made a move to let me in. But just as I raise my hand to bang on the door some more in an attempt to irritate him so much that he might open it just to smack me around the head, I hear his sock covered feet padding across the hardwood floor. I instinctively take a step back at the sound of the lock turning, and I barely have a chance to see the look on his face once the door opens because he has already turned his back to me and is retreating to the safety of our bed.

The room is dark; the TV is off and the shades are all drawn. I want to assume he was sleeping, but I know better. He doesn't shut himself away in here like this very often, and I don't remember a time when he has ever locked the door unless I was in here with him. But on the few occasions that he has withdrawn to our bedroom in a bad mood, he has blocked out every shred of light he possibly can.

"You're getting good at the whole vampire thing." I tease him as I close the door behind me and slowly approach the bed. "Maybe I should start checking for fangs before I get too close?" Nothing. Not even a hint of a smile. "Listen... I know what happened at your mom's probably brought up a bunch of stuff-"

"I'm fine." He lies apathetically. "It's whatever."

I can't help but roll my eyes as I carefully crawl onto the mattress and lie down beside him. "It's not 'whatever'."

"Yeah, well... I need it to be."

"No, you don't."

"Taylor-"

"I just talked to Ezra."I interrupt him quickly, before he can launch into whatever protest he had lined up. "He came to talk to me, actually."

"About what?" He asks with a curious frown as he turns his head to look me in the eyes.

"He wanted to know why we wanted to have a baby, so I explained it to him. Again. I must have done a better job than I did the first time, because he basically told me we should do it."

Tommy's eyes search mine, looking for some sign that I'm making this up or lying to him, and I hold his wary stare until I can see that he's starting to believe me. "Wh... what did he say? I mean, maybe he didn't mean what you thought he-"

"He meant it." I assure him with a soft smile as I reach out to him, draping my arm across his waist and coaxing his body a little closer to mine. "Trust me, I checked."

"I don't understand..."

"You know how you were willing to put aside what you wanted because you love him too much to do anything that would hurt him?"

"Yeah."

"The feeling is mutual."

He seems incredibly skeptical about everything I've said, even though I know he wants to accept it. He's just as afraid to get his hopes up as I was. "But... I don't wanna do this is he's still gonna hate us for it. If he still feels the way he did before-"

"I don't think he does."

"But you don't know." He argues, rolling over beneath my arm and collapsing on his back with a despondent sigh. "I don't wanna get into this again if we're just gonna have to stop again. I'd rather just let it go."

"Baby-"

"No." He cuts me off adamantly. "No baby."

"I didn't mean that kind of baby." I tell him, trying to keep my tone light in an attempt to lift his mood a little.

This really wasn't the reaction I was expecting.

I thought he would be elated. I was expecting him to hug me, and kiss me, and ask me when we could contact Alyssa and get things moving again. I was all ready to be the calm, levelheaded one and talk him out of e-mailing her right away, or calling and leaving a voicemail at her office.

"I'm okay." He declares, taking a breath as he stares steadfastly at the ceiling. "Really. I'm over it."

"You're not."

"I'm closer to it than I was a month ago... I'm good."

I shake my head at him in disbelief, leaning on my elbow as I look down at him. And he avoids my eyes, because we both know he's full of shit. He knows that if he looks at me he won't be able to lie anymore, to me or to himself. Which is why I carefully cradle his jaw in my hand and force him (as gently as possible) to turn his face towards mine. But even then, his gaze goes anywhere it can to evade mine.

Stubborn!

"If you love me, you'll look at me."

"Fuck you." He mutters, trying to pull away from me. I don't want to hurt him, so I let go without a struggle. And then I climb on top of him instead. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Get off of me!"

"Not until you look at me!"

"Jesus, you're pathetic."

"I'm not the one who won't look his husband in the eyes when he's asked to." I retort, unaffected and undeterred by his crankiness as I grab his arms and pin them to the mattress on either side of his head.

He might think he hates me right now, but when he realizes what an idiot he's being, he'll see that I did this for his own good! After trying (and failing) to pull his arms out of my grip, and several unsuccessful attempts to knee me in the crotch, he reluctantly relents and looks me in the eyes.

And boy, does he look pissed.

"Okay, I'm looking at you.  What the fuck do you want?"

"I want to have a baby with you."

"Tough shit." He snaps irritably. "Can I have my damn hands back now, or was there something else you wanted?"

As foolish (and dangerous) as it may be, I lean down and press my lips gently to his. I'm bracing myself to get bitten, or at the very least be harshly rejected. But even though he doesn't reciprocate at all, he doesn't turn his face away from mine, either. I push my luck a little further, kissing him with ever increasing intensity until he slowly begins to respond. His kisses are tentative for all of a few seconds, and then without warning they turn desperate, almost bruising. It's not anger I can feel coming from him now, though. That was just a front, a wall to hide behind, and it's crumbling.

"I know it'd be less scary to be over it, to not want it anymore, but you do want it." I tell him in a near whisper, nudging the tip of his nose with mine in an attempt to keep him from turning away again. "I want it. I want it for you, for us... and I know that after everything that's happened this past month, and how hurt you were, it's hard to let yourself have hope for this. But I honestly believe it's going to be okay."

He shakes his head faintly, sadly, taking a deep breath before meeting my gaze. "I'd just started to feel okay with the idea of not having another kid. Like really okay. But I don't know if I have it in me to get there again. If we start this, and something comes up-"

"We'll be okay."

"You don't know that, Taylor."

"I'm gonna tell you what I told Ezra twenty minutes ago when he said the exact same thing to me. Minus the tangent about the perils of locking yourself in a room for the rest of your life."

Frowning at me in confusion, he exhales a soft, bemused breath of laughter. "What the fuck are you talking about? What room?"

"Forget the room, the room isn't the important part. The important part was when I told him that no one can ever know for sure whether or not something bad is going to happen, and there's no way to avoid ever feeling pain or being disappointed. No matter what we do, bad stuff happens. But no matter how much bad stuff happens, we get over it and we move on."

"I dunno..."

"I got hit by a car." I point out bluntly. "An SUV, to be more specific. I think it was a Durango..."

"It was a fucking Highlander, and why do we have to talk about this ever?"

"Because I could have died. I didn't, but it was still one hell of a shitty experience all around."

"Agreed." He mutters.

"And now look at us." I smile down at him hopefully, lowering my lips to his for a moment and soothing some of the pain caused by the mere mention of that living nightmare. "Something really awful happened to us, and it was some of the hardest stuff either of us has ever had to go through... but we made it. We came out of it even stronger than we were before. And no matter what happens to us from here on out, we're always going to make it through, and we're always going to come out stronger. I know that, because we're us. It's what we do."

I can't help but grin as he scowls at me in defeat. "I hate you."

"You only hate me because I'm right."

"No, I hate you because you're sappy and it's gross."

"Uh huh." I nod patronizingly, kissing his pouting lips once more. "You keep tellin' yourself that."

"Are you gonna get off of me anytime soon?"

"Hmm... I haven't decided yet. I kinda like it up here. It's comfortable and there's a nice view."

"How nice for you. Meanwhile, I can't feel my hands." He informs me, and I instantly release my firm grasp on his wrists. Which was a big mistake. "Sucker!"

With a swift shove, he pushes me off of him and onto the bed, and I'm caught so off guard that I barely have chance to roll over onto my back before he's straddling me and has my arms pinned to the mattress instead. I could easily do something about it, but he looks so proud of himself. So I decide to play along and pretend that he has effortlessly incapacitated me, and I am no match for his very manly muscles.

"I'd like the record to reflect that you fight dirty."

He smirks smugly as he lowers his face to within an inch of mine. "I do a lot of things dirty."

"Tell me something I don't know."

It's one inch. One measly inch between his lips and mine. I can feel his breath on my skin, I swear I can even feel the devilish smile on his face. But despite how close we are, his lips never actually meet mine. Just as they're about to, we hear Asta squealing "dad!" up the stairs.

"She is definitely sleeping in her own bed tonight." I declare resolutely. "No arguments."

"None." He groans in dissatisfaction as he wearily starts to get off of the bed, but I reach out and grab his hand before he's too far away for me to do so.

I'm sure he knows why I stopped him, I can see it in his eyes as he turns to face me. What I'm not sure of is how he'll respond. "I still want to have a baby with you."

He's clearly torn, wanting to give in just as much as he's afraid to. And I understand that completely. He lost a lot this year, more than anyone would think, more than it looks like on paper. It broke him down and made him doubt himself. His world was shaken, nothing felt as stable to him as it did before, and all he could see was the potential for more loss. But he steadied himself, picked up the pieces, and found a way to be happy with everything he still had. I don't blame him for hesitating when he's presented with the prospect of having more.

Having more means having more to lose.

I don't get any real answer from him. He gives my hand a slight squeeze before letting it go and leaving the room. It's not a no, but it's not a yes, either. And now all I can do it wait until he decides if this is something he wants to pursue again, if it's something he feels he has it in him to pursue. I believe he does. I believe he's stronger than he'll ever know or admit, and I believe he can handle anything the world throws at him.

But I'm not the one who needs to believe it.

He does a good job of avoiding me for the rest of the day. Or maybe it just feels like he's avoiding me. It's not like we're never in the same room together, or that we don't speak at all. But we're never alone, he makes sure of it. I wish he wouldn't, because I honestly have no intention of harassing him about having a baby any more than I already have. At least... not today.

Once the kids are all in bed, he has no one to make conversation with except me. But instead of taking it like a man and talking to me about anything, he tries to distract me with sex. I say 'tries'... succeeds is probably more accurate.

I'm not about to turn down the kind of sex that's designed to leave me too worn out to even speak!

Or any sex he's willing to offer me, for that matter.

I fall asleep beside him, completely exhausted in the best way possible, and when I wake up the next morning I'm expecting to find Asta occupying the middle of the bed again. It doesn't matter how many times he agrees with me when I tell him that she's not getting in bed with us anymore, he's incapable of turning her away and I should probably just accept that. But when I roll over, I see no sign of Asta. Or Tommy. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I push the comforter off of me and slip off of the bed, glancing into the open adjoining bathroom just to make sure he's not in there. The house is completely still and silent, and I have a strong suspicion about where it is I'm going to find him.

Sure enough, when I cautiously turn the handle on Asta's bedroom door and slowly push it open, I find him lying on her bed. He's on top of her comforter while she's snuggly nestled beneath it, cuddled up against him. There's about a foot of empty space on her side of the bed, and he's so close to the edge of the mattress on his side that he can't possibly roll over without falling off of it completely. It's ridiculous. And it's beautiful. And there's no way I can resist the urge to go back to our room and grab my phone so that I can get a picture before either of them wakes up (or he falls on his ass).

With several shots safely stored away on my iPhone's camera roll, and one uploaded to my Instagram, I quietly kneel beside the bed and try to shake him awake without disturbing her in the process. I also make sure to keep one hand on his back so that I can push him onto the bed if he wakes up so suddenly that he starts to fall off. It takes a while to get him to do more than grunt at me in protest, but eventually my persistence pays off and he opens his eyes.

"You know, I only said Asta couldn't sleep in our bed anymore. I never said you had to go, too."

"I didn't mean to." He yawns, sitting up unsteadily and groaning as he stretches his back. "She came in and woke me up, so I brought her back in here. But she wouldn't let me leave, so I figured I'd stay until she went back to sleep."

"And then you fell asleep?"

"I guess."

"You looked pretty comfy." I tease. "Maybe you'd prefer to sleep in here from now on?"

He snorts in dissent as he carefully gets off of the bed and plods sleepily out into the hall. "No, thanks."

"Or we could get some Princess Elsa sheets for our room, too, if that would make you feel more at home?"

"Weren't you the one telling me to stop bringing girls into bed with us?" Touché. "What the hell time is it anyway?

"Early." I reply unhelpfully while trying to stifle a yawn of my own. "Too early."

A flirtatious smile spreads across his face as he grabs my hand, pulling me abruptly into our bedroom and closing the door behind us. "Well, since we have some time to kill..."

"You woke up fast!" I laugh softly, allowing him to lead me over to the bed and give me a playful push down onto it.

"I had pretty good incentive."

"Only pretty good?"

He shrugs nonchalantly before climbing onto my lap and draping his arms loosely around my neck. "Wanna do something about that?"

More diversion sex?

I'm not complaining or anything, but if he's going to continue jumping on me every time he's faced with the prospect of having to speak to me, I'm going to need to make sure I'm extra hydrated!

By the time he's done with me, I'm in need of another full night's sleep. But the kids are starting to wake up, and we have to get them fed and ready for their first day of summer camp, so mass amounts of coffee will have to suffice.

This summer is the first one that we're spending (mostly) at home since our move to L.A.. The past two summers we've been out on the road the entire time, in this country and abroad, so we never really had to worry about keeping five kids entertained all day, every day. This summer there was no tour to occupy their three month break from school, and I knew I was going to be busy finishing up the album and finalizing tour plans. Jenna has her own life now, so even though she was still willing to pitch in whenever possible, she wasn't able to set any kind of consistent schedule, and I didn't want to leave Tommy to cope with the kids by himself day in and day out. We were starting to panic a little until River came home from school one day begging us to let him go to some day camp in Griffith Park that one of his classmates was going to.

I googled it, and it looked like kid heaven!

They had activities all of my kids would love, plus some they'd never even had the chance to try before, and they went on weekly trips to everywhere from Knott's Berry Farm to the beach. I kinda wanted to spend the summer there myself, but sadly for me, they only accepted kids between the ages of five and twelve. So I guess I'm just gonna have to buy my own archery set and practice my 'Hunger Games' survival skills in the backyard or something.

They're signed up from now until the Friday before school starts again, and Asta's pre-school is open all summer, so we're completely covered! Tommy's probably wishing that wasn't the case right about now, though, because as soon as they're all dropped off for the day, there will be no distractions left.

He cannot possibly think he's going to spend the next seven hours doing nothing but getting me off. He's going to have to talk to me eventually...

Right?

Chapter Text

I never went to summer camp when I was a kid.

My only frame of reference comes from movies, so I was aware that what I imagined it to be like probably wasn't very accurate. I hoped it wasn't accurate, because it either meant our kids would be doing arts and crafts with a serial killer, or one of them was gonna bump into the British twin they didn't know they had and chaos would ensue.

Fun for the whole family.

Getting the kids settled in took a lot longer than I expected. I don't know why I thought we could just walk them from the car to the lodge, check them in, wave goodbye, and head right home. It was more involved than their first day at school!

We had to sign them all in, find them all places to put their backpacks, and go over each of their daily schedules individually to make sure that they were all registered for the right activities (because god forbid they might have to play soccer when they actually wanted to play softball). Even after the kids had been led away by several incredibly perky camp councilors, Taylor and I still weren't allowed to leave. There were parking passes to pick up, extra forms to fill out (and of course they were all specific to each kid, so we had to fill our four of each), and we were given a check list of stuff that they need to bring with them on certain days (which we apparently needed to have explained to us in exhaustive detail).

It was probably mostly for my benefit. I bet if Taylor had dropped the kids off without me, he wouldn't have had things spelled out for him. But people look at me and think, "Uh-oh! No way is that guy gonna be reliable!"

At the first opportunity, we ducked out and ran straight back to the car. It was pretty fucking amusing, actually. I felt like a naughty kid sneaking out of summer camp, not a parent on their way to do responsible adult... things.

It stops being funny once we get into the car, though. The drive home starts in complete silence, and after five minutes it's too quiet for me, so I start fiddling with the radio, trying to find something to listen to that doesn't totally suck. It's a challenge, but I'm determined to succeed because when there's no music, the pressure to speak is suffocating.

And I don't even know why!

We've never had this problem before, we've never struggled to find things to talk about. But right now I feel like he's waiting for me to answer this really huge question, and until I do it's just weird if we chat like everything is totally normal. And since I don't know if I have an answer yet, and I don't wanna deal with him constantly asking the question or trying to sway me, I need to keep him distracted. When the kids are around it's easy, but when it's just the two of us, like right now, the only thing I can think of to do is maul him. Repeatedly.

Except that I can't do that while he's driving.

Well... I guess I could...

No, Tommy! Bad, Tommy!

I abandon my quest to find something decent on the radio; I'm not sure such a thing exists in this day and age. Instead, I dig my phone out of my pocket and pretend to be as engrossed in my Twitter feed as possible. I might not be able to distract him, but maybe if I look distracted it'll have the same effect. While I'm scrolling through all of the Tweets I've missed (I should follow fewer people. Like... waaaay fewer), I spot something posted by one of my friends reminding everyone he knows to come and see him and his band play at Molly Malone's tonight. At least half a dozen people that I haven't seen or talked to in almost a year have replied to tell him they'll be there, and I kinda want to be there, too.

It's a little intimidating to think about seeing them all after so long. It's like I just fell off of the face of the Earth or something, I was so wrapped up in my own life. I don't even know if they'd be happy to see me at this point.

There's only one way to find out.

"You mind if I go out tonight?" I blurt out, startling Taylor enough that I notice him jump a little in his seat.

"Uh... no. Of course not."

"Thanks."

"Where're you going?" He asks as I hit reply on the Tweet and start typing. "Getting together with Isaac?"

"Nah, he's still on tour. I'm just gonna see a band one of my old friends is in. A few people I know are going, I figured it'd be a good chance to catch up and everything."

"That's great!"

I instinctively smile at his enthusiasm. He's probably more excited about this than I am. "Hope so."

"What do you mean?" He frowns uncertainly, glancing over at me before making the turn onto Beachwood Drive. "You don't think it'll be good?"

"I haven't seen any of them in forever."

"Well, now's your chance.  You were just saying a few weeks ago how you wanted to start having more of a social life and seeing your old friends again, so this is perfect."

"Yeah, but..." I shrug half-heartedly as I turn my phone screen off and slip it back into my pocket. "It might be awkward, you know? They might be pissed at me for being MIA."

"I'm sure they'll understand."

"Maybe."

"No one can resist you." He teases in an obvious attempt to lift my spirits and ease my nerves. "Believe me, I've tried."

"You have never tried to resist me. Not once."

"You don't know that! Maybe I try all the time, and you're so irresistible that I don't stand a chance."

"Yeah, right." I scoff doubtfully. "I'm sure that deep down you're silently begging for mercy every time we fuck."

"Hey, sometimes I beg for mercy out loud." He retorts with a wicked smile. "There's been more the one occasion where I've legitimately feared that I might not survive having sex with you!"

"So you think I'm gonna fuck you to death one day, is that is?"

"I'm not saying it'd be intentional or anything, but... yeah, maybe."

"You've officially lost whatever was left of your mind."

"You don't know what it's like! You haven't had sex with you, so you have no idea what it does to a person!"

I don't know how we get into shit like this, but I swear it happens on a daily basis. We have these dumbass little bickering matches about nothing. There's no hostility, because it's never about anything significant. That's why it's so fucking ridiculous. We can take nothing significant and have an hour long debate about it!

I fucking love it.

As we pull into the driveway, we're still totally immersed in our little dispute about whether or not my dick is capable of murder (although according to Taylor it wouldn't be murder, it would be involuntary manslaughter). I almost don't wanna get out of the car and go into the house, because I know that as soon as we go inside this conversation is quickly gonna come to an end. And then everything's gonna be quiet, and he's gonna look at me with those big, hopeful blue eyes of his, and I'm not gonna know what the fuck to say to him. Again.

"So... what do you wanna do today?" He asks casually, dropping his keys in the basket on the end table by the front door and shrugging off his jacket. "We could hang out here and recover from all of the recent not hanging out here? Or we could go for a hike or something if you felt like getting out of the house for a while?"

Both of those suggestions would sound good to me under normal circumstances. But right now they both sound like a lot of one-on-one time.

A lot of talking.

I can get on board with the one-on-one time, but only if talking is limited. Which means...

"I think we should definitely stay home." I tell him as I follow him into the kitchen, lingering less than a foot behind him while he pours himself yet another cup of coffee. "In fact, I think we should stay right here."

"Right here in the kitchen?" He laughs softly, turning to face me and clearly surprised to find me standing so close. I reach up and take the mug out of his hands before placing it on the kitchen counter beside us, and he curiously watches every move I make. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothin'."

"So then why'd you take my coffee away? You know I can't function unless I-"

Kissing him is not always a surefire way to shut him up. Taylor Hanson doesn't like to leave anything unfinished, sentences included. But apparently he doesn't feel a pressing need to be heard this morning, because instead of trying to continue speaking regardless of the fact that his lips are preoccupied with mine, he doesn't hesitate to kiss me back. My hands inch slowly down his chest before dropping straight to his belt, but I don't even have chance to unbuckle it because he grabs by wrists to stop me.

"Is this you trying to resist me?" I taunt playfully, leaning in to kiss him again as I try to yank my arms out of his grasp. I can't, though, because his fingers tighten their hold. "What?"

"I'm not trying to resist you. I'm trying to spend ten minutes alone in a room with you without either of us having an orgasm."

Well, shit. That doesn't sound like much fun. "We just spent like half an hour alone in a car together, doesn't that count?"

"No, because I was distracted by driving, so you didn't need to use sex to distract me."

"Can't a guy just -"

"Tommy, stop." He sighs, giving me his most serious look. I hate that look. It's almost as bad as the sad puppy look. "Talk to me."

"I don't want to." Damn. That didn't come out right. I mean, I guess it kinda did, but I didn't intend for it to sound so cold. I definitely didn't want to make him look as hurt as he does. That's worse than the puppy look and the serious look combined! "I just... I know what you wanna talk about, and I know what you want me to say, but... I don't know what I want to say yet."

"I know you don't." He assures me sympathetically as his thumbs soothingly caress the backs of my hands. "And you don't know what I want you to say, either.  Because I only want you to say whatever you want to say."

"No, you want me to say I wanna have a baby."

"Not if you honestly don't want to. I think you do, even if you wish you didn't... but I'm not gonna harass you about if every chance I get, I swear. As far as I'm concerned, it's totally up to you. You know how I feel; if you want to do this, I'm in. Just say the word. But if you don't, you don't have to say anything. And in the mean time, we'll just... get on with our lives. Which means you can stop jumping me all the time in an attempt to avoid talking about it."

"So if I never say anything about it again...?"

He shrugs one shoulder in a futile attempt to seem totally indifferent. "Then we never talk about it again."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What do you want?" I press impatiently.

"I want you to be happy."

God-fucking-damnit, he's infuriating sometimes! "Taylor-"

"I mean it!" He laughs, which only pisses me off more. Normal people don't fucking laugh about serious shit! "You don't believe I want you to be happy?"

"I don't believe it's all you want."

"When it comes to us having another kid, it is."

"So you're totally fine with the idea of us not having another kid?" I ask him skeptically. And there might also be a little outrage underneath that skepticism. Because I wanted this so fucking badly, so how can he not care either way?! "It's all the same to you?"

"That's not what I said." That serious look is back on his face again, and it's pretty obvious that he's not finding any of this amusing anymore. "I've done this five times. I've been there for the pregnancy test results, and to see their first sonograms, and hear their heartbeats for the first time. I got to help name them... or have an opinion on it, at least. I got to watch them being born, and hear their first cries, and be one of the very first people in the whole world to ever hold them. I know you wanted to experience all of those thing, and I wanted you to experience them. I wanted to experience them with you. So, no, it's not 'all the same' to me, and I'm not totally fine with us not having this baby."

"Exactly!"

"But what I want more than anything is for you to be happy. If you want things to stay the way they are, then that's the way they'll stay. Will I be bummed out about never getting to see a mini version of you running around the house, cussing up a storm? Yeah." I don't want to smile. I don't want to smile! I hate him. "You're the one who'll be missing out the most, though. I don't want you to regret never having those experiences. Not that we can't still do this in ten years if you change your mind, or even twenty-"

"Ezra and Penny would be in their thirties by then! No fucking way are we gonna be having kids when our kids are having kids! Even your parents didn't push it that far!" 

He rolls his eyes at me, smiling softly as he pulls me closer and snakes his arms loosely around my waist. "All I'm trying to say is that it's still an option, and it'll be an option for as long as I can make it one. If you say no now, that doesn't mean you can't change your mind later. I just want you to know that."

I don't know what to say.

He does this to me sometimes. He's been doing it since we first met, so you'd think I'd be used to it. But it doesn't matter how many insanely sweet things he says to me, it always seems to catch me completely off guard. He'll say something heartfelt and romantic (i.e. sappy), and I'll just stand in front of him like a total moron and say absolutely nothing. And when I am finally capable of stringing words together, I'll open my mouth and something childish will usually come flying out, like "fuck you", or "shut up", or "I hate you".

Or sometimes, like right now, I can't even manage to say that much. So I just kiss him instead.

"You're trying to use your wiles on me again." He accuses during one of the incredibly brief moments when our lips part. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"I'm not wiling you." I assure him sincerely, curling my fingers in the front of his t-shirt and luring him across the kitchen as I slowly back my way out of the room. "Promise."

He raises a suspicious eyebrow at me, even as he steers me away from a near collision with the dining table. "It sure as hell feels like wiling."

"If it was wiling, your pants would already be off." I smirk at the distrustful expression on his face. "I'm not trying to distract you or avoid talking about anything."

"So what are you trying to do?"

We reach the stairs and come to a stop, and I let go of his t-shirt so that I can take him by the hand instead. "I'm trying to say something."

"Why can't you say it here?"

"Because it's not a staircase kind of thing, or a kitchen floor kind of thing."

"What kind of thing is it?"

My only response to his incessant questioning is to lean in and leaving a soft, lingering kiss on his lips before giving his hand a gentle tug.

I've never been all that good with words. Every once in a while I'll randomly say something that borders on being profound, or on rare occasions I might accidentally blurt out something schmaltzy. And Taylor's never been offended by my inability (or unwillingness) to be as openly mushy as he is, because he knows it's not who I am. It doesn't mean I don't feel those things, but putting them into words and saying them out loud doesn't come easy for me.

I've always been much better at show than tell.

It's been a long time since we had the luxury of spending pretty much all day in bed. Or a long time since we took the opportunity to, I guess. Technically we could do it every day of the week if we were willing to live in a dirty house with an empty fridge and no clean clothes until our kids were eventually removed from the premises by a social worker.

But we're not, so we don't.

Allowing ourselves to do it once a year, however, probably won't send our entire lives spiraling into total squalor.

Lying here beside him, watching him peacefully drift in and out of sleep, all I can think about, all I can hear in the silence of our bedroom is everything he said to me this morning.

It's not like I suddenly stopped wanting to have a baby with him. Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, I want it more now than I did before. When I picture us with this baby, and every experience that comes with it, it makes me stupidly happy. And when I think about never having any of those experiences with him, it hurts. Like really fucking hurts. But it seems as though it's somehow less painful if it's my choice than it would be if it was decided for me.

I can't have something taken from me if I never had it to begin with.

Three-thirty comes a  hell of a lot sooner than I'd hoped. Taylor is in one of the 'in' stages of his in and out of sleep cycle, so instead of waking him up I carefully get off of the bed and gather up my clothes from the floor. He'll probably complain later, but if I'm going out in search of a social life tonight then I figure the least I can do is deal with the pre-school and summer camp pickup while he gets some rest.

The kids are all smiles when I get to the camp, and they're also all completely wiped out. After school they're usually pretty mentally drained for a while, but they still have plenty of energy. Now it's the other way around, and it's kind of awesome. Asta's the only one who doesn't drape herself all over the couches and chairs in the family room the minute we get home, but she's still happy to hang out in there and play with her toys while I go upstairs to find Taylor and see if he has forgiven me for abandoning him. He texted me while I was at Asta's pre-school, whining about me sneaking out and leaving him in bed all alone. He used an unnecessary number and variety of sad faced emojis. It was pathetic.

But I'm not gonna pretend it didn't make me smile.

Speaking of pathetic, my anxiety over seeing my friends for the first time all year is beyond pathetic. A few years ago it would have been a totally normal thing for me to head into Hollywood on a weeknight to see a show. But even though I haven't ceased going to shows entirely, I usually only go with Taylor or with the friends he and I share. It's my own fault; I never gave most of my old friends a chance to get to know him, I never made an effort to include them in our life. I guess I assumed that they wouldn't fit, that they wouldn't 'get it', because most of them were either single or childless (or both), and I was suddenly married with five kids. Despite Taylor's frequent nudging, I never felt like it was fair for me to go out to a bar with my friends if he was at home with the kids. And eventually I didn't even really want to go out, I was happy to stay home.

I honestly wouldn't blame any of them if they gave me the cold shoulder tonight. I deserve it. I disappeared, I basically cut myself off from them without explanation. Now I realize that I was an idiot for doing that, but just because I've finally pulled my head out of my ass doesn't mean they have to forgive me for shoving it up there in the first place.

The last time I paced around nervously outside a bar this way was when Alex invited me to a JJAMZ show that Taylor was gonna be at. He was trying to set us up, and we both knew it. I almost didn't go in, because I was convinced that nothing good could come from the two of us spending time together.

I was wrong then, so hopefully I'm wrong now.

"Tommy?"

I instinctively turn to find out if the once familiar female voice belongs to who I think it does, and it's a relief when I see the look of elated surprise on Aiyana's face. "Hey."

"See?" Nick grins smugly as he nudges her gently with his elbow. "I told you he was coming."

"I know, but..." Shaking her head in disbelief, she walks over to me and throws her arms around my neck. "It's been forever!"

"Or a year." I tease her lightly, hopefully, wrapping my arms around her waist and returning her hug. "It's good to see you guys."

"You too, honey." She sighs as she reluctantly lets me go and takes a small step back. "Damn, you look good! Don't you ever age?"

"I try not to."

 "I hope I still look as young as you do when I have five kids!"

"We're not having five kids, so you don't need to worry about that." Nick quickly informs her before shifting his focus to me. "And where the hell is my hug? I'm a person, too, ya' know!"

"Nice to see you're still the same needy little bitch you've always been."

"Yeah, well, not all of us decided to become a responsible adult overnight, daddy." He mocks as he pulls me into a tight hug.

"It wasn't overnight, believe me."

"Let's hope it happens overnight for you." Aiyana tells him playfully with a gentle slap on the arm. "You've only got five months left to transform yourself into parent material, and you're not exactly a quick study."

"Wait..." I look back and forth between them in confusion, trying to figure out if Aiyana's comment means what I think it does. "You guys are having a kid?"

"Apparently." She sighs in feigned dissatisfaction, thrusting her stomach out a little to emphasize the barely-there bump beneath her sequined tank top. "I was just as surprised as you are."

Nick grins proudly as he throws his arm around her shoulders. "Nothing can stop me!"

"Wow... I just... wow."

I think the appropriate thing to say in this situation is 'congratulations'. And I'm sure that when I'm done staring at Aiyana's stomach like I've never seen a pregnant woman before, that's exactly what I'll say.

"We're naming him Nick Junior."

"We're really not." She objects with a roll of her eyes. "And we're not naming him Wolfgang, either."

"Hey! I'm the husband in this relationship, and if I want to name my son something totally fucking kickass like Wolfgang, I'm gonna..." His words falter suddenly when he notices the extremely unimpressed look on her face, and he hangs his head in defeat. "I'm gonna ask my beautiful wife for permission first."

"Thank you."

"When the fuck did you guys get married?" I ask in shock, still trying to wrap my head around all of the changes they've been through since we last spoke.

"A couple of months ago." Beams Aiyana.

"Vegas, baby! It's the only way to do it. I almost wanna divorce her just so we can do it again."

"I can't believe I didn't know any of this. I'm so sorry, you guys. I've been such a shitty friend-"

"Stop." She insists dismissively, waving off my apology like it's unnecessary. I still don't think it is, though. "You've been busy, we all get it."

"That's not an excuse, though. You all have lives, and jobs, and you still make time for each other."

"Not as much as we used to." Laments Nick somewhat sadly. "Everyone's getting married, or knocked up, or moving out to the 'burbs to buy a minivan... we're getting old."

"No one blames you for dropping off the radar. We missed you, and we'd love to see you more often, but we know that having five kids probably makes it hard to do stuff like this on a regular basis."

 And that reasoning might make me feel better if it were true, but it's not. I always assumed the same thing, it was one of the reasons why moving in with Taylor and becoming a step-parent to his kids was so scary for me. I thought it would change everything. And even though a lot of things have changed, it didn't turn my life upside down and inside out in the ways I expected it would.

I changed more than my situation did, and I chose not to make this kind of thing a priority anymore.

"I'm still sorry."

"Forgiven."

"Buy me a drink and we'll call it even." Winks Nick cheekily.

Half of the people who said they were going to show up tonight are already inside, and they greet me just as warmly as Aiyana and Nick did. She was right; not one of them blames me for being absent, no one holds it against me. And after we've finished playing catch up and everyone has a drink in their hands, it feels as though no time has passed at all since we were last together.

I didn't realize just how much I've missed this. I needed to give myself permission to have this in my life again, to be a little stupid for a few hours with my friends, to have too much to drink, and be rowdy, and act like I don't have a care in the world. I think I held myself back from it because it seemed like it would be a step back for me, and that's crazy. I don't have to give up who I was before in order to be who I am now, or vice versa. I can be both without it having any negative impact on my life.  

Tonight I may be a drunk idiot, but tomorrow I will get up and take my kids to summer camp, and go grocery shopping, and be a grown up again.

Besides, it's not like I don't have a few adult moments here and there throughout the evening. Like reassuring my friend Seth, who's debating making an offer on a house, that owning instead of renting isn't as intimidating as it seems. Or convincing Nadia, who is getting married next month, that having sex with only one guy for the rest of her life isn't as depressing as her unhappily married cousin told her it will be. I even manage to talk (or slur, to be more accurate) a very drunk Nick down from an alcohol induced freak out over his impending fatherhood.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, I apparently became the most mature member of our little group. I never thought that would happen! And not only that, I'm now the guy everyone else comes to for pep talks about all of the things that used to be so big and scary to me.

Because they're not scary to me anymore.

I'm too drunk to drive home, so Aiyana and Nick offer me a ride. And somewhere between Molly Malone's and the Hollywood Hills, I slowly start to sober up. At least enough to reflect on everything that's happened tonight.

Three of my friends confided in me that they're afraid of these huge steps they're about to take, even though they want to take those steps. And I sat there in that bar and told all of them that it'll be worth it, no matter how scared they are right now. Which is totally fucking hypocritical of me, because I've spent the last twenty-four hours telling myself that I can't want to have a baby because the thought of having it ripped away from me again is too hard to face.

Since when am I the kind of person who runs away from what they want just because getting it or keeping it might not be easy? I mean, yeah, okay, there's been some back and forth over a few things in my life, but I've always gotten over myself and gone for it in the end. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be who I am or where I am now.

I wouldn't be married to the only guy, the only person, I've ever been in love with.

I wouldn't have five amazing kids at home.

I wouldn't be happy.

I wouldn't be me.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The very first batch of surrogate matches Alyssa sent us last month were... okay. They all sounded nice enough, but obviously none of them stood out to us because despite how desperate we were to keep things moving forward, we never bothered to set up meetings with any of them. This second batch was a different story. Of the six profiles she'd collected for us over the month or so since I'd put a hold on our search, two of them caught our attention, and Alyssa was able to arrange meetings with both of them within the next week. We're meeting the first couple this Friday, and the second couple on Monday morning. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it's hard. 

Especially because I feel as though it's my job to hope enough for two.

After we got word from Alyssa about the meetings, there was nothing more to be done on our end (aside from coming up with a list of questions we wanted to make sure we asked both surrogates). So we've done our best to put it out of our minds and act like everything is totally normal. I can't tell whether or not Tommy is acting, though. Usually I can see through him when he's trying to hide his feelings from me. But I can't read him at all anymore when it comes to this particular subject. I think maybe some part of him has decided to pretend that none of it is actually happening, and that nothing is going to come of these meetings. He's got himself so convinced that he genuinely believes he doesn't care all that much.

I'm not sure what it's going to take to snap him out of it, honestly. I'm hoping that the more real it gets, the more secure he'll feel about allowing himself to be happy and accept that it's not going to be taken away from him again. But I don't know how real it's going to have to get in order for him to start being excited. Maybe once we've chosen a surrogate, and all of the legalities have been figured out, and the paperwork has been finalized? Or maybe when they do the embryo transfer? Maybe it won't happen until our surrogate has that all important positive pregnancy test result.

I sure as hell hope I don't have to wait for the baby to be born before the joy of impending parenthood kicks in for him!

One of the best ways we came up with for keeping our minds off of the first surrogate meeting tomorrow, other than focusing on the kids, is having some friends over for the evening. I haven't seen Alex in almost two months, which is way too long in my opinion. But between our original surrogate search, him recording and rehearsing new music, and my trip to Tulsa, there hasn't been a whole lot of free time for us to spend together. I can't even remember when I last saw Z! And for Tommy it's been even longer since he's hung out with either of them. They're heading out on their first tour as 'Phases' in a few weeks, so there's a good chance that this will be the last we'll see of them for another month or so, at least.

I tried to hide the fact that they were coming over from the kids, but they're too smart for my tactics. Maybe smart isn't the right word; sneaky is probably more accurate. A little eavesdropping from Penny after dinner, and suddenly they all knew that Alex and Z were supposed to be coming over right after they went to bed. But once they knew about it, they all refused to go to bed without getting to say hi to them.

The boys all love Alex. Between his endless energy and his willingness to act completely crazy on command, he's probably one of their favorite people in Los Angeles, if not the entire world. No one can compete with Uncle Zac, but Alex comes in a close second. No other adults in their lives are as game for acting like oversized children as the two of them.

And Penny adores Z. I'm pretty sure she wants to grow up to be just like her (or Taylor Swift). Whenever she sees her she gets this awed look on her face, like she's standing in the presence of a real princess or a unicorn or... something. Something pretty and sparkly that a ten year old girl would worship. But after spending ten minutes in a room with Z, Penny stops shamelessly staring at her and starts studying her. The way she talks, the way she laughs, the way she walks, her mannerisms, her hairstyle, her clothes. And she'll spend the next week or so trying her hardest to emulate her. It's kind of adorable, except for how short she tries to wear her skirts. I cannot get on board with that part. Maybe in ten years.

Or twenty.

Maybe never.

Probably never.

Of course, letting the kids "say hi" turns into letting them stay up half an hour past their bed times. Though it was technically less about us letting them stay up than it was them conning their way into staying up late because they're cute and have developed selective deafness (especially to the words "bed" and "sleep"). In order to finally get them to say goodnight and go upstairs, I have to promise to invite Alex and Z over earlier in the day next time. And soon.

"We need to visit you guys more often." Chuckles Z as she and Alex follow me and Tommy down the stone steps that lead to the patio by the pool. "I can't think of anywhere else where I can get good wine, good company, and that big of an ego boost for free without having to perform first!"

"Seriously." Alex agrees, taking his seat at the patio table and setting his beer down on the glass surface. "Your kids make me feel like more of a rock star than any crowd of fans ever has."

"That's why we keep 'em around." Jokes Tommy with a sly smile. "The blind adoration."

"Speaking of blind adoration, we still haven't been to one of your shows." I remark somewhat ashamedly. "Do you have an L.A. date on the tour? I wanna camp out for front row."

Tommy shakes his head at me in exaggerated shame. "I married a total loser."

"You won't be saying that when you see my glittery 'I Heart Alex' sign."

"I won't be saying anything, I'll be too busy filing for divorce!"

"We already played a few shows down here last month. All of which you missed." Accuses Alex as he scowls at me from across the table. "Some friend you are."

"That's why I was asking! I wanna make it up to you by being the biggest fanboy you've ever had."

"You already are the biggest fanboy I've ever had." He grins cheekily. "Emphasis on big. Emphasis on had."

And for emphasizing those things, he receives a 'fuck you' kick in the shin from Tommy.

"If you're free next Friday, we're playing a show at Morongo Casino." Z shrugs, but Alex is already shaking his head adamantly and trying to swallow his mouthful of beer as quickly as he can in order to protest further.

"Nah, they don't wanna come to that one. It's like two hours away. And that's if traffic isn't shit, which it always is." He insists with such certainty that I can't help but wonder why he's trying to talk us out of coming to the show when usually he'd be trying to guilt us into coming.

"Two hours isn't that bad." I shrug unconcernedly, turning to Tommy to gauge his level of interest. "Maybe we can get Jenna or Lisa to watch the kids, and we could book a room at the casino? Make a real night of it?"

"Fuck yeah!" His eyes light up immediately, and he wastes no time fishing his phone out of his pocket, presumably to text his sister.

"There might not be any tickets left." Alex continues to try to dissuade us, which unfortunately for him only makes me more determined to go. "And the hotel might be totally booked."

"Then we'll stay somewhere else." Tommy replies dismissively as he continues to type on his phone. "Anywhere with a bed and a lockable door works for me."

"Why're you being so fucking lame about it?" Asks Z in amusement, poking Alex playfully in the arm. "You've been harassing them about coming to a show for months."

"It's not even our show, though. We're not the main act-"

"Who is the main act?" I press, growing more and more intrigued by his behavior with every passing second. But when his eyes meet mine, I have a strong suspicion I know the answer before Z confirms it for me out loud.

"It's Adam Lambert. I'm kinda surprised you guys weren't already planning to go."

Now I wish I'd just let Alex dissuade us.

My gaze automatically darts to Tommy's face, the way it always does whenever Adam's name comes up in conversation, or on the TV or radio. He's still staring at his phone, pretending to be completely unaffected by this piece of information. But his fingers aren't typing nearly as deftly as they were a minute ago. It's as though he suddenly has to think very carefully about every single letter before he presses it.

"We're on the same label." Alex explains almost apologetically. "We weren't asked to do it so much as told-"

"It's cool." Tommy shrugs, refusing to look up from the screen. "It'll be great exposure for you guys."

"Yeah, but..."

Z frowns as Alex's voice trails off sadly, and everything becomes uncomfortably quiet. After glancing back and forth between Tommy and Alex a few times, she shoots a questioning stare my way. But all I can do is nod my head towards Tommy and give her a very pointed look that I can only hope she understands.

"Oh... shitballs." She murmurs, her face falling as realization finally sets in. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking blonde. I totally forgot about what happened with him."

"I'm fine." Tommy continues to insist as he boldly raises his eyes to meet all of our concerned gazes and forces a confident smile. "It's not a big deal. I mean, we're still friends and everything." Friends who haven't spoken in almost 4 months. "We just don't work together anymore, that's all."

"You guys don't have to come." Z assures him sympathetically. "There'll be tons of other shows."

Tommy looks at me expectantly, but all I can do is look helplessly back at him until he tells me exactly what it is he wants me to do here. "Tell them I'm fine."

Uh... "He's fine."

"Tell them we're going. End of subject."

"We're going." I nod emphatically. "End of subject... apparently."

"Did I say 'apparently'?" Tommy chastises me teasingly.

"No sir, you did not. I was insubordinate, and you should punish me however you see fit."

"Can we watch?" Z giggles as Alex eagerly clasps his hands together and starts pleading with god under his breath. "I won't take pictures, skank's honor."

Those two are so completely made for each other. "Maybe later."

"You need to keep your woman satisfied, Greenwald." Tommy informs Alex condescendingly. "Poor thing needs to live vicariously through a couple of gay guys to get her rocks off."

"My needs are totally unmet." Concurs Z, turning to Alex with a pitiful pout on her lips as she bats her eyelashes at him. "Why don't you love me?"

"Knock it off." He warns her playfully before throwing an arm around her shoulders, practically holding her in a headlock while he kisses the top of her head and she giggles uncontrollably. "You can hardly handle the level of satisfaction I provide."

"Maybe she's fakin' it."

"Maybe you should ask your hubby if he ever needed to fake it when he was with me, 'cause he always seemed more than satisfied when I-"

"Or maybe we should change the subject!" I cut him off quickly, despite the fact that I know it's all in good fun.

Or something that vaguely resembles good fun.

This is what they do. It's what they've done since the day they met, pretty much. And yeah, okay, there's a small amount of significance to it, and maybe once or twice it has veered into less amusing territory. But for the most part it's not about jealousy or about my relationship with either of them. It's about the twisted amount of joy they get out of annoying the crap out of each other. I simply happen to be the most convenient (and merciless) weapon that Alex has in his armory to use against Tommy. Just like calling Alex's 'skills' into question is almost always Tommy's go-to take-down.

"So what're you guys up to for the rest of the summer?" Asks Z in a none-too-subtle attempt to redirect the conversation back to a safer topic. "Are the kids driving you nuts yet?"

"Not so far. But they're at camp pretty much all day, every day."

"The person who came up with the concept of summer camp is a fucking genius." Tommy declares, raising his beer to whoever this (very likely dead) person may be. "Now if only someone would come up with Christmas camp..."

I smirk at him as I lean over and peck him on the cheek. "I think you just did, baby."

"Nah, I swear I've heard of something like that before." Alex disagrees, pulling his phone out of his pocket, probably so that he can google it and prove his point. "Some parent somewhere got so sick of having their kids around the house for Christmas break that they felt compelled to pay a stranger to start a festively themed detention center for minors."

"You're gonna make a great father one day." I chuckle while Z shakes her head at him. But the unconcerned smile on her lips makes it obvious that she knows he's full of shit.

Because he is. 

If we'd had this conversation four years ago, I might have thought differently. I couldn't imagine him hanging out with children back then, let alone parenting them. But seeing him with my kids over the last few years has proved my preconceived notions completely false. Most of the time his role is that of the zany, over-the-top, fake uncle that all my kids love, But there have been numerous occasions where he's been put in charge for extended periods of time and has actually done a really good job of keeping them in line and not letting them destroy the entire house and eat all the sugar! I don't think he sees himself as father material, though. Kind of like how Tommy wasn't able to picture himself taking on that parental role at first.

I hope Alex gets over that fear the way Tommy eventually did; I'm dying to meet his kid one day!

"Can you imagine if we had kids?" Snorts Alex softly as he kicks his feet up onto the arm of Z's chair, completely ignoring the playful scowl she shoots his way as a result. "They'd be way too good looking and talented for this world."

"I dunno..." Tommy argues thoughtfully. "Sometimes attractive couples have really unfortunate looking kids. It's like their good genes kinda cancel each other out or something. Must be the universe's way of maintaining balance, you know?"

"Then it's a good thing you two can't reproduce, 'cause that'd be one hell of an ugly baby." Giggles Z.

"Yeah..." He forces a small smile as he stares down at the bottle of beer in his hands. "Good thing."

Well, shit.

How many more times are we going to need to change the subject this evening? Is anything safe to talk about?! Even the most innocuous topics somehow wind up finding their way to places they shouldn't be going. Now I'm sitting here wracking my brain for something to say, but I feel like I have to think through every possible outcome of every topic I come up with.

"Anyone want another drink?" Tommy asks as casually as he can, already out of his seat.

If anyone had said yes, I would have offered to help just so that I could get a few minutes alone with him to see how he's feeling, or to at least try to cheer him up. But no one else is ready for another round yet, so I have no excuse to follow him. Not without cluing our friends in on the fact that something is wrong, which I know Tommy would be pissed at me for.

"Is he okay?" Alex inquires once Tommy has disappeared into the house.

"He's..." I don't know how to answer that question honestly. "It's been a rough few months, that's all."

He nods understandingly, and the sympathy he feels not only for Tommy but for me is written all over his face. "Sorry I haven't been around much."

"And I'm sorry for inviting you guys to the Morongo show." Sighs Z. "I wasn't thinking, I totally didn't mean to dredge all that up-."

"It's not your fault, either of you. I guess sometimes the stuff with Adam kinda hits him out of nowhere all over again. He just needs a minute to shake it off."

Sure enough, when Tommy rejoins us five minutes later it's as though none of our previous conversations this evening ever took place. He's chatty, relaxed and appears to be feeling totally fine. 

But appearances can be deceiving.

Z and Alex leave just after midnight because we were all yawning so frequently that we could barely make it through complete sentences. As soon as they're gone, my nerves about our imminent surrogate meeting suddenly overwhelm me. I was fine all night, but now all I can think about is how I should have gone to bed much earlier than this, and how shitty I'll look tomorrow if I don't get enough sleep, and how I need to make sure that I remember to take our list of questions with us so that we don't forget to ask anything important.

And Tommy still seems completely carefree.

"We really need to get to bed." I tell him, fighting back another yawn as I gather up the empty beer bottles on the counter before placing them in the recycling bin under the sink as carefully as I can. "We're gonna make the worst impression on everyone tomorrow if we look exhausted."

"I was actually thinking about staying up a while, maybe watching a movie."

Is he serious?! 

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"Probably not." He chuckles with an unconcerned shrug. "I'm not tired yet, though. No point in me lying in bed for hours staring at the ceiling when I could be staring at a projector screen instead."

I guess that makes sense. But I still don't like it.

And I don't understand why he isn't even slightly anxious about tomorrow. It's one thing to pretend not to care if we have a baby or not, but this is more than pretending. If he stays up all night watching movies and is totally out of it in the morning as a result, he's not going to be able to fully engage in a conversation with our potential future surrogate. And they might not even want to be our surrogate if all he does is sit there and space out because he's too tired to focus!

"Just... promise me you'll get some sleep?"

He rolls his eyes at me as he takes a few steps closer, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on my lips. "I have years of experience functioning on no sleep. I'll be fine."

"Tommy-"

"I'm kidding."

"And I'm serious."

"I know you are." He assures me, his face adopting an entirely humorless expression in what I assume is an attempt to mollify me. "I know this is important to you, and I'm not gonna fuck it up."

"It's important to you, too."

At least, I hope it is.

He's been so damn bipolar about it all week, about everything, really. I'm starting to question what the hell it is he actually wants. At first I was absolutely sure he still wanted to have a baby. Now I don't know what to think.

"I know." With a nod of agreement he kisses me one last time. "Go get some sleep and quit stressing out."

That's even less possible now than it was five minutes ago.

I'm  tired enough that my concern about Tommy's lack of concern over all things baby related only keeps me awake for half an hour or so. But the minute I wake up, those worries return. When I first open my eyes I feel a little disoriented. It's kinda like that feeling you get when you think you might have forgotten to do something but you have no idea what it could be. I sit up, letting my eyes adjust to the early morning light for a few seconds...

And then it hits me, that thing I forgot to do (or stopped doing in order to sleep): Stress out.

Last night comes rushing back to me, leaving my stomach churning with nerves. It definitely doesn't help that Tommy isn't sleeping soundly beside me, which means he probably never came upstairs. I force myself out of bed and into the shower, wishing it really was possible to wash my cares away. But when I turn the water off and step out into the steam filled bathroom, my cares are still all present and accounted for. And they've invited some friends over for breakfast.

Tommy's already making coffee by the time I get down to the kitchen, so I'm just going to have to take his word for it that he actually got some sleep. He seems alert enough. No less than usual, anyway. Maybe I was worrying over nothing; it definitely wouldn't be the first time.

"Morning." He smiles at me over his shoulder, just as he would on any other day. "How'd you sleep?"

"Uh... good, I think. Not as much as I should have, but enough." I come to a stop just behind him, my arms encircling his tiny waist while he pours coffee grounds into the filter. I feel him instinctively lean into me, and I automatically hold him a little tighter as I kiss the side of his neck. "How did you sleep."

"Fine. I made it about two thirds of the way through 'Red River' and passed out."

Thank god. "What do you feel like for breakfast?"

"Hmm..." After closing the lid of the coffee maker and pressing the brew button, he turns around in my arms until he's facing me, grinning when he finds that we're basically nose to nose. "Toast."

"With?" I ask, pecking the tip of his nose because it's right there.

"Fruit."

"And?"

"And... that's all."

"Oh no you don't. You need to throw some protein in there."

The grin on his face goes from sweet to wicked in the blink of an eye. "Know what has protein in it?"

"Greek yogurt?" I reply simply, like I have no clue what it is he's really referring to.

"Nope. Think harder..."

With unmistakable determination, his hands firmly grasp my hips and force me around until I'm pinned up against the kitchen cabinet. I should protest, I should at least make a show of being responsible. But I don't particularly want to.

Besides, I could really use a good tension release right now.

Tommy is just about to undo the button on my jeans when Viggo wanders groggily into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes (which thankfully means he can't really see us). "What's for breakfast?"

"Fruit and yogurt parfait with a side of toast." I reply in the most normal voice I can summon while trying to surreptitiously refasten my belt before he becomes attentive enough to his surroundings to notice what I'm doing. "Sound good?"

"Can I have strawberries on my parfait?"

"Sure."

"Okay!"

I feel as though I'm holding my breath as I watch him leave the room and head straight for the TV in the family room to watch cartoons. Tommy, of course, looks incredibly proud of himself, and I do my best to ignore the smug smile on his face while I start getting plates and glasses out of a nearby cupboard. He sidles up to me, until he's close enough to touch me. Only I don't know where he's going to touch me until I feel his hand on my crotch. It shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Enough that I almost drop several glasses on the floor!

"Can I have nuts on my parfait?" He asks oh-so innocently.

"No. No nuts for you!" His smile morphs into a sad little pout, and I have to look away in order to keep myself from laughing. "Go take a shower, you're dirty."

"And damn proud of it."

He smacks me playfully on the butt before heading off towards the stairs, and I stare after him in dazed bewilderment. I'm part amused and part aroused by his mood this morning,  but mostly I'm just confused. It wasn't at all what I expected. Then again, I'm having a much harder time than usual knowing what to expect when it comes to Tommy's moods. He's up and then he's down, he's obsessed and then he's indifferent, he's angry and then he's over it...

Like I said, bipolar.          

Chapter Text

I have a lot of hobbies.

Too many, if you ask Tommy. He says I'm allergic to relaxation, addicted to doing. He's not wrong; I don't know how to just sit and do nothing. And the really stupid thing is, the more pastimes I find to engage in, the less free time I have to enjoy any of them.

Music always comes first, obviously. But that has never been something I consider a "hobby". It's a necessity for me, it's part of who I am, I could never not be a musician. My other interests, on the other hand, are things I could live without if I had to (though hopefully I won't). I've always enjoyed writing; I guess it kind of goes hand in hand with song writing. But I stopped doing as much writing when I took up photography. And then my photography took a backseat to my ever intensifying passion for cooking. Over the last few years, I've taken up hiking, running, and sailing, and Tommy has turned me into more of a TV and movie addict than I've ever been before (if that can even be considered a hobby).

I'm someone who likes to try new things, to push myself, to see and do and be and learn more. I rarely stop to think twice before diving head first into any opportunity to expand my horizons, I'll generally try anything once. But it's the more creative pursuits that I always circle back to eventually, that I never tire of and start to crave when I go too long without indulging in them.

Lately that craving has been for cooking.

Ever since Tommy left on tour, I haven't had much of a chance to spend extended periods of time in the kitchen. I was busy with the kids, and then busy in the studio in Tulsa. I relied on take-out and my mom's home cooking the entire time we were there. Settling into a new routine this week, and wading back out into the anxiety provoking depths of the surrogacy waters, hasn't really left me with much time to think about concocting meals that take more than half an hour to prepare. I noticed towards the end of the week that I was feeling frustrated as I served up yet another uncomplicated dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, so I told Tommy to call his sister and invite her over for dinner so that I would have an excuse to fire up the grill and break out my mortar and pestle.

Yeah, I totally have one of those.

"What time is it?" I ask Tommy as he brings a bottle of red wine out to the patio table and sets it down in the center.

"Just after six."

"And she said they'd be here at six thirty?"

He rolls his eyes at me, strolling across the flagstone and coming to a stop at my side. "For the hundredth fucking time, yes."

"I just wanna make sure everything's ready when they get here."

"It's my sister, loser." He smirks. "You're not cooking for the President."

"It doesn't matter who it is, and you know it."

"I know." He gives a solemn (and patronizing) nod, wrapping his arms around my waist and forcing me to turn away from the grill. "It's okay, I still love you no matter how much of a freak you are."

"Takes one to know one."

"I might be a freak, but at least I'm not a perfectionist control freak. Those are the worst."

I narrow my eyes at him, shifting in his arms until I'm no longer facing him and I can nudge him away with a bump of my hip. "If you want me to burn your food, keep talking."

"You won't burn it. You can't, because it won't be perfect if you do."

"That would be true if I wasn't trying to burn it. If I do it intentionally, it'll be perfectly burnt."

Before he can even think of a scathing retort, let alone voice it, River comes rushing out onto the balcony overlooking the patio to excitedly inform us that "they're here!"

"They're early!"

"Oh no!" Tommy gasps mockingly, pecking me on the lips and giving me a cheeky smile. "The evening is ruined. We should probably just call the whole thing off."

"Shut up and let them in, asshole."

"Shut up and cook my dinner, bitch."

He slaps me on the butt and turns to walk away, but I'm not about to let him leave without some kind of consequence. So just before he slips out of range, I literally kick his ass. I can tell by the glare he casts my way over his shoulder that he'd like nothing more than to come back over here and make me suffer, but he continues walking anyway.

I'm sure I'll be punished for it later (and love every second of it).

For the next few minutes I'm alone on the patio, just me and my grill. It's so peaceful, not a sound aside from the sizzling of the meat and vegetables as I slowly turn each kabob over to check if they're done. I savor every second of it, because I know that I'm about to be joined by ten other people, all of them hungry, and half of them boisterous children. Don't get me wrong, I love the crazy chaos and noise that comes with being surrounded by so many people I care about. But I also yearn for solitude sometimes, and it's not something I get to experience very often.

"Whatever it is you're cooking over there, it smells incredible." Lisa calls out to me enthusiastically as she and David follow Tommy down the stairs towards me.

"It's lamb." Tommy informs her bluntly. "You're a terrible vegetarian."

She gives him a playful shove in the back, but he barely even stumbles onto the next step. Whether or not my sister-in-law sends my husband tumbling down the stairs doesn't concern me as much as the fact that they're being pursued (or pushed) the whole way by a pack of wild animals.

I mean children.

Mostly my children.

I'm so proud.

"Guys, slow down!" I warn them sternly. "Someone could get hurt."

My words fall on deaf ears, and it doesn't matter anyway because by the time I've finished speaking everyone has made it safely to solid ground.

"Dad, when's dinner?" Whines Viggo, ducking under my arm and positioning himself right between my body and the grill, which is way too close for my liking. "I'm hungry!"

"Can I have some pretzels?" River pleads as he eyes the bowl of salad on the patio table like it might actually be a viable solution to the problem of his grumbling stomach.

I sigh, trying to shoo Viggo away from any and all hot surfaces. "No, you can't have pretzels, dinner is almost ready."

"We wanna swim!" Asta announces while she and Bridget bounce up and down in front of Tommy, knowing he's the one adult present who is most likely to give into their demands. "Can we swim?"

"Bridget, we already talked about this on the way here." Her dad reminds her in a very practical tone that so wouldn't work on our kids. "It's too late to go swimming today, maybe next time."

Bridget's eager expression disappears instantly, replaced by a heartbreakingly sad little pout. She turns to her mom, hoping for a different answer, but Lisa simply shakes her head in refusal. So both Bridget and Asta turn their big, brown puppy eyes on Tommy, and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing out loud over how ambushed he looks. It's tough being a pushover.

It's even tougher when your kids know that you're easy prey.

I guess I should save him...

"Dinner's ready!"

The kids hurry over to their table, and thankfully there's minimal shoving or bickering about who gets to sit where. Tommy sets about pouring various drinks for everyone while I serve up dinner; lamb kabobs and parmesan potatoes for those of us who eat meat, and vegetable kabobs for those who don't. River and Viggo tear into their food like it's the first meal they've had all day, but Ezra exhibits more acceptable table manners. And while Penny tries to help Asta cut her meat into manageable pieces, Bridget pulls the vegetables off of her kabob one at a time, taking a bite of each before dropping it on her plate and moving onto the next.

"She's growing up so fast." I hear Lisa sigh wistfully, and I turn my attention away from the kid's table to find that I wasn't the only one watching them.

"I know. It's hard to believe she'll be getting ready for Kindergarten this time next year."

"No, I wasn't talking about Bridget." She smiles knowingly. "But now that you mention it, she's definitely growing up at a pace I'm not comfortable with."

"Who were you talking about then?" Frowns Tommy, taking a sip of his wine. "Asta?"

"Penny."

We can't talk about this.

It's detrimental to my emotional wellbeing. I'm not equipped to deal with the fact that my baby girl is not only no longer a baby, but she's very quickly approaching adolescence. Soon she's going to start developing crushes on boys (or possibly girls, who knows?), and wearing makeup to school, and wanting to leave the house with her midriff exposed...

Nope.

Not happening.

"We don't discuss that kind of thing in this house." Tommy tells her with a grave expression on his face. "Show some respect."

"Men." She teases condescendingly. "You're all such babies sometimes."

"Don't act like you don't freak out about the idea of Bridget getting any older than she already is." David chastises her. "You complain about it almost daily."

"I never said I didn't! But at least I'm willing to acknowledge that it's happening, no matter how much I might hate it. You men just want to bury your heads in the sand and pretend that your little girls are always going to be little girls. But in reality, it's only a matter of time before they're grown wom-"

"Shh!" I demand, covering my ears in horror while Tommy shakes his head at her in disgust.

"Babies. All of you."

I'd rather be considered a baby than face the fact that my daughter is mere years away from her first date, her first kiss, her prom, her high school graduation...

And Asta is only six years behind her!

I think I need to lie down.

Sensing my impending aneurysm, Tommy quickly changes the subject to how Lisa and David's respective jobs are going. It's an obvious diversion from our previous conversation, but they're both happy to play along like it's the most interesting question they've been asked in weeks.

When they ask if anything notable has been going on for us since we saw them last weekend, I unexpectedly find myself having to stuff food in my mouth in order to avoid telling them every detail of our first surrogate meeting on Friday. I know that Tommy and I agreed not to tell anyone else about our plans to expand our family until everything is set in stone, but the closer we get to it being a reality, the stronger the urge gets to confess to anyone who will listen! And yeah, okay, maybe I'm hoping that having more people 'in the know', having more people excited about it, will help Tommy to believe that it's actually happening and that it's not all going to come to a screeching halt again.

After dinner the kids head for the movie room, leaving us adults to clean up. I'm not a very good adult, though, so once the dirty dishes are in the sink, I tell everyone to leave them there and follow me to the family room for some much needed quiet (and some more wine).

"So, Taylor, how's the new album coming along?" David asks curiously. "You said it was going to be finished before you go on tour this fall, right?"

"That's the plan." I chuckle softly, heaving a tired sigh. "It's not quite there yet. But Ike and Zac will be back out here in a week or so, and we're going to spend the rest of the month working on getting everything more polished. If we can actually get it all done before August we might just be able to have the finished product on sale before or during the tour."

"Are you looking forward to touring?"

"Yes and no. I mean, I love touring and performing, and if Tommy and the kids were coming on the road with me, it'd be a straight up 'yes'. But..." I try to smile as I glance at Tommy, who is sitting right next to me. But the sadness I can see in his eyes is probably just as obvious in my own. "It's gonna be hard to be away from them for that long."

"Yeah, but you'll be home for a day or two every week." Tommy reminds me in an attempt to lift both of our spirits. "It's not like we won't see you at all for two months or anything."

"It still sucks."

Lisa shakes her head at me in disbelief. "How are you going to pull off coming home that frequently?"

"It took a lot more planning than a usual tour, believe me." I acknowledge sheepishly. "But it was a non-negotiable for me, and everyone on our team knew it. I know it's gonna be a little hectic-"

"A little?"

"I'm just looking at it like a series of business trips, you know? There are a lot of people out there who are out of town on business almost all week and home on the weekends."

"I guess it's not so insane when you put it like that..." She concedes somewhat dubiously.

"Oh, no, it's totally fucking insane." Argues Tommy without a discernible trace of playfulness in his tone. "But once he gets an idea in that big, thick head of his it's kinda hard to get it out."

"Like you even tried to talk me out of it."

"I said I thought you were crazy."

"That's stating the obvious, but it doesn't count as a protest."

He shrugs dismissively as he turns his face away from me. Probably because he can't look me in the eyes and say whatever it is he's about to say without that straight face of his failing him. "I'm not gonna waste energy I don't have on trying to talk sense into you. I know from experience that you can't be reasoned with, so why fucking bother?"

"Well, you have my word that you won't have to worry about Tommy and the kids while you're gone." Lisa assures me. "We'll check in on them every few days and make sure they're not starving and that the house isn't completely trashed."

"Fuck you." Scowls Tommy, grabbing the pillow sitting next to him on the couch and throwing it across the room at his sister. "I know how to take care of them. I don't need your 'help', so don't think you're gonna be coming over here to like... clean or cook or whatever. Besides, I have way more kids than you, so if anyone is an expert in child rearing, it's me!"

"You're right." She tells him, but I can already tell that it's not a heartfelt statement. "Remind me again what the appropriate reaction is to your toddler giving a sex toy to your dog in front of your mom?"

"There is no appropriate reaction! And if it happened to you, you wouldn't answer mom's calls for two weeks either!" He insists adamantly, glaring at me when he sees how hard I'm trying not to laugh. "You wouldn't think it was so fucking funny if it had been your mom!"

Just the thought of it is enough to wipe the smug smirk off of my face in a heartbeat. He's right, I would have been beyond mortified if my mom had been present when her sweet little granddaughter came running into the family room, waving a dildo in Duke's face before throwing it as far as she could and commanding him to "fetch". I was embarrassed enough that it happened in front of Dia but it was a lot easier for me to get over it and find the humor in the situation than it was for Tommy.

"Speaking of mom," Lisa begins, suddenly seeming much more seriously than she was just a moment ago. "Have you talked to her this week?"

Tommy shakes his head unconcernedly. "Not since last weekend. Why? Is she complaining that I never call her? I swear, unless I do it every fucking day, she-"

"No, it's not that." She sighs. "I just feel like she's been acting a little strange lately."

"Stranger than usual?" He teases lightly, but it doesn't appear to alter Lisa's mood at all.

"She's just been kind of... spacey, I guess. Like something's on her mind and it's really distracting her. You haven't noticed?"

"No. I mean, it was kinda weird that she forgot about brunch, but no one's perfect."

"Maybe she's been thinking about your dad more than usual?" I suggest, instinctively lacing my fingers with Tommy's as I broach the subject. "It's only a few weeks until the anniversary of his death."

"Maybe." He nods pensively. "I can't believe it's been five years already."

"Yeah. ..."

Lisa's voice is barely above a whisper as she speaks. And as it trails off and the room falls into a glum silence, I feel like an idiot for bringing it up. I was just trying to help them figure out why Dia might seem a little "off" right now, but in doing so I've also managed to completely kill the mood and subsequently end what had previously been a great evening. 

It's not something they can live in denial about or escape from, though. It happened, and every year at about this time they have to face that fact all over again. Not to mention the countless moments throughout the year where someone will say something, or something will happen, or we'll go somewhere that holds some kind of significance for them as a family, and they'll be hit by a barrage of memories that are as painful as they are precious. 

His death will never not be this shitty, unfair thing that happened to them, no matter how many years they put between themselves and that day.

It's not long before David reminds Lisa that he has an early meeting in the morning, and for all I know, he's telling the truth. But I wouldn't be surprised or offended if it was just an excuse to call it a night. They follow us through to the movie room to collect Bridget, who is nowhere near as ready to leave as they are. Both she and Asta put up one hell of a fight, even as Lisa is putting Bridget's shoes on at the front door. And when it becomes clear that their pleas for Bridget to stay a little longer aren't going to have the desired outcome, they start begging for Asta to be allowed to sleep over instead. Unfortunately for them, it's a Sunday night, so a slumber party is out of the question. But we manage to pacify them both a little by reminding them that Bridget and her parents will be spending the night here next weekend while Tommy and I are out of town for the Phases show.

We let our kids stay up until their movie is over, but even then they still insist that they're not tired. I believe that Ezra probably isn't, but Viggo can barely keep his eyes open as he whines about the fact that he's "not a baby anymore" and should be allowed to stay up late like his big brother. I'm not cruel enough to inflict a cranky, sleep deprived six-year-old on a bunch of innocent camp counselors tomorrow, though, so he's just going to have to deal with it.

"We should be getting to sleep soon, too." I yawn as Tommy closes Penny's bedroom door quietly behind us. "We've got our second surrogate meeting first thing in the morning."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Considering how much you liked the couple we met on Friday, isn't it kinda pointless even seeing this other couple?"

"No! For all we know, this couple could be perfect. I'm not going to call it off or go into it thinking it's a waste of time just because we finally found someone we like enough to seriously consider."

"I guess."

Okay, that's it. I can't do this anymore! 

I've spent the past week cutting him endless amounts of slack over the fact that his interest and enthusiasm for this entire process has been lacking, to say the least. I've tried to shrug it off and tell myself he'll get over it soon, and I've tried to be doubly excited to make up for his apparent apathy. But I really don't think I can keep it up much longer. 

I can't just stand by and wait for him to snap out of it.

"What're you doing?" He asks in surprise when I grab him by the elbow and drag him down the hall towards our bedroom. "Taylor-"

"Shut up and sit down." I order him in the most authoritative tone I can without raising my voice and waking the kids. "I'm talking, you're listening."

"Okay, but you should know that you're really fucking hot right now. So when you're done talking, do you think you can keep this whole grabby, surly thing going and-"

"This isn't funny."

"Okay..." He frowns, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and watching me in confusion as I pace in front of him. "What the fuck's wrong with you? You were fine before-"

"No, I was pretending to be fine. I've been pretending to be fine all week because I thought that if I gave you some time you'd stop acting like this."

"Like what?"

"Like you don't give a fuck about anything!" I snap, throwing my hands up utter exasperation. "You said you wanted to have a baby, but it's like you're just going through the motions and you don't actually care what happens."

"I care." He sighs wearily, his gaze falling from my face to his hands. And that one, tiny change in his demeanor is enough to sap the anger right out of me and leave me feeling nothing but sympathy for him. I kinda hate that he can do that to me without even trying. "You know I care."

Deflated and defeated, I slowly approach the bed and sit down on the comforter at his side, curling one leg under myself so that I can turn to face him and eliminate a few more inches of space between us. "I get it."

"Get what?"

"What you're doing." He glances up at me for a second or two, and even though he doesn't admit to anything, I can see the look in his eyes. It's the same look our kids get when they're caught doing something they know they should be ashamed of. "When we first got together, you would literally up and run whenever you got freaked out about something. But after the accident, you stopped doing that. It was like you realized that embracing the things you were afraid of having was nowhere near as scary as the idea of losing those things entirely."

"That's not what I'm doing-"

"It is. I don't know if you honestly don't see it, or if you just want to believe that it's not the same thing, but... I know you, Tommy. I've watched you run from the things you want so you won't have to deal with losing them or screwing them up, and I've watched you bury your true feelings so you won't have to face them. You ran from me, repeatedly. You tried to avoid dealing with how it felt to be back in Burbank day in and day out after your dad died, and you went around telling everyone, including me, that you were fine after Adam fired you, when really you were heartbroken. And every time you do this, you eventually run yourself right into a fucking wall, and everything you were trying to avoid dealing with catches up to you, and you're forced to deal with it."

"Yeah, and I dealt with the idea of not having a baby." He protests in a mumble.

"You haven't accepted the fact that we are having one, though." I point out gently, shifting even nearer to him as soon as he looks away. "First you said you didn't want a baby anymore, even though you did. Now you're telling me that you want one, and at the same time you're still telling yourself that you don't, or that you don't really care if it happens or not. But that's bullshit. We both know it's bullshit."

"So what do you want me to do? Just forget how much it fucking sucked when you told me that we had to wait indefinitely to have another kid? Pretend it never happened, and that it's not entirely out of the question that it might happen again? Or that a million other things could go wrong and this whole thing could go to shit?" He asks, his eyes burning into mine, filled with a devastating combination of frustration and fear. "What's so goddamn bad about not setting myself up for more fucking disappointment?!"

I shake my head sadly as I reach out to him, but he's too pissed off right now to even let me touch him. He jerks his body away just before my fingertips can make contact, and my hand falls dejectedly to my side as I try to figure out how to get him to lower his defenses and let me in.

"There's nothing wrong with preparing yourself for disappointment. But that's not what you're doing, baby."

"Whatever."

"It doesn't matter how disinterested you act outwardly, it doesn't change how you feel on the inside. Pretending not to care all that much doesn't make you care any less. So you can keep up this whole 'whatever' routine if you want, but all you're doing is missing out on all of the amazing moments along the way. We should be feeling nervous, and anxious, and excited about all of this together. We should be celebrating every little bit of progress we make together."

"What if there's nothing to celebrate, huh? What then?"

"Then... we hurt. And we'll do that together, too."

He exhales a soft, humorless chuckle as he slowly shakes his head. "Like last time, you mean?"

"What?"

"We didn't hurt 'together' last time. I hurt. You apologized, and you empathized, but you didn't hurt."

Is he fucking kidding?!

"That's not true! I was devastated that we had put everything on hold!"

"That's not how it looked from where I was standing."

"Maybe that's because you weren't standing here! You ran out on me, you went off on tour-"

"You said it was okay!" He argues accusingly. "You told me you understood!"

"And I meant it! I still mean it. But don't sit there and say that I wasn't just as hurt as you were about the whole thing, because you weren't even here to see how I felt. And on top of being crushed about not having a baby, I felt guilty that you were so hurt by it. I felt like it was my fault, like I'd taken it away from you, so I was trying to do whatever I could to make you feel better. And I'm sorry if that made you think I didn't care as much as you did, because nothing could be further from the truth."

After holding my stare for a while, seeing the sincerity written all over my face, his whole body seems to crumble right in front of me. He drops his head into his hands, and even though I'm almost certain that he's not crying, when he lets out a slow, tired breath, I can clearly hear how unsteady it is.

"I'm sorry." He tells me quietly, his voice muffled by his hands. And this time when I reach out to gently stroke his back, he doesn't pull away. He raises his head and meets my worried gaze again, looking  so much more worn down and disheartened than he did just a minute ago. "I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me."

"Nothing." I promise him earnestly. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I just... I didn't realize how badly I wanted it until it looked like we might not have it, you know? And I know it's totally fucking stupid, but even though we'd barely started, and there was no baby... it still felt like..."

"We lost something."

He nods slowly, a faint flicker of a melancholy smile curling his lips before quickly disappearing again. "I'm sorry I wasn't here. And I'm sorry I haven't really been here, like... in this with you the way I should've been. It's like I don't know how to be anymore."

"It's okay." I tell him, feeling almost as helpless as he looks right now. "It's okay if you're scared or angry or hurt. Just be honest with me about it, don't pretend it's not there. 'Cause chances are I'm feeling something pretty similar, and we'd both probably handle it a hell of a lot better if we knew we weren't feeling that way alone."

Without a word, he turns towards me and wraps his arms tightly around me, shifting his body closer and closer, until he's practically straddling my lap. Any other time, such a move would come across as playful, even flirtatious, and I'd very likely be amused by his attempts to be as near to me as humanly possible. But right now it's not funny, and he's not flirting. He's trying to make up for any and all distance he might have put between us these past couple of months, intentional or not. And even though we both know that nothing either of us does right now can fix or undo anything that we've already said and done, it doesn't matter. 

All that matters is that we're in this together now.

Chapter Text

“Daddy! River took my LEGO t-shirt!” Whines Viggo, barging into our bedroom just as I finish putting on my own shirt. “He says it’s his, but it’s not! It’s mine !”

Oh good.

It’s going to be one of those Monday mornings.

“River, give your brother his shirt back!” I call out, following Viggo down the hall towards the room he and his brother share.

“It’s not his shirt, it’s mine!”

“It was yours, but you got too big for it, so now it’s Viggo’s.” I try to explain calmly, but I can tell from the disgruntled look on his face that my answer isn’t going to cut it.

“No one asked me if he could have it!” He points out indignantly. “You can’t just give people my stuff without asking!”

“It doesn’t even fit you anymore. You haven’t worn it in months!”

“So? It’s still mine.”

Okay, Taylor. You’re a mature adult and a responsible parent. You can handle this.

“Fine, if those are the rules you wanna live by, then the TV is mine and you can’t use it anymore without asking me first. Even if I’m not watching it, you still have to ask.”

“But-”

“And you can’t watch any of my DVDs without asking, either.”

Mature and responsible.

Nailed it.

“Fine, he can wear the stupid shirt.” River mumbles as he grudgingly throws the pieces of clothing at his elated little brother. “But you still shoulda asked first.”

“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll ask before I let him have your old clothes from now on.” My vow to respect his property doesn’t seem to make him feel any less put out, but I’m pretty sure the next five words out of my mouth will. “Who wants pancakes for breakfast?”

The frown evaporates from his face immediately as both he and Viggo begin chanting “me, me, me!” and pulling their clothes on so quickly that I’m surprised nothing gets torn. With my mission accomplished, I head out into the hallway to knock on Penny and Ezra’s bedroom doors and remind them to hurry up and get dressed. Just as I reach the top of the stairs, Asta comes strutting out of her bedroom in an ensemble she definitely put together without any help from anyone else. For a moment all I can do is look at her. I’m so busy trying not to laugh that I can’t even tell her that she can’t wear pajama bottoms to school. Especially not with a dress over the top, a wool hat, and ballet slippers (on the wrong feet). I can’t decide if I take a picture or just keep going and pretend I never saw it.

“Dude, how many times have we talked about this?!” I hear Tommy exclaim in exasperation from somewhere close behind me. “You can’t wear shi-stuff like that to school.”

“Why not?”

“Yeah, Tommy, why can’t she wear ‘shi-stuff’ like that?” I chime in helpfully.

“You can wear the dress, but not with pants. Definitely not pajama pants. Your shoes are on the wrong feet, and that hat’s for when we go to Tulsa in the winter. You’re not supposed to wear it in Los Angeles. In the middle of summer. Indoors .”

“But daddy wears his hats indoors sometimes.” She protests as he shoos her back towards her bedroom.

“That’s because your daddy is a shameless hipster.”

“What’s a hipsir?”

“You’re too young to know.”

“Your jeans are just as tight as mine!” I shout down the hall at him, receiving nothing but an extended middle finger in response.

Most people probably don’t smile when someone flips them off. I highly doubt it brings on a surge of pure contentment, or makes them think about how much they love the person who just gave them the finger. But that’s frequently what happens to me in these situations. He calls me ‘asshole’ and I react as though he used some cutesy pet name. And he just flipped me the bird, but I’m so smitten that he may as well have blown me a kiss instead. It might seem weird to some people, but those people don’t know us.

They don’t know him, so they don’t know that there’s a heartfelt ‘I love you’ contained within almost every hostile ‘fuck off’ he throws my way.

So far this morning I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping my nerves about our surrogate meeting in check. It helps that my kid’s mini-dramas, fashion disasters, and ravenous appetites leave me with little time to think about anything else for too long. But standing in the kitchen alone, pouring pancake batter onto the griddle, my mind starts to wander...

Will this woman be ‘the one’? Or was it the woman we met on Friday? Wouldn’t we have known if it was her? Wouldn’t today’s meeting feel pointless? And what if we don’t click with the woman we’re meeting this morning? Should we ask the woman we met on Friday, even though we weren’t certain enough at the time to cancel this meeting altogether? Or do we wait and hope that someone else comes along soon?

“Dad?” I snap out of my daze suddenly, and the first thing I notice (aside from the concerned face of my eldest daughter) is the smell of something burning.

Shit!

“It’s okay.” I assure her, quickly scooping the ruined pancakes onto a plate and transporting them straight to the trash. “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

She opens the door out to the terrace to let some fresh air into the room before I even think to do it myself. It takes me back to Lisa’s comments last night, about how grown up she is. It’s such a strange contradiction of emotions; I’m so proud of her, of who she is and how she treats people. She’s kind and considerate, confident without being conceited, and intelligent without being an annoying little know-it-all. She’s only ten, but she’s just as mature as Ezra, sometimes more so. It’s scary. I don’t want to hold her back from anything, but I don’t want to let her go, either.

And the day when I’ll have to do just that is coming so much faster than I’m prepared for.

“Are you okay?” She asks curiously. “You never burn stuff.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I smile for her. It may only be a half-truth, but no matter how grown up she is, I’m not about to dump all of my inner conflict on her! “Don’t worry, there’s still enough batter left.”

“I don’t care about the pancakes.” She tells me, taking a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and carrying it towards the dining room. “I can just have cereal.”

“Hey, come over here a minute.”

She stops in her tracks and turns to face me uncertainly. It’s clear that she’s worried she did something wrong, but I think she can tell from the tone of my voice that I’m not about to reprimand her for anything.

“You haven’t really told me how camp has been going? Your brothers seem to do all the talking in the car on the ride home.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugs. “Some of it’s fun.”

“Only some of it?”

“I like that we get to do dancing, and art, and horseback riding. And it was cool to go to the beach with everyone; I’ve never gone to the beach with that many people before.”

“But…?” I press gently, wanting to know what it is that’s making her summer less fun than it should be, but not wanting her to feel interrogated and clam up.

She never used to do that, but the older she gets, the more frequently it happens. Apparently it’s normal and I need to get used to it, because the minute she turns thirteen she’s never going to confide in me about anything personal ever again. At least, that’s what Z tells me.

I’m starting to understand how my mom feels when she thinks we’re intentionally keeping her out of the loop.

“I don’t know… there’s this boy…”

Am I breathing? I can’t tell if I’m breathing.

I think I’m gonna pass out.

“What boy? What’s his name? How old is he?”

“Um… his name is Lucas, and I think he’s the same age as Ez, ‘cause they’re always in the same groups for stuff.”

An older guy? This is so much worse than I thought! “So… what’s going on? Why is he making camp less fun for you? Is he mean to you? Did he hurt you? If he did something to upset you, I can talk to one of the counselors, or his parents-”

“Dad, no!” She gasps in horror. “You can’t talk to anyone !”

“Fine, I won’t talk to anyone. But I still need you to tell me what this boy did to you.”

“What boy?” Asks Tommy as he strolls into the kitchen, his brow furrowing in concern as he approaches us. “What did he do to her?”

Penny rolls her eyes at us, exhaling an irritated “ugh!” as she turns to leave the room. But she barely makes it two steps before Tommy holds out his arm like a barricade to block her path.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing!” She insists. “All he does is poke me in the back and then pretend that it wasn’t him who did it. I told him to stop, but he still says he didn’t do it. I know he did, though, ‘cause Kayleigh saw him. Ez said he’s doing it so I’ll notice him because he likes me-”

“No, he doesn’t.” Tommy tells her bluntly. “He’s doing it because he’s a little jerk, so just ignore him. Don’t look at him, don’t talk to him-”

“I don’t!”

“Good!”

“Can I go now?”

He looks to me for approval, and I give him a resigned nod before he lowers his arm and lets Penny continue her melodramatic pre-teen exit from the kitchen.

“This is not cool.” Tommy informs me as soon as she has left the room. “Boys? Already? She’s ten!”

“Yeah, and he’s twelve .”

His expression noticeably darkens, and if it weren’t for the fact that it’s my little girl we’re talking about here, I’d be laughing at his overprotective and irrational behavior. But it’s a little hard to find the humor in the fact that my little girl is being sexually harassed by some horny little punk!

I knew I shouldn’t have sent her to a co-ed camp.

“If he lays that skeezy finger of his on her again, I’ll break it the fuck off!” He declares aggressively.

“Can I watch?”

He frowns at me as though I’ve completely missed the point. “I figured you’d wanna be the one holding him down.”

Good point.

“Go team!”

As is usually the case on Monday mornings, no matter what time of year it is or what our plans are, we’re running late. Not so late that I have to run red lights or resort to California stops, but we do have to skip the Starbucks run I was planning on making between the kid’s summer camp and the surrogacy agency offices. Some things are more important than coffee. Not many things, but they do exist.

In some ways this meeting is a little less stressful than the one we had on Friday, because now we at least have some idea of what to expect and how this thing is likely to go. And now that Tommy is allowing himself to actually acknowledge his true feelings a little more, rather than burying them and putting all of his energy into pretending none of this fazes him, my natural inclination to take care of him kicks in. When I know he’s freaking out on the inside, it makes it a hell of alot easier for me to put my own nerves on hold in order to help him settle his.

“I miss not giving a shit.” He sighs as I pull into a parking spot on a side street a few blocks from the office. “I blame you for this.”

“There was never a time when you didn’t give a shit, only a time when you pretended not to. And if the choice is between you brushing off your feelings and this being a piece of cake, or you feeling like you’re going to puke because you’re so nervous, I choose vomit.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Whatever it takes.” I smile at him affectionately, reaching across the gearshift to give his thigh a gentle squeeze.

His eyes immediately dart down to his leg, staring at the spot where my fingers were, even though I’ve already retracted my hand. “Do we have time for a quick-”

“Nope.” I cut him off with a soft chuckle. “Sorry.”

“But it’ll help me relax!” He whines, following my example by unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. “Don’t you want me to relax?”

“I’ll give you a shoulder rub in the elevator.”

“It’d work better if you rubbed something else instead.”

“Later.” I promise as I take him by the hand and pull him across the street.

“Fine, but the longer I have to wait, the better it’s gonna have to be.”

I try to play along, keeping my expression as serious as I can. It’s not easy when he’s being so adorably sulky. He’s pouting, and scowling, and forcing me to practically drag him along the sidewalk like a child.

“You know I’m good for it.”

“Damn right.” He replies as a small smirk finally appears on his face.

Neither of us says anything for the rest of the walk to the agency, but he never lets go of my hand, and my grip on his never loosens. If anything, we hold on tighter with every step. He won’t even release his hold so that I can attempt to give him that shoulder rub I offered him. It would have been pointless anyway, though, because the elevator ride lasts all of six seconds before the doors open into the waiting room.

My eyes automatically do a quick sweep of our surroundings, taking in the other people sitting in chairs around us, wondering if I’m looking at the very person we’re here to meet. It’s so strange to think that by the end of the day we could have found our surrogate. For so long it seemed so far away, and now it’s in sight. I know it’s still one of many first steps, but at least we’re moving forward and not standing still anymore.

“Oh, good, you made it.” Alyssa greets us brightly as she steps out of the same room we had our meeting in last week. “Was traffic terrible?”

“Yeah, it was pretty bad.” And we also suck at getting places on time even when there’s no traffic at all. “Sorry we kept you waiting.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves my apology off before gesturing for us to follow her. “Can I get either of you anything to drink before we start?”

I wanted coffee so badly only half an hour ago, but now I feel as though the act of lifting a mug to my lips would only distract me from what I should really be focusing on, so I shake my head.

“Tommy?”

“Huh?” He tears his eyes away from the door that she’s about to open for us. “Oh, no, I’m good. Thanks.”

“Are you ready?”

“As we’ll ever be…” I chuckle nervously, adjusting my grip on Tommy’s hand so that I can hold it even tighter.

Alyssa turns the handle and pushes the door open into a small conference room, standing aside so that we can go in ahead of her. On Friday we were greeted by a couple who looked about the same age as us. The woman seemed excited and hopeful, it was obvious that she desperately wanted to be a surrogate for someone. Her husband seemed nice enough. He mostly stayed quiet, and I could tell that he was there because he wanted to support her more than he wanted to help us, but the smile on his face never waned for even a moment.

I was expecting to find something similar waiting for us today, which is why I come to an abrupt stop when I see two women sitting at the table. They quickly stand up and offer us their hands to shake, and we put our surprise on hold long enough to reciprocate.

“Hi, I’m Shauntae.”

Shauntae was the one we were expecting. She’s the one who will (possibly) be carrying the baby for us. She’s petite with shoulder length, curly brown hair and big, smiling brown eyes, and we know from her profile that she’s a little younger than us. Maybe she’s not exactly how I pictured her, but at least I got her gender right.

“I’m Taylor.”

“Tommy.” He tells her, as he takes his turn shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“This is my wife, Sam.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” I smile, trying not to stare as I take in her appearance and erase the random dude I’d imagined in my mind. I feel like such an idiot for making the assumption that we’d be meeting with a heterosexual couple.

Sam is several inches taller than Shauntae, and noticeably more slender. In fact, everything about her is almost the complete opposite of her wife. Blonde haired, blue eyed, and judging by the blush on her cheeks, she’s at least a little less confident. Shauntae didn’t hesitate to greet us, and her handshake was strong and steady, whereas Sam’s fingers barely close around mine, and I can feel them trembling slightly when they eventually do.

“Okay,” Begins Alyssa as we all take our seats around the table. “My role here is basically that of a facilitator. I’m here if you have any questions or concerns, and if you feel there’s anything you might be forgetting to discuss, you can definitely ask me for input. Believe me, I’ve heard it all.” She winks playfully, eliciting a round of quiet laughter from all of us. “This is for the four of you to get to know a little bit about one another and see if you feel any kind of connection. Think of it as the most awkward double date you’ll probably ever go on.”

“Okay.” I take a breath to try to ease my nerves, looking across the table at Shauntae and Sam to see if either of them appears as though they might be on the verge of speaking. But all eyes are now on me, so I guess I should keep talking. That’s never been a problem for me before, so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a struggle. “Well... obviously we’ve read your profile, so we know all the stuff you wrote in it, but do you mind telling us a little more about what made you decide to become a surrogate?”

“Of course!” Shauntae beams warmly. “There really isn’t some inspiring story or anything, it wasn’t something I grew up wanting to do, or had some big revelation about. But when Sam and I had our little girl, we would talk about how it was so much easier for straight couples to conceive.”

“We’ve had that discussion a couple of times, too.” Tommy notes in amusement.

“Right? It’s so true! But it got me thinking that what we were going through was still nothing compared to couples who couldn’t conceive naturally at all , whether they were straight or not. At least I was able to carry my own child, you know? I was so lucky to be able to have that experience, regardless of any hoops we had to jump through in order for me to get pregnant.”

“Was your daughter conceived through IVF?” I ask curiously, hoping that the question isn’t too personal so early in our first meeting.

But if we don’t ask these potentially intrusive questions now, we might not have all of the answers we need to make the right choice.

“That’s what we wanted.” Shauntae sighs somewhat sadly. “I really wanted some of Sam in there, too. But we just... couldn’t afford it.”

“And it didn’t matter to me that I wasn’t going to be biologically related to our baby; she was still going to be mine, no matter what.”

I can’t help but smile fondly as I glance at Tommy, reaching for his hand on the tabletop between us. “We know the feeling.”

“Stella looks a lot like Sam, though.” Notes Shauntae proudly. “It’s crazy. If people don’t already know, they have a hard time figuring out which of us is the biological mother.”

“Was that just like some weird coincidence?” Tommy asks, and I can already tell he’s hoping that they have a miracle solution to the problem of only one of us looking like the baby’s biological father.

“No, we did what we could to make sure that the baby might look like both of us.” Explains Sam somewhat bashfully. “I mean, we got lucky with just how much she resembles me, but when we were choosing a donor, we were definitely looking for someone with as many of my features as possible.”

Maybe all couples in our position do the exact same thing. In fact, I’m sure that most of them do. But right now it doesn’t feel like this is some common issue all same sex or infertile couples face, it feels like we’re sitting across a table from two people who know what we’re going through because they’ve been through it themselves.

That’s something I didn’t really feel from the couple we met on Friday.

“Anyway,” Shantae continues with a soft chuckle. “Unnecessarily long story short, after what we had to go through to have Stella, and how much I loved being pregnant, I started thinking about becoming a surrogate and helping another couple to have what we have. But we decided to wait until Stella started school and a lot of other things in our lives were more settled and stable before we applied.”

“So Stella’s about five-years-old?”

Sam nods, grinning as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cellphone. Her lock screen picture is of a smiling little girl with long, curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She really does look just like both of them!

“She just turned five last month, and she starts Kindergarten in the fall. I don’t know if I’m excited for her first day of school or dreading it completely.”

“The first day is hard.” I commiserate sincerely. “It’s like this weird mix of pride and sadness.”

“You have… four children, right?” Asks Shauntae uncertainly. “Or was it five?”

“Five.” Tommy nods. “The youngest is three, the oldest is almost thirteen.”

“Wow! That sounds like a handful.”

“It can be.” He laughs. “But it’s not as bad as most people seem to think. Not once you get used to it, anyway.”

“So, if you don’t mind me asking… how come you guys are looking to have one more?”

“Well, all five of our kids were born before Tommy and I really got together, so even though they think of him as their dad and he loves them all like they’re his… there’s just a lot of stuff he missed out on. And we both want him to have those experiences.”

“For me, it’s not even so much about experiencing all that stuff for myself, it’s mostly that I wanna have those experiences with him .” Amends Tommy with a nod of his head in my direction, rendering me momentarily speechless and too moved to do anything but stare at him.

He never told me that before.

“That’s really sweet.” Coos Shauntae, lacing her fingers with Sam’s and giving her the same “can I have one?” look that Penny gives me every time we see a baby animal. “And I totally understand why you both feel that way. There’s so much that comes before the actual birth of your child, and it’s such an incredible and exciting time. At least, it was for us.”

“I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything.” Sam concurs wholeheartedly.

Honestly, at this very moment, I’m having a hard time restraining my impulsive side from blurting out something stupid, like “will you have our baby?” There are so many other things we still need to ask them before we reach that point, not to mention the fact that Tommy and I should probably sit down and talk everything out to make sure we’re on the same page.

But I already know we are. And I can’t think of anything either or these women could possibly say to us over the course of this meeting that would change the way we feel. I can see it when my eyes meet his. The excitement and eagerness that has been missing for weeks is back now. Maybe not in full force, but at least it’s there. This meeting has reinforced the feelings of hope he’d just begun to let in again.

How could he not be hopeful when we’ve almost certainly found our surrogate?

Chapter Text

It’s happening.

I haven’t said it out loud, because I don’t want to jinx it. I’m almost afraid to even think it in case something unforeseen happens and everything goes to hell. But there’s no reason for anything to go wrong; everything is falling into place and it feels right.

Our meeting with Shauntae and Sam lasted twice as long as the one we had on Friday. The only reason we had to end it at all was because Shauntae had to get to work. But if that hadn’t been the case, I’m pretty sure that Tommy and I would have invited them to have lunch with us or something. The couple we talked to on Friday were nice, they seemed like great people, but even though we were all on the same page about the important points, that’s really all we talked about. With Shauntae and Sam we found ourselves going off topic at every turn.

Alyssa had told us all to think of it as an awkward double date, but there was hardly anything awkward about it. Obviously, discussing the more difficult aspects of a surrogacy arrangement didn’t make for light hearted conversation. Talking about what would happen if, for some reason, the pregnancy put Shauntae’s health or even her life at risk wasn’t exactly fun for anyone. But as hard as it was, we all agreed that if it came down to it, her life had to come first. Neither of us would ask Shauntae to put the life of our unborn baby before not only her own life, but Sam’s and Stella’s, too. We’d be heartbroken if we lost the baby, for any reason, but if anything happened to Shauntae it would irrevocably change people’s lives.

I knew that all too well from the fallout of Natalie’s death.

The subject of her willingness to carry multiples and or our feelings on selective reduction were mostly a moot point, because we don’t intend to transfer more than two embryos. We want a baby. One. And even though transferring so few embryos could decrease our odds of success, we’re willing to take that risk. At least for the first IVF cycle. If things don’t go our way… then I guess we’ll have to weigh the pros and cons of increasing the number of embryos transferred the next time. And, thankfully, Shauntae is totally open to that, too.

But I don’t want to think about that stuff right now. I know I shouldn’t ignore it, I can’t, but just for today I want to be happy . More than that, I want to let Tommy be happy, and excited (as much as he’ll allow himself to be), because seeing him smile, and seeing the light in his eyes as we lie together in bed only serves to multiply every good feeling I already have.

“So…” I sigh contentedly as I roll onto my side to face him, kissing my way from his shoulder to the center of his chest before pausing to look up at him. “Was it worth the wait?”

“The sex or the surrogacy stuff?” He asks, playfully grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging insistently until we’re nose to nose.

“I was talking about the sex. But both, now that you mention it.”

“Hmm…” After pretending to consider it for a moment, his eyes meet mine and I can see the mischief in them. “The surrogacy stuff, yes. The sex… eh.”

“ Eh ?”

He shrugs. “It was okay. Not your best work.”

It’s a challenge for me not to take the bait. He wants me to make him pay for that comment, and I will. Just not in the way he’s hoping.

Two can play this game.

His face falls as I shift away from him beneath the sheets, moving to the edge of the mattress and grabbing my jeans from the floor. “Speaking of work, I should probably go do some.”

“ Now ?”

“My emails aren’t gonna read themselves.”

“We were kinda in the middle of something.” He informs me indignantly as he sits up against the pillows behind him.

I frown at him over my shoulder, but I can only look at him for a few seconds before I have to turn away to avoid laughing at his disgruntled expression. “I thought we were done. I mean… we both got off. Maybe you weren’t as satisfied with the experience as I was, but it can’t always be earth shattering, right?”

“Don’t be such a little bitch! You know I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I reply innocently, pulling a t-shirt over my head and running a hand through my unkempt hair. “Like I said, I have a bunch of stuff to get done.”

He heaves a tired sigh before practically crawling across the bed towards me and wrapping his arms around my waist. So I stand up and step out of his reach.

“Oh, come on! What do you want from me?”

“Nothing.” I kiss him lightly on the lips, but he simply sits there giving me the most unimpressed look he can muster. “You stay here and relax. Not that you really need much rest after such a mediocre sexual encounter, but-”

“It was amazing! Okay?” He exclaims somewhat desperately as I begin walking towards the hall. “Best sex I ever had! You’re a god among men!”

“Is that all you’ve got?” I chide him, coming to a stop in the doorway and leaning against the frame while I wait to see just how badly he wants me to get back in that bed with him. “Not your best work.”

We stare at each other from across the room, neither of us wanting to be the first to give in. I pushed him too far; he was willing to beg before, and now he’s done. Maybe if I pretend to leave he’ll try to stop me… but I don’t really want to leave, and there’s a chance he’ll let me go just to make a point.

He’s so much better at this than I am!

“Fine.” He mumbles dejectedly, and I’m practically holding my breath waiting to see if I won this time.

It has to happen eventually… right?

I watch him as he sinks back down against the pillows, most of his body hidden beneath the sheets. He stretches for a moment before relaxing again, with one arm folded beneath his head, and I can tell from the way he’s looking at me that I’ve lost. I don’t know how yet, but I know it’s coming.

“Go read you stupid emails.” His voice is soft, his tone bereft of hope. “I’ll just stay here in bed…” I notice movement, and my attention automatically focuses on it. The hand that was resting against his chest is creeping slowly down towards the edge of the sheet, and my mouth is suddenly very dry. “All alone…”

As soon as his hand disappears beneath the thin fabric draped across his lower body, I force myself to look away. I don’t know why I’m still trying to resist, it’s not like I have any pride left anyway!

But I really do have a huge backlog of emails to read and reply to, and calls to make, and-

I hear a quiet groan, and like an idiot I look up from the floor and my gaze goes directly to that flawless face of his. He’s still staring right at me, wordlessly taunting me and tempting me. He pulls his lower lip between his teeth as he inhales sharply, then he releases it again along with another needy little noise that makes me want to moan!

He wants me to touch him, and I want me to touch him…

So what the fuck am I still doing standing all the way over here?!

I’ve already shed my t-shirt and unbuttoned my jeans before I make it to the bed, and he looks entirely too pleased with himself as I climb on top of him. I reach under the sheet and grab his wrist, stopping the motion of his hand and causing him to gasp softly in anticipation of what I might do next.

“It may not have been my ‘best work’,” I tell him gruffly. “But that’s still my job.”

His parted lips curl into a cocky smile. “Then why don’t you fucking do it?”

My hand stays tightly wrapped around his wrist, preventing him from touching himself while I battle with my desire to do it for him. Just because he won doesn’t mean his victory should come easy. Pardon the pun. Eventually he gets tired of waiting for me to make a move; I feel his hips thrust to meet his hand. When I pull his hand away entirely, he whines in protest as I hold it against the mattress at his side.

“What’s the matter? Feeling a little unsatisfied?” He glares at me but refuses to answer. “Now, would you say this is more unsatisfying or less unsatisfying than our previous-”

Without warning, he places his one unrestrained hand on the top of my head and shoves me forcefully down until my face is barely an inch from his covered crotch. “How about you shut the fuck up and do something productive with that big mouth of yours?”

“Okay, but then I really do need to go do some actual work so I can make us some money.” I lament unenthusiastically, slowly peeling the sheet down until he’s exposed to me. “‘Cause I don’t know if you know this, but you’re not as cheap as you look.”

“But you are, so maybe you should go find a street corner somewhere and do this for a living instead.”

I wish he wouldn’t look so damn proud of himself while I’m glaring at him the way I am right now. He could at least pretend to be somewhat remorseful, maybe throw out a couple of pathetic pleas for mercy as I make a predatory crawl towards the head of the bed, my body surrounding his, holding him captive. He watches curiously as I slowly push my jeans off of my hips, down to my thighs, then his eyes follow as I reach for the lube on the nightstand. I lean down over him and slowly, sternly instruct him to “turn over”, and of course, he’s practically giddy over my gruff demeanor, which kinda takes some of the fun out of it for me.

Maybe he’d be a little less pleased if I make chick-flick-style-movie love to him instead?

The sound of me flipping open the cap on the bottle of lube is quickly followed up by the sound of both of our names being called out from downstairs. I want to be as frustrated as he is by the inopportune interruption, but watching him scream obscenities into his pillow helps to take the edge off.

“Don’t move, I’ll get rid of them.” I tell him, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades before readjusting my pants and getting off of the bed.

I re-dress on my way out of the room, and by the time I make it downstairs I’m confident that I look mostly presentable. Hopefully not like I was on the verge of having sex thirty seconds ago. I recognized the voice as Jenna’s the second time it called my name, but even though she still lives here and it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to see her, it kind of is. Before summer break, she was mostly only around to help out with the kids for a couple of hours after school, or for a date night here and there. Now that there’s no homework to assist with, we don’t even see her that often.

“Jenna?”

“Taylor?”

I stop in the middle of the dining room, trying to figure out where her voice is coming from. “Marco?”

“Polo!” I hear her laugh softly, her voice a little louder than before and coming from the direction of the movie room.

“Hey! Is everything okay?” I ask uncertainly as I meet her in the hallway. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“I know.” She sighs, seeming somewhat ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m never around anymore.”

I wave her apology off, gesturing for her to follow me into the kitchen. “You don’t have to be sorry for that. We get it; you have a life.”

“Yeah… that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” She admits awkwardly while I begin to make a fresh pot of coffee. “Is now a good time, or should I come back tonight or tomorrow…?”

“Now’s fine.” I assure her, feeling a pang of guilt as I think of Tommy waiting for me upstairs. But I’m much too curious about the reason for Jenna’s impromptu visit to just send her on her way now. “Coffee?”

“Um… sure.” Almost as soon as she has accepted the offer, she looks conflicted. “Actually, no. Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m kinda nervous.” She chuckles, her cheeks flushing just enough for me to notice.

“About what? Talking to me?” I ask in confusion, and she nods faintly in reply. “I’m not that scary!”

“No, I don’t mean like that.” She immediately assures me. “I’m not afraid to talk to you. At least… I don’t think I am.”

“Okay…”

“Can we sit?”

Oh.

It’s a sitting thing? Now I’m the one who’s nervous. “Yeah, sure.”

I follow her out onto the terrace just outside of the kitchen, waiting for her to take a seat before I hesitantly lower myself into the one beside it. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so anxious; I can’t think of anything she could tell me that I’d need to be worried about. Unless something is wrong. Maybe she knows something is going on with one of my kids that they haven’t talked to me about? Or maybe something is wrong with her? Maybe she’s sick? Or in trouble? I can’t imagine Jenna getting into trouble, though…

She takes a long, deep breath, and it’s as though I can see her trying to work up the courage to say whatever it is she came here to say to me. Finally, she exhales, and her eyes rise from the tabletop to meet mine.

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh… uh…”

I swear I had a vocabulary of more than two words just a minute ago. I’m not even sure if ‘uh’ qualifies as a word. It’s more of a sound, really.

“Don’t worry, I’m not planning to stay here.” She continues quickly while I open and close my mouth in a hopeless attempt to speak. “You won’t have to deal with having a baby around all the time; I know that’s the last thing you guys want now that you finally have all five of yours out of diapers.”

You would think. “No, that’s not why I… I’m not worried about that at all . I just… wow .”

“I know.”

“I take it you didn’t plan this?” I ask carefully, not wanting to insult her somehow, and she shakes her head as she looks back down at her hands. “Are you happy about it?”

“Well… at first I was totally freaked out. I was worried I wasn’t ready, and I was afraid that Aaron wasn’t going to want it. But I told him this weekend, and he was so excited. He started talking about us getting an apartment together and getting married…”

“Is that what you want?”

I watch her as she gazes at the glass tabletop, and I assume she must be picturing that apartment with her boyfriend and their baby, because the smile on her face grows wider and wider with every passing second.

“Yeah, it is. I love him, and I already knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, so… now everything is just going to happen a little faster than we expected.”

“Life does that sometimes.” I acknowledge knowingly. “But I’m glad you’re both happy about it.”

“I feel so bad, though.” She sighs, the smile falling from her lips. “I don’t wanna just up and leave you guys like this.”

“That’s crazy! We never expected that you were going to live with us forever. I mean, ever since Asta started pre-school and you got a full time job, we’ve kinda been preparing for this, you know? You already spend most nights at Aaron’s anyway-”

“It’s just that his place is closer to the school-”

“I’m not complaining.” I assure her, placing my hand over hers in an effort to comfort her. “You should be spending every spare second with the guy you love. I know I do.”

“But you’ve done so much for me.” She protests, her voice wavering with emotion as her tears begin to brim in her eyes. “This wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t asked me to move out here. I’d still be in Tulsa wishing I was somewhere else. None of the amazing things that have happened to me over the last three years would have happened if it weren’t for you guys.”

“It’s not one-sided. You’ve done a hell of a lot for us, too, Jenna. I honestly don’t know what we would’ve done without you, especially that first year.”

“Which is why I feel so ungrateful just leaving you like this!” She weeps regretfully. “You paid for me to move here, you gave me a job and a place to live. Because of you, I’ve been all over the country, all over the world ! I’ve seen places I never thought I’d get to see.… and the whole time, you treated me like I was part of your family-”

“Because you are .” I shift my chair closer to hers, enough that I can lean over and pull her into a hug, and she doesn’t hesitate to return it. “You’re more than just a live-in sitter to us, and you always will be, okay? If you ever need anything, whether it’s help moving your stuff into your new place, or a glowing letter of recommendation, or… even a babysitter so you can have a night off, you know where we are.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know; I want to.” I insist sincerely, pulling back enough to look her in the eyes so that she will hopefully see that I mean it, and that I’m not even slightly upset at her for any of this. “In fact, I call dibs on getting you guys a stroller.”

“I can’t let you do that!”

“Yes you can, ‘cause I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Taylor-”

“And don’t go picking out a cheap one, either. Get one with a cup holder, those things are invaluable. And make sure it has lights. Ooh, and get one of the ones that has generators in the wheels so you can charge your phone-”

I don’t get the chance to finish listing off the features of my dream stroller (I didn’t even realize I had a dream stroller), because Jenna almost knocks the air out of my lungs as she wraps her arms around me and hugs me tighter than I think she ever has before.

“ Thank you .”

“You’re welcome.”

Once Jenna’s bomb has been well and truly dropped, and the shock of it has mostly subsided, it’s easier for her to relax and talk about her plans and how she wants to handle everything from here on out. It’s not often that I get to use my history of unplanned, under-prepared parenthood to help anyone else. But there are several points during our conversation where I find myself relating to her hopes and fears, and offering advice on how to handle everything that she and Aaron still have ahead of them. I’m not sure how helpful that advice will actually be in the end, but she seemed to genuinely appreciate it, and by the time she left, she was much calmer.

I’m not surprised to find Tommy passed out on our bed when I head back upstairs to break the news to him. After not seeing or hearing from him for the entire duration of Jenna’s visit, I figured there was a pretty good chance he’d fallen asleep waiting for me to come back like I’d told him I would. And that’s precisely what appears to have happened; he’s almost exactly how I left him, lying on his stomach, barely covered by a sheet. I can’t bring myself to wake him when he looks more peaceful than he has in weeks, so I carefully pull the sheet up a little further and sneak back out of the room.

I make a very concerted effort to get some work done before the time comes when I’ll have to go and pick the kids up. But every ten minutes or so, my mind drifts from whatever I was doing and I end up sitting in front of my MacBook with my fingers hovering over the keys, just… staring at the wall. Today has been eventful, to say the least, and I think it’s probably going to take me most of the week to process it all. Right now it feels entirely surreal.

Part of me is convinced that I made it all up. We couldn’t possibly have met our surrogate, and we couldn’t possibly like her as much as we do. There must be something wrong with her, there’s some complication lurking just around the corner, waiting to take us from full speed ahead to a mangled wreckage on the side of the road.

But what if there isn’t?

What if everything goes smoothly and she really is as great as she seemed? What if within the next couple of weeks all of the legalities have been figured out, and the paperwork has been taken care of? If all of the searching and talking and contract signing is over by the end of this month, then we can actually start trying to have a baby. And there’s a chance, a chance , that by the end of summer Shauntae could be undergoing her first embryo transfer.

By the end of this year, there could be a baby growing inside her. Our baby.

The end of the year isn’t that far away, in the grand scheme of things. It’s only five and a half months. Which means that, if all goes well, Tommy and I could be parents by next spring!

“You lied to me.” Yawns Tommy as he wanders into the dining room, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “‘Don’t move’, you said. ‘I’ll get rid of them’-”

“I’m sorry.” I apologize sheepishly. “I meant it when I said it.”

“Was it Jenna?” He asks as he drops down heavily into the chair opposite mine. “Sounded like her.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“She’s never usually around during the day anymore.”

“Yeah… well, she kinda had something she needed to talk about.”

He frowns uncertainly, looking a lot more alert than he did just a moment ago. “Everything okay?”

“I think so.” I begin warily, unsure of how he’s going to react to both pieces of news I have to share with him. “She’s moving in with Aaron.”

“Oh. Well… that kinda sucks for us, but it’s not like we didn’t see it coming.”

“That’s what I told her. She felt really bad for leaving.”

He rolls his eyes as he smiles faintly. “Did you tell her how fucking stupid that is?”

“Yes. I used nicer words, but I think she got the message.”

“Good.”

I think this must have been how Jenna felt when she was preparing to tell me that she was pregnant. I only need to say two little words, but I can’t seem to get them out. “There was… something else.”

“What do you mean?”

“The reason she decided to move in with Aaron was because…” Oh boy. Here we go. “She’s pregnant.”

He stares at me blankly for a moment or two. Blinks once. Twice. And eventually his forehead slowly furrows into a faint frown, like he doesn’t totally understand what he just heard.

“Pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“So… was she like… trying to have a baby?”

“No.” I tell him gently, almost as though I’ve done something cruel to him that I should feel terribly ashamed of.

Again, he’s silent. But this time he seems less bewildered and more upset. I can see him getting angrier right before my eyes.

“This is bullshit.” He mutters, pushing his chair away from the table and stalking off into the kitchen.

I don’t waste any time following him, and every step of the way I try to think of something to say that will make this less frustrating for him. “I get why you’re upset-”

“Aiyana didn’t plan to get pregnant, either.” He cuts me off irritably. “Did I tell you that?”

“No.”

“It’s so fucking unfair ! Neither of them even gave it a fucking thought , it just happened for them. It’s so fucked up!”

“It is.”

“We’ve been dealing with all this surrogacy shit since before Jenna’s baby was even conceived ! We were talking about it way before Aiyana got knocked up. But they both have due dates already, and what do we have?”

“We have an egg donor and a surrogate-”

“ Maybe .” He argues pessimistically. “We haven’t even asked her yet, let alone put it in writing.”

“I don’t care.” I protest, taking another step closer even when he folds his arms across his chest in a clear attempt at shutting out anything I might do to mollify him. “She’s our surrogate, and we both know it. And we’ll have it in writing soon, and then everything will finally start happening-”

“Or it might all turn to shit.”

“Don’t do this again, Tommy.” I sigh sadly as I reach out to him, my fingers curling around his hand and tugging him towards me. I wasn’t expecting him to move, I thought he’d resist a little longer. But I guess he’s too emotionally wiped out to put up a fight. “We’re so close now.”

He shakes his head sorrowfully before allowing it to fall against my shoulder in defeat. “Not as close as they are.”

“I know.”

“Why does it have to be so fucking hard?”

“Because…” Life sucks sometimes. “We can handle it.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” He mumbles, giving me a half-hearted shove in an attempt to push me away.

But I’m not letting go that easy.

“It makes total sense.” I continue undeterred. “Other people have it easier because they can’t handle all the stuff we can handle. The universe is giving them a break, because it knows that if it threw the same curve balls at them as it throws at us, they’d get hit in the head and fall on their ass. But no matter what gets thrown at us, we knock it right outta the park.”

“What’s with all the baseball metaphors?”

“I don’t know.” I chuckle softly as I cup his face in my hands and draw him into a slow, soothing kiss. I can feel him soften, his bitterness evaporating as he melts into me and lets go of any lingering resentment. “My point is, we can take it. Regardless of whether we should have to, or how unfair it is, we’ll always win in the end.”

“Because we’re such a great team?” He asks mockingly, smirking against my lips.

Maybe I should be offended by the fact that he’s making fun of my very heartfelt efforts to lift his spirits and boost his morale, but I really don’t care. He’s smiling again, and making jokes (even if they are at my expense), and that’s all that matters.

“The best.”

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re an excellent pitcher.”

Should’ve seen that coming.

Chapter Text

I have really fucking bad decision making skills.

I shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions, but people keep letting me do it anyway. I’m as bad at making smart decisions as I am at dealing with my own emotions, but at least I can usually spin that as me being good at compartmentalizing or some shit.

But if we’re being honest, I’m just a fucking idiot.

If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting in a car on I-10, staring at bumper to bumper traffic. I’d be at home watching a movie, or making music, or maybe just enjoying a little peace and quiet before the kids get home from camp for the weekend. But because of my bad decision making skills, I told Alex and Z that we’d be at their show tonight. They gave me an out, and so did Taylor. I could have blown it off; it’s not like it’s the last show they’re ever gonna play. But did I do that?

Fuck no!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want to go to the show, or spend a night in a hotel with Taylor. Hell, I don’t even really give a shit about the hellish traffic. The thing that’s making me regret my decision to go to Morongo Casino tonight is the very real possibility that I’m gonna have to see Adam. Taylor and I are gonna be hanging out with Phases backstage, so it’s more than likely that we’ll run into him at some point. And even if we don’t, I’m not sure my masochistic side is gonna let me leave after Phases’ set. It’s gonna make me stay and watch Adam perform his new music, with his new band and his new lead guitarist. I’m gonna feel like shit the entire fucking time, but I’ll still stay until the show’s over.

Why?

Because I don’t make good decisions!

I could tell Taylor right now to force me to leave before Adam takes the stage, or to make sure I don’t drink too much and make a complete fucking fool of myself somehow. But my lips don’t part, and the words don’t leave my mouth. I just sit here, mesmerized by the brake lights of the truck in front of us on the freeway, silently rehearsing things I can say to Adam to make me look like I don’t give a shit that he basically fired me four months ago and hasn’t attempted to contact me again since.

Who knows, maybe I won’t even have to speak to him. He might just walk right by me like he’s never seen me before in his life.

I’m not even sure that I wouldn’t prefer that.

How did everything get so fucked up?

I suddenly feel incredibly claustrophobic, so I reach out and crank the air conditioning up as high as it’ll go. As if that’s gonna help.

“You okay?” Taylor asks worriedly, turning the radio down and focusing his attention on me.

I wish this damn traffic would clear the fuck up! Not just so we can go faster than five miles an hour, but because then he’d have to focus more on driving and less on me.

“I’m fine.”

“Is that fine as in ‘okay’, or fine as in ‘fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional’?”

I wasn’t expecting anything to bring a smile to my face for the rest of the day. I should’ve known that if anything could kick my lousy mood in the nuts, it’d be him. “The latter.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He nods to the slow moving cars out of the window. “We’ve got time.”

Do I want to talk about it? No.

Would talking about it be the mature, healthy, proactive thing to do? Yes.

So...

“Not really.”

See?

Fucking terrible decision making skills.

And I know it. I’m aware that I just made the wrong choice, and I’m aware that I could very easily backtrack and make the right one. But will I?

Nope.

Instead of pushing the issue, because he knows that’s a sure fire way to make me clam up even more and ruin our little ‘getaway’ entirely, he drops it. He turns the radio back up and starts flipping through various stations, barely pausing to even hear what song is playing before moving on to the next one.

I hate it when he does that.

Suddenly his station hopping comes to an end, landing us on Heart & Soul R&B, which isn’t a station that has ever been played in this car before (not when I’m in it, at least). He listens for a moment, his head slowly starting to bob in time with the music. But then the chorus hits, and he goes from subtle head bobbing to no-holds-barred diva style singing.

“ I’m every woman,

It’s all in meeeee! ”

His hands aren’t even on the fucking wheel anymore. Not that the car is moving at all right now, but still! If you’re in the driver’s seat, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be driving, not… doing whatever the fuck it is he’s doing. I mean, what is that?!

“ I ain’t braggin, ‘cause I’m the one!

You just ask me, oooooh,

It shall be done. ”

“What if I ask you to stop? Will that be done?” I ask him mockingly, but he merely shrugs the question off, never breaking his Whitney impersonation for even a second. “People can see you!”

Pointing that out to him was yet another lousy decision on my part. Because rather than feeling mortified like he should, he rolls down his fucking window and turns the radio up louder!

“ I’m every woman!

I’m every woman! ”

Sure enough, the guy on the fucking Harley one lane over from us turns to look, shaking his head in disapproval of Taylor’s performance. He quickly goes back to pretending we’re not here. Which is a luxury I don’t have, because I almost get smacked in the face by my husband’s exaggerated sweeping arm gestures every five fucking seconds!

“CHAKA KAHN!”

God damnit.

I was doing such a good job of not laughing until now; I really don’t wanna encourage this kind of behavior. But for some reason, hearing him repeatedly yelling “chaka kahn” as the music dies out, regardless of whether or not Whitney is doing it as well, is too much.

“Fuck you.”

He smirks triumphantly, still dancing in his seat until the song has ended entirely. And then ‘All For You’ by Janet Jackson starts, and his face lights up like a kid on Christmas. I swear, sometimes I think it’s shit like this that made me fall in love with him. And at the exact same time, it makes me question how I ever fell in love with him.

I seriously cannot figure it out!

“If you’re gonna impersonate one of the Jackson’s, can you stick with Michael? It’s way hotter.”

“I didn’t realize you had a thing for MJ.” He teases as I turn the music down.

“Ew! I don’t. Not like that !”

That’s another thing I’ve never been able to understand. I consider myself a Michael Jackson fan. I mean, who the fuck in their right mind isn’t ? I’ve never been attracted to him or turned on by his voice, though. But sometimes, when Taylor is singing, his voice does this thing that makes him sound eerily like Michael. And even though Michael’s voice never turned me on, that same voice coming out of Taylor ?

It does things to me.

I’ve never told him about it, and I don’t intend to. Because I know that asshole will start doing his little MJ trick around me all the damn time just to watch me squirm! It’s bad enough when he does it at shows while I’m in the audience or watching from backstage, and then I’m stuck with a fucking hard on for over an hour. Not that he needs to do the Michael thing at shows in order for me to get it up. Seeing him up there... all breathless and sweaty, moaning into the microphone and dry humping his fucking piano… damn .

Apparently I don’t even have to see it happening right in front of me for it to get me hot; just thinking about it has done the trick! And, of course, we’re still stuck in this endless fucking traffic jam in the middle of the desert, so there’s nothing I can do about it.

“Are we there yet?”

We get to the hotel just after the official check in time. Which I guess means I should be grateful for the traffic delaying us so we didn’t wind up sitting around in the lobby waiting for our room to be ready.

I was the one who made the hotel reservation, and I distinctly remember booking a suite. Not the best room in the house, but not the worst, either. Something comfortable but not extravagant (which is a nice word for overpriced). But my husband, Mister Money Pants, apparently decided to call the hotel and change the reservation without telling me. So instead of checking in to a modest suite for one night, we’re checking into a fucking private villa for two nights. He thinks it’s cute when he does this kind of thing. And yeah, okay, it is. But I try like hell not to let him know that because, just like with the MJ thing, he’ll do it even more frequently than he already does.

I gotta admit… this upgrade wasn’t the worst idea he’s ever had. A regular hotel room would have been fine, but having our own mini pool right outside of the bedroom isn’t too shabby. And having an ice machine in the room so I don’t have to get dressed and hunt one down in the hotel in the middle of the night? Fucking genius .

Especially here, where there’s a much higher than usual chance of me running into any number of Adam fans if I venture out into any public areas for too long.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t wanna see them. I’m totally open to saying hi, and even taking a picture if I’m asked to. But I don’t wanna deal with the questions I know they’re gonna ask me. And even if they don’t flat out ask me about why I’m not working with Adam anymore, they’re probably going to comment on it in hopes of me answering the question without them having to be brazen enough to pose it.

It didn’t even occur to me until a few days ago that me being seen within five miles of the venue the day of an Adam Lambert concert might set off a rumor explosion on Twitter. I didn’t want anyone spreading it around that I was back in Adam’s band or something, so I took matters into my own hands and tweeted that I was going to “a friends show” at Morongo Casino this weekend. I didn’t bother mentioning that the “friend” I was referring to was Alex. It was a nice, ambiguous statement. One that wasn’t in any way a lie, and also kept my fans happy by leading them to believe Adam and I are still close enough that I’d go to the effort of traveling outside of L.A. to see him perform.

I wish that was the case.

“So…” I can feel Taylor approaching me from behind while I stand between the open French doors of our villa and stare at the gentle ripples in the pool. It’s like my whole body relaxes before I even feel his arms encircle my waist. “We still have a few hours before we’re supposed to meet Alex at the venue. Any ideas on how we should pass the time?”

I smile in contentment as I tilt my head just enough to give his lips better access to my neck. “A few.”

“Like…?”

“Well, for starters, I want a drink.” I tell him, turning in his arms until we’re face to face. “Then I want you to take your clothes off.”

He pretends to consider it for a moment before nodding. “I think we can arrange that.”

“Then I want you to take my clothes off.”

“Consider it done.”

“Then I want you to fuck me on one of these sun loungers.”

He laughs softly as he glances over my shoulder at the two loungers beside our mini pool, and then at the high wall separating our patio from the main hotel pool area. We can clearly hear the music, as well as the splashing, laughter, and talking of the dozens of guests enjoying the afternoon sun just a few feet away.

“Someone might hear us...” He tells me, his tone suggesting that he’s more excited by the idea than concerned.

“Do you care?”

A grin spreads across his face as he shakes his head, leaning in to kiss me again. “Nope.”

I love this side of him.

I mean, I love every side of him, obviously. But he wasn’t always like this; he couldn’t be. Yeah, we took more than a few risks when we first got together, but it was always impulsive, sometimes even necessary. The danger made everything that little bit more intense, there’s no denying that. But there was always fear lurking in the background, the chance that we would get caught and it would all be over.

Now there’s no real danger. We don’t take risks out of necessity, it’s a choice. But regardless of how intentional it is, it’s still intense, and it’s so fucking hot .

I guess I just love seeing him so free and fearless. It’s breathtaking.

He’s breathtaking.

We wind up skipping the drinks until after we’ve done a little ‘unwinding’ pool side. What can I say? I prioritized. It’s a pretty perfect few hours, and it definitely helps to get my mind off of all of the anxiety I’ve been feeling about tonight.

But once we’ve finally showered, forced ourselves back into clothing, and FaceTimed with the kids to say goodnight, those nerves and negative thoughts come hurtling back into my head. I don’t really want to leave the room. If we hadn’t promised Alex that we’d be at the show, I wouldn’t. The stupid thing is, he’d understand if I skipped it. He tried to talk us out of coming tonight! And I know that Taylor would understand if I wanted to hide out in here all weekend, too. It is an option.

Not attending the concert would be a smart decision, though. And I don’t make those if I can possibly avoid it.

We get stopped by Adam fans a handful of times between the villa and the venue. I recognize most of them; these are not your ‘one show per tour’ breed of fans. Adam’s fans are almost as hardcore as Taylor’s. I’d probably recognize everyone in the front row at a Hanson show most nights, because chances are they were front row two states away the night before. It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. It just kinda blows my mind. I love music, obviously. I’ve loved it my whole life, there are bands and artists I idolize. But I have never gone to two shows by the same band in two different states in only two nights.

Not unless I was in the band!

Maybe it’s a girl thing?

I gave up on trying to figure it out a long time ago. I just try to appreciate it, whether they’re Adam’s fans, mine, or Taylor’s. Because if they weren’t so overzealous, we wouldn’t have ever had the opportunity to do what we love for a living. I know I don’t owe them anything for the extra attention they pay us, they’re not entitled to anything more than we already give them. But I’m willing to overlook their more intrusive moments most of the time, because in the grand scheme of things, they generally do more good than harm.

Alex is already waiting for us by the main doors of the venue, passes in hand. He makes some comment about how we didn’t have to make ourselves so pretty just for him, and Taylor plays along by asking Alex if he’ll sign his butt cheek later so he can go and get it tattooed on. Normally I would have had a smart ass come back for at least one of those statements, but I’m a little too busy keeping my eyes peeled for Adam, or anyone else in his ‘entourage’ that I might know.

“Been awhile since we were backstage at a casino together.” Taylor remarks in a near whisper against my ear as we follow Alex past a security guard. “Maybe we should see if we can find an empty dressing room later and re-live some old memories?”

Despite how uptight and on edge I was a second ago, I can’t help but smile as I turn my face towards his and accept the kiss he’s waiting to give me. I know he’s probably not even half serious, he’s just trying to distract me and keep me out of my own head. And thankfully it works. At least long enough for us to get to Phases’ dressing room. Once we’re safely shut away inside, it’s a hell of alot easier for me to relax.

“What time did you guys get here?” Asks Jason as Taylor and I take a seat on the couch at the back of the room and watch them all getting ready. “Did you get stuck in that mess on the ten?”

“For like an hour.” Taylor sighs. “But we got here just after three.”

“Lucky!” Exclaims Z enviously, taking a break from applying her eyeliner to turn and look at us. “You must’ve left L.A. before we did. We were stuck in it for almost two hours.”

Alex shakes his head wearily. “We got here over an hour later than we planned. We almost missed soundcheck!”

“We didn’t even get to check into our rooms yet!” Adds Michael, nodding towards a pile of luggage in the corner. “And I’m fucking starving .”

“They said they were gonna bring us something…” Frowns Alex as he glances over his shoulder at the door. “We’ll be eating pizza on stage at this rate.”

“Oh yeah… we missed dinner, too.” I point out to Taylor, who smirks flirtatiously in response. “I totally didn’t even think about it until now.”

“Oh? And what was it you two were doing that was so engrossing that you forgot to eat?” Teases Alex knowingly.

“Leave them alone, perv!” Z orders him with a chuckle, throwing what looks like a tube of mascara at his head. “They’re on vacation, they’re allowed to spend all afternoon fucking if they want.”

“Yeah.” Agrees Jason, throwing a drumstick at him for good measure. “If I had five kids, and I was out of town without them for a night, I wouldn’t even leave my hotel room! In fact...” He looks at us strangely. “ Why are you here? Are you insane? We’re a total misuse of your time!”

“Nah.” I wave his comment off unconcernedly. “We fuck all the time. It was nice to have an excuse to make him put some damn clothes on for once.”

Everyone but Taylor cracks up, but I can see that he’s struggling to stop himself from doing the same, even as he tries his hardest to glare at me. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll stay fully clothed from now until we check out.”

“If you want.” I shrug, feigning indifference.

Luckily, before I can get myself in any more trouble than I’m already in, there’s a knock at the door. The smell of pizza invades the room as soon as Alex reaches over and opens it, and suddenly my stomach feels painfully empty. He places the pizza box and a pile of napkins on the table in the middle of the room before accepting a six pack of beer from whoever it is out in the hall. My main instinct right now is to reach out and grab a slice of pizza and a bottle of beer, not necessarily in that order. But it’s not my dinner, and I’m not the one who has to go on stage soon and exert a whole lot of energy, so I force myself to resist.

I have to sit on my damn hands to do it, though.

“Help yourself.” Jason tells us with a nod towards the pizza. “There’s plenty.”

“Are you sure?” Asks Taylor politely, and I can’t help but chuckle at how eager he sounds despite his noble effort to be well mannered.

I don’t have that problem, and I’ve already got my beer open and taken a bite of my slice of pizza before Taylor makes a move to get something to eat. I’m not even all that big on pizza most of the time, but right now it’s my favorite food in the entire world!

“So, either of you feel like hitting the stage with us for a song or two?” Suggests Michael, causing me to almost choke on my mouthful of beer as I try to emphatically tell him no and swallow at the same time.

“We’re here in a purely spectatorial capacity.” Taylor warns them, pointing an accusing finger at Alex. “If hear so much as a hint of MMMBop, you and me are gonna have issues.”

“How about you, TommyJoe?” Z asks, batting her long eyelashes at me sweetly. “Wanna make some beautiful music with us?”

“No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on! You basically helped us write half the album.”

“I’m not here to perform, I’m here to watch. And drink.” I inform them in no uncertain terms. “I’m not getting up on that stage, I don’t care what you do.”

“Don’t suppose me offering sexual favors would change your mind?” Smiles Alex in his usual self-assured way, even as Jason and Michael throw their discarded beer bottle caps at his head.

“Tempting… but no.”

We only end up hanging out backstage for about half an hour before they really have to get serious and start preparing for the show. On our way out to join the rest of the audience, Taylor playfully pulls me towards the open door of an unlit room. I’m way more tempted to accept his offer of sexual favors than I was with Alex. Even if Alex was probably more serious than Taylor is right now.

“Someone might hear us…” I warn him teasingly as he starts backing into the room.

He raises a skeptical eyebrow at me, still trying to lead me into the darkness behind him. “Do you care?”

“Nope.”

With a playful smirk, he pulls me right up against him and kisses me hungrily. I was barely turned on two seconds ago, and now all I can think about is getting him alone and reenacting our very first dressing room encounter. It’s like I can already feel his mouth on me, and he hasn’t even unzipped my pants yet!

“Tommy?” I hear a once familiar voice ask in surprise.

Wow.

Zero to turned on in two seconds, and then turned on to sub -zero in one.

That can’t be healthy.

Chapter Text

If only I hadn’t played slightly-hard-to-get with Taylor a few seconds ago, this might not be happening. We’d be shut away in a dark room, and Adam wouldn’t be able to see me. But it’s too late now; he knows it’s me and there’s nothing I can do to avoid turning around and facing him.

Nothing that won’t make me look immature or insane, anyway.

So, after taking a deep breath, I plaster a smile on my face and force myself to look at him. “Hey.”

“Hey…” He chuckles awkwardly, uncertainly, which makes it obvious that I was the last person he expected to run into backstage tonight. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” I shrug, doing my best to appear casual and indifferent. It’s pretty fucking hard to do when there’s a voice in my head trying to distract me with tempting suggestions to make a run for it. “You?”

“Yeah… I’m good.” We stare at each other for a moment, and then he suddenly seems to realize that I’m not alone. I didn’t think he could be any more uncomfortable with this situation, but the moment his eyes meet Taylor’s I can see him becoming increasingly uneasy. “Hey, Taylor.”

I gotta admit, when the only response Adam gets from him is a tight smile and a nod of acknowledgement, it’s probably more satisfying that it should be. I wish I was capable of being so cool and stand-offish with him, I should be able to be. But apparently old habits die hard. I don’t know how to just forget half a decade of friendship and act like we barely know each other.

“So… what’re you guys doing here?”

“We’re friends with your opening act.” I tell him, ignoring the immediate pang of guilt I feel for making it sound like I’m not friends with him. It wasn’t what I was implying; I wasn’t implying anything! Fuck. Talking to Adam has never been this difficult for me. Can I just crawl into a hole and die now, please? “We promised them we’d get out to one of their shows before they go on tour.”

“Right.” He smiles, but it looks incredibly fake from where I’m standing. “I haven’t really had chance to talk with them or anything, everyone’s been kinda all over the place. But I caught some of their soundcheck before, they were pretty good.”

“They’re really good.” Taylor quickly counters in a painfully polite tone.

Sassy motherfucker.

Some woman, who has been lingering off to the side looking jittery and impatient the whole time we’ve been talking, suddenly clears her throat. “Adam, you still have to-”

“Right, sorry.” He tells her, sounding more relieved than apologetic. And even though he does his best to make it seem like he’d rather stay and chat, I know him well enough to know that he’s glad to have an excuse to get the hell out of here. “I gotta go… I have a meet and greet, and vocal warm ups, and-”

“Yeah. I remember.”

Well, shit.

‘Yeah’ would have fucking sufficed. But could I leave it at that? No.

“Okay, well… it was great seeing you.”

No, it wasn’t. “You, too. Have a good show.”

“Thanks! I hope you guys enjoy yourselves.” He calls back to us as he follows his fidgety little minder off down the hallway, flashing me one of those fucking huge Adam Lambert grins over his shoulder for good measure.

I need a drink.

“You okay?” Taylor asks sympathetically as soon as Adam is out of earshot.

I’m not really sure how to answer that question, because I’m not really sure how I feel. “I’m not bleeding or anything...”

He offers me a small smile before curling his arm around my shoulders and pulling me closer as we walk towards the doors that lead out to the main floor. “No psychological damage?”

“Nothing a little alcohol won’t cure.”

I can tell that his opinion on what would help make me feel better right now is different from mine, and I can feel him fighting to keep that fact to himself. Because he knows that I am going to drink my sorrows away, regardless of what he thinks about it, and if he pisses me off it’s only going to increase my alcohol consumption and make matters worse.

Unfortunately for me, there’s a much higher concentration of Adam fans in the venue by the time we leave the backstage area. It’s probably total paranoia on my part, but I swear I can feel it every time another pair of eyes turns to me, every time someone whispers my name to the person standing next to them, or points in my direction. It’s not long before one of them takes the plunge and jumps out in front of me, blocking my path to the bar.

Don’t they know how fucking dangerous that is?!

“Hi Tommy!”

Breath, Tommy. Smile and breathe . “Hey.”

“I just wanted to say that I think it’s so cool you came out to support Adam.” She coos at me sweetly, like I’m two years old or something. “I’m glad you guys still hang out, even if you aren’t playing together anymore.”

“Yeah, of course.” I lie casually, feeling like shit for doing it. But what the hell else am I gonna do? It’s not like I can tell the truth, especially not to her.

Not to any of them.

Speaking of ‘them’, I can see more and more fans edging towards us, gathering in some kind of barricade between me and that drink I so badly need. Every second, the barricade shuffles closer, closing in. Every last person is clutching a cell phone, eagerly waiting for their chance to ask to take a selfie with me. I want to excuse myself and tell them I can’t talk right now. But that’ll only make me feel worse, because it’s just one more lie.

Besides, I’ve never really been very good at telling them no.

Taylor makes a few brave attempts at rescuing me. Neither of us is ever afraid to play ‘the bad guy’ with each other’s fans; I guess we figure we’ve got nothing to lose there. But these particular fans haven’t seen me in over a year, and after seeing Adam on ‘Ellen’ without me a few months ago, some of them probably wondered if they would ever run into me at one of his shows (or anywhere else) again. They’re a little more relentless than usual, so whenever Taylor does manage to successfully navigate me away from a huddle of overzealous women, there’s another one waiting for me just a few feet away. Even after Phases takes the stage, and it’s too loud to hold a conversation, people still approach me and wordlessly ask for a picture just by holding up their iPhone and batting their eyelashes at me.

The attention finally starts to wane about halfway through Phases’ set, by which point I’m totally fucking exhausted. And still sober, which was not what I had in mind. It takes me forever to get the attention of the bartender and get a drink, but even once I finally have a beer in my hand and I’m not being asked to smile for the camera anymore, I’m too distracted to really appreciate the performance I came all the way out into the fucking desert to see. Every couple of minutes I’ll realize that I’m not even watching, I’m just staring in the general direction of the stage. It makes me feel like a shitty friend. All I have to do is take twenty-five minutes out of my self-indulgent moping and fucking focus . And I’m trying , I am... it’s just not happening.

Because I don’t wanna be here.

And now I can’t leave, because there are way too many people in this room who know that I’m here and will notice if I’m not anymore. If I disappear before Adam even starts his show, they’re gonna think it means something.

I guess they’d be right.

I have another round of visitors between Phases’ performance and Adam’s. I’ve been dreading seeing him up on that stage all day, but having to make awkward small talk where I’m forced to be less than honest in order to preserve the reputation of the guy who fired me kinda makes me long for the lights to dim and the music to start.

Until it actually does.

At first I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath. Before, my mind was too busy to take in what was happening right in front of me. But now what’s happening in front of me is the only thing I’m aware of. Then Taylor takes my hand, sliding his fingers between mine and squeezing tightly, and that’s when I remember to exhale.

I can tell almost immediately that everything is… different. That’s a fucking stupid statement, though. Of course it’s different; I’m in the audience now, not in the band. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to an Adam Lambert show and stood in the crowd rather than at his side on the stage. But it’s not just my perspective that makes everything seem foreign. He’s singing a song that I’ve played with him a dozen times before, but I honestly didn’t recognize it right away because he’s not performing it the way we used to. And by the time I’ve figured out which song it is, and my mind has adjusted to this new sound, it changes again. It’s the lyrics that are different this time. He effortlessly slips from a song I knew by heart to one I barely know at all. He altered the old to fit the new.

Apparently that’s kinda his thing nowadays.

Okay, fine, so I’m taking this too personally. I’m bitter and cranky (and still not nearly as drunk as I should be by this point in the evening!). He’s allowed to change things up; all great artists do from time to time. If I was up there with him, I doubt I’d have a problem with it. But I’m not. I’m down here, in the dark, invisible to him.

And sadly not invisible to the person over there who is filming me on their fucking phone, and apparently thinks that I can’t see them doing it.

Fuck my life!

Now I have to act like I’m having a good time, or at least nod my head along to the music or something so that everyone who watches this damn video on Youtube tomorrow will think I’m into it. And I need another drink, but if I go to the bar in the middle of the first song it’s gonna come off like I don’t care enough to pay attention, or like I care more about alcohol than Adam.

Fuck .

Why won’t she put her damn phone away?!

“You okay?” Taylor practically shouts in my ear, but the music is so loud that it doesn’t even sound like he raised his voice.

“Yeah.” I force a small smile, which was a waste of energy because he can see right through it. “Could you get me another beer?”

I hold up my empty cup, just in case he didn’t hear my request, and he kisses me before heading off towards the bar. As soon as he’s gone, I wish he’d come back. Because now I feel even more exposed than before. I’m standing here, alone, and anyone who looks in this direction can see me, and see how alone I am. At least Taylor blocked some of the view and made me seem less pathetic somehow.

“There you are!” Alex yells cheerfully from about six inches behind me.

Despite the fact that he just scared the living shit out of me, I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy to see him in the entire fucking time I’ve known him! “Hey!”

“Where’s Tay?”

“Bar.”

He nods, glancing in that direction and then doing a quick sweep of the audience, taking in his surroundings. His eyes eventually settle on me, and even though I’d love to just ignore him, it’s kinda hard to pretend that he’s not staring at me like a fucking creep.

“What?”

“You okay?” He asks worriedly.

I wish people would quit asking me that, then I could quit lying to their faces. “I’m fine.”

He smiles and rolls his eyes at me. “Liar.”

Yup. That’s me.

Taylor finally comes back from the bar with a couple of beers, and when he realizes that we have company he offers to share his drink with Alex. Any other night, I would probably at least offer him a sip or two. But tonight I need every last one of them for myself.

I spend the next twenty minutes studying my replacement. How he plays, how he moves, how he interacts with Adam (or doesn’t, for the most part). He’s kinda just… there. Faceless, almost. He could be anyone. Adam could play another show tomorrow with a totally different guitarist and I doubt most people would notice the change. I guess that’s what he and his new label were going for. This band fades into the background. They do their thing and they do it well, but not one of them could be accused of pulling focus from Adam.

I’m not saying that me and Ashley and Isaac stole the spotlight or anything, not intentionally. He pulled us out into it. For me, it took a while to truly be comfortable there. I put up a good front and tried not to let my nerves show, but for a long time I struggled not to flinch whenever those bright lights hit me. And I know that there are plenty of people out there who resented the attention paid to us. We weren’t the main act, we were the hired help. We were supposed to stand in the shadows and let Adam shine. Just like those faceless musicians on stage with him tonight.

Maybe that was my mistake.

Maybe if I’d stayed in the shadows and kept my head down, I’d still be up there.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, my cell phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans. I instinctively take it out, not even looking as I swipe my finger across the screen to open the text I just received. When I force myself to tear my gaze from the stage and see what it says, it’s like being smacked upside the head. And that’s exactly what I needed.

The text is from Lisa, and it’s not a text so much as a picture. It’s Asta and Bridget, snuggled up together on the couch in their Disney footie pajamas, sleeping soundly. They have temporary tattoos on their cheeks, and pieces of popcorn in their messy hair.  And even though this is nothing out of the ordinary, it makes me feel extraordinary. It always does.

It’s a reminder of why I don’t even want to be up on that stage tonight, or any other night.

Didn’t I just spend almost a month on the road figuring all this shit out? And then I came here tonight and totally forgot every conclusion I came to, like it never even happened.

Taylor leans in closer to me, peering over my shoulder at the picture on my phone screen. When I look up at him and smile, I can see the hope in his eyes. He doesn’t ask if I’m okay, but it’s written all over his face. And I don’t tell him that I’m fine, but if I did it would be one hundred percent true for the first time all day.

The rest of the show is a lot easier to watch once I stop looking at it as something I lost and start seeing it for what it is. Not that it’s a particularly lengthy set in the end, compared to most of the shows I’ve played with him in the past. I’d been bracing myself for it to last at least an hour and a half, and then just when I’d started to relax, it was over! It’s a relief, though. Not because I was done and ready to get the hell out of here, but because I know Taylor is dying of curiosity over what’s going on in my head right now, and it’d be cruel to keep him in the dark for too long.

Unfortunately for him, Alex and Z aren’t willing to let us head back to our hotel room without having at least one drink with them first. They barely got to see us before the show, and there wasn’t a whole lot of opportunity to chat during Adam’s set. I’m not all that sure we’re going to have much of a chance to talk now, though. Not without being interrupted every few minutes by someone wanting to tell Alex and Z that they liked their show, or to ask for a picture with one of us.

“Looks like you got yourself a few new fans.” Taylor notes in amusement as we watch yet another giddy girl hurry off to show her friends the selfie she just took with Z.

“And Z may or may not have made at least one girl question her sexuality.” I smirk, sipping on my beer. “Nice work.”

“Thank you.” She giggles and takes a mini bow in her seat. “I try.”

With a proud smile, Alex leans in closer to her and plants an exaggerated kiss on her cheek. “At this point, I think you’ve made more people question their sexuality than Taylor ever did.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She argues.

“Yeah, I mean even if she’s made some women look twice, she probably hasn’t made many men reconsider their orientation.” I point out, glancing at Taylor for confirmation. “Unless you have something you’d like to add…?”

He almost chokes on his drink as he tries to suppress a laugh, but once he’s caught his breath his shakes his head adamantly. “Nope, sorry. Still one hundred and ten percent gay.”

“Only one hundred and ten?” Questions Z curiously. “So... I’d only have to knock eleven percent off of that in order for you to be considered one percent straight?”

“I-”

“Challenge accepted.” She declares, raising her martini before turning to Alex and gesturing to her chest. “He hasn’t seen these yet.”

“They’re pretty fucking incredible.” Alex informs us both with a solemn nod of his head. “It’ll change your life, I’m tellin’ ya.”

I’m about to tell him that my boobs are better, but the moment I open my mouth, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around to see who it is, and find yet another stranger standing behind me.

“Hi, sorry to bother you.” She begins, her cheeks noticeably becoming a darker shade of pink with every passing second. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“You’re not bothering me.” I assure her sincerely as I slip out of my seat and stand to face her. “And hi.”

She chuckles softly, shyly, her eyes darting from my face to Taylor’s, and then to Alex and Z. “This was the first time I’ve seen Adam live since... he started playing with his new band. It felt really weird that you weren’t up there.”

“It felt weird being in the audience.” I admit with a small smile. “But it’s cool. We’re good, and everything worked out for the best.”

“Are you going to be playing with another band soon?” She asks hopefully. “We all miss seeing you play live.”

Not all . Not by a long shot.

“I don’t really have any plans to play live or anything soon, but if I do I’ll try to like tweet about it ahead of time or something so people know.”

“Great! I would totally come to a show if you were playing. And I’d definitely buy your music if you put it on iTunes! It’s so good.”

“Thanks. That’s really sweet of you. I’m working on some new stuff, but I’m probably just gonna keep it on soundcloud for now, until I figure out what I wanna do with it.”

“Okay, well…” She nibbles on her lip for a moment, struggling to think of something more to say to keep the conversation going a little longer. I hate this part, and I’m too awkward to assist her, so I just stand here like an idiot. “I’m really glad you came to the show. I know a lot of people were hoping you would.”

“I’m glad I came, too. It was good to see everyone again.”

“Um… can I…?” I watch as she takes a step forward and hesitantly begins to open her arms.

I’ve been in this position enough times before to know what she’s looking for, and I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and welcome the hug she’s offering me.

“Thank you, again.” She tells me when I start to pull away. “I hope you have a good night.”

“You, too.”

I watch her back away a little before she reluctantly turns and walks over to her waiting friends. I always feel like there’s something more I should have said or done in these situations, but short of inviting her to join us for a drink (which, if I’m honest, I have been known to do), I had nothing left to offer her. Or any of them, really. I can’t promise them a live performance, or an EP, or an album. I have nothing planned right now.

I’m finally okay with that, but I don’t think they are.

In an effort to avoid any more interruptions, Taylor and I invite Alex and Z back to our mini villa. Alex insists on tracking down a pack of cards first so that we can play some blackjack or poker (because we’re at a casino, after all, and apparently it would be rude not to). So while he and Z head off in search of somewhere to buy or borrow some playing cards, Taylor and I head back to the villa to pick up the clothes we left all over the floor this afternoon and make some more drinks.

The walk from the main casino to our ‘casita’ is a silent one, but I can tell he’s dying to ask me how I’m handling everything that has happened tonight. It’s pretty amusing that he’s trying so hard not to pry, and I’m an asshole for keeping him in suspense until the door is closed behind us. That’s when his patience reaches its limit.

“I have no idea how you’re feeling right now.” He sighs, and I give a slight shrug as I busy myself with toeing my boots off and heading over to the minibar. “I know you weren’t exactly having the time of your life or anything at first, but then you seemed to perk up a bit… and now you’re just… quiet.”

“I’m okay.”

“But are you really okay, or are you just saying that so I won’t worry?” He frowns, walking across the room towards me. “Because if you’re not okay, sooner or later I’m going to figure it out. And then I’m gonna worry anyway, so you may as well just-”

“I’m okay.” I assure him wholeheartedly, and after staring at me skeptically for a moment he slowly starts to accept that it’s the truth. “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

“What changed?”

“Me.” I chuckle, giving another shrug to show that I have no other explanation to offer him. “A long time ago. I just forgot.”

“So… you’re not miserable and wishing you were still in Adam’s band?” He asks cautiously as I take a step closer to him. “Not even a little bit? Deep down in the depths of that black soul of yours?”

Damn, I love him. “Nope, not even in the darkest, dustiest corner.”

“Because it’s okay if you do feel that way. I know you said you were done with touring and everything, but I totally understand if-”

“I know you do.” I cut him off quickly before he can continue wasting his breath. “But I still feel that way. Maybe more after tonight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… it was a good show and everything, he’s always gonna be an incredible performer no matter who he plays with, you know? But… I don’t wanna play that music. It’s not me. I know now that I could play it , though. And if I needed to, if I needed a job and Adam asked me to come back and play for him again, I would. But I don’t need a job. And… for the first time in months, years , I’m fine with that. I don’t feel bad about it, or like I’m failing somehow. Since we got back from Tulsa I’ve started writing music again, like really writing and recording, not just messing around. And I’m not second guessing it all the way I used to, or telling myself it’s total shit and not worth working on.”

“Good!”

“And I owe a big part a of that to you.” I tell him with total sincerity, even as he blushes and shakes his head in disagreement. “It’s true. If you hadn’t given me space to figure stuff out for myself, if you hadn’t been okay with me going on tour last month, and if you hadn’t reminded me on a daily basis that I could do anything I wanted and you would support it as long as it made me happy… I doubt I’d have any fucking clue what I want.  And I would be miserable right now, and wishing I was back in Adam’s band, because I wouldn’t know better.”

“All the things you just gave me credit for are things you’ve been doing for me for years . So if you owe me, then I owe you, too.”

I know I can’t possibly win this argument, I’ll just waste precious energy trying. So instead of debating which of us has done more for the other, I decide to settle it with a simple kiss. “Call it even?”

“Deal.” He grins, pulling me up against him and pressing his soft lips to mine.

Chapter Text

This weekend had the potential to be a total disaster. I took a huge risk when I called and extended our hotel reservation for an extra night, because there was a very good chance that Tommy wasn’t even going to want to stay for the one night we’d already booked. I was prepared for him to want to pack up and leave right after Adam’s show. And if that was what he felt he needed to do, I would have done it without question.

Luckily, that wasn’t how it played out. It was looking more and more likely as the evening progressed, but he somehow pulled himself out of that spiral of self-doubt and melancholy. I won’t say that he was completely okay for the rest of the weekend, because there’s no denying that his mind was still preoccupied. But it didn’t seem to be his career or his current relationship (or lack thereof) with Adam that was occupying his thoughts.

I’m pretty sure he was thinking about how different his life is now compared to how used to be. Before he worked for Adam, before he met me in that bar, before everything we are, everything we have, and the future we’re working towards. It happens to me as well sometimes. When I think of who I was before he came into my life, and who I am now, this person that I might never have become if it wasn’t for him…

It definitely gives me more than a momentary pause, that’s for sure.

And I’m sure that wasn’t the only thing on his mind; having a baby is never far from either of our thoughts. Shauntae and Sam are bringing their daughter over for a little ‘meet the family’ dinner with our kids tonight. We keep telling ourselves that it’s just going to be a relaxed, no-pressure evening (Tommy wouldn’t even let me make anything more complex than spaghetti!). But no matter what we tell ourselves, we know it is possibly one of the most important dinners we’ll ever have. We’re almost certain we want to ask Shauntae to be our surrogate, and we’re just as certain that she’ll agree to it if we do. But this dinner could change that. We’ll be outside of the structure of the surrogacy offices and the interview etiquette. This isn’t about finding out if we’re all on the same page as far as what our expectations are and how we want to handle any possible problems that might arise. It’s about finding out who they are, and vice versa. Deciding if this is the woman we want to entrust with carrying our child. Deciding if we want her, and her wife and kid, in our lives indefinitely.

This time tomorrow, we’ll either be calling Alyssa to have paperwork drawn up, and making doctor’s appointments... or we’ll be starting our search all over again.

But right now, I just want to savor our last few moments of “alone time”. The odds that we’ll have the excuse or the opportunity to take another weekend getaway again this year are slim-to-none. Ike and Zac fly in tomorrow, and then it’s two weeks of solid studio work to get the album finished in time for tour. After tour comes Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and New Years... and who the hell knows what next year has in store for us.

So even though we’re sitting in a car on the freeway, until we pull into our driveway and I turn the engine off, this still counts as part of our vacation in my mind.

And I’m not letting go of his hand.

“You still wanna tell the kids that Shauntae and Sam are just old friends of mine?” He asks as I take our exit off of highway 101. “I feel kinda bad lying to them.”

“Me, too. It just seems like the truth would be too much, at least for right now. If we do end up asking Shauntae to be our surrogate, then we can tell them everything. But if they know who she is before hand, it’ll be weird for everyone. They won’t be able to look at her like they would any other person we have over for dinner, you know? They’ll be wondering if she’s the woman who’s going to be pregnant with their little brother or sister.”

“And we’re not going to be wondering that?” He teases semi-seriously.

“I’m gonna try like hell not to.” I smirk, casting a glance at him before turning onto Beachwood Drive. “I want to get to know her as a person, not an incubator.”

Apparently he finds that statement so amusing that the iced Starbucks coffee he’s sipping almost comes out of his nose. After taking a moment to set his drink in a cup holder and stop himself from choking, he looks at me with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll give you head whenever and wherever you want it for a week if you say that to her face tonight.”

“Make it a month and you’ve got a deal.” I counter.

“You drive a hard bargain, Hanson...”

“Pun intended?”

“Duh.” He chuckles softly, picking his drink back up and slurping on it again.

Between the sight of him with his lips wrapped around a straw, and our previous conversation about him giving me copious amounts of head, I’m too distracted to pay attention to driving, and I end up running right through a four way stop.

Thank god the cops never seem to be around to see me do shit like that.

“I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t see the stop sign because I was imagining my husband sucking on something other than a Starbucks straw.” Probably wouldn’t get me a whole lot of sympathy.

All too soon, I’m making that last turn along the winding curves of Durand, and our mailbox is in sight. He squeezes my hand just as I’m about the squeeze his, and I smile to myself at the knowledge that he’s no more ready for the past forty-eight hours to be over than I am. But almost the second I pull into the driveway beside Lisa’s car, the front door opens and we’re greeted by five elated faces. Ezra is the only one of them who doesn’t immediately rush over to the car before I’ve even had a chance to come to a full stop. It’s obvious he’s happy we’re home, but at twelve and three quarters, he’s a little too old to be jumping up and down on either side of the car like an over excited Minion.

Suddenly I don’t feel so bad about our weekend being over. It’s hard to feel anything but loved when you’re welcomed home with so much enthusiasm.

“Why you gotta keep leaving all the time?” Complains Asta, practically trying to climb Tommy’s leg until he relents and reaches down to pick her up. “You never stay here no more.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Dad, when do Uncle Zac and Uncle Ike get here?” River asks, pulling insistently on my arm all the way over to the house, as though he’s trying to get my attention (even though he already has it). “Will they be here for dinner?”

“No, buddy. They won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“For breakfast, then?” Viggo quickly chimes in. “Can we make them pancakes and eggs?”

“They won’t be here that early. But they might come over for dinner tomorrow night, if they’re not too tired.”

I doubt either of them heard the end of that sentence, they were already too busy cheering and high fiving each other. They rarely hear the “if” parts of any “mights” and “maybes” I give them.

“Hey, guys.” Lisa greets us warmly as we step into the foyer, and I wait for all the kids to join us before I close the door. “How was your trip?”

“Good.” Nods Tommy, setting Asta down on the ground so that she can run off and play with Bridget for a few more minutes before they’re forced to part ways.

“What did you do?” Asks Penny curiously.

“We went to see Alex and Z play a show, remember?”

“For two whole days?” She questions with her most skeptical eyebrow raise. “Didn’t you do anything else?”

Nothing I wanna tell my ten year old daughter about, that’s for damn sure.

“Uh… well…”

“We played some of the games in the casino.” Tommy answers easily when he notices me struggling to think of anything PG to share with them.

No, we didn’t. Not even once.

“Did you have a really awesome hotel room?” Inquires Viggo. “With a giant bed and a huge TV?”

“The TV was normal sized.” I tell him, unable to keep myself from laughing as his faces falls in disappointment. “But you know what? We didn’t watch TV because we were too busy enjoying our own private swimming pool!”

“You had your own pool?” Gasps Penny in wide-eyed awe. “That no one else could swim in?”

“ We couldn’t even swim in it.” Tommy explains with a small smile. “It wasn’t really a swimming pool, it was more like a giant bathtub in the ground.”

“But you had fun?” Lisa asks hopefully.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Thank you so much for babysitting, and dog-sitting, and house-sitting…”

She waves my gratitude off, just like she always does. If it had been Tommy thanking her, though, she would be reminding him how much he owes her right about now. “What are sisters for?”

“Bugging you.” Ezra replies under his breath, barely able to conceal a smile when his eyes meet mine.

“Preach!” Agrees Tommy, offering him a hand to high five in solidarity.

“You’re welcome.” Lisa scowls at her brother, swatting his arm in retaliation. “Don’t worry, I won’t be around to ‘bug’ you much longer-”

“Oh boy, here we go.”

“I’ll just go and find my husband, who is only slightly exhausted from taking care of your five kids as well as his own daughter all weekend, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thanks, that’d be great.” He grins back at her way too smugly, earning himself another slap. Only this one is to the back of the head, and it sets the kids off into fits of giggles. “Hey!”

“Let that be a lesson to you.” She tells him sternly before turning to our snickering children. “Treat your siblings with respect, or they’ll make you suffer!”

“You sound like mom.” He mutters.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

I can tell that Tommy is probably about to say something else he doesn’t really mean, so I reach out and clamp my hand down over his mouth before he has a chance to get himself in even more trouble.

“It’s a compliment.” I assure her. “You and your mom are both wonderful, strong, intelligent-” Despite the fact that my hand is still covering his mouth and preventing him from speaking, I can clearly hear (and feel) the “suck up” Tommy coughs into my palm. “Incredibly patient women, and I only hope I can put up with this idiot for as long as the two of you have.”

I can. Easily.

Gladly .

But he doesn’t deserve to hear that right now, because he’s being a brat to his sister.

“Thanks, Taylor. It’s nice to have a mature, thoughtful brother-in-law to make up for the blood related dud I got stuck with.”

“Happy to help.” I smile back at her warmly just as Tommy finally manages to pry my fingers away from his lips.

“Do you two wanna get a room or something?”

“How can they get a room?” Frowns Viggo. “You can’t ‘get’ a room, you can only go to your room.”

“You’re right, kiddo. Tommy has terrible grammar.”

“And on that note, I think we’ll be going.” Lisa laughs softly. “I have to go grocery shopping. Mom’s coming over for dinner and I have nothing to feed her.”

“Tell her it’s potluck.” Suggests Tommy with a nonchalant shrug. “Let her bring the food.”

“See, stuff like this is why I’m her favorite.”

“I can live with that.”

Sometimes I have a harder time getting Tommy and Lisa to stop teasing each other than I do with any of our kids. But I guess my siblings and I treat each other same same way, especially me, Ike and Zac. It’s one of the reasons I’m most excited to have them out here, as stupid as that might sound. I spent my whole life bickering with them on a daily basis about completely unimportant stuff, they could be so irritating. But once that was behind me, and there was a thousand miles between us, I missed it. Bickering with Tommy isn’t the same. It’s more fun, no question, and it’s great for working up a little sexual tension, but it’s a different kind of release.

Taunting Ike and making him so crazy that his voice gets all high pitched when he’s telling me off… I don’t know, it just makes my day feel more complete somehow.

Once Lisa, David and Bridget have said their goodbyes, and I’ve thanked them again enough for both Tommy and myself, we take the kids and Duke out for a walk in the hills so that we can spend some quality time with them away from the distractions of toys and electronics. And it might also be in an attempt to tire them out a little so that they’re less likely to be over-excited and crazy when we have unsuspecting strangers over for dinner. They’re usually pretty well behaved when we have company, to be fair, but like most kids they seem to feel the need to impress new people in their lives with how loud and inappropriate they can be. I really don’t want them scaring away our surrogate by making her think she’d be doing humanity a disservice by allowing us to raise another child.

Sadly, my plan kinda backfires a little because Asta is the first to start whining about being tired long before any of her siblings run out of energy. So Tommy and I take turns giving her piggyback rides for the next hour, and as a result we’re the only ones needing a nap by the time we finally make it home. I was disappointed earlier that I wasn’t going to have a chance to do any real cooking for dinner tonight, but now I’m glad that all I have to do is boil some water and heat up some frozen meatballs!

Shauntae, Sam and Stella show up right on time, and Tommy has the door open almost as soon as they ring the doorbell (because he was pacing in front of it). By the time the kids and I make it to the foyer, the three of them are already inside and handing Tommy their jackets. Stella is practically hiding behind Sam, peering out shyly at all of the new people before her. And of course Penny is the first to attempt to interact with her, even if it is simply by waving to her from across the room.

“You didn’t have any trouble finding us, did you?” I ask as Shauntae gently tries to coax her daughter out into the open. “It’s a bit of a maze up here.”

“We found you just fine, but it was definitely an adventure!” She chuckles. “These streets are pretty pokey!”

“Right?” Commiserates Tommy with a sympathetic sigh. “I love this house and everything, but the Hollywood Hills are a freakin’ mess.”

“The view makes up for it, though.” I remind him as I curl my arm around his waist and give him a gentle squeeze.

“I bet.” Sam shakes her head in awe as she takes in her surroundings. “I laughed when Stella said you lived in a castle when we pulled into the driveway, but she’s not wrong!”

“It’s not a castle!” Giggles Asta. “It’s just my house.”

“Your house is a very big house.” Shauntae smiles at her. “Compared to our little shack, at least.”

“It’s funny how small a house can feel when you have five kids climbing the walls.” Smirks Tommy as he glances down at our suspiciously innocent looking children.

“We don’t climb the walls.” River frowns at him. “We’re not even supposed to climb on the furniture!”

But they do.

“Guys, these are our friend’s, Sam and Shauntae. And that’s their daughter, Stella.” I tell them, noting the fact that Stella is slowly but surely inching her way out from behind Sam.

“Say hi, Stella.” She urges her gently, stroking her long blonde curls soothingly.

Stella’s eyes dart back and forth from one face to the next, finally settling on Penny. And then she blushes and averts her eyes to the ground before murmuring an incredibly quiet “hi”.

“And this is Ezra, Penny, River, Viggo, and Asta.” Tommy introduces our kids, and they each smile and wave at the sound of their name.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” Nods Shauntae, looking a little overwhelmed. “Please don’t hold it against us if we get your names mixed up at first.”

“We won’t.” Ezra assures her. “Lots of people get our names wrong when they meet us for the first time. We’re used to it.”

“Well, dinner should be ready in ten minutes or so, but…” I place a hand in the center of Penny’s back and give her an encouraging nudge forward. “Maybe you guys could take Stella into the family room and show her some of your toys?”

“You wanna come see?” Asks Penny as she holds her hand out towards Stella, who only recoils further at the gesture. “Your mommies can come, too.”

Stella wordlessly gazes up at Shauntae and Sam with the same helpless puppy dog eyes that tend to get Penny and Asta anything they want. It takes all of five seconds for her to win Sam over. “Come on. Let’s go see what they’ve got!”

“I’ve got blocks and puzzles!” Asta informs them proudly, grabbing Stella’s hand as soon as it’s within reach. And either Stella is too stunned to stop her, or she’s not really as shy as she’s making herself out to be, because I don’t see her so much as flinch.

“I should probably…” Begins Tommy, already making a move to follow.

“Keep them from being eaten alive?” I smile knowingly as I peck him quickly on the lips before he’s too far out of reach. “Yeah, probably.”

“Is there anything I can do to help out with dinner?” Shauntae offers. “I promise not to completely take over. I’m pretty good at taking orders when it’s someone else’s kitchen.”

“Right, I forgot that you’re a chef.” I chuckle softly, leading her through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Now I really wish I’d made more of an effort.”

“Don’t be silly! You don’t have to go to any trouble for us.”

“I kinda like going to trouble, though. I make a point of doing it as often as possible.”

“So you’re one of those people, huh?” She asks teasingly as I open the oven door and retrieve two loaves of garlic bread before they have chance to burn.

“Those people?”

“You know the ones I’m talking about. The people who put themselves through unnecessary stress over everything , like they don’t know how to not be stressed out.”

Yes, I do know those people. I’m their King. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

“So what restaurant do you work at? Anywhere I might have heard of?”

“Maybe.” She blushes faintly, leaning against the kitchen counter beside me and watching me stir the simmering marinara sauce on the stove. “It’s called Angelini Osteria. It’s an Italian place in-”

“Fairfax!” I finish for her in astonishment. “Holy crap! That place is so good!”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“My best friend lives a couple of blocks away, and we’ve eaten there dozens of times. I mean, that pasta dish with the lobster? Oh my god. And the mushroom risotto? I could eat that stuff all day!”

“Well, I can’t take credit for those, sadly. I’m the pastry chef, so I only deal with desserts.”

“Does that mean you’re responsible for that pie with the pine nuts?”

“The Torta della Nonna?” She laughs softly in amusement. “Yes.”

“And the mascarpone ice cream with the strawberries and red wine?”

“Guilty.”

“I think I might be a little bit in love with you right now.” I admit semi-seriously. “In a purely non-sexual, completely food related way. If that’s even a thing.”

“If it’s not a thing, it should be a thing.” She agrees wholeheartedly. “And I’m flattered, thank you.”

“Damn.”

“What?”

I heave a distressed sigh as I turn off the stove and stare down at the spaghetti in the pot in front of me. “I can’t let you eat this .”

“Are you serious?!”

“You work at an actual Italian restaurant. Like a really good one. And I’m gonna serve you pasta from a box and marinara sauce from a jar? I can’t do it.”

“I love pasta from a box and marinara sauce from a jar!” She insists in an effort to remove the pathetic pout from my face. “I had soup out of a can for lunch; I’m not a food snob, I promise.”

“Really?”

“Cross my heart. And I’m sure you have excellent taste in jarred marinara sauce.”

“Well.. it is organic.” I mumble as I dunk the spoon in and out of the sauce for no real reason.

“That’s better than what I serve at my house.”

“Hey!” We both look towards the sound of Tommy’s voice as he sticks his head in from the dining room. “How long ‘til dinner? The kids are getting hangry.”

“It’s done, I just need to serve it.”

“What’s up with you?” He asks in concern when he notices the forlorn look on my face. “Is something wrong?”

“He’s worried I won’t approve of his cooking.” Shauntae informs him before I have the chance to lie.

“Oh jeez.” Groans Tommy with a distinct note of dread in his tone, and a roll of his eyes so noticeable that it could probably be seen from space. “If you don’t knock it off, you’re never inviting anyone over for dinner again.”

“It’s your fault! You wouldn’t let me make something special!”

“Even if you’d made the most elaborate five course meal you could come up with, you’d still be in here pulling this crap, because you do it every time we have people over for a meal.”

“Do not.” I mutter petulantly while Shauntae giggles away beside me.

“You guys are the cutest little old married couple I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” Tommy scowls indignantly. “I’m not old!”

“And I’m younger than him, so if he’s not old, I’m definitely not old!”

“You’re only like a year and a half younger.” He grumbles as he turns to leave the room. “It’s not like I’m a cougay or anything.”

And just like that, my bad mood has lifted. “He doesn’t know it yet, but ‘cougay’ just became his new pet name.”

Dinner goes more than smoothly. There are no awkward pauses in conversation… in fact, there are no pauses of any kind in conversation. No one struggles to think of things to say, the kids are on their best behavior, and nothing gets spilled, or dropped, or broken. It’s like some kind of miracle, honestly! It’s rare that we get through an entire meal without some form of mess being made. But aside from the spaghetti sauce all over Asta’s face and fingers, we seem to come out of the experience unscathed.

Stella was already coming out of her shell before we sat down to eat, and by the time the last of the food has been consumed she’s feeling right at home. She’s the first to ask if she can leave the table with Asta and Penny so that they can go and play. And Ezra is kind enough to volunteer to make sure that his younger sibling’s hands are marinara sauce free before they’re set loose in the family room to wipe them all over the couch.

I may be wrong, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he knows Shauntae and Sam aren’t “old friends”, and that this dinner is more important to us than we’ve been letting on.

“Your kids are great.” Sam tells us once we’re alone, accepting a refill of her glass of wine from Tommy. “You’re gonna have to teach us everything you know about parenting so we can make sure ours turns out like yours.”

“Stella seems pretty great already, so I don’t think you need any help from us.” Chuckles Tommy. “Besides, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I make it up as I go. And most of the hard work was done before I came along.”

“Now that’s not even slightly true.” I argue immediately and wholeheartedly. “Except maybe the making it up as you go part, because I think all parents do that. I know I always have.”

“Whatever it is you guys are doing, you’re doing it well.” Shauntae adamantly maintains.  

“Thanks. It’s kind of important to us that you guys think that, for obvious reasons.”

Tommy snorts softly in amusement as he takes a sip of his drink. “That was subtle.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be.” I retort, giving him a playful nudge with my elbow and almost causing him to spill wine down his shirt.

“Does that mean this is your not -so-subtle way of asking if we… well, I will be your surrogate?” Asks Shauntae, instinctively reaching for Sam’s hand on the table between them.

It almost makes me laugh to see how hopeful she is that we’ll choose her, when we’re sitting here hoping that she’ll say yes when we ask. I don’t even have to pull Tommy aside and confirm that this is what we both want; the little looks he’s been shooting me all evening told me everything I need to know. And if they hadn’t, the way his hand is clutching my thigh nervously beneath the table right now is a pretty clear sign.

“Well, we were gonna wait until the end of the evening, but… that would mean we wouldn’t have chance to celebrate with you, so...”

“So…?”

I turn to Tommy for a moment, offering him a questioning shrug. “You wanna do it, or should I?”

“Damnit, Taylor, would you just ask her already?!” He exclaims impatiently, leaving both Sam and Shauntae fighting back laughter.

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention back to Shauntae, watching as she nibbles her lower lip in anticipation. “Shauntae, we would be really honored if you would agree to-”

“Yes!” Her hand immediately flies to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise at her own outburst. “Sorry! You finish, I’ll be appropriately quiet now.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else to say.” I laugh softly, following Tommy’s example by getting out of my seat and making my way around to her side of the table.

She doesn’t hesitate to accept the hugs that we’re both ready and more than willing to offer her, and Sam. And the second we’re done thanking them and telling them how much this means to us, our arms are wrapped around each other and Tommy is holding on to me so tightly that I can barely breathe. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to.

I know he’s been waiting for this moment for months, we both have, and neither of us can believe it’s actually, finally , here.

Chapter Text

This week has been insanely busy. Usually when I’m busy with work, I can still catch my breath at home. But there’s stuff going on in my personal life and my professional life right now, so there’s really no getting away from it. Especially not when they’re both happening under the same roof. It’s hard to leave work at the office (or studio, in my case) when all that separates my work life from my home life is a flight of stairs!

And I love it.

I thrive on this kind of chaos. Even if I complain about it from time to time, or wish for a break, I don’t actually mean it. Whenever I do get a break, I don’t know what to do with myself. Besides, all of this week’s craziness has been of the positive variety, and I can never get enough of feeling like everything in my life is going the way I want it to. Everything is good, everyone is happy.

Except Ike. But that’s only because he can’t stand it when I stay unrelentingly calm and level headed while he’s having one of his pessimistic meltdowns. I can’t help it, though! There are a lot of things I do to purposely piss him off, but staying cool while things are blowing up all around me isn’t one of them. It’s just how I’ve always handled things when it comes to making music; I have to believe it’s all going to come together in the end, no matter how impossible that might seem while we’re in the midst of trying to make it happen.

If only I could figure out how to take the same approach to personal problems.

Not that I have any right now. In fact, this week has been one of the best we’ve had in a long while. After dinner with Shauntae and Sam on Sunday, the surrogacy ball started well and truly rolling. We called Alyssa first thing Monday morning to tell her the good news and ask her to get all of the legal paperwork drawn up for us, and she gave us the numbers for a couple of fertility clinics in the area so that we could set up appointments for Tommy and Shauntae. She said that if everything goes well, we could be dotting I’s and crossing T’s before the end of the month, and Shauntae and our egg donor (who thankfully hasn’t given up on us and decided to work with someone else yet) could start syncing their cycles within the next few weeks!

I know we’re still at the starting line, or maybe we haven’t even made it that far, yet. But it’s like I can see where we’re going now. Even if the finish line isn’t in sight, at least we’re not on that winding road of uncertainty anymore. That road had way too many sharp twists and turns, potholes, and potential dead ends. But this one is like a straight shot to our destination. And I know there might still be obstacles along the way, but if we’re patient we can make it through whatever comes at us. We can get there.

I might have to keep reminding Tommy about that pesky patience thing, though.

“Hey, you know how you’re going out with Alex and Zac tonight?” He asks me as I exit the bathroom to find him reclined on the bed.

“Yeah?”

“How about you don’t?”

I frown uncertainly, grabbing a clean shirt from the closet before turning to face him. “I thought you said you didn’t mind watching the kids while I went out for a couple of hours?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay… so why don’t you want me to go out?” I chuckle in bemusement as he gets off of the bed and starts to approach me. I know that look he’s giving me, and if backing up a little wouldn’t put me in the closet, I’d do it.

“I do. But I want you to go out with me .” He informs me, taking the shirt out of my hands and holding it behind his back.

“But we don’t have anyone to watch the kids.”

“Ask Ike.”

My first few attempts to take my shirt away from him fail miserably, so I turn back to the closet in search of a new one. “I doubt he’ll be all that eager to help. He just spent all day in the studio, and he probably already settled in for the night at the hotel.”

“Well… then… how about we just stay here. We can set the kids up with a movie or something…” He suggests innocently, slowly trailing one fingertip down the length of my spine. So I quickly put my new shirt on to cover myself up. “Ez is good at keeping River and Viggo in line, and Asta will probably pass out in like half an hour anyway.”

“No.”

His hopeful little expression morphs into a pitiful pout immediately. “Why?”

“Because I know what you wanna do while they’re watching a movie, and it’s not happening.”

“But-”

“ One more day, Tommy. That’s it, that’s all you have to suffer through.”

“Fine, so I won’t get off! That doesn’t mean I can’t get you off!” He pleads with me as he curls his fingers in the front of my shirt and pulls me closer. “Come on… please ?”

“No! I know you, and I know that’s not all you’re gonna want once we get started.”

“I’ll be good! I promise!”

“No, you won’t. I’m not gonna risk it when you only have to wait another twenty-four hours.” His only response this time is to whine at me. Like an actual sad-puppy whine! “You’re being ridiculous! How’re you gonna feel if we fool around and it goes too far?”

“ Satisfied !”

“You know what I mean. There’s a reason you’re not supposed to have sex or jerk off for a few days before-”

“No one has to know!”

“The nurse at the clinic said you should abstain for three days, so you’re damn well gonna abstain for three days.”

Mumbling several expletives to himself, he flops backwards onto the bed and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. It’s not like I enjoy telling him no. He’s acting like I’m doing this for my own amusement or something, but that couldn’t be further from the truth! I mean… okay, it is kinda funny. But if he thinks I’ve preferred spending quality time with my hand instead of him for the last couple of days, he’s an idiot.

There’s a reason I’m paying Jenna to take the kids out to dinner and a movie tomorrow night, and it’s not so that Tommy and I can stay home alone and snuggle !

It’s hard to just up and leave when I know how frustrated he is, I feel like a jerk as I kiss him goodbye and try not to glance over my shoulder one last time before the front door closes behind me. But I know that if I give him that one last look, it might just break my resolve. Instead, I try to focus on the night ahead because I’ve been looking forward to it all week. It’s rare that Zac is in Los Angeles when Alex isn’t out on tour or too busy to get away for a few hours. The three of us only get to hang out like this once or twice a year, and we always have so much fun when we do. It never fails to make me feel ten years younger.

Tommy generally chooses to sit these little reunions out, even if we have a babysitter on hand and he’s free to join us. He and Zac get along okay now, for the most part. They’ll take cheap shots at each other, but they both do the same thing with Alex. I think it’s just a little too weird for Tommy to have drinks with the only other guys I’ve ever slept with besides him, which is totally understandable. If I think about it too much, it’s kinda weird for me, too. Which is why I try not to think about it; I focus on what we are rather than what we were.

Zac is already at the bar when I arrive, but Alex has yet to show up. It’s still pretty early, and being a weeknight it’s unlikely things are going to pick up much beyond the few small gatherings scattered throughout the room. Which is kind of perfect, to be honest. As accustomed to audiences as the three of us may be, we try to keep things low key when we spend the evening busting out karaoke classics like ‘I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll’ or ‘Sweet Home Alabama’. Zac doesn’t have much to worry about, since he doesn’t drink. He’s not at risk of having one too many shots of tequila and massacring ‘Baby Got Back’ on a dare.

Not that I’ve ever done that.

But I’ve seen plenty of people make questionable song selections after a night of drinking. Like the time Alex got up and sang ‘The Real Slim Shady’ when he could barely walk in a straight line. I never would have let him do it if I’d seen it coming. But one minute he was excusing himself to go to the restroom, and the next minute he was up on the stage saying “may I have your attention please?” As bad of a friend as it probably makes me, I’ll admit that it was pretty entertaining. But that’s because I wasn’t the one who ended up on Youtube the next day. Thankfully, the only videos of me doing karaoke that are floating around out there are incredibly brief and much less embarrassing!

“Hey, stranger.” I smirk as I take a seat beside Zac at the table he picked out for us. “Long time, no see.”

“Longest three hours of my life.” He drones insincerely, pushing a bottle of beer across the tabletop towards me.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

“When did you get here?”

With a noncommittal shrug, he slumps in his seat a little. “About ten minutes ago. I figured I’d walk, since it’s not far from the hotel. Guess I over-estimated how long it’d take me to get here.”

“Sorry. I would’ve been here on time, but I... had a little trouble getting away.”

“One of the kids kicking up a fuss?” He asks, offering me a knowing smile.

“Yeah…” Let’s go with that. “So, did you have time to pick out your first song while you were waiting?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m gonna go with something by Def Leppard, at least to start with. I might venture into Poison territory later...”

“I figured.” I chuckle softly, taking a sip of my beer. “Just don’t go wailing yourself hoarse; you need to save your voice for the studio.”

“Hey, if I can wail on tour night after night and still be able to sing a twenty-something song setlist, I think I can handle a little karaoke.”

He’s right. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious. Not that my vocal chords aren’t resilient, but his are freaking super human! We’ve often joked with our fans that Zac could probably join a hair metal band if we ever decided to take a break from performing and recording together, but it’s not a joke. I mean it kind of is, because he probably wouldn’t do it, but he could .

“Hey!’ Alex greets us cheerfully as he drops down into the only vacant chair at the table. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

Zac and I make eye contact for a split second, but a split second is long enough for us to know what the other is thinking. It’s a skill we’ve had since we were little kids. We can plot and scheme in total silence, and communicate with a look so brief that most of the time no one else will even see it.

“Dude, you could’ve texted or something.” I sigh in disapproval. “We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“We got here like half an hour ago.”

“Why?!” Exclaims Alex incredulously, looking back and forth between the two of us as though we’re insane. “We said eight-thirty.”

“No, we said eight .” Zac insists with an entirely straight face.

“Seriously? Fuck, I’m sorry, I must’ve misheard-”

“We’re messin’ with you.” I assure him as I place a comforting hand on his arm. “I only just got here, and he hasn’t been here for more than fifteen minutes.”

“Assholes.” He mutters, snatching the beer out of my hand and taking a long sip. “Just for that, I get to pick the first song you perform.”

Shit.

I’m definitely gonna need another drink.

It’s funny how I can blast Whitney out of my car window on the freeway and sing like no one’s listening, but when Alex wants me to get up and give my best rendition of Beyonce’s ‘If I Were A Boy’, I want to throw myself off of that little stage and break a bone just to get out of doing it. I guess that goes to show how much more humiliation I’m willing to endure if the result is bringing a smile to Tommy’s face.

Speaking of Tommy, he spends most of the night texting me. I wouldn’t go so far as to label it “sexting”, but I can tell he’s trying to get me at least a little worked up so that when I get home later, and I’m tipsy and tired, I’ll be more likely to give in to his pleading. I’m kinda tempted to ask Alex if I can crash on his couch, because I’m not sure how many more times I can turn Tommy down.

Refusing to have sex with him when he’s begging me to give in is by far my least favorite activity in the world ever !

“Who’re you texting?” Alex asks with feigned curiosity. He already knows who it is that keeps messaging me, that’s why he’s smiling at me like that. “Is it your hubby ?”

“Maybe.”

“Tell him to leave you the fuck alone!” He demands semi-seriously. “If he wanted to talk to you this badly, he shoulda just come with you.”

“You know he won’t.” I mumble, instinctively glancing up at Zac as he takes the stage while my thumbs fervently type a reply to Tommy’s latest message. “It’s too weird for him.”

“It’s only as weird as he makes it.”

“How would you feel if you had to hang out with two of Z’s ex’s?”

He shrugs. “I do it all the time. We’ve all been friends since we were kids, so it’s kind of unavoidable.”

“Well, maybe one day he’ll be as enlightened as you are. But right now he’s bored, and lonely, and-”

“Horny? Yeah, I figured that part out like twenty texts ago.”

“How?!” I ask in surprise as Zac begins to sing the opening lines of ‘Tearin’ Down The Walls’. “Can you see my phone screen?”

“Yes. I used my x-ray vision to read your texts through the back of your phone.” He replies sarcastically. “Also, every time your phone buzzes, you react like someone grabbed your junk.” I want to argue with that statement, my mouth is open and I’m all set to tell him he’s wrong. But he’s not. “You should be ashamed of yourself, sexting in a public place. It’s disgusting!”

“I’m not sexting!”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

“I’m not!” I protest adamantly. “You wanna see?”

“Hell yeah!” He grins, already reaching out to take my phone.

“Well you can’t. But I swear I haven’t said anything to him that could be considered even slightly flirtatious.”

His excited expression fades into one of confusion, and possibly even concern. “Why? Did he do something to piss you off?”

“No, it’s nothing like that...”

But how am I supposed to explain what’s going on to Alex when he has no idea that we’re trying to have a baby? I want to tell him so badly, but I can’t without asking Tommy first. And I don’t particularly want to ask him over text, because I won’t be able to tell how he really feels about it if I can’t see his face.

“Is everything alright? You seem kinda distracted tonight.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’d tell me if something was going on, right? I know I’ve been busy with tour rehearsals and shit, but-”

“You’d be one of the first to know.” I tell him wholeheartedly. “I promise.”

“But not the first?” He frowns indignantly. “Who gets first dibs? Don’t say Tommy, he doesn’t count.”

“You know, you’re way more needy and insecure than I bet most people think you are.”

“Is it Zac?”

“You want another drink?” I ask as I get out of my seat, and he immediately jumps up and begins following me towards the bar. “I’m thinking it’s tequila time.”

“It’s Zac, isn’t it?”

The rest of the evening passes pretty much as I expected. Lots of drinking, singing, and laughing, which is a perfect combination in my opinion. The only thing that could make the night even better would be having hot, midnight sex with my husband. Since that’s not an option, I’m grateful to find him already asleep when my Uber ride drops me off at home. Usually I’d wake him up (for the aforementioned sex), but tonight I try my best to get into bed so carefully that he doesn’t even stir.

His appointment at the clinic is pretty early in the morning. Early enough that I have to handle the summer camp and pre-school run alone so that he can get there on time. I knew he was going to be nervous today, no matter how cool he’s been acting all week. I also knew that he was going to regret being too lazy to go by the clinic and pick up a sample cup so that he could take care of that part in the privacy of his own home. It was “no big deal” and he “wasn’t bothered” by the idea of having to jerk off in a stark little room with nothing but crappy porn mags for company.

Not until he actually had to do it, and then suddenly it was a big deal and he was very bothered.

I don’t envy him one bit. I feel bad that I didn’t go to the clinic with him for moral support, but he said there was no point in me wasting any of the time I was supposed to be spending in the studio with Ike and Zac. Only I am wasting it. Because even though I’m sitting here, and I’m vaguely aware of what’s going on around me, my mind is mostly preoccupied with Tommy. His appointment was fifteen minutes ago. I don’t know what to expect as far as… duration. If they were running on time, there’s a chance he might even be done already. I know he had to have a blood test as well, but those don’t take more than a couple of minutes.

Maybe I should text him and see how it’s going?

But he might be “busy”. I don’t want to break his concentration. I’m guessing it’s challenging enough to do what he’s doing without being interrupted.

“Taylor?”

“Huh?” I shake my head dazedly, pulling my gaze from my blank phone screen to the face of my annoyed older brother. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I just asked which of the bass tracks you preferred.”

Oh. “Uh… can I hear them again?”

“Seriously? Where the hell are you today, man?”

“Chill out, Ike.” Zac interjects from over on the couch, never looking up from his sketch pad. “Everyone spaces out sometimes, even you.”

“Not when I have a deadline.” Argues Ike with a weary sigh. “Okay, let’s give them one more listen. Try to stay awake this time.”

He restarts the first track and I do my utmost to focus all of my attention on it. But barely ten seconds into it, my phone starts vibrating in my hand. If it was anyone but Tommy, I’d decline the call to avoid pissing Ike off any further. There’s a thin line between it being funny when he’s annoyed at me, and my day sucking because he’s annoyed at me. And I’m teetering precariously on that line right now.