Page 92 of Husband of the Year
As soon as she hands him to me, I can feel the weight of his presence in my arms, and a powerful surge of emotion takes hold of me. He’s so small. But the weight of him, not just his physical presence, but the significance of him being here, with us, overwhelms me.
And between Olan’s return and holding Greggie, my eyes are unable to hold back the tears anymore.
“Hey there, little guy.”
He’s awake, but barely. When I run my fingers through his tiny afro, I can’t help but be amazed by how incredibly soft it feels, almost like the touch of a heavenly halo. Olan was right, he smells like a combination of soap, milk, and freshly baked bread. They should bottle the scent up and sell it. He moves his mouth, his lips pursing, and Olan quickly retrieves a pacifier from his backpack and hands it to me.
Without thinking, I place it near Greggie’s mouth and he latches right on, sucking and closing his eyes, happy as a seagull with a french fry.
“See, you’re a natural,” Olan says.
“Now, why don’t we get you all home?” Isabella asks.
“Sounds good to me,” Olan says with a heavy sigh. “Home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The next few days pass in a haze, with everything blurring together. My body relishes having Olan home. In my arms each night. His energy in the house makes it complete. Illona has a spring in her step, skipping from point A to point B as her smile shines a little brighter with her father back. The addition of a baby to our family unit happens rather seamlessly, and much of that is due to Olan’s ability to calmly juggle everything thrown at him.
True to Olan’s word, Greggie sleeps a lot. In addition to a three-hour nap during the day while I’m at school, he sleeps through the night, except for waking for a bottle and/or snuggling like clockwork between one and two. Even though I offer, Olan gets up every single night. He’s home, working a few hours a day, and I’m still back at school. Dr. Knorse offered me a week of unpaid leave, but Olan and I agreed that sticking to our typical routine is best for Illona and me, given all the recent changes.
When Illona and I commute to school, we’re quieter, often closing our eyes, nodding off, and doing our best to catch our collective breath from the seismic shift in our world. My friends, true to form, come together as a united front, offering their unwavering support.
Vincent: How is everyone holding up?
Marvin: So far, so good.
Vincent: Kent says babies are exhausting. I say they’re filthy.
Marvin: You’re both correct.
Vincent: Well, we’re here if you need anything. Even babysitting. For you, I’d do it. With Kent.
Marvin: Thank you. I appreciate that.
“Are you taking a trip somewhere?” Jill asks when I arrive at school on Wednesday morning.
“Excuse me?”
I plop my backpack down and sink into one of the tiny student chairs.
“Those bags under your eyes are packed and ready for takeoff.” She lets out a loud cackle and even though she’s wearing a plaid jumper ripe for a clapback, I’m too tired to think of one.
“Are they that bad?” I eye the mirror over the water fountain/sink combo in the corner of the room, but I’m too spent to walk over and check.
“You’re going through an adjustment period. When Nick and I brought Maria home from the hospital, I don’t think I slept more than two or three hours at a time. For weeks. But I was on leave, so I could adjust my sleep schedule to hers. Or try to, anyway.”
“Yeah, Greggie sleeps fairly well, or that’s what Olan says. It’s this middle of the night wake-up. It’s like clockwork.” I run my fingers through my hair, feeling the small curls starting to return on top.
“He’ll grow out of it.” Jill walks behind me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Eventually.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears.”
By Thursday night, or technically Friday morning, when the soft cooing and whines crackle from the baby monitor, I’m determined to take my turn. Olan has gotten up all week and, surprisingly, my body almost expects the 2 a.m. wake-up call. I’m awake and ready.
I stir under the covers, willing myself up as Gonzo makes a beeline for Illona’s room. Smart kitty.
“I’ll be right back,” Olan whispers.
