Page 81 of All At Once

“Stop looking at me like I’m going to drop him.” Shaking his head, he laid Lee in the bassinet and snagged a tiny diaper. Lee scrunched his face tight, drawing his arms and legs in, then throwing all his limbs out on a screeching cry. Tick covered his chest with an easy hand, unwrapping the wet diaper with his other. “Hey, come on, Leebo. It’ll be better in a second.”

Leebo. She closed her eyes. Holy Mother, there was already a nickname.

Despite the reassurance, Lee appeared to think it was bad and not getting better — his cries not abating despite Tick’s calm voice and a dry diaper.

“This is what I’m talking about.” Scooping him up with both hands, he held their newborn chest to chest. “That’ll be fun when he’s two.”

Face buried against his father’s chest, Lee howled. That cry, brimming with angry heartbreak, tore at her, tightening her throat.

“Let me have him.”

A brow lifted, Tick passed him into her arms. Lee’s sharp wails vibrated under her hand and into her chest as she curled him close. Hands flexing like tiny starfish, he scrubbed his face against her, seeking comfort instead of nourishment. She rubbed a circle over his back, as Nonna had done with Giulia when they were small when she’d been small, murmuring in Italian and English, the way she’d done with Eleanor and Eva both.

He quieted to a series of snuffles, blinking. His mouth opened wide in a yawn. Lashes drifting down, he stilled with a shuddering sigh.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” Tick rested his hands at his hips, eyes alight with humor and joy. “I see.”

Calming her son rang like a ridiculously massive accomplishment, and her husband’s reaction underscored that. She closed her eyes, suffused with emotions too big to name.

“We will be inundated with visitors and well-wishers after lunch. Mama’s dying to get over here, not to mention his sisters. Eleanor has texted me four times.” He hitched a hip on the bed, his gaze soft on their sleeping baby. “You realize you’re stuck with me for another eighteen years.”

She smiled, stroking Lee’s hair, the strands like down under her fingertips.

“You two okay if I go home and grab a shower before I pick up the girls?”

A tilt of her head let her see their son’s face, a sweet study in sleep. “We are.”

He leaned in to kiss her, a quick brush of his mouth over hers. “I’ll see you, Falconetti.”

She tangled her free hand in his collar, holding him in place, holding his dark gaze. “I love you, Calvert.”

“Oh, Falconetti.” A slow grin curved his thin mouth, and he cradled her face with both hands, dipping his head for a slower, sweeter kiss. “You have no idea, precious.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

When We Touch

June

Eyes closed, Tick stretched an arm across the bed, finding cool, empty sheets. An exhale bled between his lips, and he cracked open one eyelid, judging the angle of sunlight coming in off the Atlantic. Early, the sun barely up, so more than likely she was on the water, surfing with her cousin Tony and Eleanor.

He shut his eyes again and stretched, muscles protesting a boisterous late night of volleyball, running with the kids on the beach and playing in the pool. His lower back still wanted to remind him he’d tossed Eva to the deep end maybe one too many times. He’d fallen asleep under Caitlin’s firm hands while she’d worked that kink out. A grin quirked at his mouth. He lifted heavier weights than their daughter on a regular basis — he’d made the mistake of twisting sideways while he balanced her on his palms and tossed, and he was not getting too old, no matter what Cary said.

Asshole. Hell, the guy was pushing forty-two, so he was one to talk.

“Mamamama.” Quiet babbling from the travel crib widened his grin. Lee’d started saying Mama a week or so ago, and the boy was positively proud of his ability to do so.

Tick levered to an elbow to find his son sitting up in the crib — that was a new accomplishment, too, sitting unsupported, although every so often, he toppled over like a Saturday night drunk. “Your mama’s abandoned us because the surfing’s good. Will I do?”

Clutching his stuffed octopus, Lee gummed one of the teething rings attached to the tentacles and gurgled in response, a baby grin flashing his dimples.

“I will, huh?” Shoving the covers aside, Tick swung his feet to the floor. Lee chortled when he reached the crib and lifted him out. If he was awake, sure enough he’d need a change and breakfast, and getting that diaper out of the way before he realized he was wet would ward off the inevitable meltdown. Bussing the warm fold of Lee’s neck, Tick tossed a diaper, wipes and lotion on the bed. “When are you going to learn to say Daddy? You know I’m catching it because your first word is Mama.”

Lee grinned at him as he laid him on the bed, legs pumping, octopus clutched to his torso.

“You are a mama’s boy, through and through.” Tick held him in place with one finger to his sturdy little chest, unsnapping his onesie with his other hand. “Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m kind of besotted with her, too.”

With Lee babbling to him, Mama showing up every other breath in the stream of sound, Tick cautiously released the wet diaper. Daddy hadn’t raised a fool, and he’d only needed to get peed on once to learn that particular lesson. Dry diaper in place and onesie snapped up again, he tugged an undershirt on over his boxers and lifted Lee to his chest. “Let's find you some breakfast.”