Chapter 66: Chapter Sixty-Six

LOGAN

I can’t fucking believe it.

I’m a dad, Autumn Layne Quincy’s dad.

Holy fucking shit.

She’s beautiful.

She has her mother’s dark hair. There’s a tiny, oval birthmark on the left side of her nose. She’s small. So, so, so small. Six pounds, eighteen inches.

And she’s healthy. Premature but healthy. As eager to meet us as we were to meet her.

Tears run down Rae’s face as she holds our baby to her chest. I touch my cheeks and realize I’m crying too. Crying as I stare in awe at this incredible woman whose body created a miracle.

“We’re parents,” Rae rasps. She lost her voice screaming when she pushed, while I sat around uselessly, letting her squeeze the life out of my hand. Two hours later, I still can’t feel my fingers.

“We are,” I breathe.

A nurse enters the room, knocking softly to announce her presence. “Hi, mom and dad,” she says, grinning. “You’ve got quite a bunch out there excited to see your little bundle of joy.”

“No, thanks.”

The nurse and I whip our heads toward Rae. Her sniffles and tears are gone. The rasp in her voice is barely audible. She’s not even looking up. She’s still gazing at our sleeping daughter.

“Okay, uh, right. When do you think you’ll be ready for visitors?”

Now, Rae looks up. Her eyes meet mine. She shrugs. “Tomorrow, maybe.” Her focus immediately returns to Autumn.

“There are a lot—” the nurse starts.

I feel bad interrupting. No doubt Rae’s family and Aunt Trish are practically breaking down the door trying to get in here. The hospital staff is for sure under a ton of pressure.

I still interrupt. “She just gave birth. Her call.”

“Alright. I’ll, uh, let them know.”

Neither of us responds. Autumn is too captivating.

The nurse has to understand. I mean, Rae just had the most beautiful baby in the world. Not that hard to see where we’re coming from.

“She’s ~sleeping~,” Rae whispers, rolling her eyes. “We’re not doing a meet-and-greet.”

I already know Autumn is going to have what Rae and I didn’t. Parents who accept us for what we are, who don’t see our wants and needs as obstacles in the way of their own goals.

We’ll love her for who she is, support who she wants to be, just as we do with each other.

Name a better family.

You can’t.

***

Rae and I thought we’d want to have the wedding a few days after returning home with Autumn. We even asked Jordan to extend his stay by a week so he could officiate.

A couple of hours after we arrived home Tuesday, we knew there was no chance in hell we were getting married that weekend.

I’d feel like an asshole for making Jordan change his flight twice, but I’m too tired.

We’ve been in survival mode for a month. Autumn stays up all night and sleeps in spurts during the day. All we can do is take short naps and hope she’ll eventually learn to enjoy slumber.

The only times we’ve gotten more than two hours of rest were when Court or Zoe came over to babysit.

Notice I say Court and Zoe, not our families. Not Brady either, because Rae’s still wary around him.

She’ll come around eventually, I think, but his residency is starting up soon, so I doubt he’ll do much babysitting for the next year.

As much as I’d love the extra break, I’m not terribly disappointed. The last thing I want is to add to Rae’s anxiety levels.

We’re pretty limited in terms of babysitters. I wouldn’t let Mom near Autumn with a ten-foot pole. Aunt Trish flew to Namibia after we canceled the second wedding.

She just asked for a week’s notice before number three—her words, not mine—because it’s a long-ass journey from Windhoek to Salt Lake City.

You’d think Rae’s family would want to help out. They ~love~ babies. They’ve been telling Rae since she was a kid that her life’s purpose is to become a mother, so we assumed they’d be excited.

In a way, they are. They love Autumn. They want to hold her and dote on her and buy her little outfits, but they won’t keep their damn mouths shut.

It got to the point where we decided that we’d rather run on no sleep than be well-rested and have to listen to their opinions. Even ~Brad~ has been miserable to deal with.

Rae was at high risk for postpartum depression, and she started feeling symptoms about a week after she had Autumn.

She started back on the anti-depressants she stopped taking when she found out about the pregnancy. Dr. Kelley said she shouldn’t breastfeed Autumn when she’s on the medication.

Seems like a small sacrifice to make in order to keep Rae from developing a horrible, debilitating illness, right?

From her family’s reaction, you’d think we took Autumn skydiving.

They came over to visit Autumn a couple of weeks ago, and Kim saw a Costco box of formula in our closet.

She freaked the fuck out, demanding answers about what Rae was feeding Autumn and lecturing us about the dangers of formula, like we’re putting wine in her bottles, not nourishment developed by fucking scientists.

Rae left the room in tears and asked me to explain when I came after her, so I did, and her family didn’t comprehend.

They all—including Brad and Miles—went off about how horrible formula was for Autumn’s health and how we were harming our daughter.

Then, they had the audacity to accuse Rae of being a bad mother, saying that Autumn should be enough for her, as if babies cure depression.

They left before I could get Dr. Kelley on the phone to educate them on why breastfeeding isn’t necessary, not that it’s any of their damn business.

Kim went ahead and told their extended family, and for a fucking week, I had to field calls from angry relatives who wanted Rae to know how they felt about her fucking breastfeeding choices. Utter insanity.

Long story short, we’ve been far too exhausted to even think about a wedding.

That is, until a couple of days ago, when Brady texted offering to get officiated online so we could finally “do this thing.”

I told him no, but Rae saw the text over my shoulder, confiscated my phone, and responded “YES.” All caps.

That’s why right now, we’re in our living room, calling Aunt Trish on FaceTime so she can be part of our wedding from Namibia.

Autumn’s on Rae’s lap while Brady flips through flashcards with all the lines he has to say to legally marry us. Zoe and Court are sipping on wine, arguing about who’s the better godmother.

No one’s dressed up. I haven’t showered since yesterday, maybe the day before. Rae broke a comb trying to get it through her hair this morning, and a few pieces of plastic are still stuck in the back.

We’re both in sweats and college tees.

“You want me to hold her while you do the vows and shit?” Zoe offers, setting her empty glass on the table.

Rae nods, places Autumn in Zoe’s arms, and downs the rest of her coffee. I think it’s her sixth today. “We’ll do a fancy one-year anniversary party, right?” she murmurs to me.

“For sure,” I promise.

“Good. I just want to be married to you.”

Zoe pretends to vomit. Autumn pokes her in the eye. Rae smirks.

“Alright, you ready?”

Rae and I settle in front of the fireplace. She nods. Court squeals. Zoe coos at Autumn.

“Let’s do this,” I say, grinning.