Page 2 of Tulips and Lost Time

“I’ve already taken care of it.” Laine moves just two steps ahead of us. “I got you all the bottles and nipples and formula and stuff you need. It’s all set up at home.”

“And diapers?” I don’t know if I’m floating. Or walking. Am I moving at all? I can’t be sure. “We got diapers?”

“Everything is ready at home,” Jess murmurs. “And we’ll stay with you till you’re comfortable.” She leads me through the open NICU doors and into the hall where her husband waits with their twin girls—not identical. My twin sisters are both blonde and blue. But hers are opposites. One blonde and one brunette. One light-skinned, and the other with a year-round olive complexion. They both hold their father’s hands, one on each side, but they’re still young. Still excited for their brand-new cousin to be here.

Not old enough to understand the circumstances that surround her birth.

“Lenaghan.” Kane Bishop—Jess’ muscled, mercenary, tatted husband—lifts his chin in greeting. He glances down at the baby that doesn’t look a great deal different than his Luna, softening his eyes at the bundle who now expands his family. Then he flattens his lips and brings his focus back up. “She’s doubled in size since yesterday, I swear.”

“We’re taking her home.” Jess brushes by him, absorbing the way his nose practically touches her earlobe as we pass, and closing her eyes for a beat as she takes his comfort. Because outside of this, outside of me, her life is amazing. Her marriage, solid. Her daughters, perfect. Her entire reality is the kind you would find in all the great literary pieces.

But now she’s in this blip with me. Her loyalty to her big brother ensuring she experiences this horrifying existence where, just weeks ago, we were thrilled for the babies who would soon arrive. With balloons and cake, music and all the people we love, we toasted to new life.

But that excitement is gone, and in its place, worry.

Fear.

Exhaustion.

“Can we come by the house, too?” Kane turns as we continue, his words gentle when, before now, I wasn’t sure the guy knew how to be that way. “Luc? Mind if me and the girls drop by? They’d love to see Billy, and you could do with the company.”

“Yeah.” I don’t care. I don’t know. I don’t even know what day it is anymore. “Whatever.”

“Angelo’s getting the car,” Laine inserts, leading us along the hall and toward the elevator at the end. Typically, parents leaving the NICU is a celebrated event. Babies, born too small, or too sickly, growing large enough and strong enough that they get to break out and find freedom. Parents, caged in a room filled with despair, elated at the idea of taking their precious baby home.

I should be high-fiving the nurses we pass for their hard work over the last couple of weeks.

So why does it feel like I’m leaving my heart behind, too?

“Meg went grocery shopping,” Laine adds. “And Angelo got a bunch of ready-made dinners stacked up in the freezer for you.”

“Not that you’ll need them,” Jess adds, turning in the elevator and setting the baby on the floor as the door slowly closes. “We’ll be by the house every day. I’ll cook your dinners, and we’ll eat with you, since we like to spend time with you anyway.”

“I think I’d like to be alone.” The words scrape along my throat, coarse and painful as my brows pinch under the artificial light. I see our trio in the reflection of the silver doors. Siblings, all blonde, all blue-eyed, all quite tall, even the girls. They’re moms now, curvier than they were in their teens. And I’ve filled out over the years, too. No longer a scrawny, too-thin skateboarder who ate nonstop, and still, couldn’t maintain his weight.

Finally, I look down at my sleeping daughter, and already, I know she’ll take after the Lenaghan side of her family more than she will the Macchio side.

Her mother, of course, possessed glittering green eyes and curly hair she always hated. Kari considered herself plain compared to my sisters. Her freckles, too ordinary. Her eyes, too dull.

And yet, I’ve spent my whole fucking life staring at her. Half of it, wishing I could call her mine.

“I-I think I’d like a little alone time,” I repeat, coughing as the numbers above the doors approach the ground floor. “I know I just told Kane it was…” Okay. Whatever. “I don’t want to host anyone right now?—”

“It’s not hosting,” Jess growls. “We’re not your guests, Luc. We’re family.”

“Billy is my family.” I swallow the sticky, painful lump in my throat that insists on choking me. Then I bend and scoop Billy’s car seat up, holding her with one hand while I reach out with the other and snag the diaper bag from Laine. “I want to just sit,” I explain. I’m tired. So fucking tired. “I want to sit with her and relax.”

“You can relax, even with us there,” Jess tries again. “I want to do your dishes, Luc, not run your damn life.”

“Maybe come over tomorrow.” I move through the doors when they open and find Angelo parked just twenty feet away. He still drives his Charger; the same one he drove in high school. But now he’s married to my sister, and instead of making out with girls in the back, he carts their baby around.

Everyone has moved on since school. Married. Made families. They’ve all found their slice of happiness.

Ironic, considering I’d found mine, too.

I had the girl. The wedding ring. The cute little house, and the completely sensible car after years of riding a motorcycle and copping shit because everyone thought it dangerous.

The joke is on us all, right?

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