Page 127 of Salty Pickle

But I don’t. I take a deep breath and simply say, “I’m Court. I had to fly in from New York to make it. Nice to meet you.”

Lucy reaches up to squeeze my arm. I sit close to her on the bed, and we hold the baby between us.

I’m not sure where we’re going, but I know that wherever it is, we’re doing it together.

By the time we leave the hospital, I’m an expert at making baby burritos and predicting when it’s time for a new diaper or nursing.

At Lucy’s parents’ house, I sleep in Lucy’s old room while she stays on the bed in the nursery for the first few nights, then we start taking turns.

Uncle Sherman calls about a week in to check on me. I shift Julian to the crook of my arm to take the call. Lucy is sleeping, and her parents are picking up groceries.

“How is fatherhood?” Sherman asks.

“Tiring.”

“I remember. Did it three times.” He hesitates. “Did you do the paternity test?”

“We did. All is in order.”

“Was she upset that you asked for it?”

“I didn’t. She wanted it. Wanted everything square.”

“Good. Good.”

I figure he wants to know if I’m coming back. “So, about Pickle Media,” I say.

“I’ve got it covered. I’ve taken over your office. I’m handling the merch transition plus the yokels who think having the staff do a limbo competition at a company luau is going to fix morale.”

“Yeah. Maybe they aren’t the right fit.”

“I’ll take care of it. You just be a dad, and we’ll figure things out when you’re ready.”

“And if I’m never ready?”

He laughs. “I guess I’ll be writing a recommendation letter to the local 7-Eleven.”

“I might be under-qualified to manage a convenience store, based on my human resources record.”

“Now, now. Sometimes it’s the system, not the leader. We’ll take a good, hard look. You need anything here? Someone to check on your apartment?”

“My housekeeper is holding down the fort.” I don’t say that I already know I’m not going back.

“All right, then. You let us know if that new Pickle needs anything.”

“He’s an Armstrong.”

Another gruff laugh. “Every Pickle’s a Pickle.”

Another week passes. Lucy seems more or less recovered, and we no longer look like zombies walking around the house. I rent an Airbnb a couple of blocks away, and we move there. We can’t bring Matilda, but it’s a quick stroller walk to check on her.

Matilda seems to understand that Lucy has had her baby, and, while she’s skittish about Lucy herself, she likes the baby a lot. The moment we push the stroller into the backyard, she jumps and bleats. Then slowly and carefully, she sneaks close to the stroller to nudge the baby’s foot.

Her goat belly is swelling, and I have about four months to figure everything out so the whole family can be reunited. I’ll get it done. I have ideas.

When Julian is three weeks old, my parents come to visit.

I’ve been sending pictures and waiting until the time seems right, but they’re eager to meet their first grandchild. When Lucy feels ready to be introduced, they make the quick drive to our rented house.

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