Page 14 of Mack Daddy

“Right there!” He points back to the woman waddling up the parking lot with a bag for lunch. At eight months pregnant, she glows. And I don’t just say that because all women do, but Emma was born for this life. She’s the perfect mother and adores being pregnant.

The only reason we don’t have more kids is because I’m a jealous motherfucker and told her there must be a few years in between each kid. We’ve agreed on three, and right now, I know she’s sad baby number two is almost here, and the pregnancy is nearly over. Though, she’s thrilled to be having a little girl.

“What are you doing out?” I grumble as she reaches me, handing me the bag, but I take her instead, scooping her up in my arms and carrying her inside to my office. Dylan has run off to see Amy because she always has snacks for him.

“I missed you,” she sighs as I sit on the couch with her. Opening the bag, I remove the steak sandwich loaded with extra cheese and cucumbers and start feeding her.

“You were supposed to be resting today,” I scold her gently. “That’s why Jessa is at the house.”

Jessa is the nanny we hired when Emma was put on bed rest with Dylan, and she was only too happy to come back again this time when I called her a month ago. Emma has been resistant to the idea of needing help again.

“I asked her to go grocery shopping while Dyl and I came to you,” she pouts. While this isn’t a doctor-mandated rest, she’s been increasingly exhausted with each passing day.

“Baby, Daddy can’t work if I’m worrying about you.” I had offered to take time off and be home, but Emma hadn’t wanted to take me away. I won’t be giving her a choice after today.

“I know. I was feeling really good today. And this”—she takes another bite—“has been all I can think about since last week.”

It’s hard to give her shit when she’s so damn sweet. “Fine, but next time, call me, and I’ll happily bring it to you.”

“Can you bring it home for dinner?”

“Anything for you, sweet girl.” Kissing her temple, I continue to feed her until she’s done before eating my own.

Emma makes herself comfortable on the couch, and when her eyes close, it means she’s done for the afternoon. She has a hard time resting when I’m not home, so this has happened about three times a week in the last few months.

After covering her up, I turn on the pink noise machine, make sure the blinds are closed, and head out to find my son having lunch with Amy while they watch something on the tablet we keep here for him.

“Send him out once he’s cleaned up his mess?” Amy nods at my inquiry, well used to this routine already.

I work for a few minutes before hearing the stool scraping across the cement floor, and Dylan’s dark, curly head pops up over the hood. “Whatcha need, Mack Daddy?” He’s been hanging around Mikey too damn much.

“Spark plug.” I nod to the part on the table next to me.

“Spark plug.” He copies me as he hands it over. “Mom is tired a lot,” he comments.

“She is. Your little sister tuckers her out, but she likes to be close to you, too, so she doesn’t want to sleep at home,” I explain. Dyl is excited for the baby to come, but he also worries over his mom.

“She’s a good mom.” I nod because I agree. “I hope she lets me help with the baby.”

“I’m certain she will, but you must remember that the baby needs lots of sleep, so when Mom says to be quiet, we have to listen.” The older he gets, the more he’s beginning to understand the changes around him.

“Could I come to work with you sometimes?” He hands me another spark plug.

“Yeah, I think we’ll make that work until school starts up in a few months.” His eyes light up at the suggestion, and I recognize how blessed I am that Emma came running in here all those years ago, soaked to the bone and ready to submit to me.

Every day since has been a miracle, and despite my age, I know my wife and kids will keep me young and on my toes forever.

The End!

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