Page 89 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
I married James today. Here, in Ryder and Laurel’s front yard. Nina, thirteen, and Ella, ten and a half, were bridesmaids, along with Laurel and Audra, of course. Imogen was my maid of honor, and Renée was the flower girl—a duty she took with such seriousness it became comical.
Renée has a younger brother: JJ—for Jesse James, but no one has ever called him that since the day he was born, two years ago. JJ was another surprise for Jesse and Imogen, and arrived after an all-too-easy pregnancy and complication-free birth. At two, he’s a hellion of the highest order, a troublemaking, back-talking, mischievous, manically energetic little boy with a curiosity and compulsion to tinker that’s bound to get him in as much trouble as it does bring him success—he’s a spitting image of Jesse, with shaggy, curly brown hair and expressive brown eyes that he can use at will to charm just about anyone out of just about anything. Currently, he’s trying to ride Ryder and Laurel’s Great Pyrenees, Goblin, who is patiently allowing JJ to climb all over her without so much as an irritated look.
Helping JJ in his quest to ride the dog is Colin, Audra and Franco’s son—also two years old. Adopted by Audra and Franco at birth, Colin is black, with an untamable explosion of thick, tightly curled hair that Audra refuses to cut; he’s the quietest of the bunch, but just as much of a troublemaker—he’s actually the ringleader, he just isn’t loud about it. Audra was unable to conceive, and after almost a year of trying, she and Franco decided to adopt rather than pursue fertility treatments or in vitro; it took a few months of searching and a few months more of background checks and home studies, but exactly two years ago today, as a matter of fact, a young woman gave birth in a downtown Chicago hospital, kissed her baby once on the cheek, and then, tearfully, handed him to Audra. The young woman, Maeve, was seventeen at the time, and struggling to finish high school; now, she’s about to graduate from a community college with an associate’s degree in liberal arts, and plans to transfer to Northwestern to pursue journalism; Colin’s adoption was open, and she makes the trip to the suburbs once a month to play at the park with Colin and visit with Audra and Franco, who have, unofficially, somewhat adopted her as well. They’ve helped her with college tuition, helped her find scholarships and grants, and often make surprise visits to Chicago to bring her food and clean laundry.
Laurel and Ryder are in rocking chairs beside me; Laurel is breastfeeding her six-month-old girl, Natalie, who was yet another unexpected but welcome surprise—apparently James and I are the only ones in the group who know how birth control works. James actually got a vasectomy last year, as we, after months of discussion, decided more children weren’t in our future. My maternal instincts are totally fulfilled by being a stepmother to Nina and Ella. They both called me Nova up until last year, and then, abruptly, Ella started calling me Mom, which made me cry tears of happiness and sent James out to the garage to hide his own emotional reaction—we all followed him, though, and surrounded him with girly hugs and refused to let him get away with his macho “I’m not crying, I just have dust in my eye” routine. Once Ella started, Nina wasn’t far behind; she resisted for about two weeks, and then “slipped,” as she put it. She remembered her mother more than Ella, and it was much harder for her to make the transition to seeing me as Mom, and not just Dad’s girlfriend, but once Ella started calling me Mom, it was easier for Nina to get on board.
“Auntie Nova?” Renée murmurs, her head against my chest.
“Yeah, pumpkin?”
“I’m not sleepy.”
I laugh. “Okay, sure—whatever you say, honey.”
“I’m not!” She’s fading, even as she protests. “I’m just watching a movie in my head.”
I laugh again. “Not sure what that means, but okay.”
“Can I have more cake?”
“Maybe later. You’ll have to ask your mom and dad. I think, for now, you should just let me cuddle you. Keep watching that movie in your head.”
“Are you and Unc’a Jamie gonna have a baby now that you’re married?”
I shake my head. “No, pumpkin. We’re not.”
“Why not?”
“Just…because.”
“Because it’s too complicated to explain to little kids?”
I laugh at that. “Pretty much, honey.” I scratch her back with my fingernails. “Just rest, Renée.”
“Fine. But I’m not sleepy.”
“I believe you,” I murmur.
And then, just like that, she’s out.
James clomps loudly up the steps at that moment. “Where’s my little bugaboo?” he growls playfully.
I shush him, widening my eyes and glancing significantly down at the sleeping bundle on my lap.
James makes an “oops” face, and kneels quietly at my side. “Oh, sorry.”
