Chapter 9: Ian

After our heart-to-heart about me being a stay-at-home-dad, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. Tyler says he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he seems thrilled with the idea. He's right—I should have told him sooner. I'd been sweating this for over a week now, and apparently unnecessarily because it turned out to be a big nothing burger. I should have told him so I could stop worrying about it.

Tyler cups my face and gazes down at me with so much love and acceptance, I could cry. "Don't you realize I'll give you anything you want? If it's in my power, it's yours."

And then my heart swelled like three times its normal size, like in the Grinch movie.

That afternoon, I call my attorney, Leo Granville, and make an appointment for the two of us to see him Friday afternoon. Then I call Ingrid and ask her if she can babysit. She gives me a big YES. To say she was excited would be an understatement.

Now that all that's taken care of, it's time for baths. "Do you want to help me give the babies their baths?" I ask Tyler.

"Sure," he says, looking a bit less confident than he sounds. "I can manage baths."

We've set up a baby bathing station in the upstairs hallway bathroom. I bought two infant bathtubs, which we put into the big bathtub. Then we kneel on towels beside the tub and each wash a baby. So far it's working great. At least until they outgrow these little tubs.

After filling the tubs with just a few inches of warm water, we go get the babies from their cradles, strip them down, and wrap them each in a blanket before we carry them to what we're now calling the kids' bathroom .

Tyler lowers Will into his little tub, and before I can even issue a warning, a stream shoots up and hits Tyler in the chest, soaking a spot in the center of his T-shirt.

I try not to laugh, but the look on Tyler's face is too comical.

Tyler gives me a droll look. "I just got peed on by our son, and you're laughing. Whose side are you on, anyway?"

Will gazes up at his papa with the most innocent look imaginable. If he could talk, he'd be saying, " Who me? What did I do?"

I am laughing now. "Hey, it could have been much worse. He could have hit you in the face. And trust me, I speak from experience."

We wash the babies with baby-approved body wash and tiny little washcloths, super gently, as if they're made of spun glass, because of course they are. Washing their hair is an ordeal, because we're both paranoid about getting shampoo in their eyes, even though the shampoo is advertised as "tear proof." Sure. We're not about to test that theory.

Once they're rinsed off, we swaddle them in blankets and carry them back to our bedroom to diaper and dress them before putting them down for a nap.

Apparently, having a bath is exhausting, because they're both ready to doze off.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. I do two loads of laundry while Tyler goes outside to mow the grass. It's all very domestic.

For dinner, we have the rest of Ingrid's casserole along with some freshly-baked sourdough bread with butter.

Once the babies are in bed that night, we try once again to watch a movie in the living room. We end up watching that gay rom-com based on a romance book, the one about the son of an American president falling for a British prince. It's cute.

Watching a rom-com leads to us doing a bit of making out on the sofa, while Netflix plays some other movie quietly in the background, and before we know it, it's midnight.

"Time for bed," Tyler says as he lays his hand on my knee. "Someone needs his beauty rest."

"You must be referring to yourself," I say sleepily, "as I'm already beautiful."

He laughs. "Yes, you are," and then he kisses my cheek. "Come on. Let's go up." And then he stands, grabs my hand, and hauls me to my feet so we can head upstairs to bed.

"Parenting is hard work," I say as we crawl into bed.

I fall asleep the minute my head hits my pillow.

* * *

Our bedroom is well lit with the morning sun when I finally open my eyes. I slept through the night, the entire night , without a single dream—or rather a single nightmare. I didn't dream about being trapped alone in a dark room, and more importantly, I didn't dream about our kids being trapped. The latter is far worse, believe me. I survived years of abuse, but I could never survive one minute knowing my kids were being mistreated.

I reach beside me to find the bed empty. That's not a surprise as Tyler is an early-bird. He wakes up at six even when he doesn't have to. I quickly scan the room, and my heart skips a beat when I see Tyler seated in one of the chairs in front of the window, Lizzie in his arms happily sucking on a bottle. Tyler's dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a faded Chicago police department T-shirt. He's smiling down at our daughter, chatting quietly to her.

When it finally dawns on me that it's morning already, and I didn't wake up once in the night, I shoot up into a sitting position. "Oh, my God, I slept through the night!"

Tyler nods as he coos at Lizzie. Clearly this isn't news to him. "I'm glad. You needed a good night's sleep."

"But—didn't they wake up during the night?"

He nods. "I handled it."

The digital clock on the nightstand reads eight-thirty. Holy crap. I slept eight hours straight. "When did they—"

"We did bottles around four, and again now."

I can hear Will in his bassinette, cooing and kicking his legs, clearly awake and not the least bit upset. I spot a second bottle on the little table between the chairs by the window, but it's empty, which means he already fed Will.

I fall back in bed with a groan, astonished that I slept through two feedings, as well as grateful to Tyler for handling it, but also feeling guilty for not doing my share. I should have helped. I can't believe I didn't hear them.

"You should have awakened me," I say, admittedly sounding a bit petulant.

Tyler shakes his head. "No, you needed sleep." He props Lizzie on his shoulder and pats her back until she lets out a loud burp. "That's my girl! All done." He sets her empty bottle down next to the other one, rises from his chair, and brings her to me, laying her beside me. "Hang out with your daddy while I get dressed."

A moment later, I hear the water running in the shower. I'd love to join him, but I don't want to miss out on this cuddle time with Lizzie. I roll onto my side so I can gaze down at her. Her big blue eyes latch onto my face, and she just stares at me. I know I'm biased—because I'm one of her fathers—but I swear she's got to be the most beautiful little girl in the world. "Who's a beautiful little princess?" I smile at her, hoping she'll respond with a smile of her own.

She keeps staring wide eyed, occasionally blinking, but there's no other reaction. I'll have to Google when babies start smiling.

Will makes his displeasure known then. I think he realizes he's missing out on family time. I hop up and grab him and bring him back to bed with me. When I lay him next to his sister, they turn to look at each other. Their hands catch, and even though it's probably just a random reflex, they're holding hands.

"I hope you two will be best friends," I say as I lie on my side and gaze down at them.

A moment later, the water in the bathroom shuts off. Tyler joins us shortly after, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His chest—OMG, his chest! And those broad shoulders and muscular arms. I could stare for hours.

"What's on the agenda today?" he asks as he sits beside me on the bed and towel dries his hair.

"Well, diaper changes first, and then we'll see. Probably morning naps before long."

He chuckles. "For you, or for the babies?"

"Funny." I swat his arm. "I meant for the babies."

"That's pretty much all they do, you know," Tyler says. "Eat, sleep, and shit."

I swat him again. "Don't talk about our children that way. It's disrespectful. Besides, I'm pretty sure that's typical for babies at this age. Growing and developing is hard work."

Tyler pats my hip. "I'll get dressed, and then we can change diapers. Afterwards, I'll make us some breakfast, and we can sit outside on the patio to eat and have our coffee while the babies get some sunshine."

"You read my mind," I say as I swing my feet to the floor. And I smile because my life has taken a turn I never expected and never could have dreamed of.