19. Separation Anxiety

Is this the calm before the storm, though? The sunshine before the rain? Why do my thoughts turn to worries about this now, when Remy is breastfeeding so sweetly on me, and we're in the arms of his father?

Tucker leans his face toward me. "Kiss me, mama bear."

I do, and end the kiss sucking on his bottom lip then letting it go with a pop. I chuckle at him, on the one hand, thrilled he's happy. On the other, jealous that Remy calls him Dada but hasn't said Mama yet.

"The way I feel this morning, happy with you two, I just don't get it," he says. "My father must have had a heart made of stone. There's no way I could be like him. I never will."

"I know this is all brand new to you, and most of the time with Remy, yes, things are amazing." I feel the need to express how it's not always rainbows. "But other times he gets sick or there are too many things to do and he doesn't go down for a nap and I get nothing done or he keeps me up all night teething and whining in pain."

"I know, mama bear." He gives me a gentle squeeze.

"I just want you to be prepared for the highs and the lows and all the in between."

"After this morning, trust me, I'll be better prepared for all of it. I just found out I'm a father, then having you again, and everything, it got to me, that's all." He kisses my forehead. "And about those lows. I'm here now. Right, Remy? Outside of hockey, Dada can help Mama any way I can."

Remy unlatches and says "Dada" again, then crawls into his arms for a hug, pulling at every string of my heart. Tucker grins, and I can't deny how it fills my heart seeing the special bond the two of them have formed in such a short time.

"Well, can you teach him to call me Mama?" I ask, gazing upon the two of them with loving eyes.

"I'm on it, babe. I'll have him calling you Mama soon. Now,about my hockey game tonight. I can pay for a sitter, have a car pick you up, even arrange for Duke and Phoebe to sit with you so you won't be alone." With Remy on his lap, he pushes the jersey into my arms. "Come on, let me see it on you, sexy woman."

Red and blue are good colors on me, even if the Viper mascot in the center of it is a little horrendous. I give in, pull it on, if nothing else, then to cover my naked body so we can get out of bed and get the day going.

I stand to model it, and the thing is huge on me, falling to my knees. "Did you say jersey or dress?"

"Haha. I think you look fantastic in it. Say you'll come…to the game, I mean." He winks and follows me to the nursery. I take Remy from his arms and lay him on the changing table. Tucker leans against the doorframe.

"It's not that I don't want to go. I'd love to. But I have to get this paper done. And I really should talk to Brad about us first before we make any public outings." I explain. "He gets back Sunday night, and I'll sit him down then or Monday for a talk."

"You realize you don't really need his permission to date me, right?"

"I know, Tucker. But I owe him the courtesy of telling him about us before he finds out from someone else."

He doesn't seem too thrilled about it, but I know my brother best and how to handle talking with him about this.

"Okay, but I definitely don't need his permission to be Remy's father," he argues, his tone turning tough, and crosses his arms.

"Look, I get it. I mean, I study law for Pete's sake, so I see both the legal side and the emotional side." I try to reason with him. "Let me work things through with him on the emotions, given our parents and our past. Can you give me time and space to do that?"

He shakes his head, smirking as I finish the diaper change and reach for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for Remy, but in a flash, Tucker retrieves another Little Pucker t-shirt from his bag in the family room. This time a white one. I humor him and pull it over Remy. Besides, Brad won't be home for two more days to see these t-shirts.

While I make coffee, I observe my two guys playing on the floor in the family room. Tucker is oddly quiet, and I know that this stuff with Brad is complicated. We could consider this our first minor argument. Let's see how we work through it.

I bring coffee over in mugs with lids on them. With my mug in hand, I sink into the corner of the couch, tucking my legs under me. A few minutes later, Tucker joins me there, placing his hand on my thigh.

"I don't mean to sound so rude about Brad," he says. "What it comes down to is I don't want to lose you and Remy. That's all."

"You won't. I promise. And I'll catch your next game. When is it?" I ask.

"We play tonight, then the team flies out early in the morning to New York City for three days, playing two games there. Then we'll be back here on Tuesday for two games here. So I won't see you and Remy until next week."

I nod, letting it all sink in. We spent almost two years apart, but a week now feels like it'll be a lifetime. "Playoff schedule sounds grueling."

"Depending on how many rounds the team makes it through the playoffs, yeah. It is."

"We can Facetime every single day, can't we? That way, you can see Remy. And I'll text and send photos of cute things he does."

"Okay. Will you at least wear my jersey here at home and watch the game on TV tonight? I can tune in the channel for you." He grabs the remote off the end table. "I'll play my ass off knowing you're watching. The entire fate of whether the team wins or loses could rest on you watching me or not."

"That's a lot of pressure." I chuckle and his mouth twitches. I'm sure he's teasing, but I've heard Brad complain more than once about players and their superstitions and pre-game rituals. "Of course I'll watch."

"Good. How about, when I make a goal, I'll touch my heart like this two times? One for you and one for Remy." He pats his chest twice, and I grin at the sentiment of it.

"Sure. I'd like that."

About an hour later, he gets ready to leave. At the front door, he hugs Remy tight. "Bye, my little guy. Dada will be back next week, okay?" I hear his voice crack.

"Dada." Remy doesn't understand what's happening, that his father just came into our lives, and is about to leave again.

I do, though. Over the past twenty-four hours, Tucker became family. My heart fills with every kind of emotion.

He draws me into their hug and I'm sad. Like the sunshiny day we woke up to disappears, graying under a cloud.

"Hey, Trouble. I'll miss you. And I'll miss doing this." With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he leans in and presses his lips against mine. The world falls away as I'm lost in him. My body catches on fire, until Remy interrupts us with his hand smacking our cheeks and giggles filling the air. We break apart, laughing.

Tucker kisses his forehead, and I take the baby off his hands. With another wash of his eyes over us, my hot hockey player leaves.

Remy bursts into tears as soon as the door closes, howling. His arm outstretches toward the door, his hand opening and closing. I'm still in shock at the bond they have formed so quickly.

Tucker's voice comes through with worries from the other side of the door. "Will he be okay?"

"It's just separation anxiety. He'll be fine," I call out.

"Should I come back in?" he asks.

The warmth of his lips still linger on mine. I want to say yes, come back. Stay forever. "No, it'll only prolong the crying. Good luck in the game tonight."

"Thanks," he says. "Hey, Trouble? I think I have separation anxiety, too."

So do I. I sputter, and tears burn my eyes. "Just go. We'll be okay."

I hurry away from the door and distract Remy with playing ball so he'll stop thinking about his father. What a sight we are, him in his Little Pucker t-shirt and me in Tucker's jersey. I bring the collar up and over my nose, still smelling him on it. Memories of our bodies tangled together in bed last night coming flooding back. How good he made me feel…

Now I need a distraction, too.

I take a few selfies of us and text them to him.

Me: See. Remy is fine now.

Mr. Trouble: I'm not. I'm still in the parking lot like I can't leave.

Aww.Tucker.

Me: This will get easier each time. I promise.

Mr. Trouble: I don't want it to get easier. I want to ache for you every time I walk out the door.

My heart skips. A solitary tear rolls down my cheek. A second one quickly follows, and then another, until I"m openly crying. Remy must sense his mother is in turmoil, and he falls into my arms for a hug. "Oh, baby, I'm falling for your dada—too fast, too soon."