3. Daniel

3

DANIEL

O ne month later…

I come home from work to find my vechnyy led cuddling our eggs on the new bed. Our last one was destroyed during the birth.

So was the wall.

He's in his human form except for his arms, which are covered in silky, white fur. He looks up at me with a satisfied smile. "Hey, Daddy. You going to come snuggle with us?"

"Snuggleslut," I tease.

He holds out one of his bear arms to me and pouts. Which means I'm going to snuggle with him instead of making dinner, because I can never deny him when he pouts, and he knows it.

I take off my shirt before climbing in bed. We've been trying to give the eggs skin-to-skin contact as much as possible. Ansel washed them after he came down from his glitter obsession, but glitter's really hard to get rid of, so they're still a little shiny. It's kind of perfect. They are magic, after all.

I kiss Ansel's forehead once I'm lying down with the eggs nestled between our bodies.

"There was a guy who came into my shop today," I say.

Ansel tilts his head. "Don't guys come into your shop every day?"

"He was an investor. I guess he heard about my profit margin skyrocketing after we started doing deliveries to the polar bear shifter side of town. He offered to buy my shop."

Ansel doesn't say anything. He waits. More than anyone else in the world, he knows what that shop means to me.

"He offered me enough money that we could be comfortable for the rest of our lives." I say ‘our' because Ansel has a lot more life left than I do.

"What do you want to do?" he asks.

That's the question I've been pondering all afternoon. That shop was proof I could be someone without Ivan—that I could do something meaningful with my life. It's how I paid the bills when I was raising Lewis. It's how I paid back my neck price.

But if I could do anything, would it be running a grocery store? I'm not sure.

"When I was younger I wanted to be a stay-at-home dad. As much as I didn't like being bonded to Ivan, that was one thing I enjoyed. I got to spend my days with Lewis, especially when he was little."

I'll remember those days as long as I live. Little Lewis, bounding around the house in the capes he'd make from blankets, pretending to vanquish his imaginary foes. Little Lewis, learning how to write his name. Little Lewis, so full of joy at the prospect of being alive. Those days were so short. Back then I didn't realize how fast they'd be gone. These eggs will only be eggs for a little while. Only chicks for a blink of an eye. And then they'll be grown.

"What if I wanted to stay at home with our babies? How would you feel about that?" Am I too old for that? Is it too late?

Ansel brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. "I would love that. If it's what you want. If you want to keep the shop, that's great too. We'll make it work."

One of the eggs wiggles. They've been moving a lot the last few days. I told Ansel not to get his hopes up. Lewis hatched two full days later than expected, and the wait about killed me. A tiny noise comes from the egg. Pecking.

Ansel squeals and claps his hands together.

The other egg moves too.

It looks like our chicks might join us today.

We set the eggs on their own to give them space to move around. It will be hours before they hatch, so I do something unusual: I order pizza. I don't want to miss anything while I'm cooking.

Ansel's bouncing off the walls, calling both of his mothers, Todd, Luke, twelve different friends (some of whom I've never even met), and his hair stylist. He even calls the woman who waxes his body hair and imitates the sounds of the eggs pecking their shell. He gives me the task of filming the whole thing. I include a few shots of him because our babies will want to see how eager their father was to meet them.

Also, because his excitement is so charming.

At 7:34 p.m. Armani pokes their little beak out of their shell. At 7:36 p.m. Payson follows suit. We let them cheep and struggle, their eggs sliding to the side as they peck away. At 8:20 p.m., Armani's shell cracks, and they pop their head out.

Their little neck is so thin, it doesn't seem strong enough to hold up their head, and their feathers are still wet. They screech at the world with that fresh, confused newness of a chick who was previously stuck within the confines of their shell.

"Oh, aren't you handsome?" Ansel says, stroking Armani's wet head with one finger. "C'mon, little one. You can do it."

Armani lets out a squawk , before crawling/dragging their body out of the bottom of their egg. Ansel scoops up Armani into his hand. "Welcome to the world, Armani. There's a whole army of people waiting to give you cuddles. You are so wanted, little one. So loved."

Armani looks over at me with black eyes that are so much like their older brother's. I hold out my hands, and Ansel gently sets Armani into my palms.

A loud crack comes from the other egg, and a cub, not a chick, turns to us with egg shell on their head. Ansel laughs.

"Shifting is a smart way to break a shell. You're a clever one, huh?" He brings Payson into his arms like a teddy bear. Then he shucks off his pants and begins to shift. I've never seen Ansel's full bear form, only his arms. His body grows white fur and expands, forming long limbs tapered at the top and bowing out to enormous paws. He's thinner than I would have expected for a polar bear, with wide hips and long claws. He rolls onto his side and cuddles our child close.

Armani chirps at me and stumbles toward Ansel. Lewis always preferred me in my animal form when he was little, which is why I've avoiding shifting as much as possible during the last twenty years. Shifting was too painful. It reminded me of all the treasured moments I lost with August and Lane.

I lower Armani to the bed and close my eyes. It's time.

After removing my pants, I get on the bed next to Armani and begin to shrink. Shifting is uncomfortable in the beginning, but as my feathers grow and my arms flatten to wings, I remember why I liked being a penguin so much back when Lewis was little—it was simple.

It could be simple again. I don't have to manage shipments of lettuce, or submit payroll anymore. I think it's enough to know that I could do it. Despite what everyone thought of me when I opened that shop, I was smart enough to grow my business into a nice nest egg for my family. And now I think it's time to cash in.

I waddle over to Armani and nuzzle them with my beak. Oh, it feels wonderful to press my beak against a chick again.

I turn back at my mate. He's grinning from ear to ear. He pats my head, as if to say, "you're so tiny and cute."

I glare at him the best I can. Penguin or not, I'm still his Daddy, and he better never forget it.

Ansel gathers Armani and me closer, licking the small stone hanging from my neck. Over the last four months, he's kissed it every day as a tiny celebration of the magic it brought to our lives.

Eight years ago, I wore a pebble around my neck that I hated so much, I had it burned from my body. I guess change is like that. You have to let things go to move on with your life. Near the end, that pebble felt so heavy around my neck. This new pebble is so much bigger, and yet, it feels lighter than air.

I suppose it's like the story of the Eternal Ice. The Ice was almost licked away by the Sea, but the Sky rescued it by fortifying the Ice's strength with frigid gusts of wind. That night, as the Ice recovered, She turned Her eyes away from the greedy Sea and looked up at the generous Sky. The colors of the Northern Lights danced above Her, framed by the sparkle of the stars. It was such a breathtaking sight, the Ice never looked back.

Neither will I.