25. Jack

25

JACK

After dinner, we migrate into the living room, everyone in various levels of food coma. Sonia and Dad sit together, surveying their domain, while Nate lays on the floor next to baby Emma as she stares at a mobile and holds onto her tiny feet.

Damn, Nate's good at this. I'm jealous. That he's able to put aside all the shit from the past and enjoy our new siblings.

Laney's watching him. Mason's running his hand up and down her back while he talks to Seth about his latest project at the architecture firm.

Bridget's wrapped up in Seth's arm, her legs draped over Abigail's lap, giggling over Liam nodding off on Abigail's shoulder.

And then there's Camilla and me, sitting side by side. Awkward and unsure what our place is here.

We have a place here, don't we?

Camilla nudges me.

"Hm?"

"Maybe you should act like you like me?"

I laugh. "Do I not look like I like you?"

She takes my hand and slings it over her shoulder so my arm is around her. "Like that."

"Okay, fair. I'm not being a great boyfriend right now, am I?"

"You're being a great business partner," she says, nuzzling into my chest, then adds in a whisper, "But what I really want is my Daddy."

I press a kiss to the top of her head, let my nose drift through her curls. I wonder if our baby will have her curls. I hope so. A curly-headed mini version of Camilla. I won't tell her, but I do have a slight hope we have a girl.

Abigail waves at me from her spot. "Psst."

I lift my eyes to her.

She tilts her head at the room.

I shake my head a little.

My sister huffs.

I'm not ready. I know I have to do it at some point, but I'm not ready. Give me ten more minutes. Maybe twenty. Not now .

Abigail clears her throat.

Oh no .

"Jack brought champagne!" she cries out.

Dad raises an eyebrow. "I was wondering why there were all those bottles in the fridge."

"Champagne?" Laney perks up. "What's the occasion?"

"I…um…"

Camilla shifts next to me.

Bridget claps her hands. "They're engaged, I knew it!"

Seth scoffs. "Since when did you know that?"

"I just knew. Sixth sense."

I steal a glance at Camilla.

Fucking grow a pair, dude. If you can't just tell your family you're going to be a dad, how are you going to be a dad?

"Yeah, I have some news."

"I'll get the champagne! Laney, you get the glasses," Abigail titters and shoves Liam into my lap. "Hold him!"

That absolute trickster. This is the first time I've held one of the twins and…it's nice. Nicer than I thought it would be. Granted, he's half-asleep and milk drunk, but it's still nice.

"Heavier than I thought," I say. And yet so small.

Sonia gasps in faux offense. "Hey, don't talk about my baby like that."

I tuck him on my shoulder. Okay, maybe I'll be okay at this.

Camilla puts a hand against my stomach and leans in close to Liam. "So sleepy, aren't you?"

Abigail and Laney return with the champagne and the glasses. Mason waggles his brows at me. "Careful, man. You're going to start giving her ideas."

Laney gives him a whap on the back of the head.

Camilla laughs, and I do too. Our eyes lock. If only they knew the truth of it.

Fuck it.

"Actually, I already have," I say, not taking my eyes from hers.

Her warm amber eyes give me a fire of strength.

I scan my family. Their expressions range from confused to careful understanding.

"Camilla and I are having a baby."

Still silence.

Abigail accidentally lets the cork of the bottle go, a "pop" echoing through the room.

"Seriously?" she asks, staring at me with wide eyes.

Camilla laughs. "Seriously."

An eruption. That's the best way to describe what happens next. An explosion of joy that threatens to level the entire room, the entire building, all of New York. Not a single face is empty of surprise or a smile, save my dad who is struck absolutely dumb by the news.

He's always been the stoic type, the one who has to process everything before he reacts, but I do wonder what's going on in his head.

It's chaos, everyone on their feet. Bottles are popped, champagne flows. Someone takes Liam away from me since he's a second away from bursting into tears, having sleep stolen out from under him thanks to the uproar.

Camilla and I are passed around the room into warm embraces, showered with loving words. It's all a blur, all the support and love from my family members.

Once I reach Abigail, she pulls me into a tight hug, tears in her eyes.

I laugh. "Why in the world are you crying?"

"Because!" she cries into my shoulder. "I'm going to be an aunt!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Camilla has ended up with my dad which makes me uneasy. Since his reaction was unclear to me, I don't want him saying anything that makes her upset. Except from the looks of things, all is well. His hands are soft on her biceps as he speaks to her in a hushed way, a soft smile on his face.

Camilla's saying something, returning the smile. And then they embrace, his head tucked on the top of her head.

Something tugs in my chest.

Camilla is still so new to the family. Everyone is still making a place for her. And I'm so fucking grateful that they understand without any explanation that she's here to stay. Even if they suspect this was a mistake, the fact we've decided it's not is enough for them.

My dad's dark eyes flick over to me in that moment. There's something unspoken there.

I want to go to him, but Nate flings his arm over my shoulder and mutters in my ear, "Seriously? Now Laney's going to be impossible with the whole baby fever thing."

"Sounds like a you problem," I respond.

"Okay, okay, a toast. Time for a toast!" Abigail shouts, tears still edging her voice. She distributes the glasses, passing up Camilla with a very pointed, "None for you, obviously ."

Camilla giggles, then locks eyes with me from across the room.

I love you , I think, hoping she'll hear it somehow. Some way.

Everything about us has been an accident from the beginning. I had no idea accidents could make me so happy.

"So, you're naming the baby after me, right?" Seth asks, elbowing me in the side.

He might be joking, but he has a point.

"I owe you," I say, my voice flooding with gravity.

His brows jump. "I was kidding, man."

"I'm not." I'll figure out a way to repay him. Somehow. Someday.

Abigail moves to the front of the room. "Okay, okay, okay, who wants to toast?"

My father steps forward, Emma on his arm. "I'll do it."

I swallow.

God, what's he going to say?

Camilla thankfully crosses the room to me, pressing herself to my side and looping her arms around my waist. Under my arm, like the wing of a bird, is where I like her to be. Somewhere I can keep her safe.

He clears his throat and adjusts the top button of his shirt like it's too tight. "Well, I didn't think I'd become a grandfather so soon after doing the fatherhood thing all over again, but…life happens as it happens."

He glances over at Sonia who has managed to coddle Liam back into his slumber. There's a lot of love there between them.

I'm so glad I understand it now I have my own.

"Anyway, Camilla, you're a Lyons now, even if not in name. That would have been the case with or without your–" He stops and clears his throat. Is he tearing up? "New addition. But from the bottom of my heart, thank you for loving my son."

Camilla's arms tighten around me.

"And Jack…" Dad pauses.

The champagne in his glass bubbles, waiting for the next thing he'll say.

"You're going to be an amazing father," he says.

The air leaves the room.

"I look forward to learning from you."

I haven't really conceptualized the fact my dad and I are going to be raising children at the same time, children in the same generation. They won't even be a full year apart. They'll be friends. I will have something in common with my father that many people will never experience.

And I'm surprised by how excited I am to share that with my dad. Relate to him that way.

Maybe that's the second chance I've been looking for.

"Anyway, I'm…"

His lower lip trembles, and he lets out a breath, trying to quell any tears. "I'm just so happy for you both and for all of us too." He lifts his glass. "Cheers."

The rest of the night is a blur of celebration. Camilla and I field many questions.

How long have we known? Where are we going to live? Are we getting married?

We're good sports about it, but by the end of the night, we're both exhausted. I see it on Camilla's face, the tiredness pinching the corners of her eyes, making her smile droop. My poor baby girl. Her least favorite part of the pregnancy has been the exhaustion. She's so used to working late into the night, pushing herself overtime, not resting until a task is finished that the whole idea she has to rest is foreign to her.

Luckily, she has me.

We take our leave before anyone else, passed around again for hugs and kisses.

I finally make it to my father who surprises me with, "Can we talk privately for just a minute?"

Right .

The moment alone he wanted. I smile.

I'd like that.

"Yeah, of course."

All my life, private, serious conversations with my father occurred in his office. And this one is no different. Except he doesn't ask me to sit like he usually does. He goes to his bookshelf and picks one of the navy-colored boxes that sits on the top shelf. There are three of them, unlabeled. I've never noticed them.

"Well, first of all," he says, before placing the box on his desk. "Congratulations."

I slide my hands in my pockets. I'm nervous. Not sure why. "Thanks, Dad."

Dad leans on the edge of the desk, staring me down. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Depends?"

"You can say fuck off if you want."

I gesture for him to go ahead.

He raises a dark eyebrow. "Planned?"

Instantly, my chest locks up. "No."

"Like father like son, huh?"

I try to laugh, but it comes out ragged. "Dad–"

"Hey, I'm not judging. You two clearly have something. It's obvious."

Annoyance abates. I'll let him be earnest, even if he goes about it wrong.

"The way you look at each other…" He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to let you know I'm not worried. I just wanted to know in case I could offer any advice…not that you would want anything from me."

Dad is a CEO, has been for decades. He doesn't do tongue-tied. I have to admit, it's very entertaining.

He sighs and then smiles. "You might not believe me when I say it, but being a parent is the best job you can have. Even if I wasn't very good at it, I…"

I don't say anything, mostly because if I speak, I'll try to comfort him, and I don't want to do that. Not right now. Still, it's nice to hear he thinks that.

"Anyway. I know you don't think I cared."

"Dad–"

"Just hear me out, Jack. I don't want to fight."

I purse my lips to keep from saying anything more.

"I'm proud of you for being such a good man even though I wasn't the best role model for that," he says. "Maybe it's spite, or…" He tries to laugh.

It's not spite.

My dad wasn't perfect. He did things I told myself I wouldn't do. But he also has shown me that being a man, a real man, means accepting your own capacity for change. Just because I didn't see that until later in his life doesn't mean I didn't still learn from him.

He lifts the lid of the box and slides it across the desk toward me. "I know it's not much, but…"

I gaze down into the box. It's stuffed to the gills with papers and objects stored in plastic baggies. The first thing I recognize, though, is a small worn bunny rabbit.

"I always wondered where this went," I say, grabbing the rabbit carefully.

"Bubs the Bunny."

"Yeah! Bubs. Wow…I forgot about that." Bubs's fur is worn down. "I thought I lost him."

"Your mom wanted to throw it out. She said you were getting too old to sleep with stuffed animals," Dad says, sliding his hands into his pockets. "So, I kept him after you stayed with me once."

I furrow my brow. "Ha. And you kept it?"

Dad doesn't respond.

I thumb through the box. Old drawings, a baggie with a lock of hair, one with a couple teeth. School pictures, baby pictures. All the sentimental things you'd expect a parent to keep.

Or if you're me, sentimental things I never thought my dad cared about.

I find a picture of me and him. Out in Central Park it looks like, sitting on a bench. I'm probably only a couple years old. And Dad…looks so young. I don't think I've seen a picture of him this young in a long time. No gray in his hair, still just in his twenties. No wrinkles.

I'm straddling his thigh with chubby legs, chest against his chest. His arm is wrapped around me, and he's kissing my chin.

I don't know if I can properly convey why…it just looks like love.

"I know this is just stuff. And it doesn't really mean anything after…I can't change how I've made you feel over the years, Jack, but the way I loved you in my heart isn't any different from the way I am now, I promise."

I finally tear my eyes up from the photo and look at my dad. Those tears that were threatening to spill out earlier have returned.

"I'm sorry." A tear rolls down his cheek. He swipes it away fast. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," I reply. Because it is. Now, it is. Because we made it here. Because I have made a life I love, and I've managed to be a good man in part due to his mistakes but also in part to his triumphs. And we're still here. We're still trying.

That's a fucking lot.

I round this desk and give him a hug. The kind of hug a kid gives his dad, where you can't be close enough and it can't be tight enough.

"You're still my baby, Jack," he chokes out. "You're just taller and don't need me anymore."

I laugh. "I still need you, Dad."

He shakes with silent sobs.

My stomach roils with terror. This will be me one day. With my child, my baby all grown up able to take care of themselves.

When he's decided he's finished with tears–yes, decided, since my father is not one for tears–he claps his hand on my shoulder. "I'm so proud of you. And so excited for you."

I smile.

"Does…does your mother know?"

I laugh. "No, I told you all first."

He inhales deeply. "I'm going to count that as a win."

"You should, Grandpa."

Dad winces. "I've just gotten used to the whole dirty diapers and eighteen more years with children in the house, let's ease into the grandpa thing, huh?"

I grab his shoulder back. "Yeah, sorry, no can do."

He rolls his eyes. "I deserve that."