Neither of us pulled away.
“Uncle Rip!” Viera yelled down the stairs. “You’re making a baby!”
I’ve never been shoved away from another human being so fast in my entire life.
“What?” This time, the look of horror that passed across his face was comical.
Viera giggled. “Mama says that if you cuddle really hard, your love creates a baby!”
Rip visibly paled.
I gave him a little shove. “You know that’s not actually true, Rip.”
“And yet the panic feels so real.” He shuddered.
“Hey!” I crossed my arms. “That’s hurtful!”
“We have two kids. We do not need two more.”
“What makes you think we’d have two more, not one?”
“Sheer luck, you’d probably have triplets.” Another shudder tore through him.
At least he wasn’t shuddering at the idea of “cuddling” me, just at the idea of raising five children.
I looked around the messy living room.
At the kitchen with the bowls piled high in the sink.
And the toys strewn around the floor next to a Lego minefield. I found myself shuddering too. “Good point.”
“See?” He nodded at my concession. “Viera, get into bed, sweetheart. We’ll be right up.”
“Yay!” She skipped off while we followed her up the stairs and down the hall into the master bedroom.
Monica and Brooks’s clothes still hung in the closet, but we’d managed to put their personal items away in an effort to help the kids move on, as painful as that was. But it didn’t matter that Monica’s hairbrush was gone, or Brooks’s favorite watch—it still felt like they were there, and I knew one day soon I’d have to go into that closet and put the last remaining pieces of their memory away.
Sometimes it felt like their ghosts existed in that room watching over the kids—over us. It wasn’t creepy or even alarming that every time I stepped in that room I felt warm.
I felt their love.
I basked in it as I stood there and watched the kids tumble into the massive bed—Rip tickling Viera, Ben laughing at the scene.
I wondered how many times Monica and Brooks had done this at night. How many mornings had they woken up with those kiddos laughing and jumping on their bed and wished for just a few more minutes of sleep?
One thing I had already learned was that you had to hold on to the moments—even the ones that drove you crazy. Because you never knew how long you had to enjoy them.
“Aunt Colby!” Viera jumped to her feet on the bed. “Come tell us a story!”
“Ooooh, a story?” I echoed, forcing a sense of lightness into my voice with great effort. “Hmmm, what kind of story do you want?”
“A funny one!” she sang, and then she plopped onto her butt. “But you have to lay in the middle with Uncle Rip, it’s rules.”
“Oh, well, if it’s rules.” I shared a smile with him and crawled toward the middle of the bed with Viera on my left, Rip on my right, and Ben with his head on Rip’s shoulder.
Anyone seeing this scene would think we were the perfect family.
Looks can be so deceiving, can’t they?