I waited outside the door, listening for any sound of possible issues. But Gypsy kept her word and reappeared within two minutes, dressed in yoga pants and a tank top, ready to go. I grabbed the duffle bag we’d packed and slung it over my shoulder, insisting that everyone get into the car immediately.
“Lucian.” Gypsy stopped me again, her smile assuring me she was much calmer than I currently felt.
“Yes?”
“You should probably put some clothes on too.”
I glanced down, and like an idiot, I was still wearing my briefs and nothing else. Angry with myself for wasting precious time, I handed the bag to Ace while I scrambled into the closet and threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt.
“It’s on backward.” Ace pointed at the shirt when I walked out.
“I don’t care.” I snatched the bag from him and took Gypsy’s hand in mine. “Let’s go.”
“Look up,” Birdie sang.
I glanced up at Birdie, and she snapped another picture with her phone.
“You didn’t even smile,” she accused.
I ignored her and went back to looking at my son as Gypsy touched my arm beside me. “Isn’t he the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your whole life?”
She was uncharacteristically choked up with emotion, and I was too. I couldn’t stop staring at him, and I couldn’t agree more with her summation.
I had so many conflicting emotions when it came to this baby, remembering what it was like the first time I held Dawson. It was a love you never even knew existed until it hit you in the face like a hammer. For the past few weeks, I’d worried that when I held this baby, there would be guilt if I felt too much. I didn’t ever want to feel like I was replacing Dawson, but I knew now that couldn’t ever be true.
They were so different, but my love was the same. I loved this baby as much as I still loved Dawson. And as difficult as it was to acknowledge that Dawson would never get to meet his brother, I was determined to ensure he would always be remembered.
Gypsy must have known it too when she laid her hand over mine. “I was thinking for a name… maybe Lux Dawson West?”
I glanced down at my wife, who somehow managed to look beautiful even after fifteen hours of war in the delivery room. My throat was too clogged to speak, so I nodded. And even though I was a man, I wasn’t too proud to hide the tears that sprung to my eyes as I kissed our son again.
I heard Birdie snap a few more pictures at that moment, but I didn’t care. When I looked at Gypsy and Lux, I felt an enormous sense of responsibility to protect them, and I wanted her to know that I intended to do just that.
I leaned down and kissed her, and she smiled against me. “Happy Birthday. Your other present is on my laptop. I’d planned on showing you today, but this will have to do for now.”
She pulled out her phone and handed it to me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Just look,” she instructed.
I did. And after reading over a few of the sentences in the word document she’d offered, I came to understand.
“Emmanuel?” Warmth spread through my chest as I looked down at her. “You’re writing his story?”
She nodded, her teeth digging into her lip. Gypsy still didn’t realize how brilliant she was, even after the success of her first novel. I’d read it from cover to cover several times over, marveling not only at the way she saw me, but the words she’d strung together to create a book about my life.
Since then, I’d encouraged her to keep writing. Hoping she’d find the right story to inspire her, I even offered up several of my past client’s names as potential ideas. But she’d been very secretive about what she was working on until now, and I understood why. It was still a sensitive subject for me, but Emmanuel’s story deserved to be told.
“Is that okay?” Gypsy asked.
“I couldn’t ask for anything better,” I assured her as I handed Lux off to her. “I can’t wait to read it. And I have something for you too.”
She smoothed the baby fine hair away from his forehead and leaned down to breathe in his scent. “It’s your birthday. What could you possibly have for me?”
I retrieved the phone from my pocket and pulled up my email I’d been sitting on since last week. When I showed it to her, she stared at the screen, face blank before it slowly crumpled with emotion.
“Is that real?” she whispered. “I thought you still had one more treatment.”
I tucked the phone back into my pocket. “I don’t actually. It was finished last week, but I wanted to surprise you.”