It’s nothing more than a thought at first. A fleeting thing.
It takes two days for that thought to become a feeling.
And it takes another three days for her to let that feeling bloom into something she dares to entertain as a genuine possibility.
When it does, when that possibility festers and sprouts roots, Rebecca’s heart goes on a three-part journey. It skips a beat, thrashes against the walls of her chest, and then leaps into her throat, caught right in the middle. One hand falls to her stomach and the other lifts to her mouth, fingers steepled over her lips.
She’s terrified to be wrong.
But she thinks she’s a little terrified to be right, too.
Ted comes over for dinner as planned, a smile on his beautiful face and flowers hidden behind his back even though this is just a normal evening in, not a date, and her stomach clenches with that warm feeling only he can elicit.
And maybe with a little bit of something else.
Maybe.
They’re curled together on her couch after dinner and for all of the nerves thrumming through her system, Rebecca feels weightless. Ted’s arm is wrapped around her waist, holding her securely against his side; every so often his thumb will caress along her ribs in gentle, mindless strokes that threaten to lull her into a post-pasta nap. Her arm is slung across his torso, fingers brushing in nonsensical back and forth motions over his jumper.
“Ted?”
He hums, and she can feel the vibrations in her chest. “Yeah?”
With her head resting on his shoulder, Rebecca continues to fiddle with the fabric of his jumper, her eyes trained on where her nails scratch and shift and pull. She knows she has to say something. She wants to say something, wants to speak this possibility aloud so it’s no longer just living inside her head.
She bites her lip, summoning the courage. Ted’s hand slides to her back, his palm making soothing passes along the length of her spine. It calms her.
“Remember when you thought you got me pregnant?” she finally asks.
Laughter bubbles from his chest. “I don’t think I could forget, sweetheart.”
Her hand flattens in the middle of his chest, her fingers brushing the neckline of his shirt. “Remember when I said that I would’ve told you. If I thought I was.”
Ted nods. “I do.”
Rebecca’s quiet against him, trying to dull the racing of her heart before she says anything more. She can feel it pressing at the back of her sternum; if she looked down right now, she thinks she’d see its outline pushing through her skin. She just needs a moment, needs the incessant thudding in her ears to ease so she can hear herself think.
The longer she takes, the more painfully aware she becomes of the stillness in the air.
She’s aware that she started this conversation, so therefore she should be the one… well, speaking. And she wants to—speak, that is. But she probably should’ve at least worked out what she was going to say so she wouldn’t have to sit here, full of nervous energy and absolutely devoid of any words.
The movement of his hand on her back stalls. “Rebecca,” he says softly.
She hums, because she at least has the faculties to do that right now.
“Are you bringing this up because you… are you saying…”
Well, perhaps her silence spoke volumes for her.
He’s already practically there. She can do this.
Quickly. Just one, two, three…
“I think I might be pregnant,” she whispers.
Letting the words slip past her lips takes her breath away for a second. For the past few days it’s lived as nothing more than something floating around her own brain, something curling itself around each of her ribs like f*cking vines and tugging tighter, tighter.
For as unsure she is, there’s a release that comes with freeing it, too; those vines unfurl a little, their grip loosening just enough to allow a fuller breath.
That could also have something to do with the slow curve of a smile on Ted’s face when he tips her chin with his index finger, coaxing her to look at him.
“Yeah?” he asks.
Rolling her lips, she nods at the same time she says, “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Okay, we can work with maybe,” he says.
“I’m late.”
“Well, you better get goin’ then,” Ted teases, his mustache twitching with it. She chuckles and rolls her eyes, but she knows that’s exactly what he was aiming for. It’s confirmed when his thumb brushes her cheek and he murmurs: “There’s that smile.”
Of course he’d ease her nerves, just like that.
Rebecca licks at the corner of her mouth. “It’s not just that, though, it’s—I don’t know, it’s silly,” she says, shaking her head, talking herself out of saying it.
“I’m bettin’ it’s not silly at all.”
His hand starts back up along her back, slow, purposeful lines from the dimples at the base of her spine up to her neck. She sighs, canting into his touch. He’s so good.
“I don’t know if I can explain it,” she admits softly. She lifts her hand from his chest to bring it to her abdomen, resting carefully just below her belly button. “It’s just a… a feeling, I guess, that something’s different. Not aesthetically, of course, but like a sensation, you know? It’s so small, but I can’t seem to shake it.”
Ted doesn’t laugh or raise a brow or contort his face into a look of dubiousness. He just nods, his eyes warm and his smile soft.
“Okay,” he says. “Then we’ll find out, and I’ll be right here with you. That sound okay?”
Rebecca’s shoulders finally drop. “Yes. That sounds wonderful.”
Having Ted right next to her, her hand held securely in his, warm and comfortable, eases but does not stop the absolute pounding of her heart. They’re sitting on the edge of her bed, staring into the open doors to her bedroom’s ensuite where a tiny white stick is going to either change their lives or break her heart.
And she thinks she could handle it, too, if it was just her heart on the line.
But her stomach drops when the timer goes off and Ted squeezes her hand and for the first time since she told him she thinks she might be pregnant, she wishes she was doing this alone.
“Shall we?” he asks, his face the picture of tenderness when she turns to him.
Her smile is close-mouthed and tight, but she nods. They rise from the bed together, hands still clasped. She can feel her palms sweating, a clammy film to her skin.
The pregnancy test is upside down on a towel on the countertop and Rebecca’s heart drops unceremoniously to her toes the closer they get to it. Ted squeezes her hand again, like he can sense it, and her eyes lift to his.
“You okay?”
She takes a stilted breath. “I’m scared,” she whispers.
Gently, he uses his grip on her to encourage her to turn away from the sink. Once they’re facing one another, he takes hold of her other hand and brings their joined hands between their chests.
“Hey, that’s alright,” he promises, his voice soft. “Nothin’ wrong with being a little scared. This can be scary.”
“No. I mean—I mean, yes, but that’s not…”
Rebecca’s eyes flutter closed as she inhales deeply through her nose. She takes a few breaths, steadying, and it’s Ted’s voice that has her eyes peeling back open.
He releases one of her hands to slide his touch up her arm, his palm warm where it trails along her exposed skin. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, whatever you’re feeling, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
She does know that. Of course she does.
Eyes roaming his face, she asks, oh so quietly, “What if I’m wrong?”
“Then we’ll go back downstairs, curl up on the couch, and share some rocky road ice cream.”
“Ted,” she sighs. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” His thumb works gently at caressing away the goosebumps that have made an appearance. “I don’t want you putting any pressure on yourself. If it’s negative, it’s negative. If it’s positive, it’s positive. Whichever result we find when we flip that test over, you and me? We’re gonna be just fine.”
But there it is, the tiny, hopeful curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes when he considers the possibility of it being positive, of her being pregnant. And it’s that bit of hope, that glimmer, that she’s terrified of dulling if she’s gotten this all wrong.
Biting down on her lip, she peers up at him with damp eyes. His face falls at the sight of them.
“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, reaching up to cup her cheeks. It’s so tender it brings more tears to her eyes and she hates the look of concern that causes. “Can you talk to me, please?”
Rebecca looks up at the ceiling, blinking in an attempt to keep the emotion at bay. Her nose wrinkles and her mouth twists into a sad smile when she says, “I don’t want to disappoint you again.”
Ted frowns. “When have you ever disappointed me?”
“I saw the way it hurt you.” Her voice is hardly above a whisper. “Finding out that I wasn’t pregnant.”
Her name comes out an apologetic exhale. “Rebecca.” He shakes his head. “That’s not… this isn’t the same thing.”
“You dreamt about our little girl, Ted. She was real to you. I just don’t want to…” She sniffles. “I don’t want to hurt you again if I’m not pregnant.”
Bending forward, Ted smooths his lips to her forehead. “You never hurt me. You never disappointed me.” Another kiss, to the apple of her cheek; he can taste the salt from her tears. “Of course I’m gonna be a little hopeful, ‘cause if you are pregnant then that’s gonna be just about the best news in the world.”
“See, and I don’t want—”
“But,” he interjects softly. “If you’re not pregnant? Sweetheart… sure, I’ll be a little sad. Not just for me—for the both of us, because I know how much this means to you, too. But at no point will I be hurt or disappointed by you. Okay?”
Rebecca blows out a breath, not quite looking at him. “Okay.”
He brushes beneath her eyes one more time, thumbs dusting carefully over her damp skin. When she looks up at him, the smile he has for her is filled with so much love.
“You ready?” he asks.
No. But she’s not sure she’ll ever be truly ready. So she nods.
Rebecca wipes at her own face with the back of her hand before she takes a step closer to the counter. As she reaches for the pregnancy test she takes another deep breath.
It’s heavy between her fingers and for a long moment, she just stares at it. Ted’s palm is warm against the small of her back, comforting, and she’s glad he’s in here after all.
After counting to three in her head, an agonizingly slow process, she finally flips it around.
As soon as she does, her free hand flies to her mouth. Tears spring to her eyes, filling against her waterline and obscuring her vision. She vaguely registers a sob-like noise and only belatedly realizes that it’s come from her own mouth.
“Oh my god,” she rasps, a garbled sound. “Ted…”
“Yeah,” he whispers.
There’s a faraway quality to his voice and she can’t tell right now if he’s standing at a distance or if it’s the ringing in her ears muffling her hearing. Rebecca blindly reaches back for him and something in her chest settles the second his hand is in hers, his palm warm and his fingers curling around hers.
He presses against her back, his arm looping around her to hold her close. She feels the kiss he places to her hair a moment before he leans over her shoulder and rests his cheek against hers.
“Holy sh*t,” she exhales.
The pregnancy test shakes in her hand and Ted reaches out to help steady her wrist. He can’t tear his eyes away from it, those two bright lines. Rebecca was right—this test looks different than that first one, the lines more identical, the dark pink clear in both.
This one is real.
“Congratulations, mama,” he murmurs softly in her ear.
Rebecca chokes out another little noise at that. Her head dips for a brief moment before she spins in his hold, burrowing in against his chest. She balls the back of his sweater in the fist not still holding the pregnancy test; her nails dig into his skin through the fabric but he can’t feel anything beyond the unbridled joy firing on all cylinders.
His arms wind around her easily. One hand slips into her hair, fingers threading through the strands; the other hand plants itself firmly at the small of her back, pressing her as close to him as humanly possible.
“f*ck, Ted,” she laughs wetly into his chest. “I’m pregnant.”
When she eases back, tipping her head to look at him, the tears darkening his eyes mirror her own. The smile he gives her is absolutely blinding, so electrifying she can feel it in her toes.
He slides his hand upward; it coasts along her ribs, over her chest, traveling along her neck to cradle her jaw. His grin widens and he slants it over her mouth in a soft, passionate kiss. Rebecca bites her lip when he pulls away, unable to temper the smile as she tucks herself back into him.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispers back, an awe-filled confirmation.
Three days after they find out Rebecca’s pregnant, Ted goes on a walk. He doesn’t really have a destination in mind, not consciously, but his feet take over and somehow he’s standing right where he was not six months ago.
In front of the display for the small shop on the corner, the impossibly tiny winter clothes in the window now switched out in favor of summer.
He chuckles softly to himself, but he doesn’t try to fight against the pull this time. He steps inside, the bell jingling above his head just as it did before, and as his eyes roam the racks it hits him that he belongs in here now.
In a few short months they’ll have a baby of their own, squirmy and precious and somehow small enough to fit into these adorable little outfits. It still doesn’t feel real.
As he roams the aisles, he can’t help the niggling thought in the back of his mind, can’t stop himself from looking for something in particular.
Something, if he’s honest, he doesn’t expect to be here. Not still, not after so many months and a change in inventory with the seasons. It wasn’t winter themed, so perhaps that raises his odds, but it still feels like a long shot.
If nothing else, he thinks maybe he’ll be able to find something similar. He’d be happy enough with that.
He thumbs through the racks, smiling at all of the small dresses and frilly tops. There are a lot of items with embroidered fruit on them—tiny strawberries, cherries, halved watermelons—and his heart balloons with each one, the cute factor off the charts. He plucks one from its place, a white onesie adorned with a pink and red strawberry pattern.
His smile softens as his fingers brush along the scalloped sleeves, the etching of the little seeds. Rebecca’s love for strawberries floats back into his consciousness, and his chest warms.
It gets tucked into his elbow.
He wants to come back here with her. He thinks she’d get a kick out of meandering through this endless sea of baby clothes with him, sure, but his true reason is selfish: he wants to watch her walk through the aisles, wants to see the way her face transforms into something gentle as her fingers brush all of the sweet baby pinks, powder blues, dusty greens, bright yellows.
Just as he’s about to leave, his eyes are drawn to a clearance rack in the far corner. Premier league coach’s salary or not, he loves a bargain. So he makes his way toward the back of the shop, stopping in front of the small selection of clothes no less precious than the ones displayed out front.
He’s tracing his fingers along the fabrics, taking the time to look at each one, when he freezes.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he mutters to himself, his smile widening.
In the middle, peeking out between two neutral-colored pieces, is a shock of biscuit box pink. He knows that’s not a real color designation, not to anyone but him, but… dammit, yes it is. It’s biscuit box pink, it’s Rebecca pink, it’s perfect.
He pulls it free, his heart lifting out of his chest. It’s a sign, it has to be, that this little pink onesie with the heart embroidering along the neckline is still here all these months later.
It’s like it was waiting for him. For them.
When Rebecca starts experiencing morning sickness, for real this time, Ted tends to her exactly as he did the first time around. He kneels beside her where she’s hunched over the toilet, her hair gathered in one hand and the other making circles across her shoulder blades.
“That’s it, you’re okay,” he soothes.
She takes a deep breath once the vomiting ebbs away, her forehead resting on her forearm on the back of the toilet. Her eyes are closed and her back rises and falls slowly beneath his palm.
“This is miserable,” she croaks, her throat raw.
He sighs sympathetically. “I know,” he says. “If I could be the one to go through this for you, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
Tired eyes find him from where she rolls her head and she manages a tiny, half-there smile. “You know, I actually believe you mean that.”
“I do.” She begins to push off of the toilet and he wraps an arm around her, helping her to stand. “I hate seein’ you feeling so crummy.”
Rebecca lets her read fall to his shoulder for a moment. “I know. I’m not too fond of it myself,” she whispers. Even quieter, she adds: “Is that terrible of me to say?”
“Of course not.”
“It doesn’t make me a horrible, ungrateful mother to dislike something that’s only happening because of our baby?”
Ted squeezes her waist, then moves so he can look at her. “Hey,” he murmurs, turning her face with a gentle finger to her cheek. “I think vomiting is pretty universally disliked. Not enjoying the symptoms of pregnancy doesn’t mean you love our little gumdrop any less, Rebecca. It just makes you human.”
“Gumdrop?”
He shrugs. “You weren’t a fan of nugget, so I’m workin’ my way through other food-based nicknames.”
“I wasn’t a fan of you calling our unborn child chicken nugget. There’s a difference.”
Ted waves his hand. “Semantics,” he dismisses. “Let’s hear it. Gumdrop: hot or cold?”
She hums, her lips quirked in amusem*nt. “Lukewarm.”
“I’ll take it. Gumdrop remains on the table.”
“You’re going to cycle through a list, aren’t you?”
“I certainly am,” he confirms brightly, guiding her toward the sink. He hands her a small cup of water. “I think a bunch of candies have potential. Our little skittle.”
Rebecca swishes the water in her mouth and spits it into the sink. “Veto.”
“Aw, that one’s cute.”
She rests a hand on her stomach. “They’re not a skittle. It doesn’t fit.”
“But they’re a gumdrop?”
“They could be,” she says, matter-of-fact.
Ted chuckles, leaning in to kiss her despite her twisted face and protest about how she just got done vomiting. “I don’t care,” he says against her lips, a chaste thing. “I love you and our little… sour patch kid?”
Rebecca shakes her head, nose scrunched adorably.
“Baby Ruth?”
“Keep workshopping, love,” she says, patting his cheek.
“Alright,” he sighs dramatically, running his hand over her waist. “In the meantime, you really should try to get somethin’ into your stomach. How does some soup sound? With some saltines maybe?”
Rebecca’s eyes cut to his. There’s a hopeful raise to her brow when she asks, “That homemade soup?”
“If that’s what you’re in the mood for, sure.”
“Yes. Please.”
He smiles, pushing a damp strand of hair away from her temple. “You got it, darlin’.”
When he walks into the living room with a bowl of freshly made soup in hand and finds Rebecca curled under a blanket in the corner of the couch, he flashes back to that day.
This time, though, she accepts the soup with a soft smile and lifts the edge of the blanket. When she gestures for him to join her, Ted is more than happy to oblige. He slips in behind her as best as he can without jostling her, not wanting to upset her stomach further. Settled in, she leans herself against his chest, a warm weight, and tilts her head back into his shoulder.
He loops an arm around her middle, his palm splayed gently over her stomach.
Unlike last time, he now knows exactly what’s cradled there.
They’re celebrating a particularly satisfying win when Keeley finds out.
“Oh, no, sorry, Mae,” Rebecca says, rejecting the gin and tonic when she starts to set it down on the table. “Just water for me tonight.”
“Babe, are you feeling alright?”
She nods. “Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, popping a chip into her mouth.
“You just turned down gin during a celebration.” Keeley says it with a hint of disbelief, like it’s the most out of character thing she could have possibly done.
Rebecca scoffs. “I’m capable of showing restraint.”
“Sure,” she says agreeably. “You just rarely do.”
“Christ, you make me sound like an alcoholic.”
“Nah, ‘course not. It’s just that if I didn’t know any better…” Keeley’s voice trails off at the way Rebecca averts her gaze, her cheeks sporting a light flush. She sits up straighter. “Rebecca?”
Rebecca glances up. She aims to keep her expression as neutral as possible, but it’s futile; it’s written all over her face and she knows it, can feel it.
“Hm?”
“Babe?” she asks, quiet and brimming with unleashed excited energy.
Somehow the single word carries every single question Keeley’s really asking, and Rebecca can hear each one loud and clear. She bites down on her bottom lip, but a slow, soft smile curves across her face as she gives her friend the tiniest, most imperceptible nod.
Keeley’s squeal echoes. Roy and Beard finally look away from their conversation, expressions ranging from confused and concerned flashing across their faces.
There’s a beaming smile on her best friend’s face, covered a split second later by her palm. Rebecca chuckles, something releasing in her chest now that Keeley knows; she wasn’t keeping it from her on purpose, but it’s still so fresh, so new, so fragile, she hadn’t wanted to share news of something that might not stick.
But Ted had gently talked her down from that, reassured her that all they can do is exactly what they’re already doing, that speaking it aloud won’t jinx anything. She’d been planning to have Keeley over for a girls’ night this weekend to tell her.
Turns out, there’ll be no telling necessary.
Keeley’s out of her seat and rushing around the table in absolutely no time. She’s on Rebecca with impressive speed, nearly knocking her out of her chair in her haste to hug her; her arms wrap around her neck and her oh my god, oh my god gets muffled by Rebecca’s hair.
She laughs, a delighted, wet noise as her hands find Keeley’s back to return the hug. With her small friend almost in her lap, latched onto her, she meets Ted’s gaze as he rejoins the table from his trip to the bathroom. He seems to understand exactly what’s just happened and he smiles, an affectionate, warm thing.
“I’m so f*cking happy for you,” she whispers, holding Rebecca tighter. “Holy sh*t.”
“Me too,” Rebecca whispers back, her hand disappearing into Keeley’s ponytail.
“What the f*ck is going on?” Roy finally asks, those bushy brows of his furrowed above narrowed eyes.
“Nothing,” Keeley says, not looking up. “I just really f*cking love Rebecca.”
But she’s blubbering into Rebecca’s neck and Rebecca’s throat is tight with emotion. Tears fill her eyes as she clings to her friend, a rush of an exhale releasing over her shoulder.
“Right, well,” Roy grunts, taking a swig of his beer. “Who f*cking doesn’t?”
One morning Ted traipses into her office with a familiar knock and a cheery, “knock-a-doodle-doo, boss,” slipping out from between his smile. Her head lifts, a fond tug of her lips on display even as she shakes her head.
“Good morning, Ted,” she says, eyes warm.
He leans across her desk to give her a soft kiss before he drops himself into his usual chair. As she watches the comfortable, familiar routine unfold, she thinks about how pleased she is that in the six months since they’ve been together, nothing has changed this.
Ted still comes to her office every morning for biscuits with the boss; he still manages to come up with new questions for each session (yesterday it was “how do you think you would have reacted if you were one of the kids in Honey, I Shrunk The Kids?” and she had to explain that she wasn’t familiar with the film, which then led to a declaration that it was going to be their next movie night showing); he still flops down into the same chair with those bright eyes of his and a genuine eagerness to spend this time with her.
She doesn’t think she actually expected anything to change, but there was still that nagging little voice in the back of her mind wondering whether Ted might tire of biscuits with the boss now that they spend so much time together outside of work, too.
Silly.
As she leans back in her chair, Rebecca’s heart fills when she realizes this is exactly what he said he wanted all those months ago. I want to be able to give you a kiss with your biscuits every day.
He is, and he does.
Except today when he slides her usual biscuits across the desk, there’s a second, slightly larger pink box still perched in his lap. Rebecca plucks a biscuit free and shoves it into her mouth, her brow raising as she tips her chin in its direction.
“What do you have there?” she asks around the bite, the back of her hand covering her mouth.
Ted’s eyes drop down to the box, his fingers tapping on the lid. “A little somethin’ I saw and… well, you’ll understand when ya open it.”
Rebecca swallows, nudging her biscuits to the side to make room as he places the mystery box onto the desk. She pulls it closer, her gaze lifting to his in question.
“Go on,” he nods.
She rubs her fingers together to get any remaining biscuit dust off of them and then slowly works at unfolding the lid. Her breath catches the moment it’s pulled back, the contents of the box unveiled.
“Oh, Ted,” she breathes.
Her fingers dust gently along the stitching of an impossibly tiny Nike trainer, the swoosh, the detailing, and the laces all the very same pale pink as her biscuit boxes. It’s the most precious thing she’s ever f*cking seen.
She lifts one from the box and can’t believe how small it is in her palm. Her lips part and then she’s rolling them together, her vision blurring as she raises them to glance back at him.
“I know we don’t even know if it’s a girl yet, but I couldn’t…” He swallows, clearing his throat. “I saw them and couldn’t just leave ‘em there, ya know?”
Rebecca shakes her head. She holds the toddler-sized Nike up higher, a tender smile pulling at her mouth. “They’re perfect. And I’m… well, I think we’re having a girl,” she admits quietly. “But I think our little boy would look equally as darling in these.”
Ted’s grin widens, his eyes shiny. “Yeah?”
Rebecca nods, soft. “He’d look just like his daddy.”
Rebecca’s always been the earlier riser. She’d figured that out early on into their relationship when her messages routinely went unanswered until an hour or so after she’d sent them.
Since they found out she was pregnant, and since Ted started staying over every night—he’s practically moved in, if she’s honest, but they haven’t put words to it yet—that’s changed.
Now, she routinely wakes to Ted’s soft touches. His fingers dragging lazily across her exposed shoulder, or traveling along the dip of her waist, or brushing soothingly over the jut of her hip bone. Sometimes his hand will be up her shirt. Not to fondle or arouse but to feel—his palm flat against her stomach to hold her securely against him, or running calming passes up and down the length of her spine, or cradling the space just below her belly button, his thumb caressing the gentle reminder that grows more each day.
Today, she wakes not only to Ted’s careful touch, but to his quiet voice.
“You’re so lucky, sweet pea,” she hears, the sound muffled beneath the blanket. “You’ve got the best mama there is. I’m talkin’ you hit the mama lottery with this one.”
Tears press at the backs of her eyes, tighten in her throat, but Rebecca tries as best as she can to keep her breathing even. She fears he might stop if he realizes she’s awake, and she can’t help but to be curious about what he’s whispering to their little one.
“She’s been waitin’ for you for a long time,” he says, his fingers gentle where they ghost over her skin. “You’re so loved already, just you wait. You’ve got a whole family out here just chompin’ at the bit to meet you. But you just keep growin’ big and strong in there, okay? And if you can, try to take it easy on your mama—she won’t complain, but I know she’d be grateful for a nausea-free day.”
When his voice fades off and only his light touches remain, Rebecca lifts the comforter. Ted’s eyes find hers easily, a shy smile on his face as he peers at her from where he’s perched near her hip. She chuckles, a wet sound, as she reaches down to thread her fingers through his hair.
“Come here,” she murmurs, tugging lightly. He obliges, crawling up the bed until he’s propped on his elbow beside her. She pulls him down for a kiss, her palms finding his cheeks, thumbs dipping into his dimples when he smiles against her mouth. “I love you. So much.”
Ted smooths his I love you into her skin.
They find out they’re having a girl and Rebecca’s breath catches in her throat. Beyond that feeling she had, somewhere, deep down, she thinks she knew that their baby was a girl from the very first moment she knew she existed.
But there’s a difference between a feeling and a fact, and knowing for a fact has tears springing to her eyes. She stares at the tiny blip on the screen, their baby nothing more than a small little thing in black and white, and her heart presses tight against her ribs.
She squeezes Ted’s hand and he squeezes back. It only takes one glance at him, at the faraway look in those glassy eyes of his, for her to know exactly what he’s thinking about.
When the doctor leaves the room, Rebecca lets out an overwhelmed but happy sigh. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles, her eyes tracking the way his throat moves with a thick, emotion-filled swallow.
“She still found her way to us,” she whispers.
Ted lets out a choked noise and bends down to dust a kiss to her temple.
Against her hair, he says, “Looks like our little girl’s real after all.”
He can still see her.
Rebecca’s pregnancy is marked by little moments, all so precious they have her wondering if this is all a dream, if she’s going to wake up any moment to a completely different life.
It’s Ted pressing a kiss to her growing bump, a soft brush of his lips and a tickle of his mustache against her skin. She lets her hands fall to his hair, fingers threading lightly through the strands. When he looks up at her with warm, loving eyes she feels every fiber of her being relax.
“I hope she has your eyes,” she tells him softly.
A little girl with Ted’s rich brown eyes would be her undoing, she knows it.
Ted hums, his mustache twitching when he smiles. “I don’t know,” he says, his head tilting, his smile morphing into something achingly delicate. “I’m still hopin’ she’s got those pretty jewels of yours.”
The corners of her lips curve upward, a tender thing. Tugging gently, she coaxes him back to his feet. Once they’re face-to-face, Rebecca brackets his cheeks with her palms.
“Agree to disagree.” He chuckles, his hands falling to her waist while her thumbs trace the dimples that deepen beneath the pads of her fingers. “However, I’m going to need her to inherit these right here. These dimples on her little face? We’ll be done for.”
Ted laughs. “Sweetheart, I’ve been done for since the second that little line turned pink.”
It’s Ted sneaking up behind her while she’s in the kitchen just to wind his arms around her; he cradles her bump in his palms and hooks his chin over her shoulder, his head turning to smooth his lips to her neck. She hums, leaning further back against him.
“Your daughter’s been knocking the breath right out of me all day.”
Ted chuckles. “Oh, she’s my daughter today?”
“When she’s shoving her foot into my ribs? Yes, she’s all yours.”
“Aw, she doesn’t mean it,” he coos, his hands rubbing along the sides of the bump before one slides up to cradle her ribs. “Ain’t that right, sugarplum. You’re just sayin’ hi to your mama, aren’t you?”
Rebecca snorts. “Yes, well, if she could say hello in a way that doesn’t have me doubling over that would be brilliant.”
She drops her hand to cover where his still rests on the swell of her stomach, her fingers wriggling between his. They stand there for a few moments before Ted disentangles himself, leads her into the living room, and gets her tucked comfortably onto the couch.
With a kiss to the top of her head, he goes back into the kitchen to finish making the cup of tea he’d nudged her away from. When he returns, he hands it over and slips in beside her; she curls into him, her head on his chest and the throw blanket covering the both of them.
It’s Ted gently plucking the cotton round from between her fingers, bending to wrap his arms just below her ass, and hoisting her onto the bathroom counter in a move that has a surprised squeak of a laugh clawing its way from her throat.
“Ted, what are you doing?” she muses, looking at him with a fond roll of her eyes.
He smiles. “You’ve been on your feet all day. I’m helping.”
Helping, it seems, is dousing the pilfered cotton round with micellar water and lifting it to her cheeks. He traces the lines of her face with so much care as he clears away the day’s makeup, swiping around her eyes so gently it threatens to bring tears to them.
“Thank you,” she murmurs once he’s done.
Ted lets his palms rest on her thighs. His eyes roam her bare face. “Beautiful.”
Throat tight with all of the love she has for him, Rebecca raises her hands to cup his face. She leans in to cover her mouth with his, a soft kiss. “I love you.”
It’s Ted just being… Ted.
Kind and sweet and caring and everything she’s still awed at having for herself.
She wishes she could have a 13 Going on 30 moment, but in reverse and with a bit of a twist; she’d go back as she is to the Rebecca of her thirties, the sad and lonely woman she remembers feeling more hopeless with each passing day spent under the thumb of her dickhe*d ex-husband. She wishes she could show that version of herself exactly what the future holds for her.
It’s coming, she’d tell her younger self. Everything she’s been yearning for.
It’s coming, and it’ll be oh so beautiful.
Rebecca gives birth at 1:42 in the morning on April 16th, a week before her due date.
Their daughter is a tiny, wriggling thing, but she’s got all ten fingers and all ten toes and she’s the most perfect little girl they’ve ever seen. She’s placed onto Rebecca’s chest swaddled in a blanket, donning a light pink beanie, and she can barely see her at all through her tears.
She brushes her thumb gently across their girl’s cheek, her skin so impossibly soft beneath her touch; her little nose wrinkles and Rebecca smiles, absolutely taken. She can’t believe she’s real and she’s here and she’s theirs.
Ted bends to press a kiss to her hair, his lips lingering. “You did it,” he whispers. “Rebecca Welton, you are the strongest woman I know. I’m so proud of you.”
Rebecca turns to look up at him, his face a beacon of emotion even as it swims behind her blurred vision. A quiet, happy sob claws its way from her throat.
“She’s really here.”
“She sure is,” he says softly, cradling their daughter’s head with his palm. It dwarfs her. “And she’s every bit as beautiful as I knew she’d be.”
“How do you feel about the name Evelyn?” Ted asks one night as they lay in bed. The lights are out and Rebecca’s curled into his side, her palm splayed on his chest.
Rebecca hums. “It’s pretty.”
“I was thumbing through some baby books and it stuck out to me,” he says, his hand running back and forth along her side. “It means ‘wished for’ or ‘desired child’.”
“Oh,” she breathes.
Ted nods, squeezing her waist. “Yeah.”
They name her Evelyn.
Watching Rebecca with their daughter has him falling even more in love with her.
He didn’t think it was possible, but she’s always surprising him.
Ted loves every version of her he’s been privileged enough to know over the past few years. Boss Rebecca, casual Rebecca, silly Rebecca, drunk, uninhibited Rebecca, weepy over a romcom Rebecca, and every Rebecca in between.
He’d be hard-pressed to pick a favorite, and if asked he wouldn’t be able to give any answer other than all of them, but getting to bear witness to Rebecca the mother? Whew.
He finds her in the living room, laid out on her back on the carpet with Evie on her chest.
With a smile, Ted crawls onto the floor and lowers himself beside her. He props his weight onto one elbow, his cheek resting in his palm. “Are we having a floor party?”
Rebecca’s eyes blink open at the sound of his voice. He would’ve left her if he thought she was asleep, but the hand that was rubbing their girl’s back told him she wasn’t actually out. She smiles as she rolls her head, an achingly soft curve of her mouth, and it strikes him just how beautiful she is like this.
“It seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“How long have you been down here?”
She glances up at the ceiling while she thinks, and then: “Hour and a half, maybe?”
Ted exhales with a small shake of his head. “Rebecca.”
“We were having tummy time and she fell asleep. I just couldn’t risk getting up and waking her,” she says with a quiet laugh, her eyes cutting back to the sleeping girl.
Ted’s free hand raises to Evie’s back. He leans in to press a kiss to the crown of her head, a gentle thing, and then he adjusts course; Rebecca turns her head back toward him and hums into the kiss he plants on her lips.
“Come on,” he says. He eases himself off of the floor, carefully raises the baby from Rebecca’s chest to gather in his arms, and then offers a hand to pull Rebecca up, too. “Your back’s gotta be screamin’ right about now.”
Once upright, she rolls her shoulders and stretches her spine, grimacing as she does. “I’ll certainly be feeling this tomorrow,” she agrees. But, thumb dusting across their girl’s tiny knuckles, she smiles. “It was worth it, though.”
“You’re a wonderful mama, you know that?”
Rebecca’s smile softens into something tender and appreciative. “Thank you,” she says, her voice hardly above a whisper. “That’s all I want to be for her.”
“You already are, and have been since the second we found out about ‘er,” he tells her, taking hold of her hand. He lifts it, placing a light kiss to her palm. “You gotta remember that your comfort is important, too, though, so why don’t you go take a nap while this one’s asleep? I’ll have lunch ready by the time you come back down all refreshed.”
“Are you sure? You’ve had a busy morning.”
He huffs, pushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Breakfast and strategy with Beard is hardly a busy morning. Go, get some rest.”
“I love you,” she sighs into his mouth, her hand warm on his chest. “Give me an hour or two?”
“Sleep until you need to, darlin’. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
Eyes trailing from Ted to their daughter, her cheek smushed against her father’s shoulder and her tiny lips parted while she sleeps, Rebecca wonders what she did to get so f*cking lucky.
“God, I cannot get over how f*cking precious she is,” Keeley gushes, one finger held securely in Evie’s tight grip. The baby gives her a gummy smile from where she’s leaning on her mother’s chest. Her voice is an octave higher as she talks through her grin, speaking to Rebecca but still looking at Evie. “I knew you were going to pop out the most beautiful baby on the planet but Jesus Christ, Rebecca. Look at her.”
After a particularly harrowing morning alone with a grumpy little girl, Ted off at an emergency Diamond Dogs meeting—though she’s still not entirely sure what the f*ck that means—Rebecca agreed to Keeley’s gentle suggestion that they get brunch. She thought perhaps some fresh air and a doting auntie would do Evie some good, and thankfully it would appear that she was correct on both accounts.
Evie, in her yellow top, matching ruffled bloomers, and the tiniest bucket hat Rebecca ever did see, is the picture of contentment now. She’s been a proper angel since the moment they sat down at the cafe; their outdoor table is near the edge of the patio and the girl’s wide, curious eyes follow the pedestrians as they pass by.
Rebecca chuckles fondly. “I’m biased, but I have to agree.”
“You’re not biased, babe. She’s perfect.”
Evie makes a happy little noise when Keeley scratches at her belly, the hand not already clutching the woman’s finger reaching out for her. Keeley’s grin widens as she peers up at Rebecca, and then her bottom lip juts out, pleading in a way that makes her laugh.
“There’s no need for the doe eyes,” she huffs, transferring Evie into Keeley’s waiting arms. “Take your niece.”
“Hello, beautiful girl,” she coos once she’s face to face with the baby. She bounces Evie in her arms, completely taken. Looking up at Rebecca, she sighs. “I don’t know how you get anything done. I’d spend all day staring at her.”
With a quiet snort, Rebecca sips at her lemonade. “I get very little done and Leslie is an absolute doll for picking up my slack.”
“Well the man’s got, like, a billion kids. He gets it.” Smiling down at the baby, Keeley sighs wistfully. “Seriously, Rebecca, these eyes? I think I might combust.”
“Trust me, I know,” she laughs. “And don’t think I don’t know she’ll pick up those pouty doe eyes from you.”
“Oh, she won’t pick them up,” Keeley says with a small shake of her head. And then, grinning: “I’ll teach her. Obviously.”
She gives an affectionate roll of her eyes. “Obviously.”
Rebecca uses the time while Evie is occupied to continue eating, breaking off a piece of toast and cutting delicately at her eggs Benedict. While she finishes her meal and Evie rests contentedly against Keeley’s chest, she gets caught up on the latest between her and Roy, how the PR is going for the boys, and a weird encounter she had with a paparazzo outside of a Sephora.
“He asked me to help him pick out a blush for his girlfriend,” she says, brows furrowed as she recounts the story. “Chip, please.”
“Seriously?”
“I have my hands full of your baby, so, yes.” She opens her mouth. Rebecca pulls her lips into an amused purse, but obliges and feeds her a chip from her plate. “Thank you.”
She smirks. “Mhm. Now, the blush?”
Keeley swallows, then nods. “Right. It was really odd.”
“I’d say.”
“But kind of sweet, too? ‘Cause his girlfriend’s apparently a big fan.”
“Did you help?” Rebecca asks.
“Yeah, I did,” she laughs. “I hope his girlfriend likes the color. Convinced him to pick up a few lipsticks, too, ‘cause if he’s profiting off my photos then she can at least benefit, bein’ a fan and all, yeah?”
She shakes her head. “You are something else, Keeley Jones.”
Keeley preens. “And proud of it.”
They manage another half an hour before Evie starts to whimper. Her hands reach up and swat at the bucket hat, so Rebecca takes it off; the sun is hiding behind the clouds now, so she’ll be okay for the short journey back.
“I should probably get her home,” she says, rubbing her back. “Someone’s due for a nap.”
“You’re right, I am. You know how mimosas make me sleepy.” At Rebecca’s fond expression, Keeley smiles. “Ah, you meant the babe.”
She passes Evie back, but not without a gentle kiss to the little blonde wisps on her head. The girl curls into her mother’s chest easily, letting out a hilariously deep sigh.
“Me too, darling,” she muses, patting her bum. Looking at her friend, she smiles. “Dinner soon?”
“Yes, please. And I will be popping by to get my Evie fill within the next three business days.”
Rebecca leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sounds perfect, love.”
By the time they return, Ted’s already home. He greets her with a warm smile and cradles Evie’s head, smoothing his lips to her forehead.
“Well hello there, sleepy,” he murmurs. The little girl’s eyes open, then flutter closed once more as she fights the pull of her slumber. “How’s Keels?”
“As bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual,” she says with fondness.
He smiles. “Ya know, I’d be disappointed to hear otherwise.”
Rebecca gives him a quick kiss and then gestures toward the staircase. “I’m going to put her down. Those two hours outside were an adventure and a half for her, I think.”
Ted hums. “I’ll bet.”
When twenty minutes have gone by and Rebecca still hasn’t come back downstairs, Ted goes off in search of her. He doesn’t hear Evie, no whimpers or cries, so he imagines she got her down without much issue. He wonders briefly if Rebecca’s fallen asleep herself, but then her soft voice reaches him and he pauses on the top step.
His heart fills at the sound, his hand gripping the railing as he leans against it.
Rebecca’s gentle, soothing voice singing a quiet rendition of Hush Little Baby brings tears to his eyes. He doesn’t want to disturb her, so he tiptoes across the carpet toward Evie’s nursery; turns out he needn’t worry, because Rebecca’s eyes are closed.
Ted hovers in the doorway, watching her rock their little girl on her chest as she sings her a lullaby. Her hand rubs along the short length of Evie’s spine, the soft rise and fall of their daughter’s chest telling him that the girl’s already asleep.
He loves these little moments. He loves getting a glimpse into these quiet moments between Rebecca and their daughter, tiny moments in time that are so precious and special and shared with no one else.
She’s so at ease, Rebecca.
He thinks back to when they first met, how guarded and on edge and unable to relax she was. Slowly, over time, he watched those walls come down. Brick by stubborn brick he was shown a more joyful, more serene version of Rebecca.
Even still, nothing compares to how at home she looks with their daughter on her chest.
Her eyes blink open but she doesn’t startle as they find him; like she’d sensed his presence the whole time, she just softens, her eyes warm.
“Hi,” she whispers, her lips curved into a smile.
“Don’t stop on my account,” he says just as quietly as he steps into the space.
She tilts her head, beckoning him closer.
“Thought maybe you’d decided to take a nap with this one.”
Rebecca’s gaze drops back down to Evie, her squishy cheek pressed to her chest. “She was getting a bit fussy, and by the time she settled down I… well, I didn’t want to stop.”
Leaning down, mindful of the sleeping baby, he slants his mouth over hers in a soft kiss. She hums against him, eyes slipping closed for another brief moment.
“You want to stay here for a little longer?”
She nods. “I’ll be down soon, though?” she says, half-question as she peers up at him, like he’ll be put off by her decision to hold their daughter a while longer.
“I’m not rushin’ you, sweetheart.”
“I know, I just…” Rebecca trails off, bottom lip between her teeth as she glances down.
He can tell that something’s bothering her; it’s clear in the sudden rigidness of her body, the way she won’t look at him. Ted brushes her knuckles with his thumb.
“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”
It takes a moment, but then she sighs. “I know we haven’t exactly had a lot of time just the two of us lately, and I don’t want you to think I don’t see it. That I don’t… that I don’t want to spend that time with you, or that I don’t miss it. Because I do.”
“Oh, honey, I don’t think that at all,” he promises, encouraging her gaze with a finger beneath her chin. “I miss our time together, too—”
Horrifyingly, Rebecca’s eyes fill with tears before he can finish his sentence. He cups her cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping beneath her waterline as soon as the first tear slips free.
“But,” he continues, holding her attention. “I’m under no impression that we haven’t gotten alone time because you don’t want it. Rebecca, this is just life adjusting to a newborn. That’s all.”
Her nose wrinkles as she sniffles. “I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t done anything you need to be sorry for.” She shrugs, like she’s hearing him but not believing him. “Where’s this comin’ from?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her free hand continues to dust along Evie’s back.
“She’s asleep,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I should want to spend this time curled up with you on the couch. And I do, Ted, f*ck, I do, please don’t think I don’t, but…” Her eyes fall to their daughter again, more dampness pressing at the forefront, and her chin wobbles.
His chest aches at the obvious turmoil she’s putting herself through.
“I don’t want you stressing yourself about this, okay?” He tries for a soft smile. “I’m more than happy to be second in your heart to this little girl right here.”
Rebecca shakes her head, shiny eyes imploring as she looks at him. “That’s just it, Ted, you’re not second. There’s no first and second, only first, the both of you, and I don’t want you to feel f*cking… demoted in my priorities or my care or—”
“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asks gently, noticing her breathing change just that little bit. She inhales; it’s shaky when she lets it out, but it’s better. “I love you. And you choosing to spend extra time with Evie does not make me feel anything but more love for you.”
Her mouth twitches into a half-smile. “I love you,” she rasps, using the hand he’s holding to pull him down for a chaste but meaningful kiss. More shy than he’d like, she adds, “And I could really use a nice, long cuddle when I put her in her crib.”
Ted smooths his lips to the back of her hand. “I’d love nothing more.”
Later that night, after Evie’s sleeping soundly—and after that much needed cuddle on the couch, Rebecca curled into Ted’s side, his fingers threading softly through her hair—Ted sneaks off into the ensuite while Rebecca’s finishing off a nighttime cup of tea downstairs.
He runs the bath, adding in a few drops of the lavender essential oil he knows she finds calming and the accompanying bubble bath. Unsure if it’ll be overkill or not, he tosses in a bath bomb too. The space begins to smell of lavender and he has to admit that even he finds it calming, though he’s not into the essential oil thing as much as Rebecca.
When the water gets high enough he twists off the faucet and dips his hand in, ensuring he hadn’t let it get too hot. By her standards, of course, not his.
He knows she loves to scald her skin off, so he makes the water just shy of what he would consider second degree burns. Deeming it a Rebecca Approved temperature, Ted removes his hand and dries it on a nearby towel.
“Ted?”
“In here,” he calls.
Rebecca appears in the doorway a few seconds later. Whatever she was going to say dies on her tongue when her eyes land on the tub. The bubbles are impressively firm.
“What’s this?” she asks, stepping forward when he extends his hand.
He intertwines their fingers and tugs her closer. “I know you were feelin’ a little overwhelmed earlier,” he says softly, thumb brushing over the delicate skin between her thumb and forefinger. “Thought a nice, hot bath might ease your muscles and your mind.”
Rebecca’s shoulders drop, her eyes bright with fresh tears and a smile ghosting across her face. She dusts a kiss to his lips, sighing into it. A hot bath sounds f*cking gorgeous right now.
“How do you always seem to just… know what I need?”
Ted’s free hand falls to her waist. “I don’t,” he admits, eyes warm. “I’m just—I dunno, doin’ my best and hoping that’s enough.”
“Ted,” she breathes, kissing the corner of his mouth. “It’s more than enough. You are enough.”
“Well, I’m real glad to hear that.” He pats her hip, inclines his head toward the tub. “Go on. Relax. Get your soak on.”
She sniffs a laugh, lips twisting. Her eyes lift to his, soft. “Join me?”
“You’re sure? I don’t wanna intrude on your relaxing time.”
“You help me relax. Yes, I’m sure.”
With her reassurance, Ted nods. They disrobe quietly, and then Ted steps into the water first, biting back the hiss. Poorly, if her quiet chuckle is anything to go by.
“I dunno how you routinely take baths in lava,” he jests, lowering himself until his back is resting against the arch of the tub.
She huffs, taking the hand he holds out for her. “It burns off all the stress of the day.”
“Emphasis on burn, I hear ya.”
He helps Rebecca balance as she joins him, maneuvering herself until she’s settled in the vee of his legs. She lets out a quiet sigh when she’s fully submerged, her back flush with his chest.
“Comfortable?”
Rebecca hums. “Very.”
His arms wind around her middle, just holding her. The bubbles lap at them with each tiny movement and the scent of the lavender lulls them into a heavy calm.
Ted reaches to the little shelf to their left and grabs Rebecca’s shampoo. He holds it in her line of sight in question and she nods wordlessly, shifting forward to give him more room. He squirts a dollop into his hand and works it into her scalp, pleased by the little noises of contentment she gives him. He takes his time but doesn’t dawdle, cupping her forehead before he rinses the shampoo out, her head tipped back to help his cause.
He loves washing her hair, loves washing her body; he just loves the trust and vulnerability she continues to show him. He doesn’t take it for granted, even this far into their relationship.
He finishes with the shampoo and conditioner, places the bottles back, and then tops the process off with a kiss to the crown of her head.
“How you doin’ up here?” he asks softly a few minutes later, tapping gently at her temple.
She knows he’s referring to her little wobble earlier and she dips her head, staring down at the bubbles waffling in the water. That’s a wonderful question, really. There’s been a lot going on in her head today, and it’s jarring to her just how quickly a thought that previously wasn’t even a blip on her radar can zip into her mind and wreak havoc.
Ted plays with the damp strands of hair that fall over her shoulder in her silence.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I don’t want you to feel like you can’t.”
Rebecca chews on her lip. “It’s silly. I shouldn’t have even… I’m sorry. For earlier.”
“Nope, no can do. None of that.” He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I’m only ever gonna wish you’d shared the truth with me. I’m never gonna wish you’d kept something inside to… spare my feelings or shoulder all the weight of your thoughts on your own.”
She nods and he can feel the next unsteady inhale she takes. As much as he’d love for her to share what she’s thinking, what’s bothering her, he doesn’t want to push, so he just continues to hold her and wait until she’s ready.
“I’m worried,” she whispers eventually.
“Okay. About what?”
There’s another brief silence as she collects her thoughts. In this time, she finds his hand and takes hold of it; she intertwines their damp fingers and squeezes, secure.
Rebecca takes a breath. “That you’ll get tired of this.”
“What?” he asks, because he’s certain he hasn’t heard her correctly.
“Things are different. We’re not the same. And I’m… I’m scared.”
He’s so kind, so good, so Ted when he asks, gently, “Can you tell me why?”
It has tears pressing behind her lashes as she tries to explain this sudden fear that’s been gripping her chest all f*cking day.
“I haven’t been showing you as much attention lately, and it’s not for lack of wanting to, Ted, you—please believe me. I swear it. I just—I can’t seem to want to let go of her,” she admits, her voice frail and wet.
She’s known that she’s been spending even the quiet moments with Evie, but it wasn’t until today, until earlier, that she realized just how that choice impacted Ted, too. Choosing Evie meant she wasn’t choosing him, wasn’t choosing them, and the fear that realization instilled in her was so quick it nearly made her sick.
What if that bothered him? What if he thought she didn’t care anymore? What if he decided he didn’t want to be with someone who couldn’t give him the time he deserves?
“And then I feel horrible, because we could be spending time together while she sleeps, and I’m just… not doing it. I’m leaving you alone because I can’t stop looking at her, or holding her, and—”
Ted squeezes her hand. “Deep breath for me. Go on, real deep.” Rebecca takes a shaky breath. “Good, just like that. Again.”
She repeats, taking slow, careful breaths as Ted’s free hand flattens over her chest, rising and falling with each tenuous inhale. He murmurs low reassurances from behind her.
“I don’t want to lose this,” she confesses, heartbreakingly, once she has her breathing under control.
“You’re not losing anything, honey. Least of all me.”
“I just don’t want you to think I’m not in it anymore or, god forbid, that I… that you gave me the baby I’ve always wanted and now I’ve checked out of us and—”
“Hey, no, that would never cross my mind. Not even for a second,” he vows, his heart cracking clean down the middle with each fear she frees. “Rebecca, you don’t really think I’d think that of you, do you?”
With a tiny shrug, she clears her throat. “I hope not.”
“Not a chance,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “Spending time with our daughter? Darlin’, that’s just motherhood. You’re bonding with Evie. That’s real important right now, and you want to know how that makes me feel?”
Rebecca hums in question. He tries to push past the brittleness of the sound.
“Lucky. That I get to witness it.” Her shoulders relax, just so. It’s not much at all, but he’ll take it. Aiming for levity, he adds: “We’re nice and bonded, you and me.”
That does not appear to soothe her, though.
“How can you be so sure?” she asks, her voice sounding so fragile it guts him. “We were together less than six months before I got pregnant and I—I love that little girl so much, please don’t take this as me feeling otherwise, but I’m terrified that, in the grand scheme of things, we hardly got any time just the two of us, and now we’re getting even less and it’s partly my fault and I really wouldn’t blame you for feeling different—”
He wishes they were face to face for this, wishes so badly that he could just haul her into his chest and cocoon her in his arms. But he thinks not having to look him in the eye is making it easier for her to share these things, too.
“Woah, hey, hey,” he interjects. He runs his free hand up and down her arm. “Rebecca, we might’ve only been together for a few months, but we’ve been something for so much longer, yeah?”
She sniffles, takes another stuttered breath. “Yeah.”
“We’ve been bonding since day one, boss. Largely against your will for at least the first six months, if I’m rememberin’ correctly.”
That gets a tiny, wet chuckle. “Yes, you were quite persistent.”
“Darn tootin’.” He smiles. Brushing her shoulder with his thumb, he says, “See? Sure, those five months came with the added bonus of dates and kisses and seein’ you naked—” Rebecca snorts and he can practically hear the roll of her eyes. “But everything else? The quality time, the companionship, the love, in whatever form it might’ve been shown… we’ve had all that for years, sweetheart. That’s not going anywhere.”
She nods against him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he adds after a moment, because it’s obvious that’s the crux of her concern. Misguided as it may be, she thinks this very normal lack of alone time while adjusting to a newborn is somehow her fault, thinks it’s going to drive him away.
Rebecca lets out a quiet, choked sound, and she rolls her head so her face is tucked into his neck. He feels her nose wrinkle against his skin and he lets his touch fall away from her arm, his hand skirting over her ribs to loop around her middle. He tugs gently, pulling her even closer.
The water shifts with the movement and he watches it get dangerously close to the lip of the tub, but it doesn’t spill over.
“You were right about one thing. We’re not the same.”
She sighs. “I know.”
“But you’re wrong, too,” he continues softly. “We’re better, Rebecca. We’ve got the two of us and we’ve got that little girl—as Hannah Montana once said, we’ve got the best of both worlds.”
Rebecca laughs. His heart lifts at the sound. “f*cking mad that you’re quoting Hannah Montana right now, but… I suppose you’re right.”
“Hey, those Disney shows got some wisdom in ‘em if you pay attention.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so,” he says confidently. “As you just said yourself, I’m always right.”
She scoffs. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”
“Mm, I dunno, boss, ‘cause that’s what I heard.”
Rebecca hums a little. They sit in a comfortable quiet for another few minutes.
“Ted?”
“Hm?”
“Just like you want me to tell you when something’s bothering me—you’d tell me, right? If there was something bothering you?”
If there’s something I’m doing that’s bothering you. He can hear what she isn’t saying.
“Sure I would.”
She exhales quietly. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” he promises. And then: “Is there something you think is bothering me?”
Rebecca shrugs lightly, a gentle lift of one shoulder. “It’s just… like you said, one of the notable differences between us pre-relationship and post-relationship is getting to see me naked.”
“Uh huh, correct. And what a privilege it is, darlin’.”
She squeezes his hand, a gentle twitch tugging at her lips before she sobers. “But we haven’t even had that lately,” she says, hardly above a whisper.
“Rebecca,” Ted gasps, quiet but just as dramatic as he was aiming for. He leans in to whisper in her ear: “Don’t panic, but I think your clothes disappeared.”
He coasts his palm along her bare skin as if checking for articles of clothing.
She swats at him but she laughs again and it’s really all he was going for. “Ted, I’m serious,” she says, but the smile is back in her voice. “We haven’t had sex since Evie was born.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“And that doesn’t… I know you’re a saint among men, but you’re still a man—can you honestly say that doesn’t bother you?
“Yes,” he says, and he’s being honest. “Sweetheart, I’m following your lead there. And before your mind starts bein’ particularly vicious about that—it’s got nothin’ to do with a lack of desire, I promise you that.”
“No?”
“Of course not,” he says, heartbroken she might have been carrying that thought around. “You’re beautiful, distractingly so. You have no idea what you do to me every single day. But you also just gave birth eight weeks ago. That’s no small feat.”
Rebecca exhales softly. “I know, but…”
“Do you want to have sex?”
“Yes,” she groans. “f*ck, Ted, I miss you. I miss being touched. I miss touching you.”
His lips curve into a gentle smile. “The feeling’s mutual,” he assures her. “But are you ready to have sex?”
Her hesitation tells him all he needs to know. Without a resounding, confident yes there’s no way he’d be comfortable taking it any further.
She sucks in a breath like she’s about to speak, but Ted gets there first.
Very gently, he says, “Don’t lie to me, please. Not about this.” Rebecca releases that breath, her shoulders dropping. “It wouldn’t feel good for you if you were in pain, sweetheart. And I’d never forgive myself if I was hurting you.”
“I know,” she sighs, tipping her head back. Their cheeks brush. Quietly, she admits: “I’m still a little sore. It’s not—I’m okay, you know, but it’s enough that it’d probably make it…”
He understands. “Uncomfortable.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s okay,” Ted murmurs. She twists her head, finally looking at him. Her eyes are beautiful and delicate and he smiles down at her. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with taking it slow. We’ve got plenty of time.”
She seems to relax at that. “Yes,” she decides, something in her face clearing. “We do.”
He holds her for a few moments, a much needed tranquility blanketing them. Because the water started at an obscene temperature, where his own bath would be cold by now theirs is just now warm. The bubbles are lessening in density, but he isn’t too bothered. Rebecca’s body is warm against his, no sign of goosebumps on her skin, so he isn’t concerned yet.
As they lay there, he mulls something over in his head.
“You know,” he starts, trailing his hand over her shoulder, down her arm. “Taking things slow doesn’t have to mean a full stop.”
At the end of her arm, he takes brief hold of her hand, curling her fingers in his. He lets go then, his palm warm on her waist before it slides upward, over her ribs and across her stomach.
“No?” she asks. Her voice is thin.
Ted hums. “Nope.” His fingers dust across the softened skin below her belly button and the muscles in her abdomen react, rippling beneath his touch. “If you want to be touched, Rebecca, all you have to do is ask.”
She’s quiet but her breathing picks up as his hand moves upward, skirting over her torso, fingers dancing along her sternum between the valley of her breasts. He teases at the underside of her left breast and she makes a little whining noise that has him grinning.
“Ted,” she exhales.
“Hm?”
“Touch me.”
It’s less request and more demand, but that pleases him.
He cups her breast and revels in the weight of it in his palm. He’s missed them—he is a man after all—and they’re still quite a bit rounder than they were pre-baby. Rebecca sighs, and when he flicks his thumb over her nipple, just a light graze, the sigh shifts into something of a moan. His dick twitches between them but he pays it no mind; this isn’t about him, and the arousal is entirely in response to Rebecca’s pleasure.
Ted brings his other hand to her right breast, not wanting it to be neglected. He wishes he could get his mouth on her, but since he can’t he opts to attach his lips to the side of her neck instead. Rebecca tilts her head to accommodate him, another delicious little noise slipping from her throat as he continues to play with her chest.
A few minutes later, one of his hands breaks free and travels back across her body. He drags it along her side and down to her hip, squeezing the soft flesh there. He finds her thigh next, his palm sliding down to her knee and back beneath the water; gently, he paws at her inner thigh.
“Ted,” Rebecca exhales, a puff of air at best as she presses back against him.
“Yes or no, darlin’?”
His thumb brushes back and forth along her skin, patient.
“Yes. Please.”
Leaning forward, he kisses her shoulder. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, any pain at all, you tell me and I’ll stop.”
She nods. “I promise.”
“Okay,” he murmurs. He presses gently against the inside of her knee and she spreads her legs wider. “I’ve got you.”
Ted drags two fingers over her, parting her folds, gently reacquainting himself with the feel of her. She lets out a few quiet, airy sounds as he does; while he continues to work her over, he leans forward to kiss the back of her neck at the tip of her spine.
After some light teasing, his fingers ghosting everywhere but where she really wants him, he finally rubs the pad of his thumb over her cl*t. Rebecca curses, a hushed sh*t that has him pressing his smile to the space below her ear. He makes a few tight circles around the slick bundle of nerves, drawing beautiful, broken mewls from her.
She’s particularly sensitive, her breath catching with a soft scrape of his nail. When he draws back from her cl*t, fingers exploring, probing gently at her entrance, Rebecca reaches back and loses a hand in his hair.
“It’s okay,” she whispers. Her nails scratch at his scalp. “Please.”
“You’re sure? It won’t—”
Rebecca turns and, with the hand in his hair, angles his face to cover his mouth with hers. “It’s okay,” she repeats. Against his lips, she tells him: “You aren’t going to hurt me, Ted. You’re going to make me feel very, very good.”
He nods, eyes closed while he breathes her in. He gives her another soft peck as he eases a finger into her; Rebecca’s mouth drops open beneath his, a rush of an exhale warm against his lips. Her hold on his hair loosens for a brief moment, but then he starts a soft thrust and she fists the strands in her grip.
“Okay?” he asks.
All she can do is nod. And then: “Yes. More.”
Rebecca twists back around when he adds a second finger, her back slumping listlessly against his chest, her head on his shoulder. His free hand finds hers, intertwines their fingers. Her nails continue to drag through his hair, those manicured tips scraping in the way she knows he loves.
“f*ck, Ted,” she pants, her hips bucking up into his hand. The heel of his palm connects with her cl*t and she hisses.
She’s warm and wet and with each little whimper she makes in his ear Ted feels his body tingling. He strokes her inner walls, pressing upward to hit the spot that makes her gasp; it gets the intended reaction, the squeezing of her c*nt around his fingers, and he keeps it up.
He continues to work her up, wishing once again that he could get his mouth on her, taste her, bring her over the edge with his tongue. For now, he plays her body, f*cks her carefully but purposefully with his fingers, revels in the breathy Christ he gets as a reward.
He doesn’t want to let go of her hand, so when he can feel that she’s close he slips his fingers from her. Rebecca whines in protest and he chuckles, but it morphs into a long, low moan when he finds her cl*t again. He drags his nail over her, flicks, circles, picking up the pace when her breathing is quick and choppy against him.
She comes with her legs shaking and a wrecked, “f*ck.”
Ted eases her down slowly, and then he pulls away, knowing how sensitive she is afterward. His arm winds more completely around her middle as he hugs her to him. Her body goes limp, completely boneless against him. Ted runs relaxing passes up and down her thigh, his palm gentle as it grazes over her skin.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Ted snorts. “My pleasure.”
Rebecca laughs. “Not that. I mean, yes. As expected, that was f*cking phenomenal.” He grins at that. “But no, for… for talking me down. For reassuring me. I just got in my head and I…”
He smoothes a kiss to her hair. “Hey, emotions happen. Sometimes your brain is a little extra mean to ya. Heck, I’d know.” She hums, thoughtful. “S’long as you know I’ll be right here whenever they start getting too loud.”
“I know, love,” she says softly.
“And for the record—Rebecca, you’ve never made me feel anything other than loved. I need you to hear me when I say that; I need you to believe it.”
She makes a quiet, wet noise in the back of her throat; lifting his hand, she kisses his palm. His free hand rises to brush a few damp strands of hair away from her temple. Rebecca leans into his touch and his chest fills with it.
Quietly, Rebecca sighs. A relaxed sigh this time.
“I needed this.”
“An org*sm?”
She chuckles, swatting lazily at his thigh. “No, but that certainly didn’t hurt,” she muses. Sobering, she says: “Just… this. You.”
“You’ve got me, sweetheart,” Ted says, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder blade. “Yesterday, today, tomorrow. Forever.”
Twisting in his hold, Rebecca cups his cheek with her slippery palm. “I love you. I love you so much I don’t know where to put all of it most days.”
“It’s all right here,” he smiles easily, tapping his chest. Her hand raises to cover his. “You give it to me every day. You love me in a million little ways every single day and you don’t even realize you’re doing it. I never want you doubting that.”
Closing the gap between them, she kisses him, a slow, meaningful working of her lips over his.
Ted walks into Evie’s room one morning to find her standing in her crib, small fingers gripped around the bars and her face pressed up against the opening. This is something they’ve caught her doing recently; sometimes she’ll be bouncing, too, the intensity of it increasing with her excitement when she notices them.
It’s too f*cking adorable.
“Good morning, cutie,” he whispers.
Evie’s face breaks into a smile when she sees him and those big green eyes of hers threaten to bring him to his knees. Every day he’s grateful that he got his wish, that their little girl has her mother’s eyes. He hoists her from the crib with a quiet ooh and settles her comfortably against his chest.
“What’ve you got on here, huh?” he asks, brushing along the pale pink fabric of her onesie. Seeing her in it takes his breath away a little.
He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. He did put it in her drawer, folded it nice and neat and let it join the rest of the clothes they’ve acquired throughout Rebecca’s pregnancy. He just didn’t realize he’d stumble upon Evie wearing it without knowing.
Rebecca must’ve put it on her when she first woke up this morning.
He brings Evie downstairs, the little girl’s fingers fisted in his shirt. They find Rebecca in the kitchen, a mug of tea in front of her and a pot of coffee already waiting for him. She turns at the sound of his footfalls, the curve of her lips slow and sleepy but genuine.
“Morning,” he says with a chaste kiss.
Rebecca hums. “Good morning, love,” she says. Her eyes fall to Evie then as she reaches out to scratch lightly at her belly. She lets out the most precious giggle. “And good morning again to you, too, sweet girl.”
Ted passes Evie off as he prepares his coffee and whips up a quick breakfast for the both of them.
“Why haven’t I seen this before?” she asks, and when he turns she’s fiddling with the neckline of Evie’s onesie. It’s still a little big on her, but it’s every bit as perfect as he imagined it to be. “I found it this morning. It’s darling.”
“Ah,” he chuckles. He joins her at the island with his coffee. “I got it the week we found out you were pregnant.”
Her brow raises. “Really?”
He considers just leaving it at that, because explaining the entire story behind the onesie would require returning to his Big Misunderstanding and he’s not sure he wants to. Not because it hurts anymore, because it doesn’t; he owes what he has now at least partially to that whole ordeal. It’s just not exactly a snafu he loves to relive.
But then Rebecca tilts her head and looks at him with curiosity at his continued silence, and he realizes that he does want to tell her.
In a way, it’s a part of their story as much as it is his.
“That’s why you were running late to brunch?” she muses, remembering the harried way he clambered into the cafe, windblown and having clearly power walked his way there.
Ted lets out a small laugh. “Yeah. I was still at the store when you texted to let me know you were at the cafe. I hadn’t even realized how long I’d been in there.”
“I can’t believe you were perusing a baby store.” She rolls her lips, her forefinger gripped in Evie’s fist. “You were in so deep and I had no idea.”
“You can say that again,” he huffs. “I couldn’t buy the onesie then, obviously. I had nowhere to put it and I couldn’t walk into brunch with a bag from a baby store when you hadn’t even told me anything yet, but it reminded me of your biscuit boxes.”
Rebecca softens, eyes trailing to the onesie. “I’m quite fond of this color. It’s… special.”
He nods in agreement, reaching over to brush his finger down Evie’s arm, a delicate touch. “I took a photo of it that day.”
“You did?”
“Mhm. After we found out you were pregnant, I went on a walk. I didn’t mean to end up back there, I just… did,” he chuckles. “I didn’t expect it to be there after all these months, what with the seasons changin’ and everything, but…” His voice trails off as he gestures to Evie.
Rebecca bites on her lip, her eyes warm. “It was meant to be,” she says, reaching down to catch his hand and intertwine their fingers.
He knows she’s not only talking about the onesie.
Because Ted is a wonderful man, a wonderful father, and a wonderful partner, he insists that she take at least one day a week for herself—a spa day he arranges for her, a lazy day at the house while he takes Evie out for some Uncle Beard time, a girls’ evening with Keeley.
It started not long after they brought Evie home, a way for her to ensure she’s having some time to herself even in the midst of tending to a newborn, and even though their girl’s just celebrated her second birthday it’s just… continued.
She’s returning from this particular girls’ night with rosy cheeks, a belly full of wine and Italian food, and a warmth in her chest that can only come from time spent with the people she’s been blessed to have in her life. She toes off her heels in the entryway with a sigh of relief, but there’s a smile on her face; she feels lighter for her evening with her best friend, as she usually does.
She missed Evie and Ted, though—again, as she usually does.
The house is quiet and she pads toward the kitchen, peeking into the living room first just in case. They’re not there, and she plans to continue her search after pouring herself a glass of water, but she doesn’t need to.
The French doors are open, and she can see the silhouette of Ted in the grass out back.
Bypassing the fridge, she heads outside. She hovers on the back patio for a moment, leaning against the wall to simply watch.
Ted’s laying in the grass, Evie beside him; she’s curled into his side, his hand holding her securely in place. His head is inclined toward their daughter, like he’s telling her something, and his other hand is outstretched toward the sky.
Rebecca follows his line of sight and finds the sky dark and filled with a number of bright stars that aren’t always visible, not with the lights of London. But it’s later, past Evie’s bedtime, and she thinks this rarity is why he’s kept their girl up.
It makes her smile.
“Late night astronomy lessons?” she muses, stepping around so she’s in his line of sight.
Ted grins as Evie brightens with a very wide awake, “Mummy! Hi.”
“Hi, baby,” she chuckles, crouching down. “Are you having fun with daddy?”
“Uh huh,” their girl nods, snuggling in closer to Ted. She nearly knocks him in the nose with her exuberance when she shoots an arm out, pointing up. “Stars, mama.”
Rebecca looks up dutifully. “They’re beautiful, huh?”
“Third most beautiful thing out here tonight,” Ted’s voice cuts in, his eyes on her when she glances back. They’re soft as they take her in, her light jacket hanging off her shoulder and her hair falling free of the claw clip, unruly curls framing her face.
Fourth, she thinks, if they count him in this ranking. And they should, because right now, with their daughter sprawled half on top of him and his warm smile trained on her, he’s just about the most gorgeous thing she’s ever seen.
She leans over to card her fingers through his hair. With a quiet hum, her mouth twists. “Flatter all you want. She’s all yours when she’s a little monster come morning.”
He laughs, a rich sound. “Evie? A monster? Never,” he drawls, knowing full well just how rough it is with her if she hasn’t gotten enough sleep. She’s like her mother that way.
“Mhm,” Rebecca intones, a brow arched in amusem*nt.
Tickling at their girl’s side to get a bout of roaring laughter, Ted tugs her more fully onto his chest. Looking at her sweet little face, he says, “You’re not gonna be a grumpy gus in the morning, are ya, sweetie?”
She stares at him for a moment, her head tilted as if she’s considering her answer, before she says, very confidently, “Yes I am.”
Rebecca barks a laugh, then covers her mouth with her hand, fingers steepled over her lips. Evie grins at the sound, a pleased giggle slipping past her lips.
“Well,” she muses, her bottom lip between her teeth. “At least she’s honest.”
“That she is,” Ted chuckles. He covers one of Evie’s hands where it rests over his heart. “That’s alright. Evie and I will make the best of our grumpy morning together and we’ll let mama sleep off her wine hangover. How’s that sound?”
With a snort, Rebecca swats at his bicep. “Ted,” she admonishes. But he just grins at her and she rolls her eyes. “Ridiculous.”
“Daddy,” Evie interrupts their playful stare-down.
“What’s up, Buttercup?”
She places a small hand on his cheek. “Mama biscuits.”
“You want to bake mama’s biscuits tomorrow?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
Rebecca’s chest aches and Ted grins, taking hold of her wrist and bringing her hand to press a kiss to her palm. “You got it.”
Appeased, Evie crawls off of his chest and settles herself back on the grass at his side. His arm wraps around her again to keep her close, and then his gaze cuts to Rebecca. He takes note of the sweet smile on her face and the fond expression dancing in her eyes as she peers down at Evie.
She considers going back inside to get water. She really should go pour herself a glass to help with the pleasant buzz she still feels and to stave off the wine hangover Ted so graciously pointed out she’ll likely have, but after a moment of contemplation she decides against it. Staring at her two loves, she suddenly can’t think of anything she wants more than to join them on the grass.
Hangover be damned. She’ll cross that bridge tomorrow morning when her head is pounding and she reaches over to grab at the painkillers Ted’s no doubt going to leave on the bedside table for her, just as he does following any night she’s been drinking.
Rebecca eases herself down and wriggles closer to Ted’s side, slipping into the arm he opens for her.
“Comfortable?” he asks.
She nods. “Perfect.”
Under the light of the stars, she rests her head on Ted’s chest. Evie falls asleep in the crook of her father’s shoulder and Rebecca reaches over; she finds her girl’s small hand and holds it in her own, her thumb rubbing short passes across her knuckles like she used to when she was a baby.
She dozes too, but she isn’t concerned. She knows Ted will make sure they all get inside safely.
She almost forgot what it was like to feel so at ease.
When Ted returns home, the sound of light, airy giggles steers him toward the living room. A wide smile pulls at his lips as he reaches the threshold; he tilts his head to rest against the doorframe, the sight before him sending a surge of warmth throughout his chest.
They’re both on the floor, Rebecca leaning against the front of the couch with Evie sitting in her mother’s lap, her back supported by her raised knees. As she gets older her resemblance to her mother is more and more clear to him—not least of all, Rebecca’s beautiful smile. When she notices him standing there and turns it on him, those precious dimples deepening in her cheeks, his heart fills with so much love it threatens to burst wide open.
“Daddy,” she beams.
He enters when he’s beckoned, one small hand outstretched toward him. Her left one. When she started favoring her left side, using her left hand to grab and hold, he didn’t think much of it. Not until Rebecca had smiled and inclined her head in their girl’s direction.
“Looks like we’ve got a little lefty on our hands, love,” she’d said, and he’d grinned.
It’s such a small thing, but it’s another tiny piece of him in their daughter.
His hand slips into their little girl’s easily, her grip on him firm while he eases himself to sit on the edge of the couch near Rebecca’s shoulder. She leans her head back and twists to look at him, a soft, closed-mouth smile on her face.
Ted lowers down and covers her mouth with his, a delicate kiss.
“How was dinner with Beard?”
“Real nice,” he says. Squeezing his daughter’s hand lightly, his thumb brushing her soft skin, he lets out a happy sigh. “Missed you both somethin’ fierce, though.”
Rebecca chuckles. “It’s only been a few hours, darling.”
“A few hours is a long time when I’m away from my favorite girls.”
With a quiet hum, Rebecca eases her head back so she’s resting it against the side of Ted’s thigh. Releasing his sleepy daughter’s hand so she can get more comfortable, he lets his fingers instead get lost in Rebecca’s hair. He cradles her head, fingers massaging gently along her scalp.
“Did you eat?”
She shakes her head, her eyes closed now. “Not yet. She ate before, though. We started coloring at the coffee table, and somehow we ended up staying down here.”
Ted tuts, his touch dragging along to her temple just to hear the pleased noise she makes each time he does. When he gets it, he smiles.
“Think she’ll ever get over her love of being on the floor?”
Evie, half out but still fighting it, shakes her head against her mother’s chest. “No.”
Rebecca snorts a laugh and Ted can’t help but echo it. “Well, you heard her.”
Before he has a chance to reply, the sound of her grumbling stomach interrupts.
“And I heard that. Let me go whip somethin’ up for you.” Rebecca lifts her head and turns to look at him properly, an enamored look in her eyes. “What are you in the mood for?”
“You just got home, Ted. I can find something once she goes down; you don’t have to go to any trouble.”
Unamused, he simply repeats, “What are you in the mood for?”
With a quiet chuckle, she gives a fond shake of her head. “Pasta?”
“See, simple,” he smiles, leaning down to dust a kiss to her head. “Sauce preference? Alfredo? Tomato-based?”
“Chef’s choice.”
“Oh, dangerous,” he teases. As he pushes himself from the couch, his hand brushing their girl’s hair from her face, he shoots her a goofy salute. “Comin’ right up.”
Ted cooks up a quick alfredo dish and brings it to her, gently pushing Evie’s art to the side to set it onto the coffee table in front of where she remains on the floor. He smiles even if he does give a small, amused shake of his head.
“Gonna bring her upstairs so you can eat?”
Rebecca nods. “I will. I just—I want a few more minutes.”
Evie’s finally succumbed to the excitement and is asleep on her mother’s chest, her face tucked into her neck, her hair sprawled in her eyes, and her little fingers fisted in Rebecca’s shirt. She rubs her back, soothing back and forth motions along her spine.
And Ted gets it; at three and a half years old, she’s still this adorably tiny, pliable thing who loves to be held by her parents. He imagines—he hopes—they still have a long way to go before she doesn’t want to be held, but he can’t fault Rebecca for wanting to soak up each second. Not when he knows just how badly she’s always wanted this.
He’s just glad that fear she had about this very thing, early days when they’d just brought Evie home, was short lived. She doesn’t shy away from her time spent with Evie now, fully aware that he feels nothing but love for her desire to be with their girl.
It doesn’t hurt that they get more alone time these days, either.
She glances up and meets his eyes; they’re soft as she reaches for him, and he takes her hand without question.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“For what?”
Rebecca’s eyes fall to the little girl in her lap. “For her.”
He kisses her hand.
Later, he’ll show her just how thankful he is for her.
Roy’s just yelled the final WHISTLE of the day’s training when another, much smaller and higher pitched shout follows suit.
Ted turns just in time to see Evie running down the tunnel toward him, a head of wild blonde hair blowing in the wind behind her. She’s dressed in a darling two-piece pink gingham set, a sleeveless square neck top with a row of buttons he’s pretty sure don’t do anything and a peplum hem, the matching shorts frilly at the bottom. On her feet are those same small pink Nikes he gave to Rebecca barely two months into her pregnancy and his gut warms at the sight.
He grins, bending to pick her up and swing her into the air as soon as she’s close enough. She giggles in a way that lights his heart on fire and he props her on his hip, smothering her little cheeks with kisses. Her giggles morph into belly laughs and he thinks he might just explode.
Evie tucks her face into his neck, her shoulders hiked up to her ears in her attempt to wriggle away from the way he tickles her side.
“Hi, daddy,” she manages between laughs.
“Well hello there, darlin’,” he says. She lifts her head and grins at him, those divots in her cheeks especially deep today. He pokes at one with his forefinger to brighten her smile. “And just what are you doin’ down here?”
“She wanted to come say hi to her daddy,” comes from their right, and Ted turns just as Rebecca’s exiting the tunnel. She walks toward them, a soft smile on her face as she threads her fingers through their girl’s hair. “Isn’t that right, baby?”
Evie nods. “Mhm. Mama said we could come to the pitch,” she says. Her eyes trail somewhere past Ted’s shoulder and she waves. Loudly, she calls out: “Hi, my boys!”
Rebecca laughs, her tongue darting out to lick at the corner of her mouth. Ted twists to find the boys are lingering, standing near Beard and Roy on the sidelines. They all wave back, their faces softened into something incredibly tender for twenty-something footballers.
With a few final nods to the other coaches, they start heading toward the tunnel. One by one, the boys high five Evie as they pass.
Jamie rounds out the group, and Evie’s grip tightens on his hand when he high fives her.
Halfway hanging off of Ted’s hip, she blinks up at the footballer. “Jamie, can I have a hug?”
The touched flush of pink on Jamie’s cheeks isn’t surprising but it’s endearing how it happens each time, as if he doesn’t know he’s Evie’s favorite. He’s watched her for them more than once; he’s deceptively good with kids, and the two of them have a special little bond that Ted and Rebecca find precious.
Rebecca’s head is tilted as she watches on fondly, and Ted just chuckles, relinquishing his daughter to an eager, grinning Jamie.
“She’s all yours,” Ted muses.
He grins. “C’mere, little lass.”
Jamie launches Evie into the air—at a safe and respectable airborne height, a greeting that’s perfected now—and then brings her closer into his chest once he catches her, shaking his body with the hug. She wraps her arms around his neck, her legs around his torso; she giggles with the movement, her hold on him tightening the quicker he shimmies with her.
“Can we play football?” Evie asks.
“You wanna go make a goal?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
“Coach? Boss?” Jamie asks, looking between the two of them in question.
“Training just ended and you wanna head right back out there?”
Looking at the girl on his hip, then back, his brows furrow like he doesn’t understand the question. “Well, yeah, Coach.”
It’s sweet.
Jamie pushes his bottom lip into a pleading pout that makes them laugh, doubly so when Evie looks at him, then turns to her parents and mimics the pout.
“Those doe eyes are all Keeley, the f*cking cheek,” Rebecca murmurs out of the corner of her mouth, loud enough only for Ted to hear at her side. He chuckles, and she turns back to Jamie with a wave of her hand. “Go on.”
Jamie holds his palm up for a high five and Evie slaps it. “You can show me how it’s done, yeah?”
With a grin, Evie nods. “Yeah.”
They start toward the pitch and Rebecca calls out, “Try to keep some of the dirt off of her clothes, please!”
She knows it’s a futile ask even as Jamie tosses back a thumbs up, Evie bouncing on his hip. As he passes the sideline, he tips his chin toward Roy and then gestures toward the goal.
“Oi, granddad, come on,” he shouts. “Help me against Evie.”
Roy grumbles something but does follow after them. “f*ck off, I’m helping Evie against you.”
Still hovering near the stands, Rebecca steps closer to Ted and curls herself into his side. Her arm winds around his waist and she lets her head fall against his; he welcomes her easily, holding her close with a warm palm on her hip.
On the pitch, Roy pretends to try to stop the football Evie kicks; he falls dramatically to the opposite side, but his smile is wide as Evie throws her arms up in celebration and is spun around by her hands by Jamie.
“I see three kids out there.”
Rebecca hums. “And somehow all three of them are ours.”
With a laugh, Ted nods. “Funny how that works, huh.”
To see their girl so loved by everyone in their circle, by this entire football team, is everything she could have wished for and more. Rebecca thinks back to where she was before Ted, before Evie, before this club and this found family. Never in a million years could she have predicted just how beautiful things would turn out.
But right now, wrapped up with the love of her life, this goof of a man who soft-shoed his way into her life and then into her heart with terrifyingly impressive ease, the two of them staring off to where their daughter plays with two of her honorary uncles, it’s… f*ck, it feels surreal.
Listening to Evie’s soft voice and her joyful belly laughter as it carries across the pitch and straight into Rebecca’s chest, she doesn’t think she’s ever felt so bloody grateful.
Rebecca returns home from working late one evening, her feet aching in her heels and her temples throbbing from lack of proper food and hydration. She was in back to back meetings all throughout the afternoon, which meant her usual lunch hour had to be sacrificed in favor of tending to a bunch of droning, insufferable shareholders, and then she had to stay after hours to finish sorting through a few documents before a quickly approaching deadline.
Now the sun is setting, her body is exhausted, and the house is quiet.
Ever since Evie was born, she’s done her best to be home at a respectable hour. Gone are the days of consistently working until late in the evening, the glow from her laptop the only source of light; now she makes it a priority to be here for dinner every night, not wanting her daughter to have to miss her.
It doesn’t happen often but some days, like today, things can’t be helped. And although Ted’s always quick to assure her that it’s okay, Evie won’t remember the handful of days she misses dinner for a work obligation, she will.
“You’re a working mama, sweetheart,” he’d said one night when Evie was three and Rebecca missed dinner for the first time because she would’ve f*cked a deadline otherwise. “She’s gonna grow up seein’ her mama as the powerful, successful business woman she is, and that’ll mean something.”
And then, of course, Ted had asked if he was a terrible father for being away for matches sometimes—inherently missing days worth of dinners and bedtimes—and she’d balked and shook her head and he was smiling at her and then she understood.
Still, she doesn’t love it.
She lets out a groan of relief when her heels are kicked off near the door, her bag dropping onto the entryway table a moment later. As she makes her way up the stairs, she’s disassembling herself—freeing her hair from its pins and shaking it out, untucking her blouse from her trousers, popping the first few buttons on her blouse to loosen her neckline.
Rebecca expects Ted to be in Evie’s room getting her ready for bed, but the girl’s room is dark. She frowns, worried for a moment that she’s missed bedtime, too, but then she hears quiet chatter coming from the bathroom.
The door is open and she peeks inside, co*cking her hip against the doorway.
Every bit of tension releases from her body at the sight in front of her.
Fresh from a bath, Evie’s sitting on the sink in her cherry print pajama set, her bare feet in the basin. Ted’s standing behind her, his fingers lost in their daughter’s wet hair as he works at twisting the strands into a French braid.
Evie catches sight of her in the mirror first, her face brightening. “Mummy.”
Her head whips around and dislodges Ted’s hold on her hair, the strands slipping between his fingers with a quiet laugh of, “Evie.”
She reaches back for her mother, her arms outstretched, and Rebecca steps further into the bathroom. With a soft smile, she pulls her girl out of the sink; her legs wrap around her waist, her arms around her neck, and there’s a delighted grin on her face when she pulls back to look her mother in the face.
“Hi, darling,” Rebecca murmurs, smoothing a kiss to her forehead. “Aren’t you looking nice and clean, huh?”
“Daddy put bubbles in the bath.”
“Did he now?” she smiles, eyes cutting to Ted. He’s walking evidence of bath time—knees soaked through from kneeling in the inevitable overflow, shirt damp from the splashing. “Looks like daddy’s wearing most of the bath.”
Ted laughs. “Miss Evie here decided I needed a bath too and so graciously helped me out.”
“Very kind of her,” Rebecca says, her bottom lip between her teeth to temper the smile. Looking back at Evie, she pushes a rogue piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry I missed dinner and bath time tonight.”
“You had to work?”
“Yeah, mummy had to work,” she says softly.
Evie nods, those soft green eyes regarding her. “That’s okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh huh.” Eyes trained on Rebecca’s necklace, she says very matter-of-factly: “‘Cause mummy always comes home.”
Oh, Christ. Her eyes fill, a wet laugh bubbling from deep in her chest as she tugs Evie in closer.
“Oh, baby,” she breathes, her palm covering her girl’s back. “That’s right. I’ll always come home to you.”
Ted meets her gaze over Evie’s shoulder and there’s the kindest, most gentle I told you so she’s ever seen reflected in his eyes.
Evie pulls back first, cataloging her mother’s face in a curious, thoughtful way that’s far beyond her years. “Are you tired?” she asks, one palm patting her cheek, fingers poking at what Rebecca assumes are the dark circles beneath her eyes.
She laughs. “I am,” she nods. She takes hold of Evie’s wrist and kisses her hand. “But I feel much better after seeing you.”
“Really?” Evie asks, her smile returning.
“I always feel better after seeing you, my sweet girl.” She hugs her tighter, pressing another kiss to her head. “I love you.”
“I love you, mama.”
Rebecca’s hand slides down her hair, now completely undone. She chuckles. “Looks like all of daddy’s hard work on your hair’s gone.”
The girl giggles. “Sorry, daddy,” she says, twisting around to look at him.
“Huggin’ your mama was more important, I get it,” he muses.
“Here, let’s get you back up there so he can finish this pretty braid.”
Evie gets deposited back onto the sink. Once Rebecca’s free, Ted steps into her; he smoothes a chaste kiss to her lips, looping his arms around her waist to rest at the small of her back.
“You okay?” he whispers.
Rebecca hums. “Long day.”
“Why don’t you go get cozy. I’ll finish her hair and meet you downstairs?”
She gives him another quick kiss and obliges. She changes into pajamas, washes the makeup off of her face, and pads down into the kitchen where Ted finds her fifteen minutes later.
He steps up behind her while she stands in front of the open fridge, his arms winding around her middle. “There’s Shepherd's Pie in here for you. Just gotta throw it in the oven.”
Rebecca groans, eyes slipping closed as she leans back into him. “Ted Lasso, you are a f*cking godsend.”
He chuckles, kissing her shoulder. “I know you neglect your hunger on days like this,” he says, only a hint of chastisem*nt in his tone. They’ve had this discussion before. He taps her hip. “C’mon, take a seat. I’ll heat it up for you.”
“Let me go say goodnight to Evie first,” she says. She spins in his grip, arms draped loosely over his shoulders. “I love you.”
He smiles, a tender, loving thing. “I love you, too.”
With a soft, lingering kiss that Rebecca sighs into, she pats his chest and inclines her head toward the hallway. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here with your cheesy top.”
“f*ck, you’re perfect.”
Ted laughs, a deep, pleased sound. “That’s the hunger talking, but I’ll take it.”
She’s so besotted it’s nauseating. She wouldn’t change a single thing about it.
At six years old, Evie is the spitting image of Rebecca.
As he watches her mini run around the green in a pale yellow sundress, her high pitched laughter traveling across the wind to where he stands in the grass, he gets hit with such an intense sense of deja vu it threatens to knock him over.
Rebecca sits on a picnic blanket, her legs outstretched before her where they’re crossed at the ankles. She raises a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, but the smile she shoots in his direction is beaming. He’s still looking at her when he sees her raise a brow, the curve of her lips growing as she points off to his left.
When he turns, he catches sight of Evie breaking into a sprint; moments later there’s a flash of blonde colliding into him, spindly arms wrapping around his legs.
She tips her head back and smiles, the jade of her eyes sparkling in the daylight.
“Daddy, you’re here!”
Ted pushes her curls back from her face. “Of course I’m here, sweets,” he grins. He bends to pick her up beneath her armpits, hauling her onto his hip. “You and mama havin’ a nice picnic?”
Evie nods. “Yeah. Mama made sandwiches and they’re so good. We saved you one.”
With a kiss to her temple, he hugs her tighter. “Oh wow, how thoughtful. I can’t wait to try it.”
She smiles, wrapping her arm around his neck as they make their way back toward where Rebecca’s soaking up the sun. She’s in a pair of light linen pants and a white tank, an oversized button down shirt open over top. Her makeup is soft and her skin has a gentle glow.
Stunning.
Rebecca peers up at them with squinted eyes beneath her hand-visor. As he takes her in, letting Evie slide down from his hip to join her mother on the picnic blanket, it hits Ted exactly why this feels so familiar.
All those years ago, he dreamt about this.
Him and Rebecca on the green with their little girl. Rebecca’s tiny doppelganger running toward him with a blinding smile on that precious face of hers.
His heart stutters for a moment, emotion cinching in his chest. It’s not the pang he might’ve felt at one point, though. No, it’s gratefulness, and a lot of it.
He mourned that dream back then, but he firmly believes that it played a role in getting him where he is. Right here, with Rebecca by his side and their little girl hanging on his shoulder, her little voice exuberant in his ear.
And right here is the only place he’d ever want to be.
“Alright, I hear there’s a sandwich over here I’ve just gotta try ‘cause it’s so good?”
