Ben was in his room, supposedly doing his overdue calculus assignment, but probably just listening to the music, audible despite his closed door, echoing down the stair well. Emily was asleep for a change, and a bone-weary Vincent was taking advantage of that fact, and dozing too. Noah had the ground floor of the house to himself. There was something he needed to do, and he paced back and forth with the phone in his hand, finally punching the number in from memory.
Ennis’s voice sounded distracted when he answered, “Hello.”
“Hi, Ennis, it’s Noah.”
There was a pause, and Ennis’s voice shot up. “Noah! How are you? Where are you? Are you back in LA? Hang on!” There was a pause in the deluge of questions and Noah heard him shout, “Dawson, get your fat ass down here, it’s Noah!”
Noah heard thumping as Ennis said, “Just putting you onto speaker phone.”
“Noah! How are you?” Dawson asked, and there was more thumping and Ennis’s cry of “Ouch!” reverberated down the line.
“I’m fine,” Noah said, laughing at the strange noises. “Really well. I’m back in LA, and about to start working again too.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Brilliant!”
“Where are you living? Back in your condo?” Ennis asked.
“No, I’m at Vincent’s.”
There was a pause and Dawson’s voice asked, “Is that living AT Vincent’s or living WITH Vincent?”
“Living with,” Noah replied, listening intently for the reaction.
“YES!” Ennis shouted and Dawson added, “About bloody time! It’s taken you forever to work that one out.”
“Christ, don’t tell me you two knew too?”
“Course we knew, you fucker! The pair of you were hardly discreet. Are you busy? Can we come over and see you now?”
Noah paused. “Yeah, that would be great, but before you do, there’s something I need to say to you. Things are different for me now.”
“Sure, man. We know you gotta make amends,” Ennis said confidently.
Noah frowned. Of course. ‘Twelve step programmes’ include making amends for harm caused. “I’ve got a daughter now.”
There was silence, then Ennis shrieked and Noah had to hold the phone away from his ear.
“MAN!”
Dawson’s voice was excited too. “Congratulations, Noah! What’s her name? How old is she? Is she with you?”
“She’s Emily, and she’s nine weeks old now. And yes,” he said with a smile, “she lives with us.”
“We’re coming over right now, dude. Right now.”
Noah opened the front door half an hour later and found himself with an armful of Ennis. Dawson was jumping up and down, holding an enormous purple teddy bear in his arms, and Noah held out an arm for him as Ennis clung to his neck, legs wrapped around Noah’s hips. Four weeks earlier and Noah would have been on the floor curled up in agony but his body had recovered enough now that he could just let Ennis slide down his hip with nothing more than a twinge in his belly.
Dawson kissed his cheek, and Noah was relieved the T lozenges had started his facial hair growing again. As Dawson stepped back he peeled Ennis off, then pushed the bear into his arms. “This is for you, but you can let Emily and Vincent play with it if you want to.”
Noah took the bear and blinked back sudden tears. “God, I’ve missed you maniacs. Come in, but you’ve got to be quiet!” he whispered loudly. “Vincent is asleep.”
“It’s 6.30 at night, man,” Ennis complained, dropping the volume on his voice a little.
“What can I say?” Noah replied with a shrug. “He’s a new father.” He moved the wash basket of clean unfolded nappies onto the floor and flopped onto the couch, teddy bear still in his arms. “Beer’s in the fridge, go for it.”
Ennis was back in a moment with three beers. “So how the fuck did you wind up with a daughter?”
“The usual way,” Noah said, taking the proffered beer off Ennis. “I was fucking around on Katie. Someone got pregnant.”
Dawson looked puzzled. “And the mom didn’t want the baby? Is that how come you’re raising her?”
“Kind of,” Noah dissembled. “It’s more complicated than that, but Emily is Vincent’s and mine now.”
Ennis glanced at Dawson, draped over an armchair. “So? How come you finally decided to move in with Vincent? It’s been five years, why now?”
“Vincent was there when everything fell to pieces last year. When I needed somewhere to go to, he took me up to his ranch, until I was ready to come back to LA. We kind of got together then. I was pretty messy for a while, and he was there for me.”
Ennis nodded. “Yeah, you were really struggling last time I saw you. I was kinda angry for a while that you didn’t tell any of us that you were in trouble, but I guess that was part of the problem, not being able to tell anyone. We’re just glad you’re back. You look really good. Kind of tubby, I guess.”
Dawson elbowed Ennis. “Shut up Ennis.”
“S’ok Dawson,” Noah said. “I put on a stack of weight sitting around doing nothing. Guess I’ll lose it when I start working again.”
The baby monitor on the table squawked, and Noah said, “Shit, she’s going to wake Vincent,” and he put his beer down and took off up the stairs, Ennis and Dawson right behind him.
Emily was lying on her back, face screwed up as she cried, real tears trickling down her face. “Don’t cry, Emmie,” Noah cooed, picking her up and bending down to open the bar fridge and reaching for a bottle of formula. “Don’t cry, honey, Daddy’s got you now.”
She sobbed against his shoulder and he put her down on the change table and reached for one of the folded cloth nappies and looked up to find Dawson and Ennis staring at him openmouthed from the doorway. He looked down at Emmie, still sobbing as he undid her rompers and realized how odd it must look to them.
He’d had the pregnancy to get used to the idea, and nine weeks for the pattern to become routine; so routine he could do it while mostly asleep now. But Emily was unmistakably his child, his hair and eyes, and with just the faintest hint of Vincent’s jaw line, if someone knew to look for it. He changed her quickly, buttoned her suit and picked her up again, dropping the wet nappy in the bucket beside the change table.
The timer went clunk, and Emily stopped crying, making Noah laugh at her. He held her out to Ennis and said, “Hold her for a moment while I wash my hands.”
When he came back from the bathroom 15 seconds later, Dawson had his arms around Ennis and the baby and was leaning his head on Ennis’s shoulder, smiling back at Emily.
Ennis handed her back to Noah and Dawson wiped at his face. “She’s gorgeous, Noah, just gorgeous. You must love her so much.”
Noah kissed her curls and picked up the warm bottle. “We do.”
Vincent appeared half an hour later, when Ennis was lying on his back on the rug with Emily on his chest, gurgling happily at her while Dawson crouched beside them and took pictures with his digital camera.
He waved blearily at Dawson and Ennis and sat down on the couch, resting his head sleepily on Noah’s shoulder. “Was it a spontaneous event, or did you ask them over?”
Noah kissed Vincent’s forehead. “I rang Ennis. The inevitable outcome is that one of us is going to have to go out for beer and pizzas now. They’re here for the evening.”
“They’ve had plenty of sleep, let them get their own pizza and beer,” Vincent replied, closing his eyes and settling against Noah’s shoulder.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The shower tiles were cold against Vincent’s face, even colder against his body, and he clung to the soap dish with one hand desperately, trying not to slip on the slick floor tiles underfoot. Noah was slamming into him, pushing him harder against the cold with each thrust. ‘It should hurt,’ Vincent’s mind kept trying to tell him. He knew this should be uncomfortable, painful, and unpleasant. Instead it felt like the best thing that had ever happened to him.
The
water had run cold, and he had shower gel in his eyes, but he was moaning with every thrust. Noah was grunting behind him, hands clamped tightly around Vincent’s ribs, thumbs digging in, no doubt leaving bruises.
They were in the bathroom with the exhaust fan running, three closed doors between them and the kids in some vague hope of the sound not traveling. Vincent didn’t really think it was working, not now Noah was grinding into him, not with the way it was feeling. He screwed his eyes shut and pushed the fingers of his free hand into his mouth, trying to stifle his own cries. There was nothing he could do about the noise Noah was making now, not with the way Noah was burning into him, searing him inside, sending them both spinning, finally free, falling so far…
Vincent reached out a shaky hand and turned the water off, and Noah slumped against his back, breathing hard, shaking slightly. There was a short, sharp sting as Noah pulled out and Vincent hid his wince. He turned around and grabbed Noah as he staggered a little, supporting him for a moment. Noah smiled weakly in thanks, then dropped the used condom wetly onto the floor of the shower recess. He slid the glass door open, then handed a towel back to Vincent.
Noah was just about out on his feet. He had been exhausted before they had started fucking, too driven by the ‘T.’ he was taking for his body to allow him to just crawl into bed and sleep. Now he was too tired to have any chance of functioning, and Vincent held him steady again as he swayed. “Go to bed,” he said, unlocking the bathroom door and pushing Noah gently towards the bed.
Noah was asleep before Vincent had managed to dry himself off thoroughly, and he crawled between the sheets wearily too. Noah had been at work the whole day, and Vincent was tired from having Emily by himself for that long. Ella had bought her a tiny T-shirt that read ‘Insomniac’, which had seemed like a cute joke at the time, but was proving to be accurate.
She had been bright and wide awake for most of the day, needing to be carried everywhere and sung to all the time. Vincent had bought a sling for her, but that still didn’t give him any opportunities to paint or write or even think. He was silently glad they were interviewing for a nanny the next day. He had a head full of paintings that needed to be worked on.
And there was more that needed thinking about. He needed to think about what was happening with Noah. Noah was asleep, and Vincent stroked one finger over a damp curl on the pillow, then across Noah’s shoulder, before leaning forward to kiss the shoulder.
Emily murmured on the baby monitor, and Vincent kissed Noah’s shoulder again and reached for his track pants and robe.
Noah woke sometime before dawn and found himself alone in the bed. He rolled over onto Vincent’s side of the bed, hoping to find the space still warm from Vincent’s body, but it was cold to touch. He frowned and thought Vincent must have been up with Emily for a while.
Emily’s room was in darkness when Noah pushed the door open. In the dim glow from her nightlight he saw she was asleep and Vincent was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them, one of Emily’s spare blankets around his shoulders.
“Bad night?” Noah asked, kneeling down beside Vincent. “Why didn’t you wake me? I would’ve helped, taken turns with her.”
Vincent rubbed his eyes blearily and shook his head. “Emily slept pretty well. It was me that had the bad night.”
Noah twisted and sat next to Vincent on the floor, resting his hand on Vincent’s knee. “Want to tell me about it?”
Vincent nodded slowly. “Yeah, I need to. I’m afraid, deep down inside me, that you’re leaving,” he said flatly.
Noah frowned. “Leaving? I’m not going anywhere.”
Vincent shook his head slightly. “Now the pregnancy is over, you’ve got your body back, your gender back. You’re getting your career back. Soon, you won’t need anything from me, won’t need sanctuary any longer, and you’ll leave.”
“Is that what you think?” Noah said quietly.
Vincent nodded again, then looked at Noah. “I’ve been deluding myself. Both Sophie and Ella have told me what you’ve said to them,” and his head made a soft thud as it rested back against the wall, “that this was no love affair, that it’s just an accidental pregnancy, and not even one born from love.”
Noah blinked, as he started to speak. “Oh God, no, I…”
Vincent cut him off with a sharp shake of his head. “Let me speak, please. Just once, let me say these things to you.”
Noah stopped, nodded and closed his mouth, and Vincent continued. “I’ve been fooling myself, trying to convince myself that you cared for me, but I can’t keep doing it. I’m tired of being grateful for crumbs of affection. It’s pathetic how happy it made me that you kissed me in front of Ennis and Dawson.” Reaching into the pocket of his robe he pulled out a folded square of paper and held it out for Noah.
Noah took it from Vincent’s fingers and opened it, peering at the intricate design in the dim light from the hall. “What is it?” he asked quietly.
“I was going to have this done as a tattoo, for Emily’s birth, like I have the one for Ben.”
Noah traced a finger over the design and nodded. He could see the letters of his name now, entwined with Vincent’s and Emily’s. “It’s lovely.”
“But I can’t,” Vincent continued, the strain starting to show in his voice. “I can’t tattoo your name on my arm, and wear it for the rest of my life if you aren’t going to be here. It’d hurt too much to see it every day.”
Noah opened his mouth and Vincent held his hand up and said, “Please, don’t stop me,” and now there was desperation in his voice.
Noah nodded and looked again at the paper in his hand.
“I love you, Noah. I want you to hear that just once, before you become someone that I only see to hassle about access and to go to parent-teacher meetings with. I love you, and I love Emily and I want us to be a family.”
Noah made himself meet Vincent’s eyes. Vincent wasn’t crying, but there was so much raw pain showing that he’d never seen before it almost bought Noah to tears. “I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I want to be here. You told me, months ago, I could stay here for as long as I wanted.”
“And you can, but is that what you want? You push me away every time I try to get close to you, every single time. Can you understand why I’m finding it hard to believe that you want to be here?”
Noah nodded slowly, looking back down at the piece of paper, his fingers moving blindly over the design. He did, he had never let Vincent even begin to tell him how he felt, had been avoiding this moment for a long time. He leant forward, resting his face against Vincent’s knee. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been pushing you away. I can’t tell you what you want to hear, not after what happened with Kaycie.” He paused, composed his thoughts and continued.
“I loved her, I’m pretty sure I did, but it wasn’t enough, you know that. I still kept seeing you, sleeping with you in spite of being committed to Kaycie. I’m no good at this, at being with someone. Christ, Kaycie and I were going to get married, and I still couldn’t be faithful to her. I can’t give you anything, make any commitments or promises, not after that.” He looked at Vincent, eyes bright with tears. “How could I? I’d be lying.”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly, then reached out and stroked a hand over Noah’s close cropped curls. “Is that what you’re worried about? Monogamy?”
Vincent’s hand was soothing and gentle, and Noah sighed a little at the touch. “I don’t know… No, I don’t think so… It’s about me not being able to trust myself again. Whether I’m trustworthy.”
Vincent’s fingers were drawing small circles on Noah’s scalp now, and Vincent said, “I trust you, let that be enough.”
Doubt must have shown on Noah’s face, because Vincent’s touch became firmer and his hand was on Noah’s neck now, fingers circling over the tight muscles, and a smile slowly spread over Noah’s face. “You must love me a lot.”
Vincent nodded, his eyes locked on Noah’s. “Let me show you how much.”
Noah’s fingers found Vincent’s where they were resting against his shoulder. He slid his fingers between Vincent’s. “Get the tattoo, I’m not leaving.”
Noah pulled the hat on Emmie’s head on more securely, shading her eyes from the bright spring sunlight, then pushed his own sunglasses on more firmly. Vincent was chatting to someone he knew, one of the stall holders at the market, and Noah checked Emily’s face again to make sure she was shaded.
She was staring around her with wide open eyes, drinking in the bright awnings and signs, the fruit and veggies laid out in rows, the people milling around. Noah had thought she might be scared, but she didn’t seem in the least bit worried. He supposed there was a world of difference between seeing this from the safety of her daddy’s arms, and staring at people’s knees from her stroller.
Vincent put a sack of oranges into the stroller, alongside the broccoli and potatoes, and his face lit up when he spotted Emily staring at him. He lifted his sunglasses off his eyes, and Noah saw Emily smile in recognition. He dropped them again, and Emily looked puzzled and Vincent tickled her cheek gently. “It’s still me, honey,” he said, and she smiled again.
“Got everything you want?” Noah asked, and Vincent grinned at him.
The world shrunk around Noah, all the noise and people faded away, leaving him and Vincent standing alone, Emily in his arms. Vincent lifted his sunglasses again so Noah could see his eyes, bluegrey and true, and Vincent said, “Hell, yes,” in what Noah thought of as his bedroom voice.
Someone bumped into Noah’s back and apologized, Emily gurgled and the world shifted sideways a little when Vincent smiled at Noah. “How could I possibly want anything else?” Vincent asked, and Noah felt himself start to color.
He jiggled Emily in his arms, grinning, and Vincent turned away to buy red onions from the next stall.
The Omega's Dearest Baby Page 10
