Very Merry Wingmen

by Daisy Prescott

  As far as Alene, I know she’ll handle this change better than either of us. Spending time with kids her own age and older will be good for her. Better than hanging out with Mac all day.

  At nine months old, he’s pretty boring to his big sister except when he farts. That’s the most hysterical thing to ever happen according to Alene’s toddler cackles. He’s other tricks involve food and making a mess. Where Alene is quiet, Mac is a ham. All mischief and fearless confidence.

  Diane’s breathing evens out and she gently pushes herself away from my embrace. Wiping her eyes again, she inhales deeply before meeting my eyes. “How am I going to handle a full day of kindergarten if I’m a mess dropping her off for three hours?”

  “We’ll cross that hurdle when we get there,” I murmur.

  “And what about when Mac leaves for college and the house is empty?” Her chin wobbles.

  I glance over at Mac in his high chair next to the dining table. He’s smearing sweet potato and cereal puffs around on the try. Every time he bangs his fat fists on the surface, small, orange globs splatter across the plastic and onto his bib. Pretty sure he has some in his dark hair, too.

  Patiently, Babe lies in wait beneath the chair. Smart dog knows that when the baby is done eating, that’s when the morsels will rain down from above.

  Having Babe means less sweeping and mopping.

  In her own chair, Alene quietly eats the last of her oatmeal and banana with her tiny spoon. Her dark eyes are focused on us, observing every detail. Her eyebrows pull together with concern just like her mother’s.

  I give Diane a soft peck to her lips and then pull her into another hug. She arches up and deepens the kiss, her mouth tasting of sweet cream and coffee. Screw school and work and everything else. I want to lose myself in Diane’s kisses the way we used to do when we first got together.

  I’m only working a half day today and a plan begins to form in my head. Shifting so I can press her against the counter, I cup her ass and give it a squeeze. In response, she moans against my lips.

  Giggles pop the bubble that’s formed around us.

  “Mac mac! Mac mac!” Alene laughs and bangs her spoon on the table.

  Diane leans back and twists her neck to check out the kids. “Oh no.”

  Mac has smeared his face with sweet potatoes, including small bumps of cereal. Babe is busy licking off the mess while Alene joyfully watches.

  “Babe, leave it.” Diane uses her serious business tone and Babe drops down from where he half stood with his front feet on the highchair tray.

  “Don’t be mad at the dog. He saved us the effort of cleaning up Mac.”

  Diane sticks out her tongue. “I’ll grab a washcloth for the baby. Will you take care of Alene?”

  I release her and she steps around the kitchen island toward Mac.

  I walk over to Alene at the table. “How’s my favorite girl?”

  “Daddy!” She grins at me and my heart melts.

  She’s too young for school and other big girl stuff like growing up. I get a flash of her future milestones and know it’s all going to go by too fast for me.

  As soon as I scoot back her chair, she’s clamoring off the seat and racing across the room to her pile of toys in the corner. Pulling out a book, she holds it out for me.

  With a shake of my head, I tell her no. “Not this morning. We’re going to school today.”

  Her eyes widen and she marches over to the counter where her Peppa Pig backpack rests. Pointing at the bag, she asks. “School?”

  Silently I nod because a lump has formed in my throat.

  Still holding the book, she toddles her way back to me. Reaching up her empty hand, she wraps her chubby fist around one of my fingers and then leads me over to her play table near the windows facing the beach.

  Diane has disappeared with Mac, probably to give him a more thorough wipe down than Babe’s first round. He’ll also need a diaper and outfit change before we can leave the house.

  Knowing Alene and I have a few minutes to spare, I take the tiny seat in front of me. I’m basically squatting on a small chair, fearing the sound of wood splintering beneath my ass.

  She places the book on the table in front of me and then digs through one of her toy bins. With fascination, I watch her sort through various pink and sparkly items until she chirps with delight. In her hand is a pink tiara, her favorite accessory since she received it at her second birthday party.

  “Want me to help you put it on?” I hold out my palm.

  She shakes her head now and marches over to me, holding it toward my head. “You do it.”

  This isn’t the first time I’ve worn one of her tiaras or crowns and I know it won’t be the last. The damn things squeeze my head and hurt like hell, but I smile and duck my head lower so she can place it on my hair.

  Beats anything with glitter. I swear I catch a sparkle of that evil pixie dust in my beard in the truck’s mirror most days. I threatened to ban the substance from the house after Mac partially one of Alene’s craft projects covered in the stuff.

  Turns out, the body passes glitter like it does corn. Intact and easily identifiable.

  Tom still laughs about that. Because he’s an asshole.

  With Hailey expecting their second, it’s only a matter of time until one of his kids shits glitter. Or worse.

  Mac’s happy babbling alerts me to Diane’s return. I twist my head to face them and catch her snapping a pic with her phone.

  “Ahem,” I fake cough.

  “It’s just for me. I promise I won’t share it on the moms’ text thread. I learned my lesson the first time.”

  “Don’t make it your wallpaper either. Connie still brings up the shirtless pic of me holding Mac right after he was born.”

  She shows me the wallpaper on her phone is still the two kids in matching yellow towels with duck hoods. “You’re safe. I can’t help it if my husband is the hottest lumberjack on this island.”

  If Alene’s going to be at school for a few hours, that will give Diane and I the chance to spend time together. Just the two of us. Preferably naked. We just have to time it with Mac’s morning nap. With a glance at the clock on the kitchen wall, I confirm we might be able to drop Alene off, put Mac down, and still have an hour to ourselves. My plant might work out perfectly.

  “Time to go.” I stand and sweep my daughter into my arms. She squirms and giggles when I kiss her arm and then her belly.

  We follow Diane and Mac out to the driveway and commence with the process of strapping the wigglers into their car seats.

  Eyeing the cereal and other abandoned snacks on the carpet of the backseat floor, I tell Diane we should let Babe loose in the Jeep to clean it out. Cheaper than feeding quarters into the vacuums at the car wash.

  With a laugh and a “maybe,” she climbs into the passenger seat.

  We’re quiet on the drive to the preschool in Langley. Housed in one of the local churches, it’s the best program on the south end of Whidbey. And the same school I went to as a kid. I like tradition.

  Pulling into a spot, I turn to Diane. “Ready?”

  She has her game face on. “No crying at drop off. If the kids sense we’re upset, they’ll get upset and then all hell will break loose. Tears. Sobbing. It’ll be a mess.”

  “‘Ell,” Alene repeats from her seat behind me.

  Diane’s eyes widen. “Great. Now she’s going to be repeating that inside a church all morning.”

  I manage to stifle my laughter by pressing my lips together. “Could be worse. She could go back to using the word that rhymes with truck in every sentence.”

  “Don’t say it!” She clamps her hand over my mouth. “I don’t want her to get kicked out on her first day.”

  We’re both laughing now, but at the time, Alene’s F-bombs were anything but funny.

  “Let’s get this over with while we’re not sad.” Diane opens her door and climbs out. Seconds later she’s releases the straps on Mac’s car seat.

>   He rubs his eyes, already looking sleepy.

  A bright-eyed Alene grips my sleeve like a vice.

  “Want to walk?” I ask her as we make our way toward the side entrance.

  She ducks her head into my shoulder and my heart cracks a little.

  Walking beside us, Diane has Mac resting on her hip. “You can hold both our hands and we’ll do the jumps.”

  Alene squirms. “Jumps!”

  I set her down and then take her hand. Diane takes the other hand. Every few steps we lift Alene up by her hands and let her fly for a few feet before returning her feet to the ground.

  Glancing over at my wife, her face lit up with a smile and our son giggling on her hip, I count my blessings. A few years ago, I never imagined this life for myself. Never thought I’d be lucky enough to be loved by a woman like Diane or be the guy who gets to love her every day. Never pictured myself with a kid, let alone two.

  And now that this is my life, I’m not going to take a moment for granted.

  A Tom & Hailey bonus scene

  Tom

  Halloween might be my favorite holiday. No family dinner obligations. Candy everywhere I go. Hailey in some crazy outfit, especially when she wears some sexy version of a regular thing. Like two years ago she dressed as … oh wait. Never mind. That was my birthday. Not Halloween. Move along. Nothing to see here.

  “I can’t fit into my pants.” Hailey points to the gap at the waist of her jeans.

  “No big deal. Wear something else. Or one of my shirts. No one will know you can’t zip your jeans.” We’re in our bedroom, trying to get out of the house and down to the Halloween parade. By we, I mean, Hailey, me, and Shaw, who is currently sitting in the middle of the king size, holding court over the remote controls and three pairs of clean socks.

  “I’m not walking around town with my fly down.” Hailey begins peeling off her jeans. “And your jeans won’t go with my costume.”

  “Wear those black maternity ones you have in the back of the closet. Your ass looks good in those.”

  She sighs and stares at me. “You thinking my ass looks hot is exactly why none of my pants fit. I’m barely four months pregnant. This kid is enormous if nothing fits.”

  “And your boobs have never looked better,” I mumble, but not soft enough that she doesn’t hear me.

  “Thomas Clifford, quit ogling me.” With her hands on her thighs, she glares at me. Only she’s now in her underwear and a long-sleeve, green T-shirt that only draws attention to her full breasts and the swell of our baby.

  The thought of her carrying another baby thrills and scares me. My heart does this weird squeezing thing where I think I might be having a heart attack but then it morphs into a fluttering. No arm pain. I had the doctor in Coupeville check me out. He assures me I’m fit as a horse. Stallion of course.

  Shaw bonks me on the forehead with a remote and laughs himself silly. Ignoring the pain, I gently tackled him into the duvet and blow raspberries on his belly. His laughter is best sound in the world.

  “Do you have the rest of Shaw’s costume ready?” she asks, pulling on a pair of black leggings.

  Nodding, I say a slightly thanks for whoever brought back this trend. “Just need to put on his hat once we get to Langley.”

  “And you’re wearing that?” She points to my black jeans and blue T-shirt.

  “With my leather motorcycle jacket. The brown one. I was born ready for this costume.” I roll to my side and bend my leg, giving her a sexy grin. “Can’t you see it?”

  She shifts her gaze to the ceiling, but I know she agrees.

  “You love it when I wear that jacket. Reminds you of that time we ran into each other on our bikes up at Deception Pass. You had your way with me on a picnic table in broad daylight in front of God and those chipmunks.” My grin falls when she chucks a pair of socks at me. “What was that for?”

  “You can’t talk about blow jobs in front of our son. I’m his mother!” She pretends to be horrified.

  “I can’t take you seriously in that wig. For the record, I’m not the one who said blowjob in front of the baby.” Covering his ears with my palms, I dip my chin and widen my eyes.

  “You are incorrigible.” Leggings in place, she pulls on a black vest and grabs her tall boots from the closet.

  She’s right. I am ogling her. I can’t help it. She’s the most beautiful woman on a normal day, but there’s something special about her today that makes her extra hot. Could be the outfit. Could be her baby bump. I’m not going to analyze it too closely. All I know is I can’t wait to get her home tonight and show her how grateful I am she’s mine.

  We park a few blocks from the parade route. The streets and sidewalks are already filled with people in costumes.

  “I had not idea this drew such a big crowd.” I hoist Shaw into his stroller and get him situated. “Where did all of these people come from?”

  “Must’ve been a recent baby boom.” Hailey adjusts his knit hat and then pulls out her phone for another pic. “Smile.”

  Instead, I snarl. “I’m Star Lord.”

  Laughing at me, she rubs my bearded cheek. “Oh, okay, Lord.”

  “You promise you’ll keep the wig on for later?”

  “I’m just realizing you have a thing for Gamora.” She pats her wig. I’m glad she didn’t wear the full green face paint. Harder to kiss her.

  “Nah, only you.” I lean in for a quick kiss.

  A car horn honks and someone yells, “Get a room!”

  Blinking open my eyes, I glance over my shoulder. “Was that Erik Kelso? Punk ass kid.”

  “He’s over thirty. You’re going to have to accept he and Carter are grownups now. Just like you.”

  I grumble as I push Shaw’s stroller down the street.

  “Carter and Ashley are parents now,” she continues pleading her case.

  “All right, all right. They’re adults.” I cross the street at the corner, using the crosswalk. Like a responsible adult.

  The crowd thickens when we reach Second Street, still a block from the parade route.

  “Are we supposed to walk in the parade or watch it?” I navigate the stroller through the crowd, using it like a snow plow to cut a path through the congestion.

  “You grew up here. How do you not know anything about the annual parade of ghouls?” Hailey follows in my wake.

  “Too many kids around and I was probably busy doing other things.” Like sleeping off a hangover or catching the ferry home from a night off the island, but I’m too smart to say any of that.

  At the corner of Anthes and First, we spot an inflatable T-Rex costume and a guy dressed as whatshisface from Jurassic Park.

  “There’s Dan.” I point them out to Hailey. “And I’m going to assume that’s Roslyn inside the costume.”

  We squeeze our way closer to them.

  Roslyn’s face is barely visible through the meshed panel of her dinosaur bubble. Waving her little T-Rex arms at us, she greets us with a,“Hi, hi, hi.”

  “Where’s your costume?” I ask Dan. He’s wearing brown pants, a brown vest, and a gray collared shirt. Not that different than what he normally wears without the vest.

  “Hey, you two are the same guy.” Hailey claps in amusement.

  Dan eyes me. “I guess we are.”

  “Where’s the kid?” I ask, not spotting a baby strapped to either of them.

  Roslyn steps back and reveals a sleeping Ione in her furry dinosaur costume, passed out in her stroller. “Too much excitement.”

  We shuffle to spread out and claim more space in our section of curb in front of the Dog House. The lights are off inside and I’m guessing Olaf is avoiding this circus.

  “Anyone seen John?” I ask our group. “He’s probably dressed as a lumberjack. As always.”

  Roslyn cranes her neck. “I thought I saw some red and black buffalo plaid on the other side of the street.”

  Sure enough, here comes John, jay walking across the road, dressed as himself. Bes
ide him, Diane is wearing a matching shirt and a bright orange knit cap.

  “The kids look adorable,” Hailey says with a tone that’s almost a squeal of delight. “Look at Mac!”

  The baby is wearing a squirrel costume and next to him in the double stroller is Alene, with antlers on a headband and her face painted like a fawn.

  “You’re a damn woodland fantasy come to life,” I greet them with a laugh.

  “Who are you supposed to be?” he asks me after we finish our man hug with a back slap.

  “I am Star Lord.” I spread my legs and put my hands on my hips. “Hailey’s Gamora, and Shaw is—”

  “Groot!” Hailey interrupts me.

  “He’s Groot,” I finish, half-heartedly. “He is Groot.”

  “Nice hat,” Diane comments. “Did June make it?”

  “She did. How did you know?” Hailey adjusts Shaw’s bark looking knitted cap.

  “She’s incredible,” Roslyn says. “You should see the sweater she made for Ione.” The women continue talking about yarn and knitting and sweaters, but I tune them out.

  “Who’s dressed as Waldo this year?” I point across the street to a guy standing under the Clyde movie theater sign.

  “Looks like Eric Kelso,” John answers. “Although I swear we saw a woman wearing the same costume earlier.”

  Erik spots us and cuts across the street. “Well, look, the gang’s all here.”

  “Where’s Waldo?” John asks.

  Laughing, he shrugs. “Costumes were Cari’s idea. Figured if we lose each other in the crowd, we can easily find each other.”

  “Shouldn’t you be harder to find?” I deadpan.

  “Touché.”

  Langley’s downtown is really only three streets and three blocks big. How hard can it be to locate your girlfriend? I don’t bother asking Erik this because I don’t really want to know.

  “Where’s your brother and Ashley?”

  “They’re walking in the parade with the goats this year.”

  “And the baby?” Diane asks. “Please don’t tell me they have a two month old in the parade.”

  “She’s with Grandma,” Erik reassures her.