“Oh my god, you kids are the worst! The absolute worst!” Mom snaps, though a smile breaks out across her face for just a second.
That smile is worth at least half my strands of hair that Bailey will tear out next time she gets me alone.
“Wake up, angel,” Forest says, kissing my temple, trailing his fingertips across my stomach. “Your dad’s out of surgery.”
I snap upright, having fallen asleep, curled in his lap. “He’s okay?” I flick my bleary eyes up to see my sisters and brother hugging each other, my mom gone from the room.
“Yeah. They took your mom to see him first,” Forest says, helping me to stand, keeping an arm around me. He’s much warmer now, dressed in thin pajamas with the hospital’s name and logo branded across them. “Said it’ll be a while before y’all can see him, though.”
I nearly collapse with relief, and Forest takes the brunt of my weight, drawing me against his chest, holding me until a nurse calls us forward.
In the quiet intensive care unit, we stand in a line, peeringthrough the upper half of the wall made of glass into Dad’s hospital room. Dad is asleep, hooked up to a ventilator and more wires than I can count, but at least his skin is a touch less pale than it had been before. He’s always been like Superman in my mind: big and strong, protective, and supportive in everything we do. Solid and reliable—just overall the best father anyone could ever hope for. It’s unnatural to see him so sick, laid out in a hospital bed instead of relaxing in his favorite leather recliner at home. It’s a stark lesson in how life can change in the blink of an eye, and I’ll never again take a moment with him for granted.
Wearing a disposable face mask and dressed in a hospital-provided gown over a matching set of Forest’s new PJs, Mom sits in a chair at Dad’s side, holding his hand carefully, an endless stream of tears rolling from the corners of her gray eyes. When she notices us, she lightly kisses the back of Dad’s hand before rising and joining us in the hallway.
Lowering her face mask, Mom says to herself as much as to us, “He’s going to be okay. The doctor said his cholesterol was off the charts, which likely caused the blockage that caused the heart attack, but that it could have been much worse.” She presses her fingers to her lips, catching a sob when she says, “His stress levels and high blood pressure were the cherry on top.”
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” I tell her from a bottomless well of guilt and shame. A good part of all his stress is my doing. So is it my sisters’ and their husbands’. Brady is the only one innocent here.
Penitent and silent, we patiently take turns donning new gowns and masks and sanitizing our hands before we’re allowed inside to visit Dad for a few minutes, one by one. I’m the last in line, and I slip my fingers through Dad’s thick gray hair that he normally keeps gelled straight.
My voice cracks when I say, “I love you, Daddy. I’m sosorry for all the stress I caused.” With just a wisp of sound, I tell him, “I’ll wait until you’re stronger and the doctor gives you the all clear before I tell you my secret, okay?”I’ve fallen for a man who is totally wrong for me, and I don’t know what to do.“You just get better first. Your grandbabies need you.”
Though Mom will be staying overnight with Dad for as long as he’s in the hospital, she follows us out of the ICU into a more bustling hallway. “I’m not sure when we’ll be home, so in the meantime, Autumn, you’re in charge of Brady. You’ll make sure he gets to school on time and does all his homework?”
“Yes, of course,” I say. “Anything you need.”
“But I wanna stay with you,” Brady says, hugging Mom.
“I know, sweetheart, but the hospital won’t let anyone else stay.” Mom cups his cheeks and smiles sadly. “But, I promise, you can come every day after baseball practice to visit your dad for a few minutes.”
Mom lifts her brow at me in question, and I say, “We’ll be here. And I’ll call Barbara.” She was at the party, and I’m sure she’s pacing by her phone, waiting for news. “She’ll get the paperwork started so he can take his leave of absence.”
Bailey waves her phone. “And I have the online meal sign-up sheet ready for the next few weeks. Isaiah’s and Eden’s moms are already competing to sign up for the most amount of days.”
Shayla says, “We’ll take care of everything. You just focus on Dad.”
Mom’s bottom lip trembles as we say our goodbyes. Forest is the last, and she squeezes his hands. “Sherman would be so happy to know you’re here for Autumn. Thank you.”
He nods, returning her embrace, and whispers something too low for me to hear, leaving her with some kind of look of understanding as she watches us leave.
When we make it back to Bailey’s house, the kids are sleeping in piles on the carpeted floor in what will be the triplets’ nursery, sharing blankets since there aren’t enough to go around. With the cribs already set up, Benjamin and Clara are sleeping safely by themselves. The adults are scattered throughout the rest of the house. Instead of waking the kids to take them home, where they’d likely have a hard time falling back asleep, and with my siblings and me dragging our feet from exhaustion, we all decide to stay the night.
While Brady lies down beside Grayson, asleep within seconds, James and Forest head to their homes to grab a few more blankets and pillows. Though I’d climbed into Bailey’s king-sized sleigh bed in the primary bedroom with my sisters, when the men make it back, Forest surprises me by waking me, carrying me in his arms to the sewing room. He lays me down atop the pallet of blankets he’s created on the floor, slipping under his comforter he’d brought to spoon me. It’s not the first time we’ve slept together, but it is the first time we’ve done so by choice instead of by accident.
Forest drapes an arm over my waist, pushing his hand beneath my hoodie, where it feels natural for him to rest his palm. “We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements in the morning,” he says, burrowing his nose into the nape of my neck with a sigh of contentment.
I’m not sure what he means, but I’m too tired to ask, a tear slipping free when I wiggle back into the comfort of his embrace.
Chapter Eighteen
Forest
Sometime late in the morning, Josephine nudges me awake. “Aunt BeeBee says breakfast is ready.” Her hair a wild mess, with pillow creases on her right cheek, wearing someone else’s T-shirt—Isaiah’s, is my guess, since it hangs down to her ankles.
I reach to wake Autumn, finding the blankets cold, when Josephine skips off into the din of voices coming from the kitchen. Though I’d love to have woken beside the angel, it’s for the best that Josephine didn’t catch us sleeping together. Not before Autumn and I sit down to have a serious discussion about our strange relationship.
The sun streams brightly through the double French doors that lead to the backyard, and I find everyone either eating at the large kitchen table, on the stools at the island, or around the coffee table in the living room. Autumn stands at the stove, holding Benjamin as she transfers a few hot pancakes from the pan onto a platter. With this many mouths to feed, they’re gone in an instant. She’s still wearing my hoodie fromlast night, her legs bare, and I’m tempted to slip my hands beneath the material to grip her hips. I absolutely would, if I could get away with doing so in front of so many watchful eyes.
