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My eyes move back to my sleeping boy. “God, if only they could have met you, Chase. They would have been such proud and loving grandparents. When you’re old enough, I’m going to take you to the park we used to go to and show you a few ball games my dad and I used to play there.”
Just as this thought enters my mind, a familiar delicate floral scent engulfs me, and at that moment, there is no doubt in my heart their spirits are here with us. I close my eyes and savor the sweet perfume that used to be my mother until it fades away. When it’s gone, I open my eyes and smile at the photograph.
“I love you guys.”
Two weeks later:
I slowly straighten up and reach into the small crib, breathing a sigh of relief when his steady heartbeat thumps under my fingertips. A hand touches my shoulder, and I turn to find Amanda standing there. She wraps her arms around me and speaks softly.
“Have you been sleeping here again?”
I nod, my gaze still fixed on the tiny chest.
She sits in my lap. “Talk to me,” she whispers, gently pushing the hair away from my face.
“I’m just more comfortable when I’m near him,” I explain.
“Brian,” she says, her voice laced with worry, “he’s sleeping in our bedroom, just four meters away from us.” Her other hand slides to the back of my neck, lightly tickling the hairs on my neck.
“What if I gave him a gene that is even more messed up than mine? What if...” My sentence is left unfinished when I look back at my sleeping son.
Amanda takes both of my cheeks in her hands and lifts my face up so I’m looking into her eyes. “Stop torturing yourself. You’ve been sitting in this chair next to his crib for two weeks now; it’s not doing you any good.”
She rests her forehead against mine, providing a healing salve to my stressed spirit. I hoped the overwhelming worries left the moment Chase was born. But they merely shifted shape and multiplied when I remembered the higher likelihood of boys inheriting the Brugada gene. I tried to stop my worries by recalling the seven-year-old Nathan having the gene but no symptoms, yet my mind still bombards me with what-ifs. Day after day, I sit next to him while he sleeps, checking on and off if his heart is still beating.
“It’s time to call Doctor Wilson and get Chase tested for the gene,” she says calmly. The sound of her calmness warms me, and I slide my hand behind her neck, bringing us closer.
“I’m scared.”
“Me too, but we’re going to deal with this together,” she replies, touching my cheek with her fingertips.
“God, I love you two so much,” I say before feeling her lips brush mine.
“And we love you,” she whispers.
We chuckle when Chase makes soft smacking noises and when we glance at him, he’s sucking on his fist and opening his eyes.
“Good morning, my handsome boy,” Amanda says with warmth. “Are you hungry?”
His head turns the second he hears her voice and sucks even harder.
She slides off my lap and picks him up. “Hello, sweetheart,” she coos, kissing his cheeks. “Time for breakfast,” she whispers while walking to the bed.
My heart warms seeing Amanda with our son. She’s a natural mom who enjoys motherhood to the fullest. And right now, with her long brown locks in a mess and wearing her wide nightgown, I find her strikingly stunning and sexy as hell.
After she takes a comfortable position and breastfeeds, I get off the chair and slide behind her on the bed.
“Just so you know, the next diaper change is on you, daddy,” she murmurs.
My lips curl. “Anything for you, my goddess.”
35
BRIAN
“How are you holding up, Fox? Any last-moment jitters?” Nick asks as I enter the living room and face my two best friends who’re relaxing on the couch. Both men wear custom-made tuxedos that complement my night-blue attire. I send them my signature smile while showing them my steady hands.
“Oh, this man is in complete control! Calm and collected, as always. Why should I be nervous? I’m finally making sure every man on this planet knows Amanda’s mine forever. And she’s happy because she hooked the most handsome man on the earth plane.”
