Anticipation of Homecoming

VIOLET

I stir awake the following morning, my cheek resting against Zach’s chest. The bed is too cramped for any movement.

His sharp jawline, now sporting more than his usual five o’clock shadow, catches my eye. Once I’ve had my fill of admiring him, I scan the room to find Callum still asleep, but Tyler is missing.

He had taken the last batch of pumped milk to the boys a few hours ago, and it seems he hasn’t returned yet.

I gingerly free myself from Zach’s embrace, nearly toppling out of the tiny bed in the process. I then head to the bathroom to freshen up. My hair is a tangled mess, and I feel grimy. I didn’t get a chance to clean up after giving birth yesterday.

I indulge in a long shower, washing away the dried sweat and dirt from my body. I lather my hair twice before applying conditioner.

Then I shave my legs and armpits and brush my teeth in the shower while the conditioner works its magic on my hair.

I realize I need a haircut.

Pregnancy has done wonders for my hair growth. It’s almost down to my butt again.

A few weeks ago, Callum joked during a last-minute maternity photo shoot in the gardens that he would pay extra for a hairstylist to come to the hospital to trim my hair.

I like my hair long, but he sees it as a liability.

Zach never complains when he’s in the mood, and Tyler has never said anything negative about it.

I chuckle to myself as I rinse out the conditioner. I guess I can finally get that trim now. They’ll probably send me home before I know it. Maybe even Asher too.

I just hope Atticus can come home sooner rather than later.

I detangle my hair and moisturize my skin before putting on my underwear. I then quietly leave the bathroom and enter the hospital room, tiptoeing over to the suitcase I refuse to unpack. I pull out a comfortable mid-thigh dress that’s easy to move aside for breastfeeding or pumping.

I still look pregnant, my belly less firm but still rounded. The dress clings to the roundness that is now my empty uterus.

Callum sits up in the bed he was lying in, rubbing his eyes as he looks at me.

“Good morning,” I whisper to him, hoping not to wake Zach.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Callum smiles back at me, stretching tall and causing the sheet to fall down his waist, revealing his perfectly toned torso.

“Where’s Tyler?” he asks, hopping out of bed in nothing but his boxers.

I watch his nearly naked form saunter off toward the bathroom. I’m so distracted that I jump when someone knocks at the door, and it opens quietly.

“Wonderful, you’re up. I need to take some blood,” Ellie announces, wheeling in her little trolley of supplies.

“I was just about to go see the boys.”

“No need. Dr. Stein is preparing Atticus for discharge from the NICU. Tyler will be bringing both boys over very soon,” she informs me, gestering for me to sit on the chair.

“So he’s okay then?”

“He’s doing much better. They’ll probably keep you three here for today, and if they’re happy with him, I don’t see why the three of you can’t be discharged tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I echo.

Could I be going home for the first time in months as early as tomorrow?

I want to jump and squeal and dance in circles. I want to wake Zach up and shout in his face that we could be going home tomorrow with both of our children.

“What about Atticus’s antibiotics?” I ask, holding out my arm with a clenched fist as she wraps a tourniquet around my bicep.

“His markers have dropped significantly, but I presume he’ll be sent home with oral antibiotics. You should ask Dr. Stein about that, though,” she advises, inserting the small needle into the crook of my elbow. The vial fills quickly with my blood before she removes it and replaces it with another, filling that one as well.

“How are you feeling this morning? How are the headaches and itchy skin?”

“I don’t have a headache at all, but my skin is still itchy, not as bad though,” I report, glancing over at the bathroom door where Callum has just turned on the shower.

“My mother-in-law will be bringing Ella in at ten.”

“I’ll be sure to let the clerk know,” she smiles at me, placing a small cotton ball and tape on my arm to stop the bleeding. She then labels the vials of my blood and slips them into a little plastic bag.

“Okay, I just need to take your blood pressure, then I’ll let them know you’re ready for your breakfast,” she tells me.

I offer up my other arm for her to wrap the cuff around my bicep before she starts the machine. My blood pressure reads one-twenty-nine over ninety, the lowest it’s been in over six weeks.

“Your body is glad to have given birth to the boys, that’s for sure. You look much healthier today.”

“Thanks,” I respond, although it makes me feel bad that my body struggled with carrying my boys. I didn’t have any problems with Ella like I did with the boys.

She leaves me then, leaving the room in silence for me to ponder the fact that I wasn’t enough for my boys. It dampens my mood momentarily before Callum walks out with just a towel around his waist.

It’s been so long since I’ve been with any of the boys, and this is just a tease to see him naked before me in nothing but a towel while I’m bleeding and unable to have sex.

I sigh in frustration, standing from the chair to check the time on my phone. It’s only eight a.m., meaning I have two hours to wait for Ella.

“Atticus is being discharged from the NICU ward,” I announce as Callum rummages through one of the duffle bags for clothes.

“That’s great. Will he be staying here, in the room with you?”

“I think so,” I respond, reaching for the breast pump and preparing to sit down. It’s been three hours since I last pumped.

“You will soon be home, the three of you,” he states, pulling on some boxers and then some jeans that fit too snugly for my liking. He’s been working out more since I’ve been in here. His muscles are larger and more defined.

So are Zach’s.

Zach has regained what he had lost. He’s packed with more muscle, just like when I first met him.

I attach the pump to both breasts and start the cycle while admiring Zach’s naked upper half. His pecs are rounded and defined, the skin over his ribs taut. The small scar between his ribs on the left is still puckered, but the color is fading to a faint white.

I run my fingers over his muscles, reminded of a time I hate to think about.

A time when things could have turned out differently. Zach might not have been here. Maybe I wouldn’t be either.

Would I have survived?

Would I have kept Ella?

If Henry had had his way, would I still be with him now—back in London?

I shake my head and close my eyes, swallowing the saliva in my mouth. There’s no point in asking those questions because it’s over now.

Henry got five years in prison. He can apply for early release based on good behavior, but I don’t have time to worry about that.

I helped him get a shorter sentence. So the fear of him getting out early is all self-inflicted. Besides, he promised not to come near my children.

As if you can trust a word that man says.

The door swings open, and I look up to see Tyler’s smile. He’s pushing one of those clear cots.

“They discharged Atticus from the neonatal ward,” he says, parking the cot next to me on the bed. Both boys are swaddled in identical white blankets, lying side by side with little hats on.

Asher is on the right, his lips slimmer and cheeks slightly less rounded, and Atticus is on the left.

I sit and stare at my boys while pumping milk for them.

The bottles are full when I’m finished. Each one holds seven ounces. The milk is the sticky yellow substance they call colostrum, but it’s already starting to streak with a milky white color.

I wonder if Ella had been drinking colostrum all this time I’ve been pregnant?

How does that work?

Surely, it doesn’t just randomly change overnight?

I smile at how my milk volume hasn’t changed one bit. Maybe I can blame my overproduction of milk on Ella, Zach, and Callum.

Either way, I have no worries about whether I can feed these two boys. There’s surely enough to go around.

“Before we got here, they each had four ounces,” Tyler informs me, accepting the two bottles I hand him.

He caps them and labels each with the time and date, then carries them over to the already crowded fridge, where five or six spare bottles of milk are stored.

“I’ll aim to feed them when they’re due for their next meal.”

“You’ll do great, just like you did with Ella,” he assures me, handing me Asher as he maneuvers past me, then does the same with Atticus.

I settle onto the bed, a baby boy cradled in each arm, while Zach snoozes peacefully at my side.

Tyler bends down to plant a kiss on my forehead, while Callum stands at the foot of the bed, his face split into a wide grin.

“Now that’s a picture worth capturing,” he declares.