you, me, and a baby part 4
author's note: here's the final part! thank you so much for showing nate and honey all the love!
summary: you and nate were fwb when one night leads to a lifelong consequence (aka you fucked around and found out)
pairing: nathan mackinnon x reader
warnings: accidental pregnancy, labor and delivery
you'd been a labor and delivery nurse since you graduated college five years ago, so realistically you knew many first time moms went past their due dates. so, in an effort to avoid disappointment, you'd mentally prepared yourself for being pregnant longer than forty weeks.
“i just don't see why she's taking so long,” he'd huffed one morning before his flight to chicago.
“because she's a baby and doesn't care about our schedules. a lot of first babies go past their due date, this isn't new.” you reached out and squeezed his arm. “it’ll be fine, nate. your mom and dad are here,” they were sleeping upstairs, “if anything happens, we’ll call you.”
he looked you up and down, scanned your face for any sign of pain. “you’ll call me as soon as something happens, i don't care what it is, okay? you call and i’ll be on the first flight back, i promise.”
“nothing’s gonna happen,” you said. “i’ll either be home or at work—”
“can’t you take your maternity leave now? you're past the 40 weeks mark,” he interjected.
“at this point, i’m doing light work,” you replied.
“light work as a nurse is still harder than a desk job, honey.”
you brushed him off. “i’ll relax until then, don't worry.”
but he was placing his hands on your hips and a kiss to the top of your head. “i'm always gonna worry when it comes to the two of you.”
you smiled and patted his chest with one hand. “you're sweet, but we’ll be okay. what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
“you go into labor while i'm on a roadie? that seems like a pretty big deal to me.”
“you heard dr. morgan, my cervix isn't that effaced and i’m like a centimeter dilated. nothing is going to happen while you're gone.”
and truth be told, it didn't.
your back started to ache a little more and you hardly ever left the house. graham and kathy helped out where they could, whether that was preparing meals to get you through the first few weeks postpartum or adding the final touches to the nursery.
everything was mostly ready for baby girl’s arrival. both cars had the car seats installed. the bassinet was set up in nate’s room which you'd all but moved into.
you just had to get through your next three shifts and hope and pray baby girl would come before you had to clock in.
but you should've known you were never that lucky.
nate got home from his roadie in the early hours of the 12th. he showered and immediately slipped into bed behind you, contorting his body around yours and the pregnancy pillow that was the sole reason you could sleep longer than forty-five minute increments.
he woke you up with breakfast in bed and sat behind you to massage your lower back when you complained.
“i’m ready for her to be here,” he mumbled into your hair, his fingers still working out the tension in your back.
“you and me both.” you winced as another cramp rippled through your back.
nate, noticing your pain, applied pressure. “don't go into work today, just stay home, call out.”
“it’s just one shift. if it’s bad tonight, i’ll call out tomorrow.” your ears waited for the grumbled reply you'd come to anticipate from nate, but he was silent, his hands just adding pressure to ease your discomfort.
hours later, he was helping you get dressed, giving you a look every time you so much as flinched. “you shouldn't be driving, let alone going to work.”
you gritted your teeth. “it’ll be fine, nate. my water’s still intact, and if something happens, which it won't,” you added when his face went pale, “i’m already at the hospital.”
kathy piped in from the kitchen. “she’s right, nate. labor takes a long time.”
nate glared at his mother, but softened his gaze when he saw the look his father was giving him. “i don't like the idea of you driving twenty minutes while you're potentially in labor.”
you squeezed his forearm gently and smiled to put him at ease. “i’ll call you if i need you, i promise.”
you made it to work without crashing, which you weren't worried about, but nate texted you once you pulled into the parking garage as if he'd been tracking your location (which he probably was) to make sure you got to work safe.
nate: call me if you need something
you liked the message and continued with your day.
sophie’s eyes widened when she saw you waddle to your desk. “girl, you shouldn't be here.”
“funny,” you sighed as you sat down. “you sound like nate.”
you didn't think it was possible for her eyes to get any wider, but they did. “nate? did you finally tell me the name of your baby daddy?”
you rolled your eyes. “that’s all the information you're getting out of me, soph.”
“let’s get this straight, i can know the gender of your baby before i know the first name of the guy you're having a baby with?”
when you thought about it, it kinda sounded ridiculous. not like she would know which nate you were talking about. nathan was a popular name. but you weren't going to back down now. “yep,” you said. “anything else?”
the charge nurse for your shift, meredith, did a double take when she saw you. “i thought i read the schedule wrong when it said you were coming in tonight,” she said. “i was waiting for you to call out and say you were having a baby.”
you rubbed your very large bump. “can’t say i am that lucky.”
“today’s what 41 weeks?” sophie asked.
“tomorrow will officially be 41 weeks,” you corrected. “but who’s counting?”
the tightness you felt in your back and your stomach only got worse as the night progressed. by midnight, you were incredibly uncomfortable regardless if you were standing or sitting. it wasn't until sophie grabbed you a yoga ball to sit on while you charted that you felt a little relief.
you were in the middle of a chart when your phone vibrated, a call from nate. “you realize it’s 2 am, you should be asleep,” you chastised, placing the phone between your shoulder and your ear as you continued to work.
“i’d be able to sleep if you were home, in bed, with me, where you should be when you're 41 weeks pregnant.”
at the sound of his name, sophie perked up from her desk next to you. she immediately scooted her chair closer until you used her foot to push the chair (and subsequently, sophie) away.
“how’re you feeling? everything okay? do you need me to come get you?”
you were about to respond, but a cramp rippled through your stomach. you inhaled and exhaled slowly, like a leaky tire.
“are you okay? are you contracting right now? do i need to come get you?” his voice picked up in near panic.
“no no,” you said, once the pain had passed. “i’m fine, probably just a tiny contraction.”
you could hear the rustling of what you assumed were the bedsheets. “nate, stay home. if it gets worse, i’ll come back, okay?”
“no, if it gets worse, you call me and i’ll come pick you up.”
“that doesn't make sense, you'd rather me wait twenty to thirty minutes for you to come get me and then drive home than for me to cross that distance myself? nate, it’d save time—”
“and this way would save my mind, if it gets bad, call me.”
“look, i’m already compromising by not coming down there right now to take you home until your water breaks, honey. i’m being reasonable. you are trying to prove a point. there’s a difference.”
you rolled your eyes. “you're such a worrier.”
“i don't play about people i care about, that includes you and baby girl.”
there was no stopping the smile on your face. “i’ll talk to you later, nate, i gotta get back to work and you need to get some sleep.”
he reluctantly accepted your response and bid you goodbye, asserting that if you needed anything, to call him regardless.
around 5 am, things turned up a notch. between your own contractions, you were assisting another mother’s labor, gritting your teeth when the pain flared up a little. after a bad enough contraction that had tears forming in the corners of your eyes at your desk, meredith told you to clock out and go home.
before you could protest, saying you could get through the last two hours, she cut you off. “go home. you're in pain, you're probably going to give birth in the next few days max. go home and relax before your baby comes, okay? i’ll make sure the right people know.”
you thanked her and said goodbye to sophie. it took you twice as long to get to your car as it normally would seeing as you had to walk slower when your contractions came. that's what they were, you were sure of it, but your water hadn't broken yet, so you weren't too concerned.
the drive was bordering on sketchy at best, you probably should've called nate to pick you up. the pain was getting worse, but you could still function. other than some intense cramping, you really had nothing to worry about, you were almost home, pulling into the neighborhood, everything was fine—
and then your water broke driving down your street.
your fists gripped the wheel, your jaw clenched and teeth grinded against each other when a cramp, stronger than the others, rippled through your stomach right as you pulled into the garage.
nate was already standing at the garage door by the time you slid out of the car.
“you okay?” his hands rubbed your arms till they settled on your cheeks “you're home early. they let you go?”
you nodded as the contraction faded. “my water broke in the car.”
nate’s eyes widened, immediately looking at the driver’s seat which was (disgustingly) covered in amniotic fluid.
tears sprung to your eyes which gained his attention once more. “hey hey hey, what's wrong?” he asked. “we can take my car, okay? it’s already packed, dad helped me install the car seat—”
“i need to get my car detailed now,” you whined.
to his credit, nathan didn't laugh at you, he just nodded. “i’ll call tracy about it, okay? i think we should go to the hospital.”
but you were moving past him and into the house, doing your best to smile at kathy and graham in the kitchen, while making your way to the stairs.
nate followed. “where the hell are you going? we need to go to the hospital.”
you waved him off and gripped the handrail to begin your ascent. “my contractions aren't five minutes apart yet, and i want to take a shower.”
you heard him sigh behind you and felt his hands on your hips, spotting you as you climbed the stairs.
you walked into nate’s ensuite that you'd practically commandeered since his parents came back after christmas. as you were undressing, nate started the shower and grabbed a set of comfortable clothes for you to wear post shower. one glance at the pile of neatly folded clothes on the counter nearly made you cry. it was an oversized mackinnon shirt that he'd picked up from the pro shop (well, he asked an intern to, but it was the thought that counted) because you couldn't really fit in his shirts comfortably anymore. under the shirt was your new favorite pair of sweatpants (a pair of nate’s that you'd stolen and untied the drawstrings). he'd even gone as far to pull out a pair of granny panties (you were too pregnant to be embarrassed) and wool socks.
it wasn't the clothes that made you emotional, but rather the thoughtfulness behind it. you almost cried.
you wanted to shower more than you wanted to reflect.
the shower was rather short. getting dressed between contractions actually took longer than the shower itself. after a few minutes, nate stepped in and helped you put your pants and socks on.
“you still good?” he asked as he rolled the socks onto your swollen feet.
you nodded and exhaled through another contraction.
“feels like the worst period of my life,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.
“you wanna head to the hospital now? there's no shame in going, the car’s packed, everything is ready the second you say yes.”
“i—” you hesitated too long for nate’s comfort so he grabbed his phone from his pocket and dialled who you assumed was the obgyn office. his thumb rubbed circles into your knee as he waited for someone from the front desk to pick up.
“hi yes, this is nathan mackinnon, i’m calling because my partner’s water broke and we’re not sure when to go to the hospital.” his eyes locked on yours, his hand now squeezing your knee gently. “her contractions aren't quite five minutes apart, but they're nearly a minute long each time.” he hummed as the other person spoke on the line. “okay, sounds good, thank you.”
“give it another hour," he frowned, especially when you winced again. “if your contractions are 5 minutes apart—”
“one minute long for an hour, then we can go in.”
“or if the fluid you're currently...leaking,” he grimaced, “turns a weird color.”
you nodded and held your arms up for him to help you off the side of the bathtub and to the bedroom.
“where do you wanna go? do you want to stay up here? go downstairs? it’s your choice. you probably need to eat though.”
nate set up the yoga ball in the living room with the great british bake off playing on the tv. you snacked on the food nate made (cut up fruit and greek yogurt with honey) while bouncing on the ball. kathy and graham went to do some grocery shopping and to give you and nate some peace and quiet without their hovering.
the next hour grew to be more brutal with each pass of the second hand. your fingernails dug into the arms of the couch as you did your best to breathe through the discomfort and pain. you weren't aware of much around you, but nate was timing things on his phone like a damn track coach.
after one particularly horrible contraction, nate stood. “that’s enough, let’s go.”
“what?” you asked, brain foggy through the pain.
“you've hit the markers, and i’m not wasting anymore time while you're in pain. we’re going to the hospital.”
looking back, you couldn't quite remember the journey there, just that you were clinging to nate’s bicep with each contraction, your forehead pressed into his shoulder, while his hand gently stroked your knee.
by the time you rolled up to the hospital, you were in agony. nate couldn't get the paperwork done fast enough before you started asking for an epidural. if you weren't in so much pain, you'd know you had to go to triage first, where you'd be checked and then they'd make the decision of whether or not to admit you, and it was then and only then that you could get the epidural. the years working in healthcare told you that.
you just didn't give a shit about any of that in the moment.
a nurse, who’s name you soon forgot when a contraction hit, checked your cervix. she stood up with a bright smile and glanced at you and nate. “so good news, you're 5cm dilated.”
you were admitted shortly thereafter.
as soon as you met your labor and delivery nurse, inez, you were asking for the epidural. she smiled at you softly. “you've got it. i’ll bring back the paperwork.” after she finished your iv and hooking you up to what felt like every machine the hospital owned (dear god, you didn't realize it was like this as a patient. it didn't feel like this many wires when you the one administering it), inez left and came back with a clipboard. she lightly explained the paperwork in front of you which you barely heard, mainly because you'd explained it hundreds of times before and also because nate was watching like a hawk.
if she said something out of line or confusing, which you doubted she would, nate would catch it.
you signed it in a hurry and inez smiled once more. “the anesthesiologist should be here soon.”
“how soon?” nate asked. “she's in a lot of pain.”
being between contractions meant you could roll your eyes at him. “she doesn't know, nate. but they’ll be here eventually.”
inez nodded. “let me know if you need anything.”
before another contraction could start, you made the decision to stand and walk around the room while you still could. without being told, nate helped put your legs on the floor and let you grab onto his forearms for support.
when your hospital gown parted like the red sea in the back and exposed your naked ass, nate cleared his throat. “do you need me to uh—cover you up?”
you waved him off. “it’s nothing you haven't seen before.”
“i know that, but what about the hospital staff—”
“they've seen a million asses in their lifetimes too, and soon enough they'll see my whole vagina so i don't really care.”
when another contraction forced itself to be recognized, you groaned and braced your hands on the end of the bed. quick as ever, nathan applied the counter pressure to your hips. after what felt like ten years (but was probably only max ninety seconds) you relaxed and leaned back into nate’s chest.
“i don't know how women do this unmedicated.” you said.
nate wrapped his hands under your belly and lifted. it nearly made you cry in relief. “you're doing so good though, honey.”
“i’ll be doing better once i get this fucking epidural.”
the anesthesiologist didn't arrive until 9 am, at which point you'd already cried three separate times. the very sight of your tears put nate on edge. needless to say, he was agitated by the time the anesthesiologist arrived to administer the epidural.
“you feeling okay?” nate asked once the two of you were alone again. his hand gently brushed hair back from your forehead.
you smiled. “i’m a brand new woman. might take a nap while i can.”
he nodded. “i think that's a good idea. i’m gonna call my parents and sarah, let them know what's going on.”
it took you a minute, but you looked out the window and saw the sun well above the horizon. your gaze went from the window to nate, back to the window, back to nate.
“you're not at practice.”
nate blinked. “why would i be at practice? you're in labor.”
“does your coach know? or does he just think you're skipping?”
nathan picked your hand up and pressed a kiss to the pulse point on the inside of your wrist. “called him and landy while you were showering this morning.”
you eased back into the pillows now that the momentary anxiety of nate getting in trouble was solved. “did you call tracy?”
“getting my car detailed! there’s amniotic fluid in my front seat, nate.”
to his credit, he only smiled and nodded instead of laughing at your misguided priorities. “get some rest, honey. i’ll get it taken care of.”
you fell asleep for god knows how long, all you knew was you woke up feeling pressure in your pelvis and like you needed to take a massive shit. your eyes landed on nate who was lightly dozing on the couch next to your bed.
his eyes opened immediately before he was back at your side again. “what's up? what do you need?”
“i need you to grab the nurse, i feel like i have to poop.”
nate blinked. “honey, i can help you go to the bathroom if you need—”
but you were shaking your head. “no it’s not actually a poop feeling, it means i need to push.”
his eyes widened before he was out of the room, calling for a nurse from the doorway. inez was in the room in a flash, her brows furrowed together. you were leaning on your left side, hands gripped the bed rails while nate was in front of you, brushing your hair back.
“she said she has an urge to poop,” he said.
inez pulled her gloves on and checked you. “well, i can feel baby’s head.” she pulled her hand away and took her gloves off. “i’m gonna call another nurse and your obgyn. we should have a baby here soon,” she smiled.
your delivery room filled up with more people, nurses and dr. morgan alike, but you could only focus on nate. his eyes were locked on you, his hand held the back of your thigh.
“you've got this, baby. you've got it.”
truth be told, you were scared, terrified even. you'd seen plenty of women do the same thing you were about to do, but it was different now that you were the one who had to push.
“alright, on the count of three, i want you to push,” dr. morgan said from her position at the end of the bed.
once you started pushing, tears sprung to your eyes, the pressure uncomfortably painful. nate’s eyes widened.
“why is she hurting? she got an epidural! what was the point of sticking a giant needle in her back if she’s still in pain?” he sounded a bit defensive and a touch panicked, like the idea of you in pain didn't sit right with him.
dr. morgan shook her head and gently said, “the epidural helps with contraction pain, not pushing pain.”
“i’m okay, nate,” you exhale after one push. “it’s part of the process.”
he didn't look convinced, but after a moment, he nodded and kissed your forehead. “you've got this, honey.” then, he added, “and i’ve got you.”
you looked up at him and gave him a shaky smile. “you've got me.”
dr. morgan spoke up again. “alright, we’re gonna need a good strong push, i can feel her head.”
you inhaled and pushed as you exhaled, squeezing your eyes shut. nate pressed his forehead to yours, counting quietly so you could focus solely on birthing your baby girl.
“good job, mama. i need another push just like that.”
there was no telling how long you pushed before she spoke again. “head’s out, next is the shoulders. just a few more pushes, mama.”
you looked up at nate who didn't even hesitate to say something. “just a few more, honey. you can do it, you've gotten this far. you can do it.”
and when he seemed so confident, who were you to doubt him? you pushed as hard as you could until the pressure stopped and a cry filled the room.
your eyes widened when you looked at nate, he looked at you for a moment as you were maneuvered to your back so your baby could be placed on your chest.
“time of birth, 12:29 pm,” dr. morgan said with a smile. “congratulations you two, you have a very beautiful baby girl.”
dr. morgan handed you your baby. her heavy weight was comforting on your chest, and just to be sure you counted every single toe and finger. you took note of her head full of dirty blonde hair. she cried out and you were stunned by how much love you could feel for someone you'd just met. in all iterations of the word, your daughter was helpless, and you would have to show her how to exist, how to be.
you glanced at nate because he was the only one who could understand exactly how you were feeling, but when you looked at him, he was crying and speechless. he kept pressing kisses to your temple, which were more teeth than anything because he couldn't stop smiling.
“she's absolutely perfect,” he finally said. nathan reached out and traced her chunky little arm. “hi baby girl, we've been waiting for you.”
and damn if that comment didn't make you burst into tears.
after a few moments, the nurses took your baby to the other side of the room to do measurements. without your instruction, nate followed, his eyes focused and trained on your daughter. you couldn't stop the smile growing on your face.
“baby girl is 10lbs 4oz, 20 inches” one of the nurses said with a wide smile. “she’s a big girl.”
you shifted as inez and dr. morgan helped you push out the placenta. “that explains why it hurt so fucking much.” you glanced at your obgyn. “be honest, how bad did i tear?”
“nothing too bad, you'll need a few stitches. but given how big she is, i’m surprised you didn't tear more.”
you relaxed back into the pillows just as nate came back with baby girl in his arms, sitting on the edge . he couldn't stop smiling or crying, but he had enough sense to not let his tears hit your daughter in the face.
you glanced over at inez for a brief moment and subtly pointed to your phone. she nodded immediately and took a few candid photos of the three (oh my god three?!) of you before setting your phone down.
you leaned your head against nate’s shoulder, his head came to rest on top of yours. “she’s perfect,” he said. “she looks just like you.”
in your opinion, while she was very cute, she still looked a lot like many other newborns who got beat up in the birth canal. granted, she was so much cuter than any other baby you'd seen or helped deliver, but you couldn't pinpoint any one trait that would make her look more like him or you.
except for the dirty blonde hair.
he shifted and handed baby girl over to you when she started getting a little fussy. you untucked her swaddle a little just enough to lay her on your bare chest, skin to skin, where she quieted almost immediately. with your pinky you stroked up and down her back, still speechless.
how could you have made someone so perfect?
“you know, i don't think she's gonna fit the newborn clothes we brought.”
inez piped in. “oh she's already in a size 1 diaper, she couldn't fit the newborn size.”
you looked at nate. “this is your fault.”
he didn't even look the least bit sorry. “worth it though.”
you tucked your chin to your chest to stare at your daughter, your daughter, whose eyes were finally opened and fixed on you. the world came to a standstill, tears sprang to your eyes.
you created her, grew her bones and veins, and organs in your own body. for the better part of last year, she’d been a physical part of you. she went where you went, nestled in the safety of your own body.
and now, for the rest of your life, you'd be walking around with your heart outside your body in the form of your little girl. you couldn't imagine loving anyone as much as you loved her. her little toes, her tiny little nose, the way her mouth kept opening and closing.
“are you hungry, sweet girl?” you whispered. you looked over to inez who was by your side in a second, maneuvering your nipple into your daughter’s mouth, helping her latch in the process. nate watched, amazed, if his slackened jaw was any indication.
“where are your parents right now?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your baby.
“still at the house, waiting for the call to visit. sarah’s trying to find a flight out.”
“when do you want your parents to show up?”
he shrugged. “figured we'd just spend some time together being the three of us before introducing more people to the fray.”
“because i didn't want to bombard you with my parents after giving birth.”
while part of you was touched, another part of you ached internally. he didn't know ever since you were a little girl, you dreamt of being surrounded by family, watching people you loved hold and fawn over your baby. that dream didn't last long once you were old enough to see the behaviors of your biological family.
but it didn't mean you still didn't crave it.
“let me finish breastfeeding and then you can text them to come,” you said.
“if it’s too much, honey—”
“it’s not,” you smiled. “i want them to see how perfect she is.” but he didn't look convinced. “do you want them to wait?”
“i just don't wanna rush this moment. you, her, us.” for a moment, he didn't look at you, just fiddled with his hands like they needed something to do. “just a little longer.”
“okay,” you smiled at him softly. “we can do that. just us.”
after feeding your daughter, with his giant, yet incredibly gentle, hands, nate burped her. you plucked your phone off the tray by your bed and texted his family, giving them the green light to come. you sent kathy a separate text, asking her to pack a cute outfit in the 0-3 months size for reasons she would understand when she met your daughter.
as soon as you locked your phone, you glanced over at nate and your baby girl. and out of all the words you’d used to describe nate in the past, soft wasn’t one you would’ve used until now. countless times, you'd seen the way he barrelled down the rink, like he was fighting the ice and somehow winning. you saw the fists he'd thrown, the bodies he'd checked, hands capable of such violence, yet choosing (entirely subconsciously) to be gentle in that moment. he actively chose to be careful with her.
the way his eyes never left your daughter, the way he bounced her back and forth was nothing but careful. you wanted to take a video and show the world that he wasn't some emotionless dog they claimed he was on the ice. there was no media training for the way he held her with a delicate touch. no traces of a carefully rehearsed pr interview when he stared at her like the sum of everything good he'd done had been cashed in for this one moment.
you took the video anyway, but you kept it in your phone for only your eyes to see, and later, hers for the occasions where she’d inevitably fight with her dad and doubt everything about his character, like how much he loved her.
his parents arrived with a quiet knock on the door, but their smiles were the loudest thing in the room. immediately upon seeing your little family, tears sprang into kathy’s eyes.
“oh my goodness, look at her,” she whispered. her gaze went back from your face to your daughter’s. “i brought an outfit like you said, one from the closet.” she pulled out a pretty lavender long sleeved onesie tracy gave you the day after she found out you were having a girl.
you reached for it while nate laid your daughter between your legs. carefully, you put the onesie on her, nate’s hands watching you do it from a learning standpoint with a dash of overprotective hovering.
while you dressed her, kathy and graham washed their hands in the bathroom. when they came back into the room you smiled and presented your daughter. “do you want to hold her?” you asked.
kathy’s eyes welled up immediately and nodded. gingerly, she took your little girl from you, cooing when she yawned and shifted in kathy’s arms. “she’s absolutely perfect,” she said. “do you have a name yet?”
you looked to nate, as if asking for confirmation. the two of you had agreed on a name a month ago.
“wyatt,” he said, smiling, his chest puffed out a little from pride. “wyatt addison mackinnon.”
truth be told, you and nate loved the name so much you didn't particularly care what others thought about it. but then kathy’s face collapsed into a watery smile and that was when you underestimated how much you'd actually want her approval.
“beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” graham said from his spot next to kathy, peering over her shoulder.
“mom, dad, you wanna come sit down?” nate asked. it sounded courteous, but you saw the way he was eyeing their standing positions.
kathy must've caught on too. “nathan, i birthed and raised two babies of my own, i know how to hold a baby while standing.” but wyatt shifted again and she softened. “but if it'll make you feel better.”
with careful steps under nathan’s watchful eye, his parents took a seat on the couch, obsessing over every little twitch and sound.
he took a seat next to you on the bed and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. his lips pressed to their favorite spot on the side of your head. “i’m really fucking proud of you, honey,” he said just loud enough for you to hear. “i don't think i've ever been this happy.”
and because you could, you teased, “even when you won the cup?”
“fuck the cup,” he said, then, after a moment, “the cup matters, sure. but this? wyatt? i would do anything for her, and you gave that opportunity to me, to be her dad.”
and because you couldn't help yourself, you leaned into him, you worked your arms around his waist and let yourself be held, be wanted.
graham was the next to hold her, letting wyatt grip his finger in the way she’d done with nate’s pinky shortly after she was born.
“so what's the plan?” graham asked.
you looked to nate, imploring him to answer for you seeing as you just pushed out a ten pound baby a few hours ago.
“i’m not playing tomorrow night, but i’ll play on the sixteenth. already talked to bednar and landy about it. they're both on board.”
“what about four nations? and your road games?”
your stomach sank, nate’s shoulders straightened. you'd have all of ten days with nathan and wyatt before he'd be gone on a roadie, then four nations, then another roadie, essentially gone for the entire month of february.
the thought of it made you want to throw up.
the two of you had discussed it once he knew about the schedule and four nations, but it seemed so far away. neither of you considered you'd be a month postpartum acting as a single mom when you made the decision to keep the pregnancy.
you wouldn't, couldn't, regret her now, not when she was the most perfect thing you'd ever laid your eyes on. but the thought of nate being gone for all of february made your head spin.
kathy, as if sensing the growing tension and the prolonged silence from you, cleared her throat. “we’ll help any way we can. now, i think mama wants her baby back,” she winked at you.
your arms stretched out for wyatt, your heart rate settled a little more when she was finally in your arms again.
that night, when his parents left, nate held wyatt, tracing her cheek gently. the conversation from earlier had been weighing on your mind. it felt like there was an anvil in your stomach.
“you're thinking too loud,” nate said absentmindedly. “what's going on?”
you shifted in bed. “what’re we gonna do, nate? you're gonna be gone the entire month of february.”
he looked up, blue eyes meeting yours. “we’ll figure it out, i’m not gonna leave you alone.” nate with one hand, reached out and squeezed your thigh. “we’ve got this.”
it took nate thirty minutes to get out of the door even after he was dressed and ready to go. he kept picking up his keys and putting them back down when you so much as winced from shifting in bed. if it wasn't your small noises of discomfort, it was wyatt. he'd make it as far as the bedroom door and she would make a slight squeak that had him bounding over to the bassinet to make sure she was okay.
“you're gonna be late,” you said.
“i don't like this,” he replied. “it’s too soon.”
you shrugged even as the very motion felt like it was pulling apart your psyche and heart at the same time. you didn't want him to go either, but there really wasn't much of a choice. “it is what it is, nate. you gotta go.”
his eyes pleaded with you. “tell me to stay,” he said, moving towards the bed and the bassinet. “tell me to stay and i will. i’ll stay.”
admittedly, the words almost left your lips, you almost uttered them. please don't go, please don't go. please don't—
“go, nate,” you smiled and hoped it was convincing. “we’ll be here when you get back and we’ll probably both be awake.”
his jaw clenched, you made a mental note to tell him to go to the dentist before he got tmj. “are you sure?”
“yes, we’ll be fine. we’ll be cheering you on from here and tracy’s on her way.”
nate pointed at you, his hand barely trembling. “you’ll call me if you need something and i’ll come home, okay?”
you nodded. “we’ll be alright. promise.”
he walked back over to the bassinet and laid a gentle kiss on wyatt’s head. “be good for mama, wyatt girl. i’ll be back before you know it.”
you waited until you heard the garage door close before you burst into tears. you wanted to be selfish, to ask him to stay, but knew you couldn't. you couldn't ask that of him. what if he said no?
it was becoming a problem, the way you wanted him all the time. you wanted nathan to be the one who brought you wyatt after a diaper change. you wanted him to be the one who held your hands when you went to the bathroom, who helped you get in and out of bed.
but you were scared that if you said it, the very words would reveal something you weren't ready to say out loud.
you were breastfeeding when tracy arrived with the spare key nate gave her and cale months ago. she sucked all the oxygen out of the room when she came in through the bedroom door. her eyes immediately welled up with tears.
“she’s beautiful, honey. oh my gosh look at her. she's so chunky!”
“ten pounds and some ounces,” you said, too tired to remember the exact weight.
she sat on the edge of the bed and rested a hand on your knee. “and how're you feeling? do you need anything?” she gave a cursory glance at your nursing cart which was still full of snacks and drinks. “when’s the last time you ate something?”
if you weren't freshly postpartum, as in a few days postpartum, you'd do the math. instead, you shrugged. “not sure.”
tracy immediately handed you a granola bar. “as soon as you're finished, i’ll burp miss girl while you eat.”
true to her word, tracy burped wyatt while you snacked on the granola bar and took sips out of your owala. neither of you bothered turning on the game, you'd seen so many in your lifetime, there was no need.
she continued to hold wyatt, cooing softly at your daughter as your eyes grew heavy. “rest up, i've got her.”
you wanted to protest, but didn't think you were able to anymore. “you'll wake me up if she needs me?”
tracy nodded. “as soon as she cries for you, i’ll wake you up.”
you relaxed back into the pillows and tried to get as comfortable as possible. you could trust tracy, you told yourself. you'd trusted her with everything else, you could trust her with your daughter.
you were asleep in a matter of minutes.
it wasn't crying or even tracy that woke you up, but rather the full sensation in your breasts that did. when your eyes opened, you saw tracy in the recliner on the other side of the bedroom with wyatt in her arms. you couldn't make out what she was saying to your daughter, but given that her kindle was in the other hand, you could only guess.
“are you reading smut to my newborn?” you asked, voice coming out like a knife on stone.
tracy looked at you and smiled. “no,” she said. “just teaching wyatt all about the wonders of literature.”
“i would hardly call what you read on kindle unlimited ‘literature.’”
tracy snickered. “you must be feeling better if you're being sarcastic.”
which was true, after a nap, you felt like a new human being, less antsy.
you did your best to sit up and unbutton your top by yourself. you were proud when you mostly made it into an upright position. tracy handed wyatt over and watched as you took her out of her swaddle before she latched.
“how long has she been awake?” you asked, not taking your eyes off your baby.
“about ten minutes, i think.”
“i thought you were going to wake me up when she cried.” you weren’t upset, just confused.
“i was,” tracy explained. “but she didn't cry at all, it’s like she knew her mama needed some rest. she's an easy baby.”
“she's only three days old, i wouldn't call her easy, she might be colicky in two weeks.” you glanced at your best friend and noticed she still had her kindle in her hand. “what're you reading?” you asked.
“oh,” she flushed. “just some billionaire romance i found.”
while tracy was explaining the plot (or lack thereof), you didn't hear the garage door opening of the footsteps coming up the stairs. you didn't notice anything until the bedroom door opened and he walked in.
“nate,” you smiled, feeling lighter already. “hey. how was the game?”
he had a cut on his nose that immediately made you frown. “we lost,” he said. “but i don't even care. how are you? how’s our girl?” he began taking off his coat and moved into the closet inside the bathroom, out of sight.
“we’ve been fine, trace let me get a nap in,” you called loud enough for him to hear but now loud enough to startle your baby.
“wyatt is an absolute angel,” tracy chimed in.
nate came back out wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. on cue, wyatt finished her feeding and nate swooped in just in time to take her. and took wyatt to burp her, not even flinching when she puked a little on his clean shirt. he just smiled and shook his head.
“of course she is, she takes after her mom.” he said it so matter of factly that it took a minute to register what he'd said.
maybe the butterflies you felt were a postpartum symptom, maybe it was your uterus retracting.
you'd have to look it up later.
there was an embarrassing amount of tears once nate left the house to go on his first roadie of february. earlier that morning, he'd skipped morning skate to stay in the house with wyatt. you'd cried as soon as he left.
and that had been about a week ago.
you were a wreck and it wasn't even wyatt’s fault.
for a newborn, she was easy. rarely crying, just cooing when she wasn’t hungry or her diaper wasn’t full. of course, she’d had some major blowouts, all babies did, but you could deal with rinsing your child off and tossing her clothes in the laundry pile.
except it was the laundry pile that was contributing to your declining mental health.
you were exhausted all the time. wyatt woke up multiple times in the middle of the night for feeds and seeing as nate was on the other side of the motherfucking continent, you were left to do all the feedings and diaper changes.
tracy would come over every day for as long as she feasibly could, giving you a break from your daughter.
god even the thought of needing a break from her made you break down into another set of tears.
you were failing, you were sure of it.
she was as content as a baby could be, but the house was a disaster, your clothes were dirty, and if it wasn't for the massive amount of onesies and outfits you got from your baby shower, wyatt would be rocking just a diaper.
“you're doing great, honey, really. this is hard, but you're killing it.”
“feels like it’s killing me,” you said into the couch pillow.
tracy ran a hand over the back of your head and all you could think about is how you wished it was nate’s instead. “but you're still here, wyatt is still here. she’s happy and healthy.”
you nodded even if you didn't believe it.
she picked your head up until your eyes met hers. “what's going on in that brain of yours?”
your bottom lip wobbled a little. “i just didn't think i'd be a single mom this soon.”
her face sagged in a sad way, something that could only be replicated by someone who loved you. “you're not a single mom—”
rage filled you with little to no explanation but it had a loud and dramatic arrival. you sat up abruptly and scoffed. “i'm not? look around tracy, do you see anyone?”
her eyes widened, taken aback by your outburst. but you couldn't stop.
“he isn't here, he hasn't been here in two weeks and i won't see him until the end of this month. he can't parent over the phone, tracy. and where does that leave me?” you dragged your hands down your face and exhaled. you rubbed at your eyes to keep the tears at bay. “i started looking at apartments yesterday.”
your eyes were covered so you couldn't see the way tracy’s face dropped, but you heard the shake in her voice. “what?”
“yeah,” you sighed. “i know it’s fast, but the sooner i can get used to the idea of doing this alone, the better.”
“nate would still see wyatt, obviously,” you cut in. “i wouldn't keep her from him, he's still a great dad. i just think being here is confusing.”
“what’s confusing about it?”
you shrugged, picking up laundry from the floor to put in the hamper, while your back was turned, tracy began furiously typing on her phone. “makes me think we’re one big happy family when nate and i were hardly friends when we first started sleeping together.”
“but you're friends now,” she said.
you swallowed and nodded. “yeah, friends.”
but you knew as well as she did it wasn't quite that simple. friends was an understatement of whatever you and nate were.
you'd slept in the same bed since christmas eve where he'd been ready to snatch a scooter from your two year old niece. in the weeks he'd been gone, you'd come to miss the way you woke up with his arm strewn across your waist. you'd missed his froggy morning voice, husky and dry from hours of not using it.
he'd handled you with such care during and after your pregnancy. hands that had been cut open and bled from the impact of skin meeting reinforced plastic helmets ghosted over your back, your hips, guiding you gently. fingers that had most definitely been broken at some point, carefully tied your shoes when you couldn't see your feet anymore.
nate treated you like you were delicate, not in a ticking time bomb way, like he was scared one wrong move would set you off, but in a way one would handle an heirloom, something valuable.
you felt valuable to him, beyond just friendship.
and yet, you chalked it up to just being the mother of his child.
it couldn't be anything more than that anyway.
a part of you felt like a prisoner, though a prisoner who didn't know she’d been locked up. had you known that from the get go, you would've started marking tallies on the walls to signify how long you'd been in the house with nothing but your baby and tracy to keep you company.
or, another marker, how long it’d been since you'd seen nate in person and not through the screen of your phone.
to his credit, he'd facetimed every chance he could, talking to wyatt like he did when you were still pregnant. he asked how you were doing and listened attentively when you told him how you showered for the first time in days.
“are you okay?” he'd asked one night.
you shrugged and hummed, which is all you seemed to do now. “yeah, we went to the doctor a few days ago, as you know, everything was great. she's still in the 85th percentile for weight.”
he laughed, a deep rich sound echoed through the receiver. and despite it being 9 pm, you could've sworn a little sunshine bled into the room. “my big girl,” he smiled.
you moved the phone to show wyatt snoozing away in her bassinet, something she’d gotten really good at doing. she loved a contact nap, but at night you tried to put her in the bassinet so you weren't always being touched.
“she's been super sweet,” you said. “but when you come back, you're changing all her diapers. i’m done cleaning up blowouts.”
nate smiled and nodded. “deal, i’ll do whatever. i’ve missed you both so much.”
the word rang in your head like a resounding gong.
you cleared your throat to get rid of the tension there. “how’s four nations going?”
he shrugged. “i'd say we’re doing pretty good. sid keeps asking to see more pictures of wyatt.”
“i sent you more this morning, those weren't enough?” the photos were of wyatt laying on her playmat doing tummy time with tracy while the latter read her a book by eric carle. another one was wyatt in the bouncer seat with a paci in her mouth watching you put clothes in the washing machine.
“i can't show him all the photos you send,” he said. “some of them have to be mine and mine alone.”
“right...you realize he's your best friend and not the social media admin?”
“yeah but he doesn't have to see every picture i see. like those photos of the three of us at the hospital? no one sees those but us and our scrapbook.”
you choked out a laugh. “our scrapbook?”
“it’s something i’m working on. the best photos go in there, including the ones on wyatt’s birthday.”
“well, those photos certainly aren't getting posted anywhere else,” you said. “i think my tits were out in one.”
nate rolled his eyes. “they were not out completely. it was...tasteful exposure.”
you blinked. “tasteful exposure? that's what we’re calling it?”
“you were doing skin to skin, it’s tasteful and practical.”
and because you couldn't help yourself, you smiled.
you didn't mention the apartment hunting, or the five tabs open on your laptop looking at different furniture stores. you didn't bring up your new pinterest board dedicated to creating a cohesive aesthetic of your new place.
nathan stayed on facetime until he yawned for the fifth time in the span of three minutes. “you need to go to bed,” you said. “you have a game tomorrow morning.”
“i wanna see her when she wakes up,” he said. “as cute as she is asleep, i wanna see her awake.”
“and you can do that tomorrow, when you've got a full night’s rest and the sun is up.”
for once, he didn't argue, maybe the exhaustion was hitting him harder than you thought. “as soon as you both wake up, call me. i’ll leave my phone on the bench during morning skate, i’ll give it to the equipment guy or whatever. but i want to see you both tomorrow morning before the game.”
“i’m not gonna interrupt your skate—”
“you should. if i don't have it down now, there's no point. besides, you two are more important.”
not important enough for you to be here instead of there, you thought bitterly. it was an unrealistic expectation, but the hormones and late nights didn't give a shit about logic anymore, if they ever did at all.
after another yawn from nate, you said, “goodnight, we’ll talk in the morning.”
seeing as he was fighting a losing battle, he nodded. “i’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
when you called at 6 am, it wasn’t nate who answered, but sidney crosby instead. you were too tired to care about how you looked after wyatt woke you up every two hours last night. you had the phone propped up on a box of cereal while you poured oatmeal into your bowl so your face and wyatt’s were shown without you having to hold the phone.
“hey wyatt!” sidney smiled. “how’s my best girl doing?”
wyatt, only being a month old, said nothing.
“she woke up every two hours last night,” you explained. “but she’s pretty content for a girl waiting to eat again.”
“are you exclusively breast feeding or are you pumping as well?” he asked. then, a second later. “is that too personal to ask?”
you laughed. “not too personal. i’m doing both, tracy feeds her sometimes so i can shower or eat something.”
he nodded along. “did you get my package in the mail yet?”
and because you couldn't help it, you smiled. “you mean the baby crosby onesie? she wore it yesterday and so far it’s the only outfit she hasn’t shit all over, so you might be good luck, crosby.”
“what about the stuffed penguin?”
“given that black and white are the only colors she can see other than red, it’s a pretty big hit.”
his smile widened. “just call me the baby whisperer.” wyatt shifted and smacked her lips a little. “are you hungry, little mama?” he asked. “god she's so cute, she looks just like you.”
“she's definitely a cute baby, in my humble opinion,” you agreed.
“is her hair getting darker?” he leaned in to see. “looks like it is.”
you nodded, not at all surprised by how observant the pittsburgh captain was. “it used to be dirty blonde, but it’s slowly but surely turning brown. she’ll probably be a brunette when she gets older.”
sidney opened his mouth to reply when the phone was snatched out of his hand. nate’s face filled your screen. “you held my family hostage on facetime and didn't think to come get me?” he grumbled, shoving sidney away. “what the hell did you two talk about anyway?” and despite his words, his tone wasn't bitter, there was a lightness to it even if his resting bitch face filled your screen.
“just seeing how my goddaughter liked her new onesie. apparently, it’s the only thing she hasn’t pooped all over.”
nate looked at the phone, a touch betrayed. “my own daughter, a penguins fan?”
you shrugged while adjusting wyatt in your grasp, trying to get a few bites to eat before she’d eventually demand to be fed. “i guess she’s a huge fan of sidney crosby. gets that from her dad, i think.” you blinked and leaned closer to the screen, still propped up on the box of honey nut cheerios. “aren't you two supposed to be practicing?”
“i was practicing until i saw the captain here yapping away on my phone.”
sidney rolled his eyes. “i’ll talk to you later,” he said, waving at you and wyatt. “send me some pictures of my goddaughter when you get a chance!” he called before skating off.
nate eyed you and wyatt. “how did you get sid’s number?” he asked warily.
you shrugged. “he sent it in the mail with the crosby outfit and the stuffed penguin she's obsessed with.” you stepped out of view of the camera while you unclipped part of your nursing bra so you could feed wyatt, whose lips kept smacking, a sign she was about to start crying in demand for food. she latched pretty quickly.
when you appeared on the screen again, nate was quick to hunch over the phone. “you okay?” you asked, supporting wyatt with one arm and grabbing your bowl of oatmeal with the other. the two of you headed to the couch where you used a pillow to support wyatt’s body while she ate so you could use both hands to eat your breakfast and hold the phone.
“just want to respect your privacy,” he said.
you looked down. “wyatt’s doing a pretty good job of covering up anything unsavory, nate.”
he stands up a little straighter at that. “what do you have planned for today?”
you shrugged. “we’re running low on groceries, might attempt a grocery run while wyatt girl and tracy stay home.”
he nodded. “i think that sounds like a great idea. when’s the last time you left the house?”
“a few days ago for her first vaccines.”
nate’s face dropped. “i missed those?”
“i told you we went to the doctor.”
“i didn't realize it was that appointment.”
“yeah, well you've been a little busy,” you mumbled, unable to hide the bitterness.
nate leaned back, shocked at your comment. “i’m sorry that my schedule worked out this way, honey, but it’s not my fault they selected me for four nations.”
you clenched your jaw before shoving a spoonful of oatmeal in your mouth. “no you're right, i’m just being dramatic.”
“she cried at the doctor’s office, if that's what you want to know. she doesn't like needles.” you swallowed at the memory of wyatt getting poked with a needle and nearly screaming her head off. it’s the loudest you'd ever heard her cry. and despite believing in modern medicine, you wanted to scoop your daughter up and never go back to the doctor’s office ever again.
his face sagged, heavy with the weight of his own absence. “i’m sorry, honey.”
“when you come back, you're sitting in there with her when she gets her vaccines. i’m not doing that again.”
he nodded readily. “of course, yeah, i can do that. god i’m so ready to be home.”
“ten more days,” you said, hoping your voice sounded lighter than it felt.
“ten more days,” he said. “we can make it that long.”
you woke up with an unfamiliar weight slung over your waist. that sensation coupled with wyatt’s pre meal grunting woke you like a sleeper agent. you picked your head up slowly, nate’s arm tightening around your hips until the tension released.
“i’ll get her,” he said, sitting up faster than you could ever imagine yourself doing and walking to your side of the bed to pick up your baby girl. “good morning, wyatt girl. did you sleep okay?”
you watched in confusion as he scooped her up and laid her on the bed to get her out of the swaddle before he changed her diaper. you didn't remember him coming home last night, nor did you remember waking up past 3 am like usual. “did you feed her last night?” you asked.
he nodded, though his eyes were fixed on wyatt. “got home and saw she was grunting and smacking her lips, so i got some breast milk from your stash and fed her.” he glanced at you. “hope that’s okay. you just looked like you could sleep a little longer.”
“thank you,” you replied.
“do you want to feed her or do you want her to bottle feed?” he asked. nate held wyatt in his large arms, bouncing and smiling at her. her arms waved around at the movement.
truth be told, part of you wanted to breast feed, but he hadn't seen her in person in a month and given his body language, more than likely, he wanted to feed her again.
“you can feed her, i’ll pump.”
“do you need help with anything before i head downstairs?” he asked.
but you shook your head. “i’m gonna take a quick shower while you have her occupied and then i’ll come down.”
he nodded and left the room while you stripped down and stepped into the bathroom.
the shower was heaven sent. it wasn't that you hadn't showered in ages, tracy had come over nearly every day in the last month to watch and hang out with wyatt so you could have some me time and conversations that weren't one sided.
but it was different with nate. it always was. it was like something inside you instinctively knew your baby was safe and sound with her dad. you weren't tempted to grab her and sit her in the bouncer in your bathroom so you could have eyes on her. that primal feeling that she was safe with her father allowed you to take your time in washing your hair instead of rushing out.
as soon as you got out and dried yourself off, you changed into sweats and a nursing bra, so you could pump hands free before you pulled a zipped up hoodie on top.
nate and wyatt were laying on the floor, both of them on their backs when you came down the stairs. he was pointing to the toys that jingled on her playmat while she was swatting the air.
nate looked up and smiled when he saw you. “she drank her entire bottle, gave a few hefty burps too.” he propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at your daughter. “she's gotten so big since i’ve last seen her.”
“well, that's what happens when you haven't seen her in a month,” you said before you could stop yourself. you turned to the cabinet quick enough that you didn't see a flash of hurt on nate’s face before he schooled it into something more palatable.
“what's the plan for today?” he asked.
you shrugged as you pulled out a box of cereal. “that depends on you, i’m on maternity leave.”
“when’s the last time you left the house with her?”
you blinked. “i haven't, except for doctor’s appointments.”
he blinked back. “why not?”
you blinked again. “because i was a single mother for a month? or did you forget that part?”
nate’s jaw clenched, but he didn't bite back. “wanna go to the grocery store? just the three of us?”
you shifted on your feet. “i don't know nate, there’s people there and she doesn't have enough vaccines for me to feel comfortable in an enclosed space.”
“then let’s go on a walk.”
it didn't feel right. “and take a chance on being spotted out with you and a baby?” you scoffed. “fat chance.”
“okay...” he started. “then let’s take a walk around the neighborhood. and you can't even blame it on the weather, it’s supposed to be like 65 degrees this afternoon. i checked.”
fine. “we can go after her 12 o’clock nap.”
sure enough, as soon as she woke up that afternoon, nate was dressed and ready to go. you, on the other hand, were slower moving. not because you were still in pain, but because you didn't want to go outside, not with wyatt. not when it was still cool outside.
66 degrees your ass. your daughter was used to warm baths and blankets.
but nate was already getting her ready.
“i think she needs the big coat,” you commented. “it’s cold out.”
he looked up at you from where he was changing her diaper. “got it.”
and after dragging your feet, the three of you made it to the sidewalk with wyatt in the baby wrap, snuggled close to nate’s chest.
“how far are we walking?” you asked.
he shrugged. “until she gets fussy.”
“we can't walk until she gets fussy, nate. if we do that, it’s too late.”
“then we walk until we want to turn around.”
you did your best to relax, it was clear nate and wyatt were capable, but you couldn't. for the life of you, you couldn't chill the fuck out.
and it wasn't even baby related anxiety. it was regular life shit. you still needed an apartment, one close to nate’s place, that was affordable, which given the part of denver he lived in, would be next to impossible to find. you had to get on a daycare list like yesterday and pray a spot opened up in time for you to go back to work in june. and because you're using all your pto to extend your maternity leave, you had to pray yet again to whatever higher power, you didn't get sick for a few months because you couldn't afford to miss work. you—
“—okay? honey?” you snapped out of it to look at nate and wyatt, both of whom were staring at you with matching expressions. to be fair, wyatt probably couldn't really see your face all that clearly. “you zoned out for a second.”
there’s zero chance he didn't see through your fake smile and nod, but he didn't say anything to challenge it either so...
a win’s a win, you guess.
when the three of you got back to the house, you made yourself comfortable on the couch while nate prepared a bottle for wyatt, feeding her with one hand while she rested comfortably in his other arm.
he'd be fine without you there all the time, you thought. sure, it’d be hard in the same way the entire month of february was for you, but he'd adjust. everyone always adjusted to your absence.
and it wasn't even like you'd be absent forever! you two just wouldn't live together, you'd coparent like you planned, just in separate houses. and wyatt wouldn't be traumatized, she wouldn't remember a time where the three of you were all in the same house. and if she happened upon photos of the three of you together on the couch because nate decided to take a selfie when you were looking your worst, then—
—then you'd just explain to her it was easier to be under the same roof at first, but life shifts and changes. and people come and go like suitcases on the carousel at an airport, sometimes you mix up who’s supposed to be yours and who’s supposed to be someone else’s.
but then you'd look at her and say, “wyatt girl, you were always meant to be mine.”
nate wasn't supposed to be yours, and you'd fooled yourself the last part of your pregnancy, really since christmas eve, into thinking he could be.
“i’m gonna get her ready for her nap,” he said.
you looked up and over your shoulder to see nate standing behind you at the bottom of the stairs. a quick nod was all you gave him before you grabbed your laptop, not sparing him another glance. you didn't see him linger at the bottom of the staircase, you didn't see him hesitate just for a second.
you were locked in on the zillow home page. your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in nathan’s address and zooming out to see what would fit your budget and—
you zoomed out farther, justifying the ever growing distance by saying you could use the money you'd save on rent for gas.
there were a few in your price range, about a ten minute drive to nathan’s place. you clicked on the listing and looked through the photos, they weren't bad but it looked a little dirty.
the next listing was better, but not by much.
really it was nathan’s fault for getting you used to a life of luxury because apartment hunting wouldn't have been this hard had you stayed in your shitty little apartment across town—
you jumped, nearly sending your laptop flying. in your fright, you couldn't hear the way nate’s voice sounded a little pinched, like someone who got hurt in a horror movie but can't make a sound for fear it would give them away.
you spun around and saw his hand shaking a little from where it’s sticking out, gesturing to you.
“you—you're looking at apartments?” he asked.
“y-yeah,” you finally said.
and because you couldn't do anything else, you shrugged like an idiot. “figured it was time.”
that seemed to snap nate out of whatever trance he was in. he was rounding the couch until he was parallel to the arm of it. “time? time for who? you're six weeks postpartum!”
“and you weren't here for most of it!” you shot back, kneeling on the cushion.
“so you leave? that’s your solution?” he ran a hand down his face. “you gonna take wyatt too?”
“well, she's breastfed so she can’t be without me—”
“—let me get this straight, you're gonna leave and take our daughter and you were gonna tell me this, when?”
“so i was gonna come home one day, expecting to see you and our little girl and instead of finding the two of you, i’d find, what? a note? a text that i didn't see? or one you timed perfectly when i walked through the garage door?”
you shook your head. “no i—”
“what exactly was your plan, honey? because this feels cruel, it feels mean. and that’s not who i know you to be.”
you stood up on shaky legs and crossed your arms. protection! your mind screamed. protect yourself before he gets too close and sees you.
“well,” you cleared your throat. “maybe you don't know me as well as you think.”
you couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the look on his face when he finally gave up. you licked your lips and braced for impact.
nate inhaled, you could feel it in your bones. you'd feared you'd grown accustomed to the sound, it was a part of you now. there was no telling how long it would take to get nathan mackinnon out of your system.
your heart stopped. your ears were ringing. you must've heard wrong because there was no way—
“bullshit,” he repeated. “i’m a lot of things, honey, but an idiot is not one of them. don't try to tell me what i do and do not know when i've known you, i know you.”
you shook your head and stepped back. “no you don't.”
“your favorite color is purple,” he said, not moving an inch.
“and i know that because it’s the color of wyatt’s nursery, it’s the most popular color you wear. it’s the color of your water bottle beside your bed.” he licked his lips. “i know your favorite disney princess is sleeping beauty who you'd insist i call—”
“—ra, because it’s her name, not the title of her movie. i know she’s your favorite because you watched it when you got sick when you were pregnant with wyatt. and all the faces of the princesses on your childhood scooter were faded or scratched away except for hers, like you were saving her for some reason.”
you swallowed, heat pooling behind your eyes.
nate took a step forward.
you took another step back.
you took another step back.
“i know you love your family despite everything. maybe you wished you could hate them because it’d be easier, but you don't. you couldn't. even when they ignore you, assume the worst about you, you love them.”
you shook your head, and blinked. with that one blink, tears fell, soaking your cheeks and chin. “you don't know that—”
“you still go back for christmas eve, you would've let them give away your scooter if it meant they'd accept you.”
he took a step closer to you, then another, and another. he was two feet now, his voice much softer.
you had nowhere else to go.
“it was your scooter to give away, honey, not theirs.”
you shook your head. “it was just a scooter,” you whispered.
“it was never just a scooter,” he said right back. with sure feet, he closed the distance between you, with shaky hands he cupped your face.
“why?” you asked. “why do you want me to stay?”
“it’s not a matter of want, honey. it’s a matter of needing. i don't want you to go, yes, but i don't think i could let you go even if i tried.”
“i don't...i don’t ...” there were not words for you to say.
he smiled ruefully and pressed his forehead against yours. “i knew i was a goner when you put a band aid over my stitches in cale’s bathroom. i thought you were the prettiest girl i’d ever seen and i’d be lucky if you gave me the time of day.”
“that doesn't make sense,” you shook your head, but he didn't let you pull away. “you're nathan fucking mackinnon and i’m—”
“—the love of my fucking life, the mother of my child, my favorite person.” he smiled. “do you want me to keep going?”
and because you couldn't stop yourself, a little squeak of a laugh came out. “no, no i think i got it.”
“good, because i love you.”
your body couldn't help its natural reaction to his confession. your eyes squinted from the force of your smile. your cheeks hurt, but your heart was singing.
“you love me?” you said just loud enough for him to hear.
“best day of my life was meeting you in that stupid bathroom,” he said.
and it told you everything.
“better than wyatt’s birth?” your hands gripped his shirt nervously in your palms.
“there’s no wyatt without meeting you in our best friends’ guest bathroom.”
and because you couldn't help yourself, you said, “i love you too, nathan mackinnon.”
“just nate,” he said. “to you, i’ve only ever been just nate.”
“nate,” you called as you came down the stairs. “you don't get to hog our daughter on her birthday. i’m the one who did all the hard work.”
you rounded the corner and saw your one year old in her father’s lap on the couch, a scrapbook in their laps.
“dada more,” wyatt said, lightly slapping the book with her little hand.
“more what, wyatt girl? what could you possibly want more of?”
you leaned against the doorframe and smiled to yourself. and, because you couldn't help yourself, you snapped a photo of the two of them. your old lockscreen was getting old anyway. you hadn't replaced it in two weeks.
“mama!” a shout grabbed your attention. your needy toddler held her hands out for you, so you obliged. as lovely a baby wyatt was, she’d proven to be a rambunctious toddler.
as you walked up to them, you scooped your daughter up and pressed a loud kiss to her chubby cheek. she squealed in response.
“no kiss for dada?” nate playfully scoffed.
you rolled your eyes just because you could. because this was your life.
“sorry, dada, forgot all about you.” he leaned up and met you halfway, kissing you sweetly. “what're we looking at?” you asked. when you took the seat next to nate, wyatt in your lap, your eyes widened. “it’s finished? you finished the book?”
he looked so smug. “finished last night while you were asleep watching real housewives.”
he pulled away when you tried to reach for it. “patience, honey. i’m about to show you.” a moment later, he grumbled, “i see where wyatt gets it.”
you shoved his shoulder and scoffed. “i heard that, jerk.” you watched and waited for him to open wyatt’s baby book, but he put it on the coffee table. “what're you doing? you said you were gonna show me.”
“later, i wanna show you this one first,” he said, sliding a scrapbook you'd never seen before out from under the couch.
your eyes widened, it was a lighter brown, like the color wyatt’s hair had turned after her blonde phase as a baby had grown out. “what is this?”
he shrugged. “thought it would be nice to have a family book too.”
he flipped the first page.
you immediately started crying.
the scrapbook first few pages were full of pictures that had to have been taken on nate’s phone over the years. there was a group photo from the night you'd met, standing on two opposite sides of the group, not knowing that in two and a half years, you'd have a kid and a future with each other. the pages blurred the further he flipped. photos of when you weren't looking, moments you didn't remember. the book, solid proof that nate had always seen you. there were photos of you at a bar with friends with his hand at your waist, back when you were just sleeping together. there were pictures at nate’s surprise birthday with his arm around your shoulders.
the pictures went on and on. after the games, the baby shower, wyatt’s birth, wyatt’s first avs game. there were so many fucking pages of photos you'd never seen before.
you were seen. there was proof you existed, proof you mattered. right in front of you, there was evidence that if you disappeared, there would be people who’d miss you, who’d need you. you were loved, by a group of people so massive you probably couldn't name them all from memory.
and you had this scrapbook, so carefully put together by the man you loved. a scrapbook full of photos but with lots of empty pages to accommodate anyone else you'd come across.
“god i love you,” you started, tears rapidly streaming down your face. “this whole thing might have been an accident, but if i had the chance to start over, i’d do it all on purpose.”
nate smiled wryly. “i wouldn't even take the chance,” he said. “why would i? this is everything i’ve ever wanted anyway.”
you stared at each other, wyatt had long since wiggled out of your lap to play with the stuffed penguin sidney gave her all too long ago. it'd seen better days, sidney had sent another, but wyatt was attached to the first one, you and nate were just waiting for the right time to switch them out and gaslight her into believing it’s the same toy she’d always loved.
“let’s go to the courthouse,” you said sporadically. “let’s just get married. like right now.”
nate laughed and shook his head. “oh you'll have to do better than that, honey. i have a plan and you're not about to ruin it.” he tossed an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple. “you’re just gonna have to be patient.”
you guffawed. “do i get a timeline?”
“nope,” he popped the p. “you're just gonna have to trust me, trust that i got you, because i know you.”
and because you couldn't stop yourself, not when you had the love of your life, the best little girl, all because the man in front of you ripped his stitches at a house party, you smiled the widest smile you ever thought you were capable of.
