Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

now, 2038

“Kira, we’re leaving in five minutes, whether you’re ready or not!”

Nick’s voice is met with a slew of high pitched whines coming from the back bedroom. He rolls his eyes with a fond smile on his face, because he knows being eleven is difficult, especially when it comes to deciding what to wear. He’d been the same way back in his youth, about a million and a half years ago, if the lines on his face are any indicator. Even to this day, he too can spend hours in front of the mirror, obsessing over if his outfit choice makes him look older or fatter than he is, wondering if a different pair of jeans or shoes would bring it all together better than whatever he is currently dressed in. The apple certainly doesn’t fall far from the tree, it turns out.

“Have you seen Ruby’s inhaler?”

He’s brought back to reality by the sound of his husband’s voice from the kitchen. Nick can picture his concerned face, brows furrowed and eyes crinkled in the corners, lips downturned in a frown, before he even sees him. When he does meet him in the kitchen, every feature in his mind is identical to the man before him. That’s what being with someone for close to twenty years will do to you. Christ. Twenty years. Time sure does have a way of humbling everyone all the goddamn time.

“Check the hall closet,” Nick says, sitting down on one of the kitchen island stools and rummaging through a partially opened backpack by his feet. “If it’s not in here, it’s definitely there.”

Harry belines to the closet, erupting with an ah ha! only a moment later. Nick zips the backpack up and sets it back onto the floor. “Take it you were successful?”

“Yep. We haven’t had to use it in a while.” Harry sits down next to Nick, the inhaler in his hand. “But I’d rather Liv know where it is.” The just in case hangs in the air, all the memories of countless emergency room trips and nebulizers and x-rays and rescue inhalers never too far away from their minds.

“Did she take her Singulair this morning?”

Harry nods, just as little pads of feet turn both of their attentions to the doorway. Long, light brown waves and hazel eyes greet them, head cocked to one side, arms wrapped around her shoulders as though trying to protect herself. Nick’s heart melts at the sight of her, as it so often tends to do.

“Hiya Em.” He opens his arms and the little— Christ, she’s going to turn eight in under a month— girl crawls into his lap, snuggling her face into the crook of his shoulder. He kisses the top of her head, her hair tickling his nose with the scent of lavender and coconut from her shampoo. “You excited to see Auntie Liv?” Even though Liv is their cousin, it’s always been a little easier to call her their aunt, considering she is the same age as their dad.

Emmy shrugs, pulling her head back just enough to look at Nick. “Can I come with you?” she asks, her voice so soft and sweet, much like it always is. Nick glances over at Harry.

“Do you really want to?” he says after Harry shrugs, clearly not having a strong opinion either way. Emmy nods.

“Then you need to get dressed, quick as a cat or something like that.” He hauls his daughter off his lap, and nudges her gently back toward the hallway. “Two minutes, Em.”

“I’ll let Liv know it’s just Ruby today,” Harry says, placing the inhaler next to the lemons on the counter and taking out his phone. “Can you check on her, by the way?”

Nick nods, giving Harry a quick kiss on his way to the living room. Curled up on the couch is the last of his three children, the smallest but not technically the youngest. She gives her dad her saddest eyes beneath her glasses, her lower lip trembling as she reaches her arms out for him. “Daddy.”

He picks her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist, small whimpers puffing against his ear. Nick wonders if she’ll ever be too big for this, her almost eight-year-old body the same size as an average five-year-old. “How are you feeling, honeybee?”

“Don’t go,” she whines, and Nick kisses her forehead. It’s a little warm. He frowns.

“H, did you take Ruby’s temperature?”

“No, should I have?”

“She feels warm.” He carries her into the bathroom, just as Kira emerges from her room, dressed in baggy ripped jeans and a crop top. She stares at Nick and Ruby, all wild curls and green eyes identical to her dad, folding her arms across her chest.

“You said five minutes,” she says, eyes narrowed. Nick shoots her a look.

“Get us the thermometer, K,” he says. He wants to comment on her outfit choice, not entirely appropriate for a university graduation, but thinks better of it. At least she got dressed at all. “Hall closet.”

“I got it,” Harry says, joining the three of them in the bathroom. “Go help Emmy, love.” He kisses Kira’s temple and sends her on her way before handing the thermometer to Nick. “You feeling worse than earlier, Rubes?”

She nods sadly, still tucked into Nick’s body. “Hurts.”

“What does?” Harry kneels down and rubs Ruby’s back. Nick readies the thermometer, waiting for it to calibrate.

“Lungs.” Because of course Ruby knows exactly what it means to have lung pain. Her entire life has been based around it, ever since she and her sister arrived earthside nine weeks early and she’d been nothing but an underdeveloped marshmallow with especially sickly lungs. Nick gives Harry a concerned look just as Ruby coughs, the painful rumble coming deep from within her chest.

Harry pulls the inhaler out of his pocket while Nick gets the thermometer into her mouth. “Stay still for a bit,” he murmurs, running his fingers through her deep brown hair. Ruby complies easily, more than used to having her temperature taken. It’s certainly easier than having her blood drawn or having to stay perfectly still for an x-ray or a CT scan. The thermometer beeps moments later, reading 100.1 degrees.

“Take a few puffs,” Harry says, replacing the thermometer with the inhaler. Ruby nods and does what she’s told. “We can give her some Tylenol, it’s not too high right now.” The ever-present looming threat of pneumonia hangs over their heads, a stupid grey cloud that most likely will never go away. “Liv knows what to do.”

Nick nods as well, holding Ruby just a little tighter. “We’re gonna be late, aren’t we?”

Harry grabs the bottle of children’s Tylenol from behind the bathroom mirror and takes three tablets out, placing them under Ruby’s tongue once she is done with her inhaler. “Should be fine, can’t leave until Liv is here anyway.”

“Don’t go,” Ruby says again, whimpering and trying to hide herself in Nick’s arms. “Don’t want Auntie Liv.”

Nick’s heart aches and he holds onto Ruby even tighter still. “I know, string bean. But we’ll only be gone for a little bit. Back before you know it.” For a moment, he contemplates staying behind and letting Harry take the other girls to Diamond’s graduation, but if one of them stayed with Ruby every time she was sick, they’d never go anywhere ever again. And Harry’s right— Liv is more than capable of taking care of her cousin-niece, especially with her husband and sons off visiting her in-laws in western Mass.

Ruby coughs out a sob, right as the door buzzer goes off. “Kira, buzz Liv in!” Harry calls out. Kira responds by stomping to the control panel near the front door and holding the buzzer down. Minutes later, Liv knocks and Kira lets her in.

“Where’s my littlest girl?” Liv says happily. Nick can hear her saying hello to the other girls in the kitchen, most likely giving Emmy a hug.

“Bathroom,” Nick says, finally prying Ruby off of his torso and settling her down onto the closed toilet seat. Liv pokes her head into the bathroom, surveying the scene before her.

“Are we not feeling well?” she asks, sitting down on the floor right next to Ruby. Ruby pouts out her lower lip, her hazel eyes swimming with tears, glasses slightly askew. Nick straightens them out for her.

“A bit of a fever and a pretty deep cough,” Harry says. “Just gave her the rescue inhaler and some Tylenol. If the cough doesn’t calm down in the next half hour, she might need a neb treatment.”

“We can do that, can’t we?” Liv kisses Ruby’s forehead, which only seems to make Ruby’s tears fall faster down her cheeks. “We’ll be just fine.”

Ruby tries to shake her head, but Nick pulls her into a hug before she can inevitably ask her dads to stay home with her for a third time. “Come on, you and Liv can get settled on the couch. I bet she’ll let you watch anything you want.”

“Obviously. Ruby has the best taste in television.” Liv smiles at both of them before standing and following Harry into the living room, with Ruby and Nick trailing behind. “Pig wants to cuddle, too.”

Sure enough, a still stunning geriatric Pig Cat is waiting for them on the couch. At twenty-one, she barely looks a day over nine, eyes still bright and hearing as sharp as ever. She chirps at the sight of everyone entering her domain. Kira and Emmy are waiting at the front door, both dressed and ready to go. Kira still looks downright pissed.

“You said five minutes,” she repeats, tapping her heel. Emmy looks up at her sister, but doesn’t say anything. Nick is happy to see she is dressed in a sensible purple floral sundress with her hand-me-down Mary Jane shoes at the very least.

“We’re going,” Nick says, giving Ruby one last kiss on the forehead after she sits on the couch next to Pig. She’s still crying, but doesn’t beg for Nick to stay behind again. “Text me,” he tells Liv, who nods knowingly, because of course she’ll let the two of them know how Ruby is as many times as they need to feel okay about their decision to leave. “Love you, Ruby two shoes.”

The four of them shuffle from their Lower East Side apartment up to Radio City Music Hall for Diamond’s graduation ceremony, the M train taking them all the way there easily and without fanfare. Kira sticks her AirPods in the moment they are on the train, fiddling on her phone, while Emmy holds onto Nick’s hand and stays quiet. Harry slings a protective arm around Kira’s shoulders, who allows him to do so surprisingly fuss-free.

“She’s alright, right?” Harry says, addressing Nick as the train leaves the Delancey-Essex station. Nick nods, even though he isn’t entirely certain.

“‘Course she is, love. That cold is hanging on, but that’s all it is.” Not for the first time, he is beyond thankful that COVID isn’t something any of them think about anymore; if Ruby caught it back when it was a pandemic and not a vaccine-preventable disease, Nick knows it would’ve been catastrophic. “We’re all gonna be just fine.”

The graduation ceremony is beautiful. They sit next to LaKenna and Tyeisha, who is visiting from Atlanta where she works for Delta Airlines in their corporate office. Nick honestly can’t believe the older girl is already twenty-five. It truly feels like yesterday when the two sisters had crawled all over him and demanded to see pictures of the cats while Harry and LaKenna worked on Harry’s photo project. That particular portfolio had gone on to be featured in more galleries and spreads than Nick can count; to this day, Harry still gets inquiries about it at least a few times a week.

Watching Diamond cross the stage, hugging her NYU diploma to her chest like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever held, is one of the best things Nick has seen. He knows how hard she’s worked to get her bachelor’s degree at Steinhardt, consistently keeping her grades high enough to continue to qualify for just about every scholarship she applied for. She’ll be starting her Master’s degree in Communication Sciences and Disorders at Georgia State University, joining her sister in Atlanta, in just a few months. Nick can’t lie and say he won’t miss her bubbly presence around their place, a staple for his family for over fifteen years.

They are congratulating Diamond outside Radio City, swapping hugs and well-wishes, when Nick’s phone goes off with a call from Liv. His stomach sinks. Stepping away from the group, he puts the phone to his ear. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re at the hospital, Nick. Ruby was having trouble breathing, the nebulizer didn’t help.”

He runs a hand through his hair, heart fluttering uncomfortably in his throat. It’s not that any of them are unaccustomed to taking Ruby to the hospital, but this is the first time it hasn’t been Harry or himself doing it. He knows Ruby must be in a right state about it.

“Which one?” He’s signaling for Harry to join him, without success.

“I took her up to Bellevue, I thought maybe Alexa or Niall were working and could stop by at the very least. The Uber only took fifteen minutes, we just got here.”

They’re only about fifteen minutes from Bellevue themselves. Harry finally notices Nick gesturing to him, and goes to join him. “Ruby?”

Nick nods. “Liv took her to Bellevue, she’s having trouble breathing.”

Harry swears, running his hand through his hair exactly as Nick had done. “Call an Uber and go, I’ll stay with K and Emmy and try to get a hold of Gem.”

“You’ll meet me there, yeah?” Nick says. “I want Niall to look at her scans, if she has any.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Harry kisses Nick quickly, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary on his cheek. “I’ll tell everyone what’s up.”

“Give Diamond my love,” Nick says before returning to his call with Liv. “I’m gonna call an Uber, I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

“She’s alright, Nick. But—”

“Better safe than sorry. Thanks, love. I always trust your judgment.” He hangs up the phone before opening the Uber app and calling a car. As the car pulls up, he looks back at the rest of his family, wishing more than anything that both himself and Ruby were caught up in the excitement with all of them, before he gets into the backseat and shuts the door.

Alexa is waiting for him in the emergency room and immediately pulls him into a hug. “I’ve just been to check on her in the pediatric wing,” she says, leading Nick down a hallway that he is all too familiar with. “She’s a brave little lady, as always.”

“What have they done so far?”

“Not much, they only just took her back. I suspect she’ll need more x-rays at the very least. Probably antibiotics. They already have her on oxygen. Do you want me to page Niall?”

“Please.” God, Nick loves his friends. “I don’t want to have to fight for a CT scan again. Can’t we get it on her chart that she needs a CT scan every time this happens?”

“Talk to Niall,” Alexa says, patting his arm as they get to a private room. At least Ruby has been afforded one of those. “I’ll come check in later.”

“Love you,” Nick says. Alexa kisses his cheek.

“Tell Liv she did well.”

“She knows.” Liv always knows. Nick definitely has the best niece in the entire world.

Even though he has seen Ruby in a hospital bed more times than he can count, it still feels like a punch to his gut every time. She looks even smaller than usual, even in a pediatric bed, dressed in a green gown with tigers on it, with an oxygen mask on her face. She is holding Liv’s hand, but her head snaps up the moment Nick enters the room.

“Daddy!” She tries to get up, but Nick crosses the room fast enough to settle her back down. Liv smiles at him, not letting go of Ruby’s hand.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my littlest pea pod.” He takes her mask off just long enough to kiss her on the corner of her mouth. He smiles at her, well trained at keeping his calm around her, especially in situations like these. “Don’t try to talk, honey, you know that.”

Ruby pouts, her mouth looking slightly warped underneath the fogged up plastic, but stays quiet.

“Her cough got pretty aggressive, and then she started wheezing,” Liv says, stroking some of Ruby’s sweaty hair away from her forehead. “The nebulizer didn’t help too much, so I decided to take her here.”

“Right call,” Nick says, smiling at his daughter. “Has the doctor been back?”

Liv shakes her head. “A nurse got her the oxygen, but that’s it so far. Is Harry coming?”

“As soon as he can find someone to watch Kira and Emmy.”

“I can—”

“Liv, I’m about to send you home. You’ve done more than enough.” He gives her half a hug, finally taking a seat next to her. Ruby lets go of Liv’s hand and reaches for Nick’s, which he takes immediately. “When is Ben back with the boys?’”

“Monday evening. Whole weekend to myself.” She grins. “Plenty of time to work.”

“You weird little troll, loving your job enough to work on the weekend—”

“Mr. Grimshaw?”

Nick stands back up, turning to face the practitioner standing in the doorway. “Nick, thanks.” He’s disappointed that it’s not one of the doctors they know well at this point, like Dr. Avery or Dr. Nwosu.

“Nick, I’m Amir, pediatric nurse on-call.” He smiles, stepping into the room. “This must be Ruby.”

Ruby refuses to look at Amir, instead closing her eyes and tilting her chin up, as though that will make him disappear. She looks a lot like Harry when she does that.

“Ruby Grimshaw, yeah. She’s seven. Nearly eight. And this is Olivia, my niece. She’s the one who brought Ruby in.”

Liv shakes the nurse’s hand, but remains seated.

“So what’s going on with Miss Ruby today?” Amir asks, fiddling with the oxygen tank. He looks at the oxygen-saturation monitor on Ruby’s finger, jotting the numbers down onto his notepad.

“She had bronchopulmonary dysplasia when she was born,” Nick says, ready to rattle off his daughter’s entire medical history. He’s fairly certain he has the list of her illnesses and medications tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. “And has had problems with her lungs ever since.”

“What medications does she take?”

Not for the first time, Nick considers making business cards that say all of Ruby’s medications. Although, getting them updated every time one is added, taken away, or tweaked would be a pain in the ass. “Singulair and Flovent every day for her asthma. Claritin, too. Albuterol as needed. We also have a nebulizer at home. She’s done plenty of steroid and antibiotic rounds, but nothing daily.”

“Has she ever had any surgeries?”

“She had laser therapy for her retinopathy back when she was really young. And she had a g-tube for a while, so she’s had a few endoscopies.” These are all words that he hates that he knows, hates that there is a reason for them to be in his vocabulary.

Amir doesn’t acknowledge what Nick says, but he does add more notes to his pad. “I’m going to take her vitals, and then the on-call doc will be in.” He moves carefully around Ruby, taking her blood pressure and temperature. Nick notices that her fever is still hanging around, now coming in at 100.4. “How long has she had a fever?”

“This morning her temperature was 100.1. I gave her Tylenol…” He glances at his phone, noting the time. Harry’s texted him, letting him know that he’s bringing the girls to Gemma’s place in Chelsea and then heading to the hospital. “Four hours ago. Listen, Amir.” He looks over at Amir, waiting for the nurse to make eye contact with him. “We’ve done this more than once. She probably has pneumonia, and I know she’ll need an x-ray. But I’d like it on her file that she should also have a CT scan and an ultrasound.”

Amir raises his eyebrows, clearly thinking that Nick is overstepping. “That won’t be necessary for pneumonia, Mr. Grimshaw.”

Nick bristles at being called by his surname again, but there are much more pressing matters. “Please put it in her file. When she was two and this happened, the x-ray came back clear but she got sicker and wound up in the PICU.” He sighs shakily, images of Ruby from five years prior flooding his mind, lifeless and helpless, struggling to even take the smallest breath. He never wants her to be that sick ever again.

Amir pauses, looking at Nick with pursed lips. Nick knows he’s thinking about bringing in a shrink, that he probably thinks Nick has Munchausen by Proxy or something equally absurd. “I’ll let the doctor know.” His voice is curt, thin. He then nods at him and leaves.

Liv whistles out a breath, rolling her eyes. “Why would you mention the extra scans unless you knew she needed them? What parent wants their child to have to go through that?”

“Harry’s better at explaining it. They always think I’m the next DeeDee Blanchard or something.” With a sigh, he looks at his phone again. “Harry got the girls to Gemma’s ten minutes ago, so he should be here any minute.”

Two minutes later, Harry bursts into the room, looking flushed. “Did you run here?” Nick asks, bewildered, crossing to greet him with a hug and a quick kiss.

“Traffic was bad, I hopped out of the Uber at, like, 23rd and 3rd and booked it.” He holds his chest, taking a few steadying breaths, before plastering a smile onto his face and crawling into Ruby’s bed the best he can. He ends up half in, half out, arms wrapping around his littlest girl and holding her close, careful not to bump her oxygen mask off. Nick’s heart clenches at the sight of them.

“I’m gonna go,” Liv says softly, standing up and giving Nick a hug. He kisses her temple, letting the hug linger for as long as he can.

“Thank you, babe,” he murmurs. “Seriously.”

“Love you, I’ll text when I’m home.” She waves at Harry and Ruby, and then she’s gone. Nick sits in her abandoned chair, looking at two of his four loves. He sometimes can’t believe this is his life now— the most incredible husband he could ask for and three amazing daughters. Kira, his eldest and the one who keeps him on his toes the most, the one who pushes back and is constantly testing her own boundaries and limits with him. Emmy, his sweet and gentle easy child and, of course, her twin sister Ruby, handed far too many health challenges in her short life but who always keeps her head above water and exceeds everyone’s expectations.

“Did you talk to Niall?”

Harry looks up at him and nods. “He’s gonna come down as soon as he can. He’ll take a look at her scans and make sure she gets the CT and ultrasound.”

“God bless him. I saw Alexa earlier, too, and I know she’ll stop back eventually.”

“What do we know so far?” Harry asks, fingers tracing over Ruby’s face as her eyes flutter shut, clearly drained. She always does better in the hospital when both of her dads are there. “Pneumonia?”

“Probably. Nurse came in and got the basics, took some vitals, most likely thinks I have Munchausen by Proxy.” He sighs. “The usual.”

“Nobody thinks you have Munchausen by Proxy, lovey. And if they do, that’s why we keep Alexa and Niall around.” Harry’s skin is pale, face tired, and Nick sees a very peculiar, unfortunately familiar darkness in his eyes, something only Nick ever recognizes, the one that is reserved for whenever he’s in the hospital. Because not only is it hard to constantly have to take your kid to the hospital, Nick knows Harry can’t help but have flashbacks to his own, horrific time in the emergency room, over twenty years ago at this point. That pain won’t ever go away, with each hospital trip drawing more and more memories to the forefront of his mind.

“Hey,” Nick says, getting Harry’s attention. Harry looks up again, catching his eye. “What’s going on in there?”

Harry shrugs. “It’s okay.” It’s not, but Nick knows there’s nothing they can do about that now.

then, 2026

They both knew they wanted to be dads, but they didn't know how they were going to make that happen.

Nick suggested adoption, but Harry shot it down almost immediately. “International adoption is totally off the table,” he said over breakfast one morning. Nick frowned around his coffee, looking at Harry questioningly. Harry sighed. “It’s basically human trafficking. Or, it at least can be. These mothers don’t have resources or support to care for their children so they are basically conned into giving them up so white couples in Western countries can colonize them. Instead of, you know, actually providing them with what they need to be parents.”

“What about domestic adoption, then?” Nick asked. But Harry had shook his head even before the words had finished leaving Nick’s mouth. “It’s the same thing, really. Mostly marginalized mothers, with no other options, being forced to give up their children. The foster care system in this country should be for the explicit reason of reunification, which means people like us shouldn’t just swoop in and adopt.” Nick knew it had to be more complicated than that, much more nuanced, but he also knew Harry wouldn’t ever budge, so there was no point in trying to change his mind.

Harry suggested being pregnant, but Nick had to remind him that, biologically, it wasn’t possible. He had pouted around their apartment for a while after that, and Nick eventually had to tell him that if by some impossible miracle he did get pregnant, the baby would have to be pushed out of his ass or cut out of his stomach to be born. That had shut him up right quick. They did consider fostering for reunification for a while, or else fostering older children who had the ability to consent to their parenting, but Nick knew he would become far too attached to any child in his care to then have to reunite them with their birth families, no matter how necessary and important it was. As selfish as it perhaps was, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

In the end, after tears and fights and breakdowns and not having a single idea of how they were going to become dads, it was Aimee who stepped in to save the day. Aimee, who had gone through a nightmarish pregnancy of her own two years prior and swore she’d never do it again. Aimee, who was raising a toddler while still working full-time. Aimee, who had zero obligation to offer what she did.

But she did.

As if there was no doubt in her mind that things would end up this way.

She offered to carry their baby for them.

Nick thought it was a joke. “Aims, you’re talking shit, aren’t you?”

Aimee shook her head. “Wouldn’t joke about this, you know that.” And Nick did. Aimee always had a good sense of boundaries, between what was okay to poke fun at, and what was off limits. Nick and Harry’s inability to have a child was, definitely, off limits. “I’ve been pregnant before, I know what to expect. I think I can handle nine months for you two to have an entire lifetime.”

“You hated being pregnant, though,” Nick reminded her, as if she had forgotten. “Remember the puking, the crying, the insomnia, the back pain, the swollen feet?”

“I am familiar with it all, yes. And yet, I’m still offering. I’m offering to carry your kid for you because I love you and I want you to be a dad.”

Aimee’s one condition was that they didn’t use her egg. She didn’t want to give birth to a child who biologically belonged to her. She wanted her full attention and devotion to be on Sunday, not on the baby that Nick and Harry would raise. They’d agreed, of course, thankful that a few publications had picked up some of Harry’s photos and compensated him generously. They could afford an egg donor and IVF and doctor’s visits and the possibility that this could take a few tries and anything Aimee could need to hopefully make this pregnancy not as brutal as her last.

Nick’s one condition was that they didn’t use his sperm. Something about the idea of his spunk being inside of Aimee, even in the most clinical of senses, made him feel uneasy. He also shamelessly wanted his child to have Harry’s wild curls and green eyes, maybe inherit the dimple on his left cheek, and his youthful vulnerability that still clung to him, even after he began the downhill slide into his thirties. Nick was a little worried that his own child would come out somehow looking like a wet mop. A wet mop with knobbly knees and a horrible metabolism. Harry’s genetics were the obvious choice.

Harry’s one condition was that they found an egg donor who matched Nick as much as possible. They all knew that this baby wouldn’t share any DNA with Nick, and while Nick wasn’t really bothered by it, Harry wanted to do what he could to at least pretend that Nick was biologically a part of this. They scoured over endless files of potential donors, women from all walks of life with all sorts of health histories and background and ancestry and personalities. Nick said it reminded him of trying to adopt a pet from the shelter. It was, by far, the weirdest thing he’d ever done. Picking fifty percent of his future child’s biology based on how well someone could write a profile of themselves.

Eventually, they found Noelle. Noelle, a 24-year-old college graduate who had seen an advertisement for egg donation on the subway and thought it would be a good way to make some extra money. Noelle, who looked so much like Liv that it scared Nick, made him think that it was Liv staring back at him from the computer screen offering her eggs. Noelle, who was a native New Yorker of ambiguous Western European descent with brown hair and hazel eyes and a smattering of freckles across her face. Her profile talked about how much she loved animals, afternoons out with friends, music, and her family. She was a self-described extrovert who dreamed of working in radio one day and who said her favorite hobby was talking about herself to anyone who would listen. Harry had laughed so hard he’d fallen out of his chair when he read that. Noelle was Nick somehow, it was clear to everyone. And even though they wouldn’t ever meet her in person, she would be uniquely intertwined in their lives for the rest of forever in a way that Nick really couldn’t wrap his mind around.

But he was grateful.

So, so grateful.

After that, it was all medical jargon and appointments and menstrual cycles and hormone injections and ultrasounds and prayers for implantation. Harry had to jack off into a cup at the clinic, in a sterile room that only provided him with magazines and DVDs full of naked women to help him along. Nick had to talk to him over the phone, had to sit at home and touch himself and moan and pant down the line to Harry and remind him how beautiful and loved and good he was in order for him to come into the cup, the only time they’d ever had sex with the explicit purpose of making a child. When he’d arrived home from that appointment, Nick had taken him apart in his arms, his tongue touching every surface of his body, fingers deep inside of him, each kiss breathless and symbolic of the life they were trying to create, even if it was being done in unorthodox ways. And when Harry had ridden Nick’s cock, his head tipped back, mouth open in a long, drawn out moan, Nick had stared in awe at the face of the man he’d dedicated and devoted his life to and knew that something even bigger was on the horizon, something bigger than simply the two of them. For the first time, they had come at the exact same moment, Nick’s cock pulsing in time with Harry’s full body contractions. Nick’s hands gripped Harry’s hips like an anchor, while Harry’s rested over Nick’s heart, the steady thumps of his heartbeat guiding them both home.

Somehow, the stars aligned for them. The universe decided to throw them a bit of a bone, after all the shit they’d gone through, all the trauma and pain and undeniable grief that had threatened to tear them into pieces. In January, Aimee went to the clinic to be implanted with Noelle’s egg and Harry’s sperm, and by February, the three of them crowded around an ultrasound monitor while the technician pointed out the tiny fetus growing inside of her. When they found the heartbeat, small but mighty, Harry had crumbled to his knees in tears, holding onto Aimee’s hand for dear life. Nick had buried his head in his own hands, overwhelmed in a way he’d never felt before.

It was really happening.

They were going to be dads.

October 3rd. Their baby was due on October 3rd. A Libra, Aimee pointed out. Sensitive, compassionate, empathetic. Mean Girls Day, Nick pointed out. ‘On October 3rd, he asked me what day it was.’ Harry was just happy he understood the reference. And that his baby, hopefully, wouldn’t be a Gemini. “There’s just something about Geminis, Nick. I can't explain it but I can't trust them.”

At the end of May, they found out they were having a girl. This time it was Nick who fell to his knees, which he had paid for later, but the weight of having a daughter had left him boneless. A daughter. His daughter. A best friend for Sunday, a cousin for Liv, a niece for Jane and Andy, another granddaughter for his mom. And his dad. He was so thankful he got to see his dad be a grandfather to Liv, so he at least could pretend that he’d love his little girl in all the same ways.

Harry had been inconsolable. They had talked, early on, about how they would be happy with any gender child, and that whatever sex they were assigned at birth wasn’t necessarily equal to the gender they would one day identify with, and that they would love and cherish their child no matter what, but Nick knew that deep down, Harry wanted to have a daughter. He’d slipped up a few times and referred to the growing fetus as a she, and when Nick caught him looking at baby names on his phone, his list for a girl was miles long while the one for a boy was short and succinct. He was getting his wish, even if he had never given a voice to it out loud. They were having a daughter, and she would be the most loved little girl most likely in the entire world.

Because she was genetically Harry’s, they decided that she would carry on the Grimshaw name as another reminder of her connection to Nick’s family. And one night, when Harry woke up from a dream he couldn’t remember, he had reached for his phone and typed something into his Notes app. Something that was on the tip of his tongue somehow, perhaps from the dream, perhaps from somewhere deeper in his mind. A name. A name that when Nick read it, lit up his entire soul in the most intimately familiar way, as if something inside of him knew that it belonged to his daughter. They wrote it down and stuck it to the fridge as a reminder of all the joy that was getting ready to enter their lives.

September 3rd began the one month countdown to their daughter’s due date. They made a calendar to check off each day, as well as a to-do list of things to get ready. Finish the nursery. Finalize their paternity leaves. Pack a hospital bag, even though Aimee was going to have one for herself, too. Spoil Aimee rotten. Which included late night bodega runs for pints of ice cream and bags of chips and bottles of Gatorade and absolutely anything else her heart desired.

They hadn’t known that just three days later, everything would come to a screeching halt. That life as they knew it would change both in ways they expected and in ways they didn’t.

That, somehow, time always seemed to find a way to sneak up on them and humble them, even when they desperately didn’t want it to.

By some cruel twist of fate, Kira Aimee Grimshaw was born on September 6th, 2026.

Exactly ten years after her father had been shot and nearly killed in a random act of violence that had shattered his life, and the lives of so many others, forever.

now

Three hours, a handful of x-rays, an ultrasound, and a CT scan later, Niall comes into their room, shutting the door behind him. Ruby beams when she sees him, once again trying to sit up and get to him, but Harry holds her back.

“Hey kiddo,” Niall says, returning the little girl’s smile. He’s holding some papers in a manila envelope, along with a CD. Nick wonders how the hell anyone can even load a CD these days, it’s not like his laptop has had a CD slot since before Trump was president. “Just got done looking over her scans.”

“It’s pneumonia, isn’t it?” Harry frowns, biting his lip. Niall nods.

“You can see it on the x-rays, but it presents as mild. The CT scan shows that it’s actually progressed farther than that.” He pauses, and Nick knows he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to hear. “The CT also shows the early stages of an abscess on her left lung that the x-ray didn’t pick up. No hypertension though, so at least we have that going for us.”

“An abscess? Like another infection? How is that different from pneumonia?”

“It’s a pus-filled pocket on the lung.” Niall pulls one of the papers out from his manila envelope, and Nick recognizes it as a chest x-ray. “You can’t see it on the x-ray, but it’s right here.” He circles a part of the left lung. “It’s next to some bronchi, which could explain the mucousy cough she has, although pneumonia on its own can cause that anyway.”

“How did she get it, the abscess thing?” Nick asks, not sure if he should panic or not.

“Pneumonia can cause them, although it’s most often seen in cases of aspiration pneumonia, which she most likely doesn’t have.”

“Isn’t that when you choke on your own vomit or something?”

Niall gives half a nod, half a shrug. “That’s one way. It’s caused by breathing shit into your lungs that shouldn’t be there. Vomit, food, even water can cause aspiration pneumonia. But that doesn’t mean that other kinds of pneumonia can’t cause abscesses. We’re lucky the CT picked it up, it shouldn’t be too tough to treat.”

“Antibiotics, yeah.” Harry sighs, running a shaking hand through his hair before rubbing at his face aggressively, clearly trying to wake himself up. “Please tell me that the same antibiotics will knock out the pneumonia and the abscess.”

Niall shrugs again. “You’ll have to ask her doc about that. They may want to culture it if it doesn’t respond to treatment, but I think she’ll be fine.” He tousles Ruby’s hair, and she preens under his touch. The twins especially have a special love for their Uncle Niall.

“Thanks, Ni,” Nick says. “Seriously.”

“I noted in her chart to always do a CT and an ultrasound last time she was in, but it really depends on the provider if they are gonna follow it or not. But if you run into trouble again, gimme a call and I’ll make sure it happens.” He winks at Harry and Nick, before waving at Ruby. “I gotta get home to Uncle Brez now, little love, but how about you and Emmy come ‘round once you’re feeling better, alright?”

Ruby nods, but breaks off coughing shortly after. Harry rubs her back, gently soothing her as it settles.

“Text me, Haz. Let me know how she’s doing.” With one final nod to the pair of them, Niall heads out of the room. Not even a minute later, the on-call pediatric pulmonologist, Dr. Patel, knocks on the door. Nick hasn’t met her before, surprisingly, since he assumed he was on a first name basis with all the pediatric pulmonologists at Bellevue at this point, but she’s thankfully been nothing but nice to them all so far.

“Did Dr. Horan stop by?” she asks, and both Nick and Harry nod. It’s still odd to hear someone refer to Niall as Dr. Horan even though he is, in fact, a doctor with the last name of Horan. “Miss Ruby here has what we would classify as a severe case of bacterial pneumonia, along with a small abscess on the left lung. Most likely, the cold she had developed into bacterial pneumonia, which in turn caused the abscess to form.”

“Ni— Dr. Horan mentioned aspiration pneumonia?” Harry says, the last word of his sentence tilting with an inflection like a question.

“That’s the most common cause of lung abscesses, but not the only cause. You don’t recall her choking on anything, do you?”

Harry and Nick look at each other, then both shake their heads. “This is the third time she’s had pneumonia, though. The first time—” Nick hates mentioning what happened five years ago. Ruby had been this close to needing a ventilator to breathe. Sometimes he can still hear her sick, horrible wheezing in his mind, he can smell the sterile staleness of the intensive care unit, he can hear the beeping from all the machines that were attached to her, keeping her alive. “The first time, things progressed really quickly, so it got really bad.” A bit of an understatement, but that’s all Nick can give up right now.

“Recurrent bouts of pneumonia certainly can increase the risk of subsequent infection and complications,” Dr. Patel says, flipping through Ruby’s chart, undoubtedly looking for more information about her previous infections. “It says here that she had pneumonia at ages two and five. And now seven. It also mentions she was in the PICU when she was two.” Dr. Patel looks carefully at Nick and Harry. “Since that visit wasn’t at Bellevue, I don’t have a file for it. Would you be able to get that for me?”

Harry nods, and Nick can see tears starting to build up in his eyes. The RSV Ruby had gotten when she was two had progressed into pneumonia, which had then progressed into something Nick hadn’t ever heard before, something awful that he never wants to think about again, which hadn’t been caught on the x-rays the doctors had done earlier. And one afternoon, when they still thought they were dealing with a mild case of pneumonia, Ruby turned blue, the veins in her neck swelled up, and her breathing became labored before dropping off completely. Nick had called 911 in complete hysteria and the paramedics had rushed them to Mount Sinai’s pediatric emergency room, their toddler barely breathing. And because Harry had been at work, Nick had gone alone, had to sit by himself and wait until Harry could arrive, scared to death that he was going to lose her.

“What can we do to prevent all of this from happening again?” Harry’s choked-up voice snaps Nick back to the present, where Ruby may be sick, but she is strong and she isn’t anywhere near death’s door. Not at all like it had been.

Dr. Patel studies Harry for a moment, and Nick can only assume she can see the emotion and desperation in every fiber of his being just like he can. It’s louder than midtown at rush hour. “You’re already doing what you can,” she says slowly. “Controlling her asthma is one part of it, since asthma patients have a higher pneumonia risk. Obviously trying to keep her from getting sick is another part. Do you ever have her wear a surgical mask or respirator in public?”

Nick grumbles softly, hopefully not loud enough for Dr. Patel to hear. It’s been years since he’s given a second thought to wearing masks; the COVID years had been way more than enough of that for him for a lifetime. “No, but we can.”

“A child-sized KN95 respirator would be beneficial to hopefully prevent her from getting sick,” Dr. Patel says. “And plenty of hand washing, along with a balanced diet and enough sleep.”

“She’s a fussy eater,” Harry admits. “She had a g-tube for a few years and it’s been tough to get her to eat ever since.” Because along with all of these lung issues and needing eye surgery, their daughter also had failure to thrive and has struggled with poor weight gain for her entire life. Because why have one chronic health issue when you can have three?

“Do you use any nutritional shakes, like Pediasure, to supplement her intake?”

“Sometimes,” Nick says. “Even those she isn’t a fan of.”

Dr. Patel flips a few more pages in her chart. “Currently, she is 39 inches tall, and right around 30 lbs. Her BMI is on the low end of normal, but proportionally she is much smaller than the average eight-year-old.”

This isn’t news to them. “Her twin sister probably has about five inches on her, and at least fifteen pounds,” Harry says. “They were both premature, obviously, but Ruby’s had a tougher time.”

“She may catch up,” Dr. Patel says, smiling at Ruby, who has fallen asleep amongst all the medical talk. “But making sure she is getting complete nutrition is essential, not just for preventing acute illness but also to set her up for success in her adulthood.”

Nick knows this. He’s known this since the moment Kira was born, and he’s probably known this for as long as he’s been alive, although following it for himself has always been hit-or-miss. His kids, though? Never in a billion years would he let any of them have any less than everything they need to be healthy.

“So how do we fix the pneumonia?” Nick asks, swinging the conversation back to the challenge at hand. “And the abscess.”

“I’m glad we were able to catch the abscess, because treating that will hopefully also treat the pneumonia. But, it does require a few days of IV antibiotics.” Dr. Patel smiles sadly. “Which means, unfortunately, we’re going to have to keep Ruby here until that course is completed. If she responds well to them, then she can go home and continue on oral antibiotics.”

Nick swears, louder than he’d normally do around the kids, but he doesn’t care. “How long?”

“Five days should be sufficient. We’ll do another CT scan and most likely an ultrasound after that’s done, then reassess.”

He can hear Harry’s sigh without looking at him. “There’s no way to give them to her at home?” Harry’s voice is tight, and Nick knows he’s on the verge of losing it. There’s nothing Harry hates more than hospital stays.

“Unfortunately no, I’d also like to keep her on supplemental oxygen and do some nebulizer treatments to break up the mucus and help her cough be more productive. The good news is that she should start to feel much better in the next day or so, since the IV antibiotics don’t take long to respond.” She smiles at them, but Nick can’t return it. Not when he now has to prepare his seven-year-old for her billionth hospital stay— her first in quite a while. When neither Nick nor Harry say anything, Dr. Patel continues. “I’ll have a nurse come by and get her all set up with the IV, and then we’ll move her up to a room in the pediatric ward.”

At least it’s not the PICU.

“Do either of you have any questions?” Dr. Patel asks. They both shake their heads wearily. “If you think of any, just let a nurse know and we’ll be happy to help.” She gives Ruby one last smile, then exits.

The nurse— a lovely woman named Heather— wheels Ruby from the emergency wing up to the inpatient floor, a new IV attached to her full of broad-spectrum antibiotics. The room is decorated with an aquatic theme, which Nick knows Ruby will appreciate once she is awake and feeling less shitty. There’s also a pull-out bed for one of them to sleep on.

“I’ll stay,” Nick says quietly, exhaustion weighing his body down like a dumbbell. “That alright?”

Harry nods, but he doesn’t look happy. “We’ll switch off. I’ll stay tomorrow.”

Nick knows that Harry would be better at home— he has always been better with Kira, which is something Nick is no longer afraid to admit to— but he also knows that he can’t fight him on this. Not when Ruby is his daughter, too. Even though Kira’s complex needs have been so demanding that Harry has tended to be the one to care for her, leaving Nick to more-or-less take on the role of Ruby’s primary caregiver.

And Emmy? Well, thank god for Emmy Anne Grimshaw, really. That’s all Nick can say about that.

“‘Course, love.” He crosses the room to where Harry is standing and draws him into his arms. Harry snuggles himself against his body, his head tucking into the curve of his neck, exactly where he’s made a home for himself for nearly two decades. “It’s gonna be okay.” Harry sniffs, and Nick knows he’s about to cry. He tightens his hold on him and lets it happen. “That’s it, sweetheart. Get it out, I’m here. Ruby’s here, and she’s okay. We’re all okay.”

“I hate this,” Harry weeps. “God, I hate this so much.”

“I know. Christ, I know.” Nick can feel his own eyes filling with tears, but he quickly blinks them away, knowing he needs to keep himself together for Ruby’s sake. She could wake up at any moment. “Go take care of our other littles, alright? Plus Queen Pig needs her thyroid medication.”

Harry takes a few shuddering breaths, then wipes his face on his sleeves. Nick holds onto his shoulders, his right hand soothing over his scars, even though he knows Harry can’t feel his touch, before kissing him. He means to pull away after a moment, but he can’t. Not when kissing has always helped keep Harry grounded, not when he wants more than anything for the three of them to head home together right in this instance, not when the one thing he can always count on is the way this boy— this man’s— body feels against his own. It’s the most constant thing he’s ever had, apart from his friendship with Aimee. It’s the thing that makes him feel the most safe.

“I love you,” he murmurs once their kiss does finally break. He stares into Harry’s eyes, red-rimmed and swollen, swiping the residual tears away with his thumb. “I love you, baby.”

Harry nods, bowing his head so Nick can kiss his forehead. “I’ll call an Uber over to Gem’s.”

“If you want to stay there with them, I can always text Aimee and see if she can pop in on Pig,” Nick says. “She is still sort of half hers, anyway.”

“Maybe. Can I text you and let you know once I get there?”

“Yeah, of course.” He gives Harry one final kiss, then leads him out the door. “You can FaceTime Ruby later to say goodnight.”

“Okay.” Harry sneaks one last look at Ruby over Nick’s shoulder before he heads down the hallway toward the exit. Nick watches him go, his body suddenly tighter and more tense than it had been moments before. He wants to take away every ounce of pain that Harry and Kira and Ruby constantly feel; if he could rip out his own lungs and give them to Ruby, he would. If he could take his brain and let Kira have it, he would. If he could pull every angry, traumatic memory away from Harry and swallow them himself, he would.

Instead, he kicks off his shoes, lays down on the uncomfortable pull-out bed, and waits for his daughter to wake up.

then, 2026

Even though Nick had next to no experience with children, he really didn’t think that his foray into fatherhood would be as hard as it was.

But it was. It most certainly was.

Although Kira had been born four weeks premature, she arrived as healthy as could be, with a set of lungs that could scream loud enough to be heard all the way in the Far Rockaways. With porcelain skin, barely a hair on her head, and the piercing blue eyes of a newborn, she captivated everyone who saw her almost instantly. Harry was certain there had never been a more beautiful baby. Even Aimee had to admit that she was something special, although nobody would ever be as perfect to her as Sunday was. Nick could understand that. He could hardly take his eyes off of Kira, so drawn into the intensity she already had at even just a few days old. There was just something about her, something that words couldn’t capture.

She was perfect.

It took a few days, however, for Nick to notice Harry’s apprehension around her. Because while he was quick to talk about her, to tell everyone he knew just how wonderful his baby daughter was, he never jumped to hold her, to change her, to feed her, to simply be with her. And it wasn’t from a lack of want; he was up with Nick for every late-night bottle and diaper change. But it was as though an invisible force held him back, made him watch his baby from afar rather than from a courtside seat.

“Sweetheart?” Nick whispered one night, a few weeks after Kira came home, the autumn leaves swirling outside their window, dancing in the moonlight. Harry rolled over to face him, and Nick drew him into his arms immediately. “Love, we need to talk.”

“That’s never good,” Harry said, trying to laugh but letting it die in his throat instead. He looked at Nick with a similar intensity as Kira, making it abundantly clear where she had inherited it from. “I hope you’re not breaking up with me.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Nick said as he ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, the familiar sensation still so nice, even five and a half years later. “We need to talk about Kira.”

“What about her?”

“Harry.” Nick did his best to keep his voice even. “Are you not, like, bonding with her or something?”

“What?” Harry looked at Nick, brow furrowed with a confused frown on his face. “What do you mean? Of course I am—”

“I know you love her, I just…” Nick sighed, trying to gather his thoughts in at least a semi-coherent way. “You sort of keep yourself in the background, is all. I appreciate you getting up when she cries, but I’m still the one feeding her and changing her and rocking her and everything, mostly. I just want to know what you’re thinking.” It’s not that Nick hadn’t considered that something as big as a child would perhaps shake up Harry’s brain in new ways— things smaller than that had done so over the past half a decade. After they moved out of their old Alphabet City apartment and into their current place a few years before, Harry had developed nightmares for months, never evolving into night terrors, but still being disruptive enough to cause significant stress. Nick wasn’t sure he’d ever not wonder if Harry’s next breakdown was lurking behind every corner.

Harry’s eyes filled with tears. Nick’s heart sank into the bottoms of his feet. “Harry, sweetheart.” He held him even closer, his own emotions threatening to make him cry as well, but he kept it together. “Whatever it is, I promise it’s okay.”

“It’s stupid,” Harry sniffed, his voice slightly muted from the position of his head in Nick’s chest. “It’s so fucking stupid, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“Is it because of her birthday?” Because that was another thing. While both of them knew objectively that it didn’t matter that Kira was born on the ten-year-anniversary of when Harry had gotten shot, realistically it had the potential to be a big deal. They’d tiptoed around September 6th for as long as they’d known each other, ever since the five-year-anniversary when Harry had crawled out onto the fire escape in a rainstorm in tears, scaring Nick half to death when he’d come home from work that night. It had been the first time Nick had ever seen him cry. Six years after the shooting, Harry had laid on the couch and cried nonstop from sunrise to sunset, hadn’t eaten anything all day, and had eventually thrown up from crying so hard before falling asleep in Nick’s arms. Nick had never felt as helpless as he had the entirety of that day. The night after Harry had gone onto Nick’s work podcast on the seven-year-anniversary, he had a panic attack so bad that he’d needed stitches in his hand after punching the bathroom mirror, desperate to feel anything other than the horrifying reality of everything in his mind. On the eight-year-anniversary, he’d gotten so drunk that Nick had stayed up all night to make sure he was still breathing, terrified to fall asleep and wake up with him dead beside him. And, on the nine-year-anniversary, he’d talked so intently about wanting to die, that Nick nearly had him committed right then and there; he’d only held off because he had a feeling everything would be better the following day. Which it was. But it hadn’t stopped Nick from hiding every sharp object in their house for weeks, locking every bottle of pills in the safe, and keeping a close eye on Harry at all times, afraid he could blink and suddenly he would’ve thrown himself out a window or hung himself with a bedsheet.

The ten-year-anniversary had brought Kira into their lives. And while she absolutely was the best thing to happen to them, it didn’t mean she wiped away everything that had come before her.

Harry nodded and buried his face in his hands. “It’s so stupid, it’s all so stupid. There’s no reason for me to be like this. It’s not her fault.”

Nick hummed to him softly, trying to reason with the situation in his mind. There hadn’t been a chapter in What To Expect When You’re Expecting about what to do when your baby was born on the same day that your husband was shot and very nearly killed when he was a teenager. Somehow that chapter had missed the final draft. “I don’t know how to help you,” he finally admitted, voice soft and pained. “All I know how to do is love you. But I also need to love her.”

“I know you do.” Harry pulled his head away from Nick’s chest to look at him, cheeks red and tear-stained. His pale green eyes, still sparkling with tears, took Nick’s breath away with their beauty. “I do too. Please believe me, Nick. God, I can’t believe I’ve been this much of a fuck up—”

“I know you love her.” Nick smoothed Harry’s hair down with his fingers, watching him closely.

Harry cleared his throat and sat up, eyes never leaving Nick’s gaze. “When I look at her, sometimes all I can think about are all the different ways she might get hurt. Like, I know she’ll skin her knees and trip and fall, and someday someone might even break her heart, but, fuck, what if someone shoots her? What if someone assaults her or kidnaps her or kills her?” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to steady himself. After so long, Nick knew the reason behind almost everything Harry did. “And you can’t even say that I’m overreacting. I’m not overreacting, because that kid was me.”

“You’re not overreacting. I’d never think that.”

“She’s just so perfect, Nick. She’s so beautiful and innocent and defenseless and of course someone could hurt her.” He rubbed his face and then looked at Nick once again, eyes pleading. “My brain is doing that dissociation thing again. Because I look at her, and I suddenly see her lying in a hospital bed, and my brain decides it’s easier to just… not.”

“You have to talk to someone, sweetheart.” Nick grabbed his hand and interlocked his fingers with his, yearning to make things better. “Do you still have the list of names Angie left you?”

Harry nodded. His long-time therapist had gotten married and moved to Bermuda the previous year. Nick knew he should’ve pushed Harry to establish care with someone new before Kira arrived. Maybe this whole situation could’ve been avoided if he had.

“Postpartum issues happen to dads, too, I think,” Nick added, giving Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze. “All of that, plus everything from the past, like, it makes sense that you’re feeling this way.”

Harry sighed, snuggling himself back up against Nick, head resting on the pillow once more. “I don’t know how my mom handled it. How the fuck was she able to look at her kid and know that someone had tried to kill him and not, like, have a complete mental breakdown? How has she always been so fucking strong for me?”

“Talk to her,” Nick said, tucking some of Harry’s curls behind his ears before leaning in to kiss him. He knew the answer was that his mother just did, she did what she had to do for her son, no matter how much it hurt her. But he also knew that an answer coming from him wouldn’t be enough for Harry. Not in this case. “We can go see her tomorrow, or she can come here. Maybe talking about all of this with her will help you, love.”

So that’s exactly what they did. Without any hesitation, Anne took the train into the city and came over for the afternoon. And after they had lunch, Kira cuddled into her grandmother’s arms, Harry started talking.

“Mom…” His voice shook, and Nick kept a steady hand on his thigh, like a lifeboat in a storm. “Mom, I know in the past I haven’t wanted to know all the details about the night I got…” He paused. Anne looked at her son knowingly.

“Are you ready to know?” she asked, not needing to hear anything else to know exactly what he meant. Kira whined, and Nick went to grab her, but Anne simply patted her back and shifted her onto her shoulder. She fell back asleep almost instantly.

“Yeah. I think I need to. I’m…” Harry sighed and bit his lip. “It’s time. How bad was it?”

Anne kissed the top of Kira’s head. Nick noticed her close her eyes for a brief moment before she turned to face Harry head on. “You lost a lot of blood, honey. A lot.”

“I know that.”

“At the very beginning of your surgery, your heart stopped. Obviously they brought you back, but your dad and I were told to prepare for you to not make it.”

Harry buried his head in his hands. Nick was expecting to hear something like that, but it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear. “God.”

“There was about an hour where we seriously thought we were going to lose you. Your dad— god bless him— kept both of us together. Kept us in one piece. It was the worst hour of our lives. But when the doctors let us know that you were going to be okay, that was the single greatest moment of my life.” Anne stood, handing Kira to Nick, before sitting down next to Harry and pulling him into her arms. Nick cradled Kira to his chest, wanting to weep, but holding it in. “When it was bad, it was really bad. But it didn’t last long. You came back to us, Harry. You weren’t done yet.”

“How did you do it?” Harry said, holding onto his mom. His eyes were dry but round with fear. “Every time I look at Kira, I picture her being as hurt as I was. And I can’t… I can’t handle it. She’s six weeks old, and I’m already scared out of my mind that something is going to happen to her.”

“I just did, baby. When that was all happening, instinct kicked in. I never thought about it before, I wasn’t prepared for it.” She kissed Harry’s temple, and Nick suddenly felt like he was looking at the two of them from back in 2016, Harry small in her arms, Anne protective and fierce like a mother bear. “You can’t prepare for it. You can’t plan for it. It happened, Harry. It happened to you— to us— but we survived.

“And if, god forbid, something happens to Kira someday, your instincts will kick in, too. You’ll survive. She’ll survive.” Anne laughed softly, still holding onto her son, and Nick felt like maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay. “She is a Styles, after all. And I can tell you from experience that they are always as tough as they come.”

now

Five days later— five grueling, awful days later— Ruby’s scans come back abscess-free. And, while her pneumonia is still lingering, she’s given the all-clear to carry on at home with oral antibiotics. Nick thinks he might cry out in relief as Dr. Patel leaves the room early that sixth morning, his fatigue clearly evident on every inch of his face. Ruby looks over at him, scrunching her little face up, the color finally starting to return to her cheeks.

“Daddy,” she says, and Nick is thankful that her voice has gotten less croaky with each passing day. “Do we have ice cream at home?”

“Why don’t we call Dad and ask him, hmm? And we can tell him the good news.” Hopefully if he gets ahold of him quick enough, Harry won’t call an Uber to come to the hospital. He’d slept at home the previous night, getting Kira and Emmy to school before inevitably coming back up to Bellevue to be with Nick and Ruby. Not for the first time, Nick is grateful for how understanding both of their jobs are with Ruby’s health problems. Harry doesn’t need to be working for Bowery still— not when his photography is plenty sufficient for well over half of their combined income— but Aimee Phillips is perhaps the best person to work for, so Harry hasn’t given it up. Especially not now that Aimee is the bigwig general manager for the company, ever since Jeff had retired, coincidentally, the year Sunday started first grade— Nick knew it was intentional and that Jeff had simply been waiting for Aimee to be able to take on more responsibilities as soon as her daughter was in school full-time.

Nick, meanwhile, had stepped away from Protect NYC when the twins were born, knowing that he’d be needed at home much more after their family went from three to four. Nobody was expecting them to instead go from three to five but that had only solidified that it was the best decision they could make to have Nick take a break from working. A good chunk of their income came from Harry’s photography, so he needed to be available to work on it, both in the darkroom and on the streets. After all the girls started school, Nick had taken a position at Audible in their podcast division, helping to bring in exclusive and original content, after his own podcast through Protect NYC had gone viral as one of the most-listened to political podcasts of the 2020s. Apart from the occasional meeting at their corporate office in Newark, Nick works from home, giving him adequate time and space to be there for Ruby whenever she is unwell. And even though Nick does sometimes miss the on-the-ground community work he loved so much before he had kids, turns out he has quite the knack for media management; when he had decided to go back to work, Audible had scoped him out specifically, apparently keeping tabs on him from the time he’d stopped his work at Protect NYC, and offered him more than he could ever imagine.

“Hey babe.” Harry’s voice sounds crystal clear over the phone and Nick can’t help but smile stupidly, suddenly feeling thirty years old again and completely smitten with his boy for the very first time. “I’m about to call an Uber. Just got done dropping the girls off, Kira had a little meltdown so we were running late.”

Nick bookmarks the comment about Kira’s meltdown, knowing he needs to check in about that later. “Don’t worry about it, we’re about to be discharged.”

Harry lets out a very audible sigh of relief. “Thank god. I’d hoped, with what Niall said.” Niall had stopped in the previous night, far later than he would’ve needed to be on-call— a definite best friend perk, Nick knows. And, even though a different radiologist had interpreted Ruby’s latest CT scan and ultrasound, Niall made sure to sit with Nick and explain exactly what had been found: that the abscess was completely gone and the pneumonia was much better than it had been previously. It had been music to his ears, but nothing was set in stone until Dr. Patel gave the all clear.

“Our little princess has a request for ice cream,” Nick says, giving Ruby a thumbs up. She beams at him, starting to get antsy in her hospital bed. Nick hopes the nurse comes in with the discharge papers in the next fifteen seconds. “Do we have any at home?”

“Half a pint of chocolate, and one of your weird vegan ones, if I am remembering correctly.” Harry says. “I’ll be home in a few minutes and I’ll text you what we have. Does Ruby have any requests?”

“I think she would love some confetti ice cream,” Nick says, reading Ruby’s mind. With how much of a fussy eater she is, both Nick and Harry have the short list of things she likes to eat memorized in the same manner as her medications. At his words, Ruby actually tries to climb out of the bed in excitement. Nick places a firm hand on her shoulder and lies her back down.

“I’ll stop by the bodega and grab some, then,” Harry says. Nick can tell he has a smile as wide as Ruby’s on his face. God, Nick has missed him. He’s missed Kira and Emmy, too, with all of his brief interactions with them the past week being reserved for bedtime and getting them to school on the nights he’s stayed at home. But more than anything, he’s missed just being in bed next to Harry and getting an actual night’s sleep.

“We’ll see you soon. Say bye to Dad, cream puff, you’ll see him soon!”

“Bye bye bye bye!” Ruby’s voice carries over the phone to Harry, and Nick hears him hum in contentment.

“Love you both, see you in a bit.”

A bit turns out to be an hour, but finally they make it home. Ruby, with more energy than Nick has seen her have in quite a while, nearly runs head-first into their first floor neighbor, with Nick yelling out hurried apologies before she somehow hurts herself crawling up the stairs. While they aren’t on a fifth floor walk-up anymore, it’s not like they could afford a first-floor unit, instead settling on a third-floor one with a private balcony off of the living room. It’s certainly an upgrade from the old fire escape Nick and Harry used to hang out on, and Nick definitely enjoys the comfort of having a joint on a deck chair versus shoddily made metal grates digging into his ass.

“Honey! I’m home!” Ruby yells once Nick gets his keys in the door. Harry is right there in the entryway to greet her, kneeling down to be on her level so Ruby can barrel into his chest. He wraps his arms around her and picks her up; Nick notices a very subtle twinge pass through his face, but doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Where do you think she learned that one?” Nick asks, setting Ruby’s backpack down on the kitchen island. Inside are her antibiotics, discharge papers, and yesterday’s socks and underwear.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you,” Harry says with a laugh, putting Ruby down on the couch and tucking her sea turtle-patterned blanket around her legs. “I hear you are craving some broccoli and carrots.”

“No, Dad!” She laughs, successfully not breaking into a coughing fit. “I don’t want that!”

“What? Ruby, I’m shocked! I went out and got extra broccoli just for you!” Harry winks at her and comes back into the kitchen to retrieve the new carton of confetti ice cream. He spoons two scoops into a small bowl and brings it to Ruby. “See? Broccoli and carrots!” Ruby giggles again, giving Harry grabby hands for the ice cream.

“Hey, small fry, if you get ice cream now then you have to promise to have some dinner later, alright?” Nick cocks an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to agree. Instead, she rolls her eyes exactly like Kira does, and starts to shovel the ice cream into her mouth.

“We’ll do lasagna tonight,” Harry says, turning on the television and pressing play on an old episode of Angry Beavers. The fact that the cartoons Nick grew up on are now considered vintage and have their own satellite TV channel dedicated to preserving them makes him want to weep. “She never says no to lasagna.”

“Do you think we can sneak some vegetables in it?” Nick asks, his voice low, once Harry is next to him in the entryway. He can’t help but still think about the initial conversation they had with Dr. Patel during Ruby’s admission. He’d always thought he would treat his kid’s palates like they were adults, not catering to children’s menus or dumbing down their food options with mostly bland carbohydrate-heavy meals. Kira is the only one who’s stuck to that— food was strictly about survival for so long for the twins, and Nick had been satisfied if they just consumed enough calories that day. Emmy only recently has started to branch out, most likely wanting to be more like her big sister.

“I read somewhere about puréeing cauliflower and using it as a ricotta substitute,” Harry says. “Or tofu. Tofu has a lot of protein.”

“The cauliflower is an option, but it doesn’t have to replace all the ricotta. I think we have ground turkey in the freezer for protein.” Nick leans his body against Harry’s, praying Ruby falls asleep soon so the two of them can lay the fuck down. He just wants to feel his husband next to him for a while. Harry kisses his forehead, an arm slung around his shoulders, keeping him close. It’s dead nice, even if the whole reason they’re both at home is because their girl is sick with fucking pneumonia of all things.

It takes Ruby almost two episodes of Angry Beavers to nod off. Harry picks her up and carries her into the room she shares with Emmy, settling her into her bed, before joining Nick in their bedroom and turning the lights out. The May afternoon sun peeks into the room from behind the curtains— it’s far too bright out for Nick to actually nap. Still, it feels good on his old bones to take his clothes off and lay down in bed, with Harry stripping down to match him in nothing but boxers on the other side.

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, crawling close to Nick and cupping his cheek in his hand, fingers running through his messy hair. There’s plenty of gray peppered throughout his hair these days, and he’s grown tired of trying to cover it up. He won’t admit to being close to fifty until the actual day comes, but at least gray hair is trendy enough. Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t look a day over thirty, which is certainly not a bad thing, even if it sometimes makes Nick seethe with jealousy.

“Hi yourself.” He smiles softly, copying Harry and taking a hold of his face. His thumb brushes carefully over his cheekbone. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“Passing off kids and saying goodnight over the phone isn’t enough,” Harry says, tucking himself into Nick’s torso and kissing his neck. Nick groans softly, his dick starting to take an interest in the proceedings. “Neither is masturbating in the shower, come to think of it.”

“No, definitely not enough.” Nick skates his fingers down Harry’s back, over each knob of his spine, before slipping them under his boxers to hold onto his ass. Harry sighs happily, his lips soft against Nick’s skin.

“She’ll be asleep for a while,” he says, moving his mouth up toward Nick’s face. The moment he’s able to do so, Nick captures his lips in a lazy kiss, sucking his tongue into his mouth and holding on tight. Even after seventeen years, Harry still feels and tastes the same and there’s nothing Nick loves more than that, the incredible familiarity that always makes him feel like he’s thirty years old again and falling in love for the first time.

“Can’t remember the last time I fucked you,” Nick says, his voice hushed and a little breathless. These days, all they have the time and privacy for usually are quick blowjobs and the occasional shower handjob if they’re feeling lucky enough.

“Our anniversary.” Harry smiles against his mouth before kissing him again. “It’s been forty-three days.”

“That’s forty-two days too many.” Nick lays himself flat on his back and nudges Harry on top of him, reaching into the bedside table for their well-hidden bottle of lube. “Get those off.”

“Only if you do.” Harry wags his eyebrows before shimmying out of his boxers, hooking his fingers into Nick’s and taking his off after. Both pairs end up thrown unceremoniously over the edge of the bed. “Fuck, you look good.” He stares hungrily at Nick’s body, eyes scanning from his knobbly knees up to his paunchy gut. Nick rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t know the whole ‘old man look’ got you going,” he says, but Harry cuts him off with another kiss, this one much more relentless and intense than the ones before. Nick falls into it easily, hands cupping Harry’s ass again, while Harry grinds his hips down to rub their cocks together.

“You get me going,” Harry murmurs, kissing up Nick’s jawline over to his ear, nipping at his earlobe and licking the delicate skin behind it. “Always have. Always will.”

“You’re a saint, Styles. Too good for me.”

“No such thing.” Harry’s eyes sparkle as he rests his forehead against Nick’s. “You deserve the world.”

“Christ.” If Harry keeps it up, Nick will most definitely cry. He’d much rather come. “Spread your legs, baby, wanna touch you.”

“You say the most romantic things,” Harry laughs, but he does as he’s told, still straddling Nick. Nick pumps some lube onto his hand, reaching down Harry’s body to get his hole nice and wet, his stomach twisting with desire with how the furled skin feels beneath his touch. Harry shuts his eyes and actually purrs the moment Nick’s fingertip nudges inside. “Go slow,” he says, just as Nick’s finger slides in up to the first knuckle. “‘m tight.”

“Yeah, you are.” Slowly, he pumps his finger in and out of him, continuing to kiss him while he does. Harry lets out small moans, his hips rutting against Nick’s without any semblance of coordination, his cock dragging against Nick’s groin deliciously. “You feel so good, love.”

“Mmm, so do you.” The tip of Harry’s dick— already so slick with precome— catches on Nick’s ballsac, sending a zing of pleasure up Nick’s spine. “Gimme more.”

“Gimme, gimme more,” Nick sings off-key as he carefully adds another finger in alongside his first. “It’s Britney, bitch.”

“Yes, talk dirty to me.” Harry laughs, sucking Nick’s bottom lip into his mouth to shut him up. “I said to go slow, but you can still be hard with me, babe.”

“Oh really?” To prove his point, Nick fucks his fingers into Harry aggressively, keeping them fully sheathed inside of him and spreading them as wide as they can go. He crooks his index finger up, feeling along the surface to find his prostate, rubbing up against it the moment he does. Harry whines, suddenly losing his footing and rolling off of Nick. Nick’s fingers slip out with a quiet squelch.

“Alright, get on your hands and knees for me,” Nick says, giving Harry’s ass a little smack. “As fun as that was, I’d like to fuck you and shower before we have a house full of children again.”

“As you wish.” Harry gets himself into position, head against the pillow and ass jutting up into the air. It’s not a view Nick gets to see often, normally fucking Harry on his back or else with Harry on top, but it’s certainly easy on the eyes. His cock stands proudly, tip poking into the mattress. Nick gives it a quick tug before running his fingers to his balls, to his taint, and then to his hole. He gets two fingers back inside of him immediately, fucking him slowly yet deliberately, before adding his ring finger to the mix.

“How you doing, duck?” Nick asks, bending forward to kiss the swell above Harry’s ass. He wraps his free hand around Harry’s waist to play with his dick some more, fingers getting sticky with precome. Suddenly he wants to taste him, wants the salty and heady taste he is so accustomed to, but knows he needs to save that for another time. There’s definitely not enough time to fuck him and give him a blowjob. Fucking definitely takes priority right now.

“Perfect,” Harry says with a happy sigh, his legs trembling ever so slightly as Nick’s thumb swipes over his cockhead. Nick draws his hand away from Harry so he can lick the precome off of it, compromising with his sudden desire to suck him off; his own cock gives a very hard throb as his mouth floods with the taste. “Are you tasting me?”

“You know it.” Nick thrusts his fingers faster now, more than ready to get his cock into him. Harry moans.

“Fuck, Nick, you know that always does it for me.” Harry wraps his own hand around his cock and starts to jerk himself off to the same rhythm as Nick’s fingers. “Jesus, I need you now.”

That’s all the encouragement Nick needs. He removes his fingers from Harry, wiping them off on his own leg, before he slicks his dick up with more lube and bears inside of him, sliding in effortlessly and easily. He bottoms out quickly, this position the most intuitive to fuck in, and gives Harry a moment to adjust.

“Alright?” he asks, his voice as tight as Harry is. Harry nods, still touching himself.

“Move,” he instructs, and Nick does exactly that. He snaps his hips back and forth, completely uncoordinated, already rushing toward the finish line because it’s been forty-three days and now he is completely engulfed by the man he loves and he can’t think of much at all that would slow him down. The house could be on fire, and he would probably keep fucking into Harry, only jumping into action once he’d come.

“God, Nick,” Harry whines, letting go of his dick and leaning down on his arms, clearly needing both to support himself. Nick makes a fist with one of his hands and reaches under Harry so he can fuck into it, his other hand resting on the small of his back for support. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Neither am I, Christ. You feel incredible.” The only sounds he hears are the rustling of the sheets and the sticky slapping of his balls against Harry’s taint. “Jesus Christ, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry manages to say, turning his head just enough to see Nick. “Come inside me, love. I need to feel you.”

And that— there’s nothing hotter than that. He doesn’t mean to be done that quickly, but a beat after Harry’s words, he does what he’s told. His orgasm crashes over him, cock pulsing thick, white ropes of come inside of Harry, and he goes lightheaded as it starts to dwindle, as his hips slow down, as his cock begins to soften. Harry follows not long after, fucking himself into Nick’s fist, fully covering it with the hot, sticky liquid, and even though they are both complete messes, Nick doesn’t think he’s ever felt better.

He pulls himself out of Harry, watching his come trickle down the crease of his thigh, and he can’t help himself as he slips two fingers back inside, feeling the mess he’s left behind. Harry yelps but shakes his head aggressively the moment Nick stills his fingers; even as he’s gotten older, Harry’s love for overstimulation has yet to wane. He touches him for a while while Harry shivers with aftershocks, then taps his hip so he’ll roll onto his back, giving Nick access to kiss him until they are both sweaty, breathless, and satiated.

“We’ve still got it,” Harry says, cradling Nick’s face in his hands again and studying him intently. Nick can’t believe he is able to love him more and more every day. Even as both of them develop wrinkles, lines, and crow’s feet, he is still the most beautiful thing Nick’s ever seen. “We’ll always have it.”

He rests his hand on Harry’s chest, the familiar thump thump of his heart forever grounding them to each other, the same way it has for decades. “Yeah, sweetheart, I think we will.”

then, 2027

From then on, Harry and Kira were a unit. After the talk with his mom and a few sessions with his new therapist Valeria, Harry gave the word father a whole new meaning. It was as though he could predict Kira’s every move, able to detect when she needed to be changed, fed, or burped before even she knew. He woke up multiple times a night in anticipation of her needing something, and nearly every time he did, she was crying for him within a minute or two. Sometimes just the sound of Harry’s voice was enough to soothe Kira back to sleep. So long as Harry was holding her, she was content.

When Nick held her, on the other hand, he might as well have been a stranger. Gone was the initial understanding she had for him, the bond they instinctively had developed over the first few weeks of her life. By the time she was six months old, she only had eyes for Harry— eyes that were, Nick noticed, starting to change to mirror Harry’s exact shade of green. If Nick was the one to try to comfort her, she would fuss and cry and squirm until Harry inevitably took over. She screamed when Nick tried to change her diaper, often refused to take her bottles, and wouldn’t stop crying at bedtime unless Harry could rock her to sleep.

For as much as Nick had wanted Harry to connect with their daughter, he hadn’t expected her to lose all trust in him in exchange.

“Wait, so you’re upset that Harry lets you sleep uninterrupted every night? Am I hearing you correctly?”

Nick frowned, working through a particularly stubborn knot in Sunday’s hair. He’d escaped to Aimee’s Kips Bay apartment— the exact one he had once supervised her quarantine dates with Ian another lifetime ago— after Kira wouldn’t stop crying as he held her, which led to him snapping and fighting with Harry. Sunday had been more than happy to indulge Nick in his desire for a kid in his arms, and had plopped herself in his lap on the floor with a hairbrush in hand for him.

“When you put it like that,” he said, but Aimee cut him off.

“God, and I thought Ian was a super dad for splitting the night shifts fifty-fifty. Meanwhile your husband takes on 100% without any fuss.”

“It’s because Kira hates me,” Nick said, the brush accidentally pulling too hard on Sunday’s scalp. She let out a little whine, looking back at him contentiously. “Sorry, sunshine, I’ll be more gentle.”

Aimee rolled her eyes, getting up from the couch to grab them both beers from the fridge. “Kira doesn’t hate you,” she said, popping the tops off of the drinks and handing Nick his. He continued to brush Sunday’s hair one-handedly, nursing his beer with the other. “She’s going through a phase.”

“A four-month long phase? As soon as Harry started working through his trauma, she started clinging to him like Saran Wrap to a bowl.”

“Your metaphors need work, Nicholas.”

“Yeah, Uncle Nick. You need work.” Sunday’s little voice cut through her mother’s, causing Aimee to burst out laughing. Nick only pouted further.

“She’s not wrong. You do need work.” Aimee took a long sip of her beer, kicking her legs up onto the coffee table. “Isn’t this what you wanted, though? Last fall, you would’ve killed for this.”

“I know.” Nick lamented, setting the hairbrush down on the ground and leaning his chin on top of Sunday’s head. She giggled. “But I never wanted your kid to love me more than my own does.”

“Well, Sunday’s known you for longer than Kira has,” Aimee said, as though it was as easy as that. “Plus, babies are weird. You can’t explain most of the shit they do.”

Nick’s phone buzzed with an incoming text from Harry, the third one that hour, asking if he was planning on coming home. He silenced the notification and flipped his phone face down on the rug. “Do you think it’s because she isn’t biologically mine?” It’s a thought that had been living in his mind for weeks at that point, coming out in his weakest moments to torment him. “Do you think she knows?”

“Nick.” Aimee sighed, setting her beer down and coming to join him on the floor. Sunday stuck her tongue out at her mother, who responded by blowing a raspberry on her exposed belly, making her scream out with laughter. “She has absolutely no idea that it was Harry’s swimmer that created her. Just like she doesn’t realize I’m the one who incubated her.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I think she also loves you more than she loves me.”

“That’s only because she wants my boob. Even though they’ve been drier than the Sahara for months. It’s probably a pheromone thing.”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it? You probably somehow share more biologically with Kira than I do. And she would much rather have you hold her than me, if she can’t have Harry.” It was true. Kira’s hierarchy was Harry, then Aimee, then sometimes Gemma, sometimes Anne, then Pig, then probably a stranger at the bodega, and then, finally, Nick. Nick groaned, staring up at the ceiling as though it held all the answers. After he had sufficiently wallowed, he looked over at Aimee, who was checking her phone.

“Your husband texted me,” she said. “Text him back and let him know you’re not dead or something.”

“Right, yeah.” He picked his phone back up and ignored everything Harry had sent him, firing off an I’ll be home later message instead before clicking his phone off once again. “I know I’m being a jackass, but at the same time, neither of them need me there.”

“Now you’re being a dramatic jackass.” Aimee placed a gentle hand on his knee and gave it a squeeze. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I do think you should head home sooner rather than later, for your own sake.”

“A jackass,” Sunday repeated. She grinned mischievously between Aimee and Nick, knowing she’d said something she shouldn’t have. At three years old, she was definitely already too smart for her own good.

“Ian will love this,” Aimee said with a laugh. “Took her literal years to say ‘dad’ but she hears us say ‘jackass’ once and she’s already repeating it.” She pointed her finger at her daughter. “Little m’am, please get off of Uncle Nick, we need to encourage him to go home to Uncle Harry and cousin Kira.”

Sunday shook her head, burrowing further into Nick’s lap. “No, Uncle Nick stays here.”

“At least someone needs me,” Nick murmured. Aimee flicked him on the nose.

“If you somehow can’t see that your daughter needs you, you at least know that your husband needs you, yeah? He’s needed you every single day for the past six years, surely you haven’t forgotten that.”

She was right, of course. And he knew that by barely texting him back and refusing to engage with him, Nick was kicking him right where it would hurt the most. It was an old defense mechanism, one he rarely ever used with Harry, but still one he couldn’t shake. With a pained moan, he stood up, knees and ankles cracking, and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch.

“Fine. But if I show up later with Pig and Stinky under each arm, you’re taking all three of us in.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, champ.”

Harry was as angry as Nick had predicted by the time he arrived home. He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at Nick as he came through the front door, eyes narrowed and face sporting a very uncharacteristically cold expression. Nick felt his heart rate pick up exponentially.

“Hey,” he said, trying and failing to go for casual. Harry wasn’t having any of it.

“Did you think leaving me and our daughter in the middle of a fight was really the best idea, Nick? Did you?”

Nick ran a hand through his hair, frowning. “Obviously not, Harry—”

“You left us,” Harry said, but this time Nick was the one to cut him off.

“I went to Aimee’s, for god’s sake. I didn’t go to the moon. Or, like, Queens.” He washed his hands in the kitchen sink, taking extra time to scrub under his fingernails, all the while avoiding Harry’s eye. “I thought Kira would settle down faster if I left, is all.”

“Well, she didn’t. You thought wrong. And even if she had, that’s not an excuse to leave us. And it’s definitely not an excuse to not answer my texts for hours. Aren’t you the one who implemented that kind of rule between us?”

He had, but the days of Nick worrying about Harry off at the darkroom in Canarsie felt like a hundred lifetimes ago. Especially since Harry now had a membership at a community darkroom in Dumbo, a very easy five-minute train ride from their apartment. “I did, but that’s not really the point here, is it?”

“Of course it is!” Nick hadn’t heard Harry get this level of riled up in years. It made his insides feel like they were being stepped on by one of Aimee’s stilettos. “You can’t just walk away from our problems. That’s not fucking fair. Especially now that we have a kid to consider. And,” Harry continued, still yelling, “you know I worry about you getting hurt, too. That’s not just your fear. It’s also mine.”

Nick heard the hurt in his voice before he saw it. He stayed facing the sink, too cowardly to turn around and look at him, to see the pain that was undoubtedly evident in his eyes.

“Harry—”

Harry stood, the chair sliding across the floor with a scraping sound. “I’m really pissed off at you, but right now I need you to hold me, so you better fucking do it.”

Nick did turn around at that and watched Harry cross the kitchen toward him. On instinct, his arms opened up and Harry fell into them, their bodies getting tangled in each other’s embraces instantly. Nick took a deep breath, smelling nothing but Harry, and kissed the top of his head. His stomach lurched when he felt Harry start to shake in his arms.

“I was scared,” Harry repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew you were just at Aimee’s, but I was still scared. You’re not allowed to do that, especially on purpose. That’s fucking cruel.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, love.” His heart felt like it was being split right down the middle with a sharp, serrated bread knife. He really was a jackass.

“You’re not a cruel person, Nick.” Harry’s face looked so incredibly sad as he broke their embrace. “You’re not. And I don’t understand why you would do that to me.”

“Because I was insecure and selfish and it wasn’t right.” He kissed Harry’s forehead, afraid to ever let him go again. “I’ve been in my head the past few weeks and I let it get the best of me.”

Harry whimpered, holding onto him even tighter.

“I felt like Kira didn’t need me. That maybe you didn’t, either. That I wasn’t necessary anymore.” He felt like such a prick saying those words out loud, but he owed Harry the truth. “Which I know isn’t true.”

“I always need you.” Harry’s eyes widened, genuine anguish shining through them. It made Nick’s heart twist and break even further. “You know that. That’s never changed.”

“I know.”

“And Kira needs you, too. She needs both of us. We’re a team.”

“I know.” That part, he wasn’t totally sure about.

Harry ran his hands through Nick’s hair, still keeping him close. He stared deep into his eyes, green meeting hazel, years of love flowing between them. “I did what we all needed me to do,” he said softly after a while. “I worked my ass off to become the best dad I can be for her. You can’t punish me for that. You can’t punish yourself for that, either.”

“I know.” Nick closed his eyes, feeling horrendous waves of guilt overtake him. “I know, sweetheart. And I’m so grateful and so fucking proud of you.”

“The dynamic is different now,” Harry continued as though Nick hadn’t said anything, “And I’m not going to apologize for that. But I am going to apologize for not noticing how much it’s been bothering you.”

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“Yes I do.” Harry shifted his body so he could kiss Nick, quick but deliberate. “You’re my partner— you’re the love of my life— and you check in with me constantly, but I don’t ever check in with you. And I need to.”

Nick knew better than to fight with him. “Okay. Apology accepted.” He kissed Harry again, letting their lips linger for much longer than the last time. “And, even though I never for a single second even considered leaving forever, I’m sorry I walked away earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t text you. I’m so fucking sorry I scared you.”

“I know you are. And I forgive you.” Harry rested his head on Nick’s shoulder, fingers twirling around his necklaces. “Go see her,” he said after a moment’s pause. “She’s sleeping, but go and just sit with her. It’s what I do, sometimes.”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t want to wake her up.”

“You won’t. At the beginning, you took care of her out of necessity, love. You need to now start to learn who she is and who you are to her, outside of keeping her alive. That starts with spending time with her.” Harry smiled, and Nick swore it was brighter than every single star in the galaxy. It always was. Harry was still the best thing that ever happened to him. He wouldn't have Kira without him. “Go.”

So Nick did. He tiptoed into the nursery, shutting the door behind him, and nearly sat on Stinky, who had taken up residence in the rocking chair. Instead, he leaned over the side of the crib and stared down at his daughter— his daughter. Didn’t matter that not a single speck of his DNA ran through her veins. She’d always be his.

“Hiya sweets” he whispered, turning the baby monitor off so Harry couldn’t hear him. He needed this to be between Kira and himself and nobody else. “Aren’t you just the most spectacular thing the world’s ever seen, huh?”

She didn’t move, the steady rise and fall of her chest like a metronome for Nick’s aching heart.

“I get why you’re so infatuated with your dad,” he said, allowing one finger to stroke over her velvety soft skin. “Believe me, if anyone knows what that’s like, it’s me. Someday I’ll tell you all about how much of a dumbass I was the night we met. I think I fell in love with him that night, you know? Even though I don’t remember much of it.

“We’re both really lucky to have him, baby girl. I don’t think there’s a single person out there better than he is. He makes me better. He always has.” He could feel the tears filling his eyes, and did absolutely nothing to stop them. Kira had no place to judge him, after all, given all the tears she had cried on him over the past six months. “I want you to keep loving him, alright? Because you both deserve it. He deserves your love, and you deserve to be loved by him.

“But just know that I love you, too. That I’ll always be here for you and that nothing you do could ever make me stop loving you.” His hands shook as he wiped some of the tears off his cheeks. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt so raw and exposed before, bearing himself to his infant daughter while she slept, completely unaware of everything he was saying and feeling. “I might not have taken part in creating you, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. Your dad may be the love of my life, but you’re absolutely everything to me. And you always will be.”

Nick buried his head in his hands and let himself cry. He let himself feel every ugly thing he’d been keeping inside of himself for months, allowing them to flood out of him and be washed away into the stillness of the night. It hurt, it hurt more than he thought possible, but he kept going until there was nothing left.

And Kira kept right on sleeping.

now

Things fall back into their routine fairly quickly after Ruby comes home. It takes a few days for her to be well enough to go back to school, but come the following Tuesday, she and Emmy walk hand-in-hand into their elementary school, Ruby not even bothering to turn around and wave goodbye to Nick. He’s fairly sure she’s mad at him; both he and Harry had forced her to put a KN95 mask on this morning, lecturing her about the importance of keeping it on anytime she’s inside her classroom. Emmy, however, blows him a kiss over her shoulder before they both disappear beyond the heavy doors of the school. She had insisted on wearing a mask alongside Ruby, and Nick knows it’s because she’s worried Ruby will feel like the odd one out if she doesn’t. Emmy’s empathy often startles Nick, because she is the complete opposite of him in that way. It’s why she is already a much better person than he will ever be.

Even though Nick has watched them go to school for almost three years at this point, it still makes his heart ache in a very peculiar way— never mind the fact that Kira is going to start middle school in the fall. Having her at a different school than her sisters is definitely going to be strange. In a few short weeks, he’s going to be the father of an eleven-year-old and two eight-year-olds; come the fall, his oldest will be twelve. Nearly a teenger.

Christ. And he’s creeping up on fifty faster than he cares to admit. He really can’t wrap his mind around that.

From Stinky Blob Grimshaw:
Tues, May 25 at 7:53 AM
Do you think we need to give Kira the sex talk soon?

From Harry Henry Bruce:
Tues, May 25 at 7:53 AM
Where the hell did that come from?

From Stinky Blob Grimshaw:
Tues, May 25 at 7:54 AM
She’s gonna be in middle school this fall
It’s mind-blowing

From Harry Henry Bruce:
Tues, May 25 at 7:54 AM
She knows what sex is, love.
It’s not like we haven’t been open with her.
What kind of ‘talk’ do you mean?

From Stinky Blob Grimshaw:
Tues, May 25 at 7:55 AM
The: ‘you might start to feel things for people and it’s totally fine and normal, but maybe don’t touch anyone else’s bits until you can handle the consequences’ talk?
Also the: ‘it’s okay to be gay’ talk, I suppose

From Harry Henry Bruce:
Tues, May 25 at 7:55 AM
Well, she certainly already knows that much re: gay.
I mean, I guess we can talk to her more about birth control and consent and making choices.
My mom always told me that if I was too embarrassed to talk to her about sex, then I wasn’t ready to be having it. So we can maybe mention that.
Although I want her to know that she can talk to Aimee or Liv or Gem instead of us, if it makes her more comfortable.

From Stinky Blob Grimshaw:
Tues, May 25 at 7:56 AM
Anne is so wise
All Eileen ever did was give me a look
You know which one
I think the mere idea of me touching another guy’s dick was too much, god bless her
She need not have worried tho, I didn’t have sex until I was 18
You, on the other hand…
You’re why we need to talk to Kira ASAP

From Harry Henry Bruce:
Tues, May 25 at 7:57 AM
Heyyyy, I was 15! Not 12!
And besides, none of it mattered until I was with you. And I was 21 by then.
So there.

From Stinky Blob Grimshaw:
Tues, May 25 at 7:58 AM
As sappy as ever, I see
Love you too, babe
See you tonight

Most of their days go more or less like this, with Harry heading to work before the girls leave for school, either with Aimee at Bowery or else on whatever photography project he’s working on. Gone are the days of all-nighters at the Canarsie darkroom— he keeps all of his developing hours strictly to the daytime in Dumbo. With his work at Bowery being so flexible, he’s able to stick mostly to an 8-to-4 schedule, even with his photography, always making sure to be done working and around when the girls get home from school. Unless Nick has a meeting in Newark (in which case he has to haul himself to Penn Station and catch a New Jersey Transit train over to Newark Broad Street), he splits most of his time between working from home and the routine everyday chores that are always piling up, before he is back at P.S. 142 in time for the end-of-day bell.

Sometimes he wishes he could go back in time, perhaps back to 2014— out of his Toxic Year but before he met Harry— and sit himself down, look himself in the eye, and say that someday, he’s going to be completely content with his life as a husband of three daughters. That he can’t remember the last time he drank more than a glass of wine or two at dinner. That he’s been having sex with the same person for coming up on twenty years and has loved every second of it. He’s fairly certain his past self would laugh in his face, call him crazy, and offer him a joint or a line of cocaine.

The joint, he’d still take. That much, at least, hasn’t changed.

Later that afternoon, he’s waiting like he always is outside the elementary school, alongside dozens of other parents, when the school doors open up and the fifth graders come out first. He sees Kira immediately, and raises his hand up to signal to her, but she looks straight past him, eyes narrowed and lips pulled tightly into her mouth. When she finally catches his eye, she shakes her head and ducks away from him, heading toward home. Nick whirls around and almost goes after her before remembering that she is more than capable of getting home on her own, knows that she has her own set of apartment keys in the bottom of her backpack. It’s the twins he needs to wait for.

It’s not the first time he’s seen Kira in some sort of antagonistic mood, but it definitely has been a while. Usually she is at least excited to go home at the end of each school day, although sometimes she is less than enthused to be shepherded around by her dad in front of her friends. Today, however, she had flown out of the building by herself, not flanked by any of the other girls from her class, and clearly hadn’t wanted anything to do with Nick or her sisters. Nick knows by now that this is a sign of things possibly starting to unravel.

He sighs heavily and takes his phone out of his pocket, sending Harry a quick heads-up text, and continues to wait for the second graders to be dismissed. A few minutes later, he spies two curly little heads and waves to them enthusiastically, swallowing down his worries about Kira momentarily. They bound over to him, both still wearing their masks, and Nick swoops down to take Ruby into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist at once.

“Look at what I ordered today— one small fry, and one medium fry. The large fry already went home,” he adds quickly, not wanting either of them to worry about their big sister, “so you’ll see her soon. Did you have a good day?”

Ruby is light enough that he can carry her with just one arm supporting her, her legs still clinging to his waist and her arms slung around his neck. Emmy takes his other hand as they set off in the direction Kira had disappeared down not long before. “I hate this mask,” Ruby whines, but she makes no attempt to take it off. “It’s hot.”

“I know it is,” Nick says sympathetically, remembering how fucking awful it was to have to wear a mask in the sweltering summer heat. “But it’s really important that you wear it, at least for a little while.” If they can get her to agree to wear it until she is done with her antibiotics, he’ll consider the whole thing to be a success.

“I’ll wear one, too,” Emmy says, looking up at Nick. She smiles, even though Nick can’t see her mouth beneath her mask, but her eyes crinkle in the exact way Harry’s do. He smiles right back at her.

“Thank you, candy cane,” he says. Emmy giggles.

“It’s not Christmas, Daddy!”

“Not yet it’s not. Only seven months to go! That’s nothing! Plus you’re wearing a red and white striped shirt, what else am I supposed to call you?”

“I dunno! You can call me Emmy!” She is still laughing, and it’s one of the sweetest sounds Nick has ever heard.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He squeezes her hand extra tight, and she squeezes it right back.

Nick is surprised to see Harry in the kitchen when they get home, since he’d been under the impression he’d be arriving back later in the evening. Both of the girls give Harry a hug before racing off into the living room. “Hiya, love,” he says, crossing the room and giving Harry a kiss. “You’re home early.”

“I was in Dumbo. When I got your text, I came home.” He’s frowning, and Nick knows exactly why.

“Is Kira in her room, then?”

Harry nods, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Nick sits in the chair opposite him, stealing a glance into the living room where Ruby and Emmy are dragging some of their dolls out of a storage basket. “Did she say anything to you?”

Harry sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She just said that her head feels overwhelmed. But I got a look at her hands, and they’re pretty raw.” He looks pained, and Nick feels it in his gut. “And then I noticed that we’re nearly out of band-aids again.”

“Christ.” Nick wants to bang his head against the table. He doesn’t.

“I just bought a new box two weeks ago,” Harry continues, his frown deepening. “But she doesn’t have any on her fingers.”

“It’s probably her feet this time, then.” He pauses, thinking. “When’s the last time you counted her meds?”

“I can’t remember.” Harry stands and goes to the sink, opening up one of the cabinets right next to it. He returns to the table with an orange bottle and dumps the contents, making sure none of them roll onto the floor. It takes him a few minutes, but he counts them all and sweeps them back into the bottle. “There’s sixty-seven left of the ninety,” he says, but he doesn’t look convinced. “It says that we refilled this back in April, but I don’t think she needed the new bottle right away. So. Knowing how many pills are left is basically useless.”

“Turns out we should probably be monitoring all of this better, hey?” Nick’s head hurts and he really, really wants a beer. “When is her next appointment with Dr. Cruz?”

“I don’t know if it’s even scheduled. Things have been so—” Harry gestures vaguely at nothing. “I’ve thought that things have been fine for a really long time. I’m worried it’s getting bad again.” He bites at his lip and stares intently at Nick.

Nick is too. There’s no way for him not to be, not when he knows what very well might be coming. “First Ruby and now Kira. When it rains, it fucking pours.” He sighs again and stands. “We should go talk to her, love. Maybe she just had a bad day.”

“I don’t think it’s just a bad day. Remember last week, the morning Ruby was discharged? She had a full-on meltdown about her clothes.” Harry rubs his face with his hands. He looks exhausted. “She probably tried on twenty different outfits and she was crying the whole time and saying that everything was too tight or too itchy or somehow not right. Her room was a fucking disaster by the time we finally left the apartment. I thought maybe I’d have to cut the tags out of her shirts again or something.”

“Well, then we still need to go talk to her.” Nick extends his hand to Harry, who takes it and gets to his feet, holding onto the pill bottle. He puts it back in the cabinet and then rests his head against Nick’s chest. Nick holds him there, kissing the top of his head. “We’ve got this,” he reminds Harry. “She’s gonna need her Super Dad, you know.”

Harry nods and kisses Nick softly, fondly, before taking his hand again and heading to Kira's room. He knocks on the closed door. “K, can we come in?”

There’s no answer. Harry glances back at Nick.

“Kira, we’re gonna come in,” Nick says as he too knocks on the door. “We are giving you ample warning. And now we’re coming in.” He turns the knob and opens the door to find Kira sitting on her bed, legs drawn up against her chest, with her arms wrapped around them. She looks so much like Harry that it takes Nick’s breath away; it’s as though Harry had created her with only his genes, Noelle be damned. For a second, it's like he is staring at Harry mid-panic attack from years and years ago. Her eyes are flooded with tears, chocolate brown curls tangled and messed up around her shoulders. She doesn't look at either of them, eyes downturned to her knees while her chest heaves with sobs.

“Oh, love.” Harry is at her side in a flash, and she willingly falls into his arms, her cries becoming more audible. Nick hangs back, one eye out the door in case one of the twins wanders their way, the other looking at his oldest daughter in agony. “Kira, honey, what's going on?” Harry kisses her forehead— something she will only let Harry do— and she seems to cry even harder. Still, she doesn't speak.

“Kira,” Nick tries, kneeling down even while in the doorway. He just wants to be on her level. “Babe, whatever it is, Dad and I aren't mad. We love you so much.”

“I— I told Dad,” she manages to say, not looking at Nick. “I told him that my brain hurts.”

Harry whines softly and rests his head against hers.

“I know you did,” Nick says. “But can you tell us more, maybe? Did something happen at school today?”

“Everything was just too loud,” she says, her voice raw from her tears. She wipes at her eyes far too aggressively and Harry grabs for her arms, holding her back from hurting herself. “It was like everyone was staring at me. And it made me feel dirty.”

“I understand.” He doesn't understand, not even a little bit. But he'll pretend he does, with the hope that it'll help her feel less alone. He’ll always do whatever he can for her. “You're not dirty, love. You don't need to hurt your hands like this.” Harry was right— the skin on her knuckles is cracked and bleeding and absolutely must hurt.

“Yes I do!” Suddenly Kira’s voice is loud, and she whips her head up to glare at Nick. “If I don’t, I—” She stops and closes her eyes. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“You need to,” Harry whispers, and she immediately seems to relax, even if only by a fraction of a percent. Harry's magic like that— he understands Kira like nobody else ever will. “You're safe with us, remember that.”

Nick itches to cuddle her, to kiss her and remind her how much he loves her. How he would do anything to protect her and fix her and care for her. But he keeps back, knowing that he is helping far more by keeping his distance, at least physically. She’s always been particular with touch, Kira has. The only people she can tolerate touching her these days are Harry and Aimee. Sometimes Emmy, but that can be hit-or-miss. Ruby seems to wordlessly understand and never tries. The doctors long ago had said it was a sensory issue and that she would outgrow it. At this point, Nick doesn't think that will ever happen. “What happens if you don't wash your hands, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head. “I just can't be dirty,” she says. “I can't. And I'm always dirty.” More tears roll down her cheeks as she stares helplessly at Nick. “I don't want to be me anymore, Daddy.”

That breaks Nick’s heart in half. Between everything with Ruby, and now Kira, he isn't sure he’ll be able to put it back together anytime soon. Harry too looks beyond wrecked. He has his own tears in his eyes, his hold on Kira tightening. She gives in to the contact, treating Harry’s embrace like it's the only thing she has left. “You have to stay you,” Harry says, rocking her back and forth as though she’s a baby again. “You don't get a choice in that, my love. We love you so incredibly much exactly as you are. But we can work to make your brain feel better, okay? We can help you wanna be you again.”

Nick shuffles closer, still not touching either of them, but ending up beside the bed. “Kira, you have no idea how much Dad and I love you. We don't want you to be in all this pain.”

“You can't make it go away,” Kira whimpers. “You've tried, with all the pills and everything, but it's still here. I'm still dirty and ruined and nobody will want to be my friend anymore once they know.”

They've been over this so many times. The thing that gets Nick the most is that nobody has any idea why Kira always reverts back to the idea that she's somehow ruined. It's almost like she was born with that thought, and nobody— not himself, not Harry, not any of the therapists she's seen over the years, not even Kira— can figure out where it came from or what it really means, apart from there obviously being a chemical imbalance in her brain.

“Are you taking your meds?” Harry asks her, his voice the most gentle Nick has ever heard it be. “It's okay if you haven't been, we just need to know the truth.”

Kira nods. “Promise,” she says, eyes pleading. “Every morning. They aren't working anymore.”

“We’ll make you an appointment with Dr. Cruz, alright?” Harry kisses her forehead again. “None of this is your fault. We’re gonna fix it.”

There’s a stir in the hallway. Nick turns around to see Emmy hiding behind the door, her little head peeking in, eyes wide and nervous. “Hey Emmers,” Nick says gently. “Why don't you go play with Ruby some more, okay? I’ll be out in a minute.” He smiles at her, wiping every ounce of anxiety off of his face temporarily. His ability to compartmentalize has become Academy Award worthy over the past few years.

Emmy shrugs, and makes no effort to leave. “Is Kira okay?” she asks, her tiny voice hardly louder than a mouse. He probably should’ve shut the door, but common sense apparently has gone right out the window for him.

“Yep, she is doing just fine.” Nick stands back up to reach Emmy, placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her back to the living room. He can leave Harry with Kira for a while— it’s possible she’ll open up to him more if Nick isn’t in the room. He finds Ruby sitting on the floor, trying to open a bottle of nail polish and looking particularly fiendish. Ruby knows she isn’t supposed to paint anyone’s nails without asking. He can’t get mad, however, since seeing her with so much energy and personality again makes the tightness in his chest ease slightly.

“Chickpea, let’s sit at the kitchen table if you wanna paint nails,” he says, taking her hand and hauling her up to her feet. She beams at him and skips to the kitchen, completely unaware of how her sisters are feeling. Emmy settles onto the couch, still looking anxious, her hazel eyes wide and sad. He lays some junk mail down onto the table like a placemat and lifts Ruby into her booster seat before opening the bottle of pink nail polish.

“Daddy, I wanna paint your nails,” Ruby says, copping a cheeky smile in his direction. “Please?”

Nick chuckles, ears straining to hear if anything is coming from Kira’s room. He’s much too far away for that to actually be successful. “Sure, why not.” He stretches his hand out on the table and Ruby punches the air happily before focusing on the task before her. “Do you two have homework?”

Ruby shakes her head. “We’ve got a spelling test on Friday, though.”

“Well, then we should be practicing, don’t you think?” He motions for Emmy to come join them, which she does, although without her usual cheerful manner. “Ems, get your spelling words out of your backpack, please.” Once the list is in front of him, he quizzes the girls popcorn-style while Ruby very sloppily turns the tips of his fingers pink and glittery.

He’s trying to convince Ruby that eight is, in fact, how you spell the number 8 when Harry comes back into the kitchen. He’s done a good job concealing the fact that he’s been crying, although his nose is red and his eyelids are puffy. He smiles at Ruby and ruffles up Emmy’s hair before going deeper into the kitchen to start dinner. “Nice nails, love,” he says, his voice only a little bit scratchy. Nick hums affirmatively, holding his hands up to study them under the fluorescent glow of the kitchen lights.

“Dad,” Ruby chirps. “Spell eight.”

“Judge, could you please use the word in a sentence?” Harry asks as he oils up a pan. Nick conjures up his best podcasting voice, now pretending to be a spelling bee judge.

“Eight, as in: ‘Ruby and Emmy Grimshaw will be turning eight years old on June 11th.’”

“Ah yes. Eight” Harry clears his throat for dramatic effect. “E-i-g-h-t. Eight.”

“No!” Ruby lays her head down on the table in defeat. “It’s a-t-e. Eight!”

“We’re having a tough go with homophones,” Nick says, patting Ruby on the back. “Might have to wait until third grade to try them again.”

“Hear and here.” Emmy is looking shyly at her lap, but her voice is crystal clear. “H-e-a-r and h-e-r-e.”

“My little genius.” Nick squeezes Emmy around the shoulders, then joins Harry in the kitchen. He’s chopping an onion, which is a perfect excuse for the tears that are still in his eyes. “How did it go?”

Harry shrugs. “Just more of the same. She wants to stay home from school tomorrow. I said that was fine. I’ll call out of work, I think.”

Nick rubs a hand over Harry’s back, careful not to disrupt his knife skills. “Okay. That’ll probably be good. One of us can call Dr. Cruz’s office and try to get her an appointment.”

“Probably need to set something up with a therapist again, too. I think Diana left the practice, though.” Harry sighs, looking over at Nick. Nick thumbs some of the stray tears off of his cheeks, mindful of the onion juice on Harry’s hands. “I wonder if puberty is messing with her meds or something. Do you think that’s something that can happen?”

Nick has no idea. He didn’t know anything about psychiatric medications before meeting Harry, and he really didn’t know anything about psychiatric medications for children before Kira’s pediatrician recommended her starting them when she was almost nine. Even now, he barely knows more than the average Google search does. “We can ask Dr. Cruz about that.”

Dinner is an unusually quiet affair. Harry coaxes Kira out of her room and gets her to take a few bites of her taco, while Emmy mirrors her older sister’s silence. Ruby chats endlessly about everything she had done in school that day, about how her friend Ava had made her a friendship bracelet while she had been in the hospital and how her teacher had given her a hug when she had first arrived in the morning. “I think Miss Austin missed me.”

“Of course she did,” Harry says, his voice light and not matching the frown on his lips. Kira is tugging on her shirt sleeves, her body hunched in on itself as though she wants to make herself as small as possible. “I bet your whole class missed you, Rubes.”

“I didn’t miss Elijah,” Ruby says, opening up her taco shell and dumping the contents onto her plate. She picks the onions out of the weird mock taco meat Harry’s been obsessed with lately and wipes the lettuce away before taking a careful bite of only meat and cheese. “Emmy said he didn’t even want to sign the card Miss Austin got me but she made him.”

“Can I be excused?” Kira looks up, catching Harry’s eye, wordlessly begging. “I’m done.”

“Kira—” Nick begins, but Harry cuts him off.

“Yeah, that’s fine, love. Go ahead.”

Kira nods once, and pushes herself away from the table, quickly walking back down the hallway and into her bedroom and shutting the door behind her. Nick reaches under the table and takes Harry’s hand, squeezing it in his own, while Emmy looks between both her dads and the hallway, biting at her lower lip but still not saying anything. Ruby, meanwhile, launches into another story about how her friend Lia had burped during silent reading time and blamed it on a boy named Henry. Everything feels especially delicate, as though all of them— except, perhaps, for Ruby— are waiting for the next thing that will inevitably shatter the rest of the glass around them.

The sooner they can get Kira in to see Dr. Cruz, the better.

then, 2028

Right after Kira turned two, they started to talk about having another child. It was done in the abstract, sort of reminiscent of their conversations back before Aimee had offered to be their altruistic surrogate. There was no clear-cut way for it to happen— in no known universe would Nick ever suggest Aimee do it again. That was a one-and-done incredible gift she’d given them, one that Nick knew he could never repay to her fully. It also wasn’t something he felt comfortable asking the other women in his life, and he knew Harry felt the same. The fact that Aimee had offered had been the perfect solution, but it was one that seemed unlikely to ever happen again.

Most of the second child conversations inevitably ended up with the two of them coming to terms that they would most likely only have one child, even though they both grew up with siblings and ideally wanted Kira to experience the same. Harry still wasn’t okay with adoption, and the more Nick thought about it, the more he agreed with him. They could pay a stranger to be a gestational surrogate, but all the research they had done about that route concluded with a price tag they couldn’t afford. Because even though they were financially comfortable and able to pay for all the medical costs associated with a pregnancy, they didn’t realize that surrogacy agencies and compensation to the surrogate herself brought that already expensive total to well over six-figures.

(Those bits of information made Nick sputter apologies to Aimee for not paying her for carrying Kira. And that always ended with Aimee throwing something at his head and telling him to shut up and buy her dinner the next time they went out.)

However, just like the first time, somehow they found themselves face-to-face with someone willing to go through the fertility treatments, the pregnancy, and the labor and delivery just because she loved them and wanted to help them become parents again. Nick really didn’t understand how he and Harry had such incredible people in their lives, but he knew it wasn’t the time to question it. Not when the opportunity to have another kid was staring him in the face— both literally and metaphorically, one chilly January evening that he knew he’d never forget.

“You two don’t have to say yes, but I just want you to know that I’m offering,” Gemma said carefully, looking between Nick and Harry as she took a sip of her wine. From the living room, Nick could hear Kira rummaging around in her toy basket.

“Holy shit, Gem. How long have you been thinking about this?” Harry gaped at her, blinking furiously as though he needed to remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming.

“Thanksgiving,” Gemma said. “When you were telling Mom about how much it hurt to not be able to give Kira a sibling, I don’t know. Something just clicked for me. Like, I can help make that happen. Just like Aimee did.”

Nick didn’t know what to say. It felt too good to be true.

“I still don’t think I want kids of my own,” Gemma continued. “Not because I don’t love them or anything. I just don’t really see that for myself. But I’m not gonna lie and say that I haven’t been curious about being pregnant. Almost all my friends have been pregnant at least once at this point and sometimes I get weirdly envious.” She shrugged. “Like I said, you don’t have to say yes. I won’t be hurt. This is about you two, at the end of the day. And Kira.”

At the sound of her name, Kira poked her head into the kitchen. She was still wary around anyone who wasn’t Nick or Harry (really, though, she was wary around anyone who wasn’t Harry), but she tolerated Gemma a little better than most other people. Apart from Aimee. Nick was certain it was because of the biological drive toward her aunt, as well as the woman who carried her for eight months. “Gummy?”

Gemma smiled at her niece and her adorable nickname for her. “Yes, lovely?”

Kira looked at Harry, who nodded in encouragement, then turned back to Gemma. “Hi.” She waved and then bolted back into the living room, most likely trying to unearth a toy from the very bottom of the basket. She was in a good mood that day which, in turn, put both Nick and Harry in good moods.

“It’s seriously crazy how much she looks like you,” Gemma said, resting her eyes on her brother. “Grow your hair out a bit more, and you two would be actual twins.”

Gemma wasn’t wrong. Kira had Harry’s exact eyes, hair, nose, mouth, and every other phenotypic feature she possibly could— her once-blonde hair was turning dark, exactly as Harry’s had done when he was young. They knew what Noelle looked like, and nobody could pinpoint a single part of her that resembled her egg donor. Kira was as if Harry had somehow managed to reproduce by budding, much like sea coral or a flatworm.

Harry laughed. “I’ve thought about it, you know,” he said, reaching up to touch his own hair. “Growing it out. Just seems like a lot of work.” He looked at Nick, flashing him his trademark smile. “Would you still find me attractive if I had hair even longer than Kira’s?”

Nick rolled his eyes as his overtired brain tried to balance the two conversations at once— potentially life-changing news, along with a silly reminder of his everyday life. “Baby, you could shave all your hair off and I’d still think you were the most beautiful boy in the entire world.”

“Gross. You two are so sickeningly sweet,” Gemma said, matching Nick’s eye roll but still able to appear fond. “Reminds me of when I went to Dallas once and ordered sweet tea expecting, you know, sweetened iced tea and instead getting what I can only assume is a taste of how you two feel about each other.”

“Quite the metaphor, Gem,” Harry said back to her. “And you don’t feel that way about Michal? How sad for you.”

“Only privately, Hairball.”

“Speaking of Michal, you’ve talked to him about this, right? Like, he’s on board and everything?” Nick said, somehow managing to get them back on track. When Gemma nodded, he continued. “You should talk to Aimee, then. She had a pretty good pregnancy, all things considered, but the hormones and shit she had to do beforehand weren’t pretty.”

“I already did,” Gemma said. “I texted her on Black Friday. We’ve been talking about it quite a bit for weeks.”

“Bitch never told me,” Nick grumbled, shaking his head, because somehow none of this felt real yet. Just the previous night, he and Harry had, once again, talked about closing the second child chapter of their lives and focusing all of their attention on Kira. And maybe a dog. Although Nick was certain Stinky wouldn’t approve of a dog. But now, suddenly the door felt wide open in a way it hadn’t ever been before.

“I asked her not to. Not until I knew for sure that I wanted to.”

“Right, yeah. That makes sense.” Nick took another sip of his wine. Harry slipped a hand under the table to rest on his thigh, squeezing gently. It was grounding, as it always, always was.

“Gem.” Harry’s voice was wet, even though his face was dry. He was starting to get choked up, the reality of what she was telling them clearly starting to settle in his mind. Gone was the playful quipping from before. “This— this is. Like, you do realize what you’re offering, right?”

She laughed. “I do, H. You two are the best parents in the entire world, and if I can help make your family grow, I want to at least try. Besides,” she added, a soft smile on her lips. “This way, your next kid will automatically pick me as their favorite aunt, no questions asked.” Nick didn’t bother mentioning that Gemma was Kira’s favorite aunt, if only by default, since she wouldn’t let Jane anywhere near her, and she’d never met Andy’s wife, given they still lived in Houston.

As easy as it had been for Aimee to fall into the role of their altruistic surrogate the first time around, the opposite proved true for Gemma. When they all finally sat down with the same reproductive endocrinologist Aimee had gone to years before, they were hit with news that they hadn’t thought to expect.

“The Department of Health highly suggests that all candidates have had at least one healthy pregnancy to term prior to becoming surrogates,” she told them. Nick’s stomach dropped down to his feet. Somehow he had never considered that, among all the things he knew were important. Since Aimee had been pregnant before, it hadn’t ever come up with her. He was prepared for the onslaught of medical and psychological testing that Gemma would have to do but he wasn’t ready to hear that she was going to be disqualified before they even started.

“It’s highly suggested,” Gemma said, her voice not at all wavering. “But that doesn’t mean it’s required, correct?”

The doctor didn’t look terribly impressed. “I have yet to perform surrogacy IVF on someone who hasn’t already been pregnant,” she said, as though that answered the question. Gemma, however, wasn’t having it.

“Is a past pregnancy absolutely required, according to the Department of Health?”

The doctor couldn’t answer that. So Gemma found the answer herself.

“Seems it’s intentionally vague,” she said a few days later, poring over legal documents from the New York State Senate government website. “Intentionally vague, but not a legal barrier. But I can be denied by any fertility clinics because of the Department of Health suggestion. And I don’t think I’d have a legal foot to stand on.”

The fact that it was now a challenge only spurred Gemma further. Both Nick and Harry told her that she could let it go, that they understood if she wanted to retract her interest. But instead, she went through numerous psychological screenings, medical tests, legal consultations, and clinic interviews, absolutely determined to find a doctor who understood their situation and who agreed with her that she would be the perfect surrogate for her brother and his husband.

It took months for the puzzle pieces to start to align. But finally, the summer before Kira turned three, they had a team of experts that did, in fact, agree that Gemma was willing and consenting to being Nick and Harry’s surrogate, and that she completely understood the risks involved with the process, even without having had a prior pregnancy.

It had been a no-brainer to use Noelle’s eggs again, after confirming that it was a possibility, but Nick and Harry disagreed when it came down to who would provide the sperm. Harry pushed for Nick to be the donor, most likely remembering Nick’s breakdown over it all when Kira was a few months old. But Nick was over that— he never really thought about the fact that Kira, technically, wasn’t biologically related to him anymore (except sometimes in the deepest corner of his mind, but that was neither here nor there). He stood by all his previous reasonings for Harry to be the donor, now with two new, very relevant points.

“If we can give Kira a full sibling, why wouldn’t we?” he asked Harry one evening, the two of them trying to work through this particular hurdle once and for all so they could move onto the next step.

“Blood doesn’t matter, you know that.”

“Of course I do, but you know as well as I do that sharing that kind of genetic bond can be really important. And there are medical advantages.”

“Like what?” Harry furrowed his brow, but Nick knew he was listening.

“Higher likelihood of being matches for, like, kidney transplants.” He didn’t know for certain if that was true, but it sounded like it very well could be. “And bone marrow.” A quick Google search confirmed that he actually wasn’t talking out of his ass. He felt like a scientist in that moment. “If, god forbid, anyone ever needed that. Plus,” he added, looking at Harry intently. “We have tried and true evidence that you make good babies, love. Brains and beauty, our Kira has. Can’t be so sure that my spawn wouldn’t come out all broken and two-headed or something.”

Nick won in the end, after Gemma reassured them that she wasn’t weirded out by carrying her brother’s sperm. And since Noelle was providing new, non-frozen eggs, Harry decided to forgo his previously-frozen sperm as well, which meant Nick found himself repeating the same motions of helping him masturbate into a cup over the phone, the sound of the slick slide of his hand on his cock enough to have him palming at his own, wishing Harry was home and in bed with him. It took longer this time, Harry clearly in his head with nerves, but when he finally came with a quiet, beautiful moan, Nick felt the same, incredible feeling he had the last time, that somehow this was going to work out perfectly. In less than a year, they would be the fathers of two happy and healthy children.

But that’s not what happened.

Not even close.

now

Nick thinks that anyone who goes into pediatric psychiatry should have to be patient, approachable, and easy to talk to. Dr. Cruz only checks one of those boxes. Still, he’s the best option their insurance will cover, and even though he isn’t exactly a joy to talk with, he at least cares about Kira. He also finds a way to squeeze her into an otherwise booked solid schedule. Perhaps that’s the most important quality of a pediatric psychiatrist, actually. That, and Kira is comfortable speaking with him. That’s probably the actual most important bit of all.

Neither Harry nor Nick speak while they sit in the clinic waiting room, waiting to meet with their daughter and her doctor. For a while now, she’s been going back to talk with him by herself, with the two of them joining later to go over what the plan was. It takes thirty minutes for them to be called back, and they find Kira sitting in a chair in the corner of the room and Dr. Cruz behind his desk, typing some notes on his computer. He gestures for them to sit, the door shutting behind them. Kira sticks her AirPods into her ears, clearly done with the appointment.

“Thanks for getting us in,” Harry says, leaning forward. He holds onto Nick’s hand, his palm starting to sweat.

“It’s no trouble.” Dr. Cruz looks between both of them. “Kira expressed that some of her symptoms are getting worse.”

Nick nods, waiting for more, because they are very much aware of that, thanks, considering that’s the entire reason they scheduled this appointment in the first place.

“She mentioned an increase in her obsessions with mental cleanliness, as well as an increase in her compulsions.” Dr. Cruz glances over at the computer. “We’re back up to at least ten hand washes per day.”

“Did she talk about skin picking?” Harry asks. “I bought a box of bandaids not that long ago, and they’re all gone.”

“She did, she said that’s gotten worse, as well.”

Nick glances at Kira, who is buried in her phone. She’s always hated the recap, always preferred to check out during this part of the appointment. Nick can’t blame her.

“Is there anything else that either of you have noticed?” Dr. Cruz asks. “Apart from the personal cleanliness obsession, hand washing, and skin picking?”

“She mentioned not wanting to be herself anymore,” Harry says, and Nick feels the devastation radiating off of him. It’s palpable. “That really scared me.” His hold tightens on Nick’s hand. “Is that, like, suicidal ideation?”

“It’s passive suicidal ideation.” Dr. Cruz types some more, probably noting what Harry said. “Has she ever expressed a desire to hurt herself, apart from her dermatillomania?”

“Not really,” Nick says, jumping in. He knows that if Harry thinks any harder, he’s going to cry. “If she didn’t have intrusive thoughts, or whatever, I doubt she’d say things like that.” He hopes he’s right.

“She’s overall more anxious,” Harry adds. “I’ve noticed that for sure. And she’s having really strong reactions to touch again. Even less willing to touch Nick.” Nick’s heart clenches at that. He’s used to it, sure, but it doesn’t mean he enjoys it. “And she’s having a hard time with her clothes, like she did when she was younger.”

“Textures and tags still?” Dr. Cruz asks. Both Harry and Nick nod.

“I thought she outgrew that. But, I guess not.” Harry sounds as defeated as Nick feels. None of this has been easy. It’s actually been one of the hardest things Nick has ever dealt with, right on up there with Harry’s PTSD and Ruby’s health problems.

“My diagnoses remain the same,” Dr. Cruz says as soon as he finishes typing. “She still fits the criteria for the contamination subtype of obsessive-compulsive disorder, as well as sensory processing disorder, although I would bump her OCD severity up from ‘moderate’ to ‘severe.’ I do eventually want to evaluate her for major depressive disorder and possibly autism spectrum disorder, but that’s not what’s pressing right now. How is her sleep?”

“Fine.” Nick shuts the conversation down with just that word. It hasn’t been an issue for a while, and he doesn’t have the strength to talk about it further.

Dr. Cruz eyes him for a moment, then nods. “And is she still seeing a therapist?”

“Her therapist left the practice,” Harry says. “But we’d like to get her going with someone else.”

“Annie at the front desk will be able to get you a referral. As for her medications, she is already on the highest dose of Prozac for children her age, so unfortunately titrating up isn’t an option. I’m also hesitant to try her on another SSRI, since Prozac has worked well up until now.”

“Could this be because she’s starting puberty?” Harry asks. “Like, why she’s suddenly bad again?”

“It might be. Her brain is going through a lot of changes because of her age. There may also be environmental factors. Have there been any changes at home recently?”

“Her sister got sick again,” Nick says, feeling crushed. “But I think she was already struggling before that happened.”

“It’s possible that’s also part of it. Switching from Prozac to another SSRI would be a stressful process, and unfortunately it wouldn’t be quick. I also have found that Prozac and Zoloft are our best options when it comes to childhood OCD. We tried Zoloft initially, if I recall, but I believe we switched due to side effects?”

Harry nods. “She had such bad headaches, and a lot of nausea.” Nick remembers. It had been a really tough few months.

“Another option would be something called clomipramine, which is a tricyclic antidepressant. But it has a side effect profile that I’m not fond of. I’d want her on cardiac monitoring if we go that option, and that also would involve slow weaning from Prozac.”

Nick doesn’t like the idea of swapping Kira’s hurting brain for a hurting heart. It doesn’t seem fair, even though he knows allowing her brain to be like this is the least fair part of it all. “Are there any other options?” he asks, feeling stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“We can add an adjunct,” Dr. Cruz says, leaning back in his desk chair. “Adjunct medications for OCD aren’t as common as adjunct medications for depression, but there is evidence out there to support their use. I actually believe they are under utilized by practitioners.”

“What’s an adjunct?” Harry asks. He’s been on his own SSRI medication for almost as long as Nick has known him, ever since the horrible tragedy he witnessed in the subway all those years ago. Nick’s never heard him mention anything about an adjunct.

“Think of it as a helper medication. When our primary medication— in this case, Prozac— fails to work as well as we’d like, we add a second medication to jumpstart it. But on its own, the adjunct medication most likely wouldn’t be beneficial.”

“So instead of having a better medication option, we just pile on more medications. Got it.” Nick doesn’t mean to sound bitter, but he can’t help it. He knows the importance of making sure his daughter’s brain is properly regulated, but there’s something he doesn’t love about just adding on meds in the hopes that eventually something works.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have as many pharmacological options for children as we do adults,” Dr. Cruz says, eyeing Nick but keeping his tone neutral. “I think if we add an antipsychotic for a while, as well as regular therapy, there’s a chance she could come off of it once things are more stable.”

“An antipsychotic?” Now Harry sounds skeptical. “But she doesn’t have schizophrenia or anything like that.”

“Antipsychotic drugs are used for much more than psychotic disorders. I prescribe them far more frequently for depressive and anxiety disorders. The name is a bit of a misnomer these days.” He pulls a small notepad out from his desk drawer and scrawls the name of a medication on it. “My suggestion is to try a very low dose of Abilify for Kira, along with her 60 mg dose of Prozac, for a few weeks. Abilify in particular is well-tolerated in pediatric patients and it may even help with her dermatillomania.” He hands Nick the paper. It’s not a prescription— those are all sent electronically— but it at least will give him the right medication name so he can Google it. Even though he’s been told time and time again not to Google things like this. He’ll definitely be doing it anyway.

“Annie can get you scheduled for eight weeks from now,” Dr. Cruz continues. “But if anything changes before then, call and we’ll try to get you in. I’d love for her to be established with a new therapist by then, too.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, standing up and shaking the doctor’s hand. “Really. We appreciate it.” He heads over to Kira and gently touches her shoulder, letting her know it’s time to go. For a brief moment, Nick sees her flinch, but once she realizes it’s Harry, she relaxes and gets to her feet. Nick makes sure to schedule their follow up in eight weeks, as well as get the therapy referral, before the three of them leave the clinic and step back out into the late-May sunshine.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks Kira as they walk toward the subway. She looks up at him and shrugs.

“The same,” she says, her voice quiet. “Do I have to go back to school?”

They had pulled her out of class early for the appointment; now it’s nearing noon, leaving just under three hours left in the school day. Nick catches Harry’s eye and gives him a small shrug.

“Nah, I think you’re good for today.” Harry puts his arm around her once they are at the West 4 station and waiting for their train down to Delancey-Essex. “Is there anything you want to do this afternoon, maybe?”

Kira shakes her head once, then pauses. “Can we go to Duane Reade maybe and get some more soap?” She looks embarrassed the moment the words leave her mouth, and she scrunches up her face reflexively. Nick sighs.

“No, love, we have enough soap at home.” If she keeps up with the dozens of hand washes per day with the literal handful of soap she uses for each one, they very much will need to buy more soap, but for now their supply is sufficient. Nick hopes it doesn’t come to that. “We can go to Duane Reade and get you a soda or something, if you’d like, though.”

“No thanks.” She sounds as defeated as she looks. “I just wanna go home.” Harry tightens his hold on her, leading her onto the M train and guarding her from anyone who may bump into her. When she’s not in such a bad place, the accidental and inevitable touch from strangers on the train doesn’t bother her. Right now, however, it could send her into a meltdown.

Once they’re home, Kira kicks off her shoes and goes straight to her room, shutting the door behind her. Harry watches her go, frowning sadly, before turning to Nick. “Can you run to Duane Reade on your way to get the twins and pick up the prescription?” he asks.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He still isn’t totally sold on his eleven-year-old being on an antipsychotic, but he also isn’t sold on his eleven-year-old continuing to live this way. “You think it’s the best decision for her?”

“No, but I don’t really see another option.” Harry taps his fingers against the kitchen island, looking back down the hallway toward Kira’s room. “And I don’t think Dr. Cruz would have her try anything that wasn’t safe, it’s just…”

“Yeah, I know.” It’s just seems to somehow sum up what Nick is thinking quite succinctly.

“She can try it, and if it isn’t good, we can always take her off of it,” Harry says, perhaps trying to convince himself. “Like we did with the Zoloft.”

“That’s true, too.” Nick takes his phone out and quickly Googles Abilify. Thousands of results pop up almost instantly. Technology sure is convenient. “Looks like the common side effects are headaches, fatigue, restlessness, insomnia, agitation, anxiety, and weight gain. I feel like those are the side effects of everything, though.” As he continues to read, his face splits into a frown that matches Harry’s. “Although this one says, quote, ‘Like all antipsychotics, Abilify can cause extrapyramidal symptoms, such as tremors, stiff muscles, involuntary muscle contractions, and involuntary facial movements.’ Well, that doesn’t sound ideal.”

“Dr. Cruz said she’ll be on the lowest dose,” Harry says, although he too doesn’t look thrilled. “Side effects are way less likely at low doses. Plus,” he adds, “she can’t keep on like this. She can’t. So. We have to try.”

Nick can see the guilt and pain in Harry’s face, a look he’s all too used to at this point. “Hey,” he says, closing the distance between them and bumping his hip against his own. “Look at me.”

Harry does. He’s not crying, but he’s certainly anything but happy.

“This isn’t your fault,” he reminds him, his voice slightly above a whisper, just in case Kira is listening. “You know that.”

Harry takes a slow, deep breath, holds it for a few counts, then loudly exhales, exactly like his therapist has taught him to do in moments of panic. “I know. It’s just hard.”

“I know it is, love. But you beating yourself up doesn’t make anything better. This is the hand we’ve all been dealt, and we just have to keep dealing with it.” He smooths down the wrinkles in Harry’s shirt before tangling their fingers together, bringing one joined pair up to his lips to kiss each knuckle. He loves his boy so much, sometimes he thinks he's going to burst from it. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Harry looks about ten years older than normal as he locks his gaze with Nick’s and tries to nod. “I really, really hope you're right.”

then, 2029

The first time around, it didn't work.

Even though they’d been told ever since Aimee had started IVF that their odds of a successful pregnancy were only 20-35%, it still came as a massive shock. Probably because Aimee had gotten pregnant immediately with Kira. Probably also because they had already gone through so many additional hurdles with Gemma, that it felt like this part of it had to work.

It didn’t. And Nick hadn’t been prepared for the pain that it brought.

Gemma wasn’t deterred. She simply squared her shoulders and continued on with her hormone injections, penciling the day of her next embryo transfer into her planner. That meant more shots of estrogen and leuprorelin and finally progesterone, right before the second transfer, a week before Thanksgiving— almost an entire year after Gemma had decided that she wanted to try being their altruistic surrogate. With Aimee, it had been such a fast process. With Gemma, it felt like Nick had aged an entire decade in the ten months between the initial conversation and the second transfer

They decided to go with three embryos this time around, even though it meant there was an abstract chance they could have triplets. Having one embryo stick was hard enough; three seemed actually impossible. Both Aimee and Gemma had done two with their first attempts, but Harry couldn’t stand the idea of his sister having to keep going through all the injections and stress for a third time if it didn’t work out again. From the get-go, Nick and Harry had laid out that they would only try the process three times— if none of the attempts worked, it was what it was. Gemma agreed, although she seemed wary about giving up, in her words, “so easily.” But nothing about it was easy. Not the cycle synching, not the medications, not the transfer process, and not the cost. And they couldn’t keep dragging Noelle along, either, even though she was not only consenting to egg retrieval and donation, but also being compensated generously.

During the two-week wait, Harry threw up every morning, like clockwork. Nick called it morning sickness. Harry knew it was nerves, but he liked the idea of it being morning sickness. It made the anxiety in his chest feel a bit more promising. In the evenings, Nick found him in Kira’s room, holding her against his body, and talking to her about all the fun she was going to have with her future sibling someday. Kira, who was now three and had an entire personality all her own, put up with his displays of affection and allowed him to coddle her. She would let Harry do absolutely anything. Nick had begrudgingly accepted that he would always be second best.

Well, maybe third best. Kira did have a soft spot for Aimee, after all.

Twelve days after implantation, Nick sat in a brightly lit hospital room with Harry and Gemma, his heart rate most definitely at a concerningly high level. Good thing he was already in a hospital, if he actually went into cardiac arrest. It certainly felt like he was about to. Gemma had started to experience promising symptoms— light spotting, some nausea, and breast tenderness, much to Harry’s chagrin— but during the first round, that had also happened. It could be psychological. It could also be what the doctors called a chemical pregnancy. Nick tried his best not to get ahead of himself, but that had never been his strong suit.

When the rapid hCG test came back not only with high levels of hCG, but with extremely high levels of hCG, Harry vomited right there on the floor of the doctor’s office.

Nick considered that to be a good sign.

Which it was.

On Christmas Eve, the three of them huddled in the exam room, Kira clinging to Harry’s leg, while the technician moved the wand across Gemma’s already ever-so-slightly bloated belly. When they all heard rapid fluttering coming from the sonogram, Nick struggled to remain upright. And even though Gemma was only six-and-a-half weeks pregnant (which Nick had given up trying to understand— the whole ‘counting from the last menstrual period’ and not from the date of actual conception really didn’t make any sense to him, no matter how many times it was explained) and things certainly could still go wrong, he couldn’t help but become overwhelmed with feelings of hope. That this time, everything was going to turn out perfectly.

“I can’t believe she’s due on your birthday,” Harry said later on, after Nick had thoroughly fucked him into the mattress, both of them still thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’ve already decided this one’s also a girl, huh?” Nick gave Harry a cursory wipedown with a washcloth— how the hell did they get come on his eyebrow?— before tossing it in the general direction of the laundry basket.

“No, I mean Gemma. Gemma’s due on your birthday.” But there was a sparkle in his eye that Nick recognized from the last time, when Harry had let it slip that he hoped they were having a girl. “Although I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, babe, but what’s important here is—”

“A happy and healthy baby, I know.” Still, Harry smiled further. “Feels like a girl, though. Just like it felt when Aimee was pregnant. I can’t explain it.”

“That’s called wishful thinking, love. But you’re gonna be alright if we have a boy, aren’t you?” Nick had read about gender disappointment in one of the many baby books Aimee had loaned him while she was pregnant with Kira. He knew it was common, but it still seemed weird to him. He couldn’t imagine caring that much about the assigned sex of his unborn child and he knew that, deep down, Harry really didn’t either. Hopefully.

“Duh. Then our family will be just like mine was. And being a little brother is the best.” Somehow, Harry’s smile widened even more. “Wait, maybe I do hope it’s a boy. You and I can both really relate to him.”

“In more ways than just that, need I remind you.” Even though it was crude, perhaps, Nick poked at Harry’s soft penis with his pointer finger. “Plus, the world needs more good men. I like to think we’d raise a really, really good son.”

“Mhm, you’re right. He’d be kind and respectful to women, that’s for sure.”

“But not in a douchey way. In an intersectional activist way.”

“Right. Although if he’s straight, I’m not sure how we’ll be able to handle that.” Harry laughed. “Might have to ship him off to Louis or Ian for those kinds of difficult talks.”

“Freddie would probably be happy to have a little boy to roll around with,” Nick said, thinking wistfully. “Especially since Kira hates getting dirty.” That was something they’d started to notice about their toddler— while her peers were thrilled to play in the mud at any opportunity, even a little bit of dirt on her hands was enough to send her into a full temper tantrum.

“Either way, I’m just so happy,” Harry said, laying his head on Nick’s chest. “Plus, who the hell knows if their assigned sex is even their actual gender, anyway.”

Nick kissed his forehead, smiling fondly. “You’re a fucking good dad, you know that?”

Harry blushed, throwing an arm over his eyes in embarrassment. “Niiiick—”

“I mean it, love. I couldn’t be half the parent I am without you. Kira worships you.” Long gone were the days of his (he’d argue rational) jealousy and frustration at Harry’s intense bond with their daughter. Now, he saw it for what it really was— something incredibly special and even more beautiful.

Usually. Sometimes it still caused an ache in his heart that he wouldn't ever admit to anyone.

“Yeah, well, Kira is…” Harry’s voice trailed off and he looked at the ceiling, pondering. Kira was something unique, not like any other kid Nick had ever known. He’d watched both Sunday and Freddie grow up a few years ahead of Kira, with Freddie turning five soon in January and Sunday turning six later on in February, and Kira definitely wasn’t like either of them. She wasn’t shy, per se, but she was particular. She still greatly preferred Harry, and sometimes Aimee, but would scream and cry if Gemma or Liv or even Anne tried to touch her. It was hit-or-miss with Nick, although Nick noticed that there were starting to be many more misses than hits the older she got. She also didn’t want to play much with other kids, preferring instead to sit in Harry’s lap and watch whatever Sunday and Freddie were up to, even if Freddie did his best to try to coax her to join them. Nick sometimes worried she was developing separation anxiety, but didn’t want to bring it up yet, not when her world was going to be changing in such a drastic way that summer. For now, she could keep using her dad as a security blanket.

“This little bab probably won’t be like her,” Harry decided, after he thought about it for a while. “Most likely won’t be so glued to me.”

“Hopefully not. I don’t think Kira would share very well, if they are.” Nick also wasn’t sure he’d share very well, if this kid needed as much from Harry as Kira did. He’d probably try to kidnap his own child from his own husband just to spend time with them, their protests be damned. “But we’ll just have to see when we get there.”

“Two kids,” Harry said dreamily as he shut his eyes for the night. “Just like we always wanted.”

But it wasn’t two kids.

Well, it sort of was.

Nick always did love a buy-one-get-one-free sale.

“You’re joking, right?” Nick couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped open and the words tumbled out of it. On his right side, Harry was crouching down, his head in his hands. Nick knew he was crying, even if he couldn’t see his face. “Like, is this a weird Early-February Fool’s Day prank you’re all playing on us?” Never mind that Early-February Fool’s Day didn’t exist. Or maybe it did. Nick wasn’t always up-to-date on meaningless holidays. Like National Pancake Day. Or Arbor Day. Or Tax Day.

“Not joking,” the ultrasound tech said with a smile. Clearly she was used to this kind of reaction from expecting parents. “Two gestational sacs. We call this a di/di pregnancy.”

“I don’t like how ominous that sounds,” Gemma said, staring at the ultrasound screen with a look of awe on her face.

“D-i-d-i,” the tech clarified. “Short for dichorionic/diamniotic. Which means each baby has their own chorion and their own amniotic sac. It also means they’re fraternal.”

“Which is not identical, right?” Nick asked. Harry was still on the floor. Nick was thankful Kira had been in a good enough mood that morning to stay home with Aimee. She’d probably be in danger of Harry accidentally suffocating her, if she were here.

“Correct. Identical twins are possible with embryo transfers, but yours are fraternal. They’ll be just as related as any other sibling pair, same as they are to your oldest.”

Logically, he’d known this was possible. With this attempt, they could have triplets, twins, a singleton (a word he hadn’t known before this process; he was pretty sure it was of the dumbest words out there), or nothing at all. But anything more than one baby didn’t seem real. Even as it literally stared him in the face, the tech measuring things and taking photos of each baby, Nick was about 77% sure he was dreaming.

Twins. They were going to have twins.

“I think I’ll put Louis’ mom on speed dial, then,” he said with a shaky laugh. “Seems like a safe bet. How ya doing, Gem?”

“Fine,” she said, smiling. Nick believed her. She’d so far taken absolutely everything with this process in such stride. It often blew his mind. “Although I assume I’ll get fatter than I anticipated. And they probably won’t make it to your birthday, sorry to say.”

“Most likely not, no.” The tech wiped Gemma’s stomach down with paper towels, getting the sticky gel off of her the best she could. “With twins, the average gestation is about thirty-six weeks, but it would be wonderful if they made it close to forty. Your due date will remain the same as it was, however.”

“So prepare for mid-July then, got it.” Nick looked down at his husband. “Harry, love? You hanging in down there?”

Slowly, Harry got to his feet. He was shaking, eyes overflowing with tears. Nick hoped they were happy ones. Now that the initial shock was gone, his own eyes were full to the brim with excitement. Three kids. Just like himself and his siblings. He couldn’t have dreamed up anything better.

“I think,” Harry said, clearing his throat and looking between Nick and Gemma. “I think we’re gonna need a bigger apartment.”

now

Kira seems to take to the new prescription as well as anyone could hope. Every morning, Nick or Harry ask her if she’s taken both her meds before she heads out to school, and she’s quite receptive to being compliant. For a while, things stay basically the same, however, after about a week, Nick notices at least a slight improvement in her behavior. She starts spending more time outside of her room, and when Nick is at the school to pick her up in the afternoons, she comes out with her friends again, no longer by herself. He’s more than willing to get over his own weird hesitations toward the antipsychotic if it brings his daughter back to him and, so far, it appears it may be doing exactly that.

With the last day of school still a few weeks away, all three kids start to get antsy. Ruby’s endless energy came back full-force once she was finished with her antibiotics; a final CT scan showed her pneumonia to be completely gone and no trace of the abscess, a major sigh of relief for Harry and Nick. Not for the first time, Nick wishes they could enroll her in gymnastics or dance class as he watches her roll around the living room and bounce off of the couch. Because of her lungs, her pediatrician has always recommended against strenuous activity until she’s older, hopefully giving her body more time to heal and get stronger. Nick wonders if their pediatrician has ever seen an almost eight-year-old who is being denied an outlet for her energy. Even without an organized sport or activity, it’s not like Ruby is quietly sitting on the floor and reading a book.

Emmy, on the other hand, is more than willing to do exactly that. Second grade has awakened her deep love for reading, and she zips through nearly anything put in front of her. Neither Nick nor Harry had been like that as kids, with Nick far too busy doing stupid shit with Aimee and Harry apparently spending all his time being mischievous and flirting with anyone he encountered.

(Nick still wishes he could somehow see the Harry that Anne and Gemma often talk about, the Harry with endless confidence and a love of the spotlight, the Harry who was constantly surrounded by friends, the Harry who shamelessly made out with more girls than he could count in high school, the Harry who had a knack for singing and performing and was involved in every school talent show possible. More than anything, Nick wishes all of that hadn’t been taken away from him so violently, permanently changing the way he interacts with the world. That pain won’t ever go away, for either of them, that much he knows for certain.

Harry always says that Nick has met the child he used to be, however— it’s just that her name is Ruby Grimshaw, not Harry Styles.)

Nick had gathered up some of his old childhood books from Jane, books that he never read but still somehow had— he’s pretty sure they really had belonged to Liv. Books such as The Magic Tree House and Goosebumps and Animorphs, which he was appalled to find out are considered classics these days. When he presented them to Emmy, she completely devoured them, and at her spring parent-teacher conference, Miss Austin had told Nick and Harry that Emmy was, without a doubt, one of the most advanced readers she’s ever had in her classroom. At this point, Nick is certain Emmy is a better reader than he is— especially since he’s also certain his second grade teacher had once said the exact opposite sentiment about his reading skills to his parents back in the day.

“Alright, we’re gonna do something today as a family,” Harry says one Saturday morning, addressing all three of his children, as well as Nick. It’s not something they had discussed beforehand, but Nick certainly isn't going to say no. “It’s nice out, and we spend way too much time in this apartment.”

“Can we see Uncle Niall?” Ruby asks from the couch, where she is sitting upside down with her head dangling over the edge. Sometimes Nick does wonder if she is somehow biologically related to him.

“He’s working,” Harry says. “And I said that we’re doing something as a family.”

“Uncle Niall is family,” Ruby argues, her tone identical to Harry’s. As often as he wonders if he could be Ruby’s biological father, he is always quickly reminded how alike all of his kids are to Harry.

“Immediate family. The people who live in this apartment. The five of us.” Harry rolls his eyes, but cracks a smile. Nick can’t blame Ruby for the confusion. He’s always hated the sharp separation between family and friends; for as much as he loves Jane and Andy, there is no known universe in which he’d prefer to spend time with them over Aimee or Daisy.

Liv, though, is the exception. Liv can always hang.

“Can we go to the library?” Emmy asks, peering over Nick’s old copy of Midnight on the Moon. The words have barely left her mouth before Ruby is squawking and making an exaggerated retching sound.

“Ew, not the library! Emmy, we already go to the library at school!”

For a brief second, Emmy looks downtrodden, but it vanishes as quickly as it comes. Instead, she glances over at Ruby and smiles softly. “Okay, you’re right.” Nick ruffles her hair and pours her another glass of orange juice. He absolutely loves how easygoing and agreeable Emmy always is.

“Kira, any ideas?” Harry sits down beside her at the kitchen table and presses a quick kiss to the side of her head. She shrugs, but doesn’t look completely turned off by the idea of spending time with her family. For Kira, that’s a massive win.

“I dunno. But can we go to Levain?”

Ruby and Emmy both light up at the sound of her words. “Can we, can we, can we, can we?” Ruby begs, flipping herself right-side-up and rushing to join everyone else in the dining room. She falls to the ground in front of Nick and looks up at him with pleading eyes and her hands clasped together in absolute desperation. “Pleeeease, Daddy?”

Nick laughs and pulls her to her feet. With that show, you’d think Ruby never got fed. “That sounds like a good idea to me. What do you think, babe?” He catches Harry smiling, clearly just as pleased at Kira’s suggestion as he is. Anything that has all three girls agreeing on something is worth it, even if it’s only an overpriced bakery.

“Alright, we can go to Levain.”

“Not the one on Lafayette,” Kira says. “The one on the Upper West Side. It’s better.”

Ruby nods along with her, although Nick isn’t sure she has any idea what Kira is saying. It’s cute, anyway. “If we’re gonna head up to the Upper West Side, we could go to the Natural History Museum?” Nick says. “When’s the last time we went there?”

“It had to have been sometime last year,” Harry says, putting on a silly thinking face. He lifts his left arm up to scratch at his head, but winces. Nick swallows uncomfortably— it’s not the first time he’s noticed Harry having problems with his shoulder, but he keeps forgetting to bring it up with him. Now, however, isn’t the right time to do so. “Yeah I think it’s when we went with Louis, Freddie, and June when Eleanor was in San Francisco for that conference.”

That had been the previous summer. It really has been a while.

“I think that settles it, then,” Nick says, gathering up the finished breakfast dishes and piling them in the sink for later. “Let’s have ourselves a museum day, shall we?”

“And Levain,” Ruby says, grinning toothily up at Nick, her eyes squinting behind her glasses.

Nick shakes his head fondly. “Yes. And Levain, you weird little freak.”

The American Museum of Natural History is surprisingly empty when they arrive, an unusual phenomenon for a weekend in June. It’s one of the only museums left that allows for residents to pay what they wish, so Nick drops three twenty dollar bills into the collection bin before they head straight into the Hall of African Mammals. He takes Emmy’s hand, and reaches to hold onto Ruby’s, as well, but she sprints ahead immediately, racing to see as many taxidermied animals as she can. For a second, she disappears into the rest of the museum goers and Nick’s breath catches in his throat; as soon as the crowd thins, there she is with her hands and face smushed up against the glass of the cheetah display.

“Ruby Eileen, what the hell are you doing?” He marches over to her and snatches her hand. Ruby looks up at him, grinning.

“Dad, did you know that cheetahs are the fastest animal in the whole world?”

“I’d love to hear more about that, tiny grub, but I’d love to hear more about that with you next to me holding my hand, alright?” He sighs exasperatedly and gives her little hand a squeeze. “I don’t need you running off and ending up on a milk carton.”

Ruby cocks her head. “Why would I turn into a milk carton?”

“That’s before your time, love.” Harry’s beside them now, Kira right behind him. She looks a little anxious, but seems to be managing herself better than Nick expected. She’s not picking at her fingers, and when a stranger bumps up against her, she doesn’t flinch. Still, her eyes are trained on Harry, bottom lip sucked between her teeth. “Daddy’s right, though. You can’t run off on us. Why don’t you hold my hand, and Daddy will hold Emmy’s, and we can go through the museum all together?”

“What about Kira’s hand?” Ruby asks as she reaches for Harry. “Who’s gonna hold her hand?”

“Kira’s old enough to stay with us on her own,” Harry says, winking at Kira. She bows her head, pressing into Harry’s side as though she wants to hold Harry’s hand, too. “Just like you two will be, one day.”

“Hmmm.” Ruby taps her foot impatiently. “I think I’m old enough now, don’t you?”

“Obviously not.” Nick pretends to smack her upside the head. It makes Emmy giggle. “Now, are we gonna take a look at the fastest animal in the world or not?”

She nods eagerly, pointing her and Harry’s linked hand at the diorama. “They’re extinct, you know.”

“Endangered, Ruby,” Emmy sighs, her exasperation identical to Nick’s. “It’s not like they don’t exist anymore.”

“Whatever, Emmy. Close enough.” Ruby rolls her eyes, tapping her heel. “Dad, do you see the line coming down from their eyes? It’s called a tear mark and it helps protect their eyes from the sun!”

“Do other big cats have those?” Harry asks her, kneeling down so they have the same vantage point. “Or is that just cheetahs?”

“Um, I dunno. Lions don’t! Like in The Lion King, Simba doesn’t have one.” Speaking of lions, Ruby yanks Harry up by his arm and drags him to the lion display. “I heard that tigers have a better roar than lions do.”

“Why are they called king of the jungle if they don’t even live in the jungle?” Emmy asks as she and Nick trail over to Harry and Ruby. Kira follows behind, looking bored. “Tigers should be the kings of the jungle, since they actually do live in the jungle.”

“They do?” Ruby furrows her brow in confusion. “They live in the actual jungle?”

“Yes, Ruby.” It’s like a mother hen scolding her chick. Nick wants to laugh out loud, but refrains. “Lions live in the desert and tigers live in the jungle.”

“Lions live in the African grasslands.” Nick is surprised to hear Kira pipe into the conversation. “It’s not really a desert. It’s the savanna.”

“What’s the difference?” Now Emmy’s the one who’s confused. Ruby has already pulled Harry along to check out the scene at the watering hole. “Isn’t a desert the same as a savanna?”

“No, I don’t think so. Deserts are, like, totally dry. Like, they only have sand. But a grassland has grass and stuff. Like in The Lion King, Simba didn’t live in just the sand and stuff.” Kira shrugs. “I dunno, Google would know more than me. You can look it up at home.”

Emmy seems satisfied at that. “I guess you are smart, Kiki!” She lets go of Nick’s hand and skips over to Harry and Ruby, close enough to them already that Nick doesn’t worry about her getting separated. As soon as she reaches them, she grabs hold of Harry’s free hand diligently.

Carefully, as to not accidentally touch her, Nick leans down so Kira can hear him. “Very smart and the best big sister.” She doesn’t respond, a tiny twitch of her lips giving away the smile that seems to be desperate to appear. He itches to hug her; she’s somewhere between childhood and adolescence, close to becoming the adult she is destined to be. Much like that ABBA song his mom used to listen to, he often feels like she is growing up without him, like he’s only watching from behind-the-scenes. He isn’t sure how to fix it, not when she needs him to keep his distance.

“Daddy?”

Kira’s looking at him quizzically. “Dad and the twins are on the other side now.”

“Right!” Nick smiles at her, shaking away his spiraling thoughts. “We should catch up.” They walk toward the rest of their family, although keeping up with them is quite the challenge. Ruby’s bouncing from display to display, basically dragging Harry and Emmy along for the ride. “Is there anything here you want to see, babe?” Nick asks, as soon as they’re finally reunited with the others. “I have a feeling all these stuffed animals aren’t really up your alley.”

A flash of a smile crosses her lips. “It’s fine,” she says, although she dares to look down at the map in her hands. “Definitely not the New York City birds.”

“A whole room of pigeons. How delightful.”

“If I wanted to see that, I’d just go outside.” Now Kira’s giggling. Harry glances back at the two of them, catching Nick’s eye.

“Sounds… shitty.” Nick wags his eyebrows at her, making her laugh harder. The two of them stroll behind the other three, allowing them to look at everything they want to. “Did I ever tell you about the time Aimee and I were at The Today Show, of all things, and a pigeon pooped on my head while we waited for John Mayer to sing on the Plaza?”

“Seriously?” Kira bites her knuckles to keep herself from being too loud. Neither Ruby nor Emmy pay them any attention. “I think the bigger issue here is why you and Aimee went to see The Today Show. Kind of embarrassing, don’t you think?”

“You’ve got sass, kid. I’ll have you know that 2010-circa John Mayer was—” He mimes chef’s kiss, pinching his fingers up to his lips. “Swoopy brown hair, the most heinous yellow shirt you can imagine, and blue plaid pants. Total dreamboat. I’m pretty sure he used three different guitars for two songs.”

“Kinda sounds like Dad,” she smirks. “Wait, you stayed to watch, even with bird poop on your head?”

“Did you not just hear me describe ol’ Johnny boy? Dreamboat! I wasn’t going to let a little bit of New York’s wildlife get in the way of that. Besides,” he adds, as they finally leave the Hall of African Mammals and find the stairs to head down to the first floor. “We had to get there at the butt crack of dawn. Aimee would’ve killed me, if I had decided to leave and shower.”

“Kira,” Harry interrupts, putting an arm around her shoulder. Emmy grabs for Nick’s hand again. “You doing okay?”

Kira nods, her face still holding back giggles. “Mhm, I’m fine.”

Harry looks between Nick and Kira, but doesn’t push. “I think we’re gonna do the North American Mammals and then maybe Ocean Life?”

“Alright, sounds good,” Nick says. “And maybe Kira here can pick something she wants to see?”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Kira, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, snuggling into Harry’s side. Envy pulses in Nick’s veins, but he ignores it. At least he gets something with her. That conversation is one of the most normal things the two of them have done in weeks. “The Gems and Minerals area is always nice.”

“We can go there next,” Harry says hurriedly, but Kira cuts him off.

“Dad. It’s fine.” She holds the map up. “Doesn’t make sense to go there first.”

Harry kisses the top of her head. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Kira and Nick to hear. “I love you.”

“Can we hurry it up?” Ruby whines, tugging on Harry’s hand. “I’m so bored of standing around!” Nick shakes his head.

“It’s been about thirty seconds, carrot cake. Take a breath.”

“Carrot cake?” Harry laughs, playfully nudging Nick’s side. “You think of the weirdest nicknames.”

“It’s easier than making sure I’m calling them by the right name. Do you know how many times my mom called me Jane? It was always Jane, never Andy. Then, when Liv came around, suddenly I was expected to respond to Olivia.” Nick rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me Anne was even more perfect than she already is and always got your name right.”

“She may have called me Dusty once or twice.”

“See? My method is better. Can’t do something wrong if you don’t do it at all!”

The rest of the museum passes without much fanfare. They don’t spend as much time with the North American mammals as they did with the African ones, making sure to get through the Ocean Life exhibit before ending at the Gems and Minerals. By then, Ruby’s starting to tire— still not completely recovered from her bout of pneumonia— and as they exit the museum an hour later, Nick has her in his arms, while Harry keeps a watchful hand in Emmy’s.

“Too tired for Levain, love?” Nick asks Ruby, tucking a loose dark curl behind her ear. “Do you wanna go home?”

She shakes her head, but nuzzles her head closer into his neck. “Daddy, it’s illegal to not have cookies,” she says. “You’ll get arrested.”

“Ah, well, if the choice is having cookies or getting arrested, I think we have a clear answer.” Nick hoists her up to hold her better. “Everyone in?”

“The one on 74th,” Kira says. “I know we’re closer to the one on 77th, but the one on 74th is the original.” There’s a sparkle in her eyes that Nick isn’t familiar with. Happiness looks good on her.

“Don’t they all taste the same?” Harry asks her. “We can go to the one on 74th, don’t worry. I’m just curious.”

Kira shrugs. It’s her trademark move, especially as she rapidly approaches her teenage years. “Yeah, but it’s the original. It’s so old, it was started all the way back in 1995.”

“Oi, that hurts,” Nick grumbles as they head down Amsterdam. “You know I was alive in 1995, right?”

“They also donate all their leftovers at the end of the night,” Kira continues, ignoring Nick. “I like being in the original place, it’s where all the magic started.”

“Good enough reason for me,” Harry says, beaming at her. It’s obvious he sees the change in Kira, too. A week ago, she wouldn’t have even come out with them, let alone show them this kind of excitement and emotion. “Kira is a chocolate chip connoisseur, after all.”

“What about me?” Emmy asks. “I like cookies, too.”

“Of course you do, sweetie. All three of you are sweet as sugar.”

“Probably because you’re made of it,” Nick adds with a wink. “Dad and I really need to feed you more vegetables. Do you think we can have radishes and peas instead of cookies and ice cream?”

Kira doesn’t look like she opposes. “I don’t mind,” she says. “One time, when Hannah’s mom took me and her out to eat at some Indian restaurant, I ordered radish chutney and it was really good.”

“That sounds like barf!” Suddenly, Ruby is awake. She wriggles to get down right at the entrance to the bakery. “I’d rather die than eat that.”

The two of them squabble while Harry goes up to the counter to get a half dozen of their classic chocolate chip cookies. When they eventually find a few vacant benches near Strawberry Fields in Central Park, Nick kicks his heels up to watch his girls eat their cookies, argue about the merit of nutritious foods, and which homeroom teacher the twins should try to get for third grade in the fall. Next to him, Harry snuggles into his side, enjoying his own cookie, smiling as he takes in the same scene before them. It’s nice, is the thing. It’s nice and it’s normal and it’s exactly what Nick hoped parenting would be like. Three healthy, happy kids. The world’s best husband by his side. Never did he think he’d have a life like this, but he’s so grateful for the privilege.

It feels like the summer is really starting to look up.

then, 2030

Two weeks later, they found out Gemma was progressing as expected, the little babies seemed to be as healthy as could be, and that they were both girls.

“We’re outnumbered,” Nick whispered, after hanging up the phone with Gemma.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked. Nick had taken the call, since Harry was in the middle of editing one of his digital photos and was too engrossed to stop. “What did Gem say?”

“Blood tests came back good for her and for the babies,” Nick said, still processing the news. “No red flags and nothing unusual to note. Oh, yeah, and they’re both girls.”

“Oh my god. We are outnumbered.”

“You’ve got some strong x-chromosome swimmers, love.” Nick shook his head, his smile longer than the stupid underground passage between Port Authority and Times Square. “Three girls. We’re gonna have three girls. Hey, at least they can use all of Kira’s hand-me-down clothes.”

“They could’ve if they were boys, too,” Harry said. “Let’s not forget that I told you at least one of them was a girl. Back when we thought there was only one. You said I had wishful thinking, but I knew it was a gut feeling. And I was right.”

“I eat my words, then,” Nick laughed, crowding Harry’s space and pulling him to his feet. He pushed him up against the kitchen wall and kissed him shamelessly, just needing to feel him against his tongue for a moment. Kira was plenty occupied with a movie in the living room. “Fuck. Three girls.”

“I’ve gotta text Gem,” Harry said, giving Nick one more kiss before stepping away and grabbing his phone. “And my mom. And Louis. And Niall.” He paused, considering his words. “Do you think Louis wants to know?”

“Babe.” Nick swiped some of his loose hair away from his face and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I bet he does. I think he’d be really upset if you didn’t tell him.” Nick and Harry were well aware of Eleanor’s struggle with infertility; Freddie actually had a different mother, a woman Louis had hooked up with once while briefly separated from Eleanor, prior to their marriage. And while Eleanor thought of Freddie as her own and absolutely treated him as such, especially ever since Briana had moved to California for work, it was devastating to watch her not be able to conceive. She’d, unfortunately, had a handful of miscarriages— Nick hoped he’d never again have to see the unbearable pain in Louis’ eyes as he’d cried onto Harry’s shoulder after taking the train from South Amboy into the city in the middle of the night, in a complete grief-stricken haze. Later, he’d said that something in him simply needed Harry in that moment, and he’d made it happen without a second thought. Nick understood completely— he had done that himself more than once to Aimee, leading up to and after his father’s death.

“I’ll ask him if he’s up for baby talk,” Harry said, chewing on his lip. “Not gonna just dump the news on him. Seems a little insensitive.” He typed a few messages, smiling down at his phone. Nick could see the screen light up with responses almost immediately.

“Niall says that his name isn't common enough in the States so we can totally use it for a girl,” he said, laughing. “I mean, he's not exactly wrong.”

“Niall Grimshaw. Why does that sound like a lawyer? I don't need to burden my child with that kind of expectation.” Nick tugged Harry back into a hug. “We do need to think about names, though. Have you had any more magical dreams?”

“Sadly no. Just the one. But it was a good one.” Harry glanced into the living room, his eyes sparkling at the sight of their daughter. Everyone always asked them how they decided on the name Kira, especially spelled Kira and not Kiera, and Harry was proud to say that it had come to him in a dream. He liked that it made him sound like a psychic. “Although, I can think of a pair of solid middle names.” He hummed happily as he started to weave his fingers through Nick’s hair. “Two pretty cool women who I happen to like quite a bit.”

“Pig and…” Nick joked, knowing exactly what Harry was getting at. “Oh, you mean Eileen and Anne.”

“Ding ding ding. So I guess we can work backwards from there.” Harry kissed him again, and Nick fell right into it, always so damn easy for him. “God, I adore you,” Harry said with a sigh once they pulled away. “I’m not sure I say it enough anymore. I really, really, fucking love you.”

There was no reason for that to make Nick’s heart explode in his chest, but it did. It very much did. “I love you too, sweetheart. And, for the record, you say it plenty. I always know. Haven't doubted it in—” he does some quick mental math, “—eight years now.”

“Wasted so much time not telling you, though,” Harry whined. “All those months, with the words right on the tip of my tongue. I knew it. I knew I loved you from day fucking one.”

“No such thing as wasted time spent with you.” Christ, Nick really had lost all his street cred, trading it in for this soft and squishy version of himself. If Henry knew just how far gone he was, he would laugh his ass off most likely until the end of time.

Oh well. Turns out it was better this way.

“Where is all this coming from, love?”

Harry shrugged, burying his face against Nick’s neck and clinging to him. “Just love you. Love you and love Kira and love our new little girls. Love our family. And our lives together.”

Nick held him there, steady, willing himself not to cry. He felt so overwhelmed, but in the very best way. “I love all of that, too. Every single bit of it. Wouldn't trade it for anything.” The ring on Harry's left hand looked especially shiny in the mid-afternoon spring light. That view never got old. “And while all of this is true, we still need to start thinking of names for our kiddos.”

In the end, Nick suggested Emmy, after Gemma. Neither of them were fans of names like Emma or Emily, but Emmy felt right the moment Nick said it. Baby A became Emmy Anne, which meant universal grace. Nick especially liked how it sounded with Kira Aimee, their dark haired beloved. Not that either of them cared about the meanings of names. It had just become a bit of an inside joke-turned-tradition for them.

It took much longer to name Baby B. Both of them had a bit of a block after naming Emmy, with every suggestion either presented being almost immediately vetoed. “Petra is the feminine version of Peter,” Harry said one evening, rolling over in bed to face Nick. “If you like.”

Nick smiled softly. Leave it to Harry to look that up and suggest it. His husband was, undoubtedly, the best husband out there. “We’re not Greek, love. Or, well, maybe we are. We’re both culturally ambiguous white men, we could be anything.” But still, he shook his head. “I like to think my dad knows how much he’ll eventually mean to the girls, even without one of them being named after him. Besides, he'd want all that honor and glory to go to Eileen, anyway. That's what he’d ask for.” Almost fourteen years without his dad, but the wound often felt just as fresh as it had the day it happened. He especially felt it when he remembered that Kira wouldn't ever meet him. And now, these two new babies. He had a whole life that his dad would forever be unaware of. And that was, more often than not, too much for him to deal with.

Sometimes, even now, it was easier to pretend none of those emotions existed.

It wasn't until Harry got off a phone call with LaKenna some weeks later, as spring continued to chug slowly on, that he had an epiphany. LaKenna had remained such a vital part of Harry’s life, ever since he had initially started his first street photography project. He’d made good on his promise to compensate his participants once he started making money off of his work, and even though LaKenna had refused at first, the two of them eventually used the funds to set up college funds for both of her girls. Not only would that eventually bring opportunities for them, it also brought the two families even closer as friends. Both Tyeisha and Diamond spent time down on the Lower East Side with Nick and Harry, and Diamond in particular was pretty obsessed with Kira, even if Kira wouldn't let her hold her.

Nick was particularly thankful for LaKenna’s unwavering compassion for his husband. Once, while Harry was in Harlem with her having dinner while Nick worked late, a few years before Kira was born, a gunshot had gone off outside, startling everyone in the apartment but nobody more than Harry. He had immediately had a massive panic attack without his Xanax on hand, apparently falling to the floor and hyperventilating, his entire body violently shaking as he cried out for help. LaKenna had immediately jumped into action, first herding her daughters out of the kitchen, then pulling Harry into her arms right there on the floor and holding him close, rocking him against her body while she soothed him the best she could. She did it all without hesitation, and without any knowledge as to what was going on or why. When Harry had finally worked through it, he’d disclosed everything to her, even though it was still so incredibly hard for him to do so, no matter how many times he pushed himself to be more open. She hadn’t let go of him by the time Nick had arrived upstairs, hoping to snag some leftovers, but instead he found his husband in a crumpled heap on the floor, LaKenna doing her absolute best to shield him from non-existent danger.

“Love, hear me out,” Harry said, coming into the living room where Nick was sprawled out on the couch after a particularly long day at work. On the floor, Kira was doodling in one of her many coloring books, crayons strewn everywhere.

“Hmm?” Nick mumbled, opening one eye and looking at Harry. “What am I hearing you out about?”

“I have a name idea for Baby B.” Harry sat down on the floor beside Kira, who immediately crawled into his lap.

“Oh yeah?” Nick felt more awake at that. “Hit me with it.”

“Ruby. Ruby Eileen.”

Nick absolutely didn't hate it. “How did you come up with that?”

“I was talking to LaKenna. And, I don't know, it was a Kira-level realization or something. I just started thinking about how important she is to us, and then I thought of Diamond.” He grinned. “Why not have another little gemstone in our lives? Although, is a diamond a gemstone? Or is it a mineral or something?”

“The sentiment is still there regardless, babe. Ruby Eileen Grimshaw.” Nick sat with it for a moment, thinking. “What do you think, K?”

Kira looked up at Nick and shrugged. “I dunno! I like Kira!”

“Well, good thing that's your name then, hey?” Nick laughed. “Did you Google what the names mean?”

“Little red bird,” Harry said. “Which is really, really sweet.” He took his phone out of his pocket and typed something. “Google says, ‘There are only four precious gemstones: emerald, sapphire, ruby, and diamond.’ Ah ha. There we go. Our precious gems. Gemma, Diamond, and Ruby.” Harry looked starry-eyed and satisfied. Nick was so fond.

“Emmy and Ruby.” They sounded good together on Nick’s tongue. “I think we’ve found ourselves a pair of winners.”

now

The twins turn eight years old on June 11th, and Nick and Harry decide to throw a small party in their honor. They invite most of their closest friends and family members— Aimee, Ian, Louis, Eleanor, Niall, Bressie, Gemma, Michal, Anne, Liv, Ben, and Jane— along with Sunday, Freddie, June, Owen, and Oliver. Eileen makes an appearance over FaceTime, her hip feeling a little too sore to make the journey down from the Upper West to the Lower East. Nick hates thinking about how old his mother is now, but at the same time, she’s still smart as a tack and in great health, all things considered. It's her hip that gives her the most trouble, but everything else has been in pretty consistent working order. Just like Pig, Nick sometimes thinks Eileen will end up outliving all of them.

It's a gorgeous Friday summer evening, and Harry’s ordered enough pizzas to feed a small country, even making sure to get Nick his own vegan cheese pizza (with tons of meat. Nick loves being a contradiction). The apartment is full of people, enough to spill out onto the balcony, and Nick feels like he’s in his twenties again, hosting his clique of idiots during one of his many house parties. Now, however, he can’t turn a corner without nearly running into a child.

Although, to be fair, herding a drunk Daisy and Henry back in the day is basically the exact same thing as trying to get Ruby to stop following Sunday around, whining pitifully for her undivided attention.

“Daisy and Gellz send their love,” Nick tells the group at large, glancing at his phone and sighing wistfully as he thinks of his friends. It’s been years since Daisy had fallen in love and moved to France of all places, like the goddamn cliché she is, and Nick still misses her something fierce. Gillian they’re able to see more frequently, since she’s only up in Boston, but it’s still not the same as it was. “And Henry said he put something fun in the mail for you two.” He wiggles his eyebrows at the birthday girls, both of whom are wearing tacky sashes from the dollar store. “If it’s from Uncle Henry, you know it’ll be something amazing.” Henry’s good at outshining all of them when it comes to gifts, what with him being an actual fashion designer and all. He and Dave live half their time in New York and half their time in Milan; they just so happen to be in Milan currently, which is why they aren’t having a beer on Nick’s balcony right at this moment.

“Remember the Gucci onesies?” Harry laughs, shaking his head and handing Nick a plate with some pizza on it. Under their legs, Oliver cautiously tries to toddle toward Pig— Harry scoops him up before he’s able to get to her and cuddles him against his chest.

“Do I remember the white designer onesies that Hens got for our disgusting children who immediately barfed and shit all over them? I sure do.” Nick takes a bite of his pizza before ruffling up Ollie’s hair.

“I miss this,” Harry mumbles as he continues to hold Ollie. “Should we have another one?”

“You’re joking, right?” Nick rolls his eyes and sets his plate down on the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring at Harry bemusedly. For as much as he loves to see Harry holding their two-year-old nephew, another child is a billion percent out of the question and has been for exactly eight years now.

(Even though both Oliver and his brother Owen are technically Nick’s grand-nephews, he refuses to call them that, since it makes him feel old. Especially since their mother and his husband are the same age. Eileen may be a great-grandmother now, but Nick refuses to ever be a great-uncle. A great uncle, sure. But a great-uncle? Absolutely not.)

“I know, I know. But look at how cute and sweet he is.” Harry coos at Ollie, who starts to squirm to be put down. Harry, reluctantly, lets him go, and they both watch him race into the living room and stumble into June. Shockingly, neither child cries.

“Ask Liv to have another,” Nick says, just as Ruby comes barreling back into the kitchen, crashing wildly into Harry’s legs. Harry picks her up instead, even though she is a bit larger than Ollie. “She makes cute kids.”

“Not as cute as ours,” Harry says, rubbing his nose against Ruby’s. She beams at him, her birthday sash very much askew off her shoulder. Across the apartment in the living room, Nick sees Emmy sitting on Bressie’s lap, showing him some of the books her grandma Anne had gotten her for her birthday.

“Dad, I can’t find Niall,” Ruby says, her voice hushed and breathless. She has a manic glint in her hazel eyes. “Where is he?”

“He’s on the balcony with Louis and Eleanor,” Harry tells her, gesturing through the living room. “Why do you need him?”

“He wants cake! We gotta bring him cake.” She rubs her hands together as Harry puts her down. Nick chuckles.

“Does Niall want cake, or does Ruby want cake?” he asks. Ruby shrugs before bolting back through the living room and out onto the balcony.

“Let’s be honest, they both want cake,” Harry says, grabbing a knife to cut through the cake he’d made earlier in the day. “Have you seen Kira recently?”

Nick shakes his head, trying to remember the last time he’d laid eyes on her. While everyone in the apartment is more than well aware of Kira’s preferences around physical affection, sometimes being in settings like this overwhelms her— especially when she’s already in a rocky mood. “I’ll go see what she’s up to,” he says, kissing Harry’s cheek before peeking into the living room. Owen and June are sitting on the ground playing with some of the twins’ old toys, Ollie watching them both in awe. On one couch, Liv, Ben, and Bressie are chatting, while Emmy flips through her books, still on Bressie’s lap. On the other, Aimee and Ian are engrossed in the same conversation. Jane and Anne are at the dining room table, looking at one of Harry’s photo albums, while Gemma and Michal join Harry in the kitchen to dish out the cake. On the balcony, he sees Niall, Louis, Eleanor, Ruby, and Sunday, although he can’t make out anything they are saying. He wanders down the hall, assuming Kira is in her room, but he is still surprised to hear voices coming from it.

“Really, I don’t mind. I don’t think you’re weird.”

Nick pauses, pressing himself up against the hallway wall, not wanting to be seen. Even though he knows he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, he can’t help himself.

“You don’t have to say that. Like, it is weird. Even I know that.” Nick can almost hear the way Kira must be rolling her eyes as she speaks, one of her many defense mechanisms, which she’s clearly learned from him.

He then hears shuffling, as though someone is moving on the bed. Very carefully, he turns so he can sneak a glance into the room, the door just ajar enough for him to do so without being seen from the other side. Freddie is sitting on the bed, and even though Nick can’t see Kira, he knows Freddie is looking over at her with a soft smile on his face. There’s a kindness in his eyes that even Nick can make out from the hallway. “I mean it, though. Why would I lie to you?”

Kira doesn’t say anything in response, so Freddie takes the initiative to speak more. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?” His voice is quiet and gentle, a little hesitant, as though maybe he’s been working up to asking this for a while.

Nick holds his breath. The silence after Freddie asks seems to stretch for hours.

“I’m sorry,” he finally hears Kira whisper. She mumbles something inaudible, but Freddie cuts her off, his voice carrying louder than hers.

“I’m not mad, you don’t have to apologize.” Freddie smiles again, seemingly not batting an eye at the rejection. “If you ever feel ready for that, I’ll be here. But if you don’t, that’s okay, too.”

It’s all so devastatingly lovely, Nick wants to weep. He also wants to hug Freddie and thank him for being so patient with Kira, but knows the two of them will figure that out on their own. Instead, he knocks on the door.

“You two want cake?” he asks, finally getting a good look at them. Kira’s cross-legged on her bed, looking thoughtfully at Freddie. Nick is pleasantly surprised to see that she’s relaxed, perhaps the most relaxed he’s seen her in weeks. Freddie has his hands in his lap, keeping a decent amount of space between the two of them. Nick’s heart further melts at the sight of them.

“Yeah, cake sounds good.” Freddie glances at Kira before standing up. “You want some, Kira?”

She nods, but doesn’t make to stand. “Go ahead. I’ll be out in a second.”

Freddie looks at her for a moment longer before nodding and following Nick back into the kitchen to get some cake. The rest of the party has started to eat, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Nick spots Harry in the living room, squatting down next to Emmy while she giggles and shoves bites of cake into his mouth. Ruby is at the table, staring at Niall sitting next to her with absurd and much-too-obvious heart eyes. Niall’s always been a good sport about how obsessed Ruby is with him. Moments later, Kira appears in the kitchen and grabs her own piece of cake, wandering out into the living room and taking a seat next to Freddie on the couch previously occupied by Aimee and Ian. Freddie looks at her gently, and Kira smiles at him, her cheeks flushing a dusty shade of pink.

“Daddy!”

He’s jolted out of his enchantment with his family by Ruby calling his name. He brings his cake to the table and sits down next to her.

“Yes, my little gremlin?”

“Daddy, I think I need to go live with Uncle Niall for a while,” Ruby says, chewing her bite of cake very thoughtfully. She reaches over to pat Niall’s arm. “I think he needs me.” Niall bursts out laughing, covering Ruby’s hand with his own and giving it a squeeze.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Nick asks, also smiling.

“He’s all alone! Didn’t you know that?” She shakes her head dramatically, small tsk tsks falling from her lips.

“Don’t think he’s alone, Rubes. You remember Uncle Brez, yeah?” Of course she does. Bressie had scooped her up earlier in the evening and carried her around like a prized possession, much to Ruby’s utter delight.

“Wait.” Ruby stills, clearly thinking hard. “You and Uncle Bressie live together?”

“Sure do. We’re married, too. Just like your dads.” Niall is still laughing, grinning wide enough for the whole apartment to see. “You were at our place just last week, you little fecker.”

“You’re married?” Ruby gapes at him before sliding out of her booster seat and standing in the living room doorway. “Uncle Bressie!” Her voice carries over top the rest of the party. She definitely has Nick’s loud mouth. “Uncle Bressie, you never told me that you’re married to Uncle Niall!” Collective laughter follows her outburst.

Bressie comes over to Ruby and picks her back up, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She wraps her arms around his neck and holds on. “Darlin’, me and your Uncle Niall have been married a long, long time.”

“How come I wasn’t invited?” Ruby whines. “How come you don’t have any kids? Or any cats?”

“You weren’t even alive when we got married,” Bressie says, chuckling. “And we don’t need any kids, not when we have you and your sisters. Wouldn’t be able to have any kids better than you three.”

“Do you need me to come live with you?” Ruby asks, circling back to her initial question. She pulls herself away from Bressie’s chest so she can see him better. “I could bring Pig with me.”

“Well, don’t you think your da’ would miss ya?” Bressie carries her back over to Nick and Niall and moves her booster seat so he can sit in her abandoned chair. “Both of ‘em would, I bet. And your sisters.”

“Ehhh.” Ruby waves her hand dismissively before grabbing her fork and shoving another piece of cake into her mouth. Nick shakes his head, laughing. Eileen has said time and time again that Ruby is just like Nick had been when he’d been young— same attitude, same humor, same charm. That, coupled with hearing about her similarities to young Harry, gives him extra appreciation for both his mom and Anne; she’s a handful, their Ruby is. But he wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Okay, I need to say a few words,” Gemma says, and the rest of the guests quiet themselves down to look at her. She is standing in the living room, gazing fondly at Emmy. Emmy smiles back at her, the love between them so incredibly bright and loud. It’s one of the most beautiful things Nick has ever seen. Next to him, Bressie holds onto Ruby a little tighter, her head resting on his shoulder while she looks out into the living room at her aunt.

“I think about this day, eight years ago, quite a bit,” Gemma continues. “When I woke up and my water had broken, I really didn’t think that I’d be having two babies just a few hours later. I didn’t think I’d be having surgery, either. It was definitely a whirlwind.” Nick can see Harry’s eyes starting to well up. He’s always been such a delightful sap, but nothing gets him going more than remembering his sister’s emergency surgery and the birth of his twin daughters. “But it was all so worth it. If you’d have asked me fifteen years ago if I ever saw myself being pregnant, I would’ve laughed in your face. And if you ever asked if I’d consider carrying not just one, but two babies for my brother of all people, I would’ve thought you were crazy. But it was the best thing I’ve ever done.” Her eyes soften and she smiles at Harry. “I’d do it all over again, in a heartbeat. Early labor and delivery included.”

Emmy, who doesn’t understand much of what Gemma is talking about, rushes over to her and gives her the biggest hug possible. He can see Anne wiping tears away from her eyes as she gazes lovingly at her daughter and granddaughter. “Sorry, Jane,” Gemma says with a laugh, hugging Emmy back and kissing the top of her head. “I think ‘Best Aunt’ goes to me for these two.”

Jane laughs, nodding. “The honor is all yours, no offense taken whatsoever. Thank god they weren’t born on their due date,” she says, throwing Nick a look. “Don’t think our Nicholas would’ve enjoyed sharing his birthday with anyone, not even his own kids.”

“I resent that,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. Ruby whips her head around, gaping at him.

“We could’ve had the same birthday as you?” It seems this revelation is the most important thing she’s ever heard, even better than finding out Bressie and Niall are married. “How?”

“Babies usually grow in bellies for nine months, and nine months after you and Em started to grow inside Auntie Gemma just so happened to be my birthday in August.” He ruffles her hair up with his hand.

“Then how come that’s not our birthday?”

“Because you’ve always been impatient, haven’t you? Had to be born early because you needed to know what was going on as soon as you could.”

“And because you were meant to be a Gemini, obviously,” Harry says, laughing. “There’s only room for one Leo in this house, god forbid three of them.”

Ruby pauses, before quirking an eyebrow at Harry. “Dad, you do talk some shit, don’t you?”

Everyone busts out laughing, but nobody louder than Louis. Nick looks over at him and shakes his head, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Louis Tomlinson, I swear—”

“So does your daughter,” Louis says under his breath, and even though Louis is by far the most difficult person Nick has ever tried to read, he’s glad he’s figured him out after all these years. Sort of. As well as someone who isn’t Eleanor or Harry or his mother can.

“You taught her that?” Eleanor says, bopping Louis on the back of the head with her hand. “Idiot. Why’d you do that?”

“Why not? She’s a smart one, didn’t take much. Besides,” he adds. “You all should’ve heard Freddie when he was even younger.”

“Dad,” Freddie groans. “Please don’t.” He glances at Kira, who is still smiling at him, the flush on her cheeks a little more prominent than before.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Louis puts his hands up in surrender. “It’s not your birthday, I know. Come January, though, all bets are off the table. Traditionally, the fourteenth birthday is supposed to be the most embarrassing one.”

“You do talk some shit, don’t you, Lou?” Harry wraps Louis up in a giant hug, smacking his cheek with an equally large kiss.

“What is going on?” Emmy whines, looking between her dad and her sister, who is still on Bressie’s lap. “What did Ruby say?”

Ruby hops down and skips over to hear. She whispers something in her ear, and Emmy makes a face. “Ruby!” she gasps. “That’s a bad word! You know we aren’t supposed to say that!”

“And that,” Nick says between laughs, his stomach starting to ache from the cake, pizza, and laughter, “is the correct answer to all of this, Emmy Anne. Happy Birthday to you, and you only.”

For the first time in a while, everything feels spectacularly normal. Nick wouldn’t trade it for anything.