She said she wasn’t ready, that we weren’t ready for something like that, and I respect her opinion, but then… she offered me a key to her place and said I was welcome anytime to see Olive. It made sense since most days I slept on her couch anyway, so, here we are.
Taking steps, together. Building trust. Building a relationship that’s centered around our daughter.
It made me believe that maybe there could be something more between us. After the first night home and our discussion, I had pushed it out of my head that we’d ever restart what we had that weekend on the lake, and the key felt like an olive branch. Together, we’ve been so focused on being the best parents we can to Olive, and I’ve tried to only focus on that, and not the need to pull Maddison into my arms every time I see her. But every day that I’m around her, it gets harder and harder, and after last night and our discussion, I decided I’m going for it. I’ve always gone for what I want. And I want Maddison.
I want to be with her. I want to have our family together. I'm fucking crazy about her.
And if I don't let her know how I feel and convince her that we should be a family, then someone else may come in and steal her and Olive from right under my nose.
The truth is, after that weekend, I never stopped thinking about her. I never stopped thinking about the way her eyes shined in the pale moonlight beneath the lake or the way that she felt beneath me, soft and supple as we created something so perfect. She was a stranger, and yet, it felt like she knew me better than the people who surround me every day.
This is my chance to make her fall in love with me, and to show her that we can be a family. To gain her trust, to show her that I can be an amazing father to Olive and that the way I want her has so much more to do with the fact that she’s also the mother of my child.
All I have to do is make Maddison fall in love with me.
Easy, right?
“In here! Getting Olive out of the bath," Maddison calls from the tiny bathroom next to her bedroom.
I set the bottle of wine down that I picked up at the market. The same one I’ve heard her talk about since Olive was born and how she couldn’t wait to have it again, and I walk into the bathroom where Maddison has Olive on the counter, wrapped in her favorite pink ducky towel with a toothless, gummy grin on her face. Maddison’s tickling her belly, and she’s giggling. My heart squeezes at the sight of them.
I never knew what I was missing until Olive and Maddison came into my life. The happiness that I feel with them is untouchable, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
“There’s my girl,” I coo, walking up to the counter and picking her up. I cradle her against my chest then blow raspberries on her soft baby tummy. She smells like a baby, like my Olive.
“Hey, I grabbed you a surprise at the market, go check it out while I get Olive girl in her pajamas?”
Maddison looks at me with her brows furrowed at the mention of a surprise but nods and smiles at me playfully. “I love surprises. Thank you.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet.” I laugh. Olive tugs on my earlobe, pulling my attention back to my girl. Her cheeks are rosy, red, her eyes the same shade of green and yellow as her mothers. Every day I think she looks more and more like Maddison, but Maddison thinks she’s the spitting image of me.
Either way, she’s the most beautiful girl there is.
Now that the hockey season is over, I’m able to be here for my favorite time of the day. Bath time. Olive and I have a routine each night. I make sure to brush her hair with the baby brush, put on her lavender and chamomile lotion, before I put on whatever pajamas Maddison has laid out for her.
It’s our time.
Generally, Maddison cleans up dinner, or heads to the gym, if she’s ordered in for the night, so it’s just Olive and me.
Then, I pick out a book from her bookshelf and read it to her, even if she has no idea what I’m saying, it’s still our time, and I look forward to it every day.
After she’s bundled in my arms with her favorite pink blanket, I read her the story of three little pigs then when her eyelids get droopy, and she begins to doze, Maddison takes her out of her arms and feeds her, then I burp her so her tummy won’t hurt for bed.
Lifting her carefully onto my shoulder, I pat her back gently, all while lightly bouncing from one foot to the other. The motion is supposed to help with babies passing gas, or at least that’s what the baby book I’m reading says.
Real men read baby books, so they know what the hell they’re doing, and I will die on that hill. I’d rather be overprepared than underprepared.
“Come on Olive girl, give Daddy a good burp. Just a little tiny burp. One? Just one? What if I let you watch Cocomelon when your mama isn’t here, then can I get a burp?”
Jesus Christ Briggs, you’re bargaining with a baby who can’t even speak yet. Apparently, my light bribing has the opposite effect because, a second later, Olive is vomiting all down the back of my shirt.
Sticky and smelly, I fight the urge to vomit. I can feel it seeping through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.
“Oh Olive, sweet girl! Oh my God, Briggs… your shirt,” Madison shrieks, taking Olive out of my arms. “Just take it off and, and I’ll throw it in the wash so it doesn’t get ruined.” She says it over her shoulder as she carries Olive into her room to change and wipe her down. She’s only gone for a few minutes, and when she walks back into the living room, I’m clutching my baby-puke-soaked shirt in my hand.
She looks startled as her eyes drag down my body, like she hasn’t seen it before. Her eyes trail down the expanse of my chest and lower, until I clear my throat, plastering a grin on my lips.
Busted.
Swallowing thickly, she then clears her throat nervously. “I’ll uh, I’ll just put it in the wash.”
Not gonna lie, seeing her so flustered causes satisfaction to bloom in my chest. Her cheeks are flushed red as she grabs my shirt from my hand and runs to the laundry room.
Maddison can pretend as much as she wants, but I know she’s just as affected by me as I am her.
When she returns, she smiles shyly, still stumbling over her words slightly. “I put it on a quick wash, so it should only take a few minutes. Uh, sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize, I’m not even worried about the shirt. Is it okay if I take a quick shower though?”
She nods. “Yes, of course. Here, let me show you this handle, it’s tricky.”
I follow closely behind her as she leads me into the tiny bathroom. It’s small, even for her, but with my height and the two of us in there, it seems to shrink even further in size.
I shut the door behind us to give us more room, and when I do, Maddison’s eyes widen.
“Just freeing up some space.”
“Yeah, and we don’t want to wake up Olive… she passed right out after I cleaned her up.”
“Of course.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she reaches around me to turn the knob on the shower, brushing against my chest in the process. She fumbles with the knob, unable to get the water out, and lets out a frustrated sigh. The bathroom is so small, I have nowhere to go, but press further back against the towel rack.
“Sorry, this handle is broken, and there’s a certain way you have to jiggle it… just like this.” Using all her strength, she pushes hard against the handle and it gives way, falling to the floor of the shower, causing her to fall off-balance and topple forward. Reaching out for something to steady her, her hands connect with my shoulders, and then we’re both falling before I can grab the wall to stop us.