The Stella I Remember

42| Dads In Training

One Month Later

"I think it's on backwards."

"It's not on backwards. You just gotta pull the little tab things and-"

"I'm telling you, it's on backwards. Maybe it's the wrong size."

I nudged Marcus aside and took over with the diaper change. "I got this." I smiled down at the beautiful little girl that Marcus brought home a few days ago. "Uncle Elliot knows how to change a diaper way better than daddy, doesn't he, Poppy?"

The small bundle stared up at me, pink pacifier in her mouth and eyes shining with innocence. I knew she had no idea what I was saying, but I didn't care. She was just too freaking cute.

"There," I stated, snapping the buttons of her New Orleans Saints onesie together. "She's all clean now."

I picked her up and cradled her in my arms, rocking her back and forth when she started to fuss. When I turned towards Marcus, he was picking up another box that was stacked in my living room and carrying it into the guest bedroom. He came back where I was standing and stopped in front of me.

"Are you sure this is okay, Elliot? I mean, you and Stella are just moving in together. I don't want to-"

"Stop, Marcus. We are both fine with it. We want you and Poppy here with us." I offered the baby my index finger and she gripped it with her tiny mighty fist. "Besides Stella is crazy about her. She wouldn't take it well if the baby wasn't here."

Marcus scoffed. "I think you're more attached than she is."

"Can you blame me?" I teased. "She's perfect. You made a cute kid, bro."

"It wasn't all me."

The longing in his voice had me looking up to him. Ever since he lost Abby, Marcus has been a hair away from losing it. Constantly on the edge of another breakdown. Not that I judged him for it. I sure as hell wasn't one to talk.

Marcus stayed at the hospital every night until Poppy was discharged. Hovering over the small incubator, he would pray that she would be okay and that he could take her home soon. I'll never forget the first time he laid eyes on his beautiful daughter. She looked just like her mother, right down to the green eyes. He said he named her Poppy because that's what Abby wanted.

Poppy Elizabeth Samuels. Born 5lbs 4oz and 17 inches long.

Being born premature, she was held in the NICU for three weeks before being discharged. She was a fighter, though. Just like her mom.

Abby's death wrecked every single one of us. I couldn't count the amount of times I would walk in on Marcus quietly talking to his wife who was no longer here. Sometimes he was begging her to return, if not for him then for their daughter. Then other times he would talk to her as casually as if she was sitting right next to him. Usually that was when he was holding Poppy.

Abby's parents flew here from New Orleans as soon as I updated them on her worsening condition. Unfortunately, they didn't make it in time to say goodbye. Everyone bunkered down at my house. Stella, Marcus, and his in laws. I didn't mind. It felt nice having a houseful of people during a time like this.

Abby's parents were a mess like the rest of us; but just like with Marcus, they seemed to seek out Poppy for comfort. They stayed the entire time she was in the hospital. Taking turns and forcing Marcus to leave at least to shower and get something to eat.

We all agreed to have the service for Abby once Poppy was better and Marcus felt comfortable to either fly or drive back to New Orleans. Abby's parents already sent her body back to her hometown to be buried in their family plot.