Left Field (New Hope #4)

Epilogue Two

Brigid
Six Months Postpartum

Vibrant blue paint bleeds onto the Wraith's screen, creating the swell of a wave. I layer the surface, weaving deep purples and pale greens into the sea. I'm taking time off from 215 Tech, but I try to draw whenever I get the opportunity—which, with an infant, isn't often. I'm currently working on the art for a baby book I hope to have finished by David's first birthday. I've never drawn cartoons for children, so I'm learning a new style. One that doesn't involve gore or demonic entities.

Our family of three is gathered in the living area of our home in Chestnut Hill. Blake is asleep on the couch, one arm tossed over his head, the other cradling our son. David is awake but calm, his bright green eyes locked on me. He enjoys tracking my movements around the room, and makes a fuss whenever I walk away from him—much like his father. I'm curled on an armchair, but set my tablet aside and rise when a knock sounds from the front door. Aidan's bearded face appears in the stained-glass window, peering inside.

"Your brother is here," I whisper, gently nudging Blake's shoulder as I pass him.

"Mmm," he grunts, but otherwise remains unresponsive.

Blake works from home most days, which we both prefer. I'm still recovering from postpartum anxiety, so it's been a comfort to have my partner a few steps away. Oftentimes, it's just the knowledge of his proximity that assuages my fears.

"Hey, Bridge," Aidan greets, brushing straight by me on his stampede into our home. "Where's my nephew?"

Olivia appears next, looking apologetic while holding a picnic basket. "Just this morning, I told Aidan—"

"She's cutting me off!" Aidan announces.

Blake shifts into a seated position, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Huh?"

Aidan makes a pair of scissors with his hands, snipping his fingers together. "No more babies for me."

"How many more did you want?" I ask, smiling as Mallory enters, passing me a gift bag filled with selfcare items—bubble bath, face masks, organic nail polish. She brings something for me every time she visits. We embrace as Mason walks into the foyer, shutting the doors behind him. "Thanks, Mal."

Aidan shrugs, resuming our conversation. "I thought we'd just keep going until we couldn't."

"Well, I can't," Olivia huffs, plopping onto the sofa. "I'm done funneling life into this world. I'm covered in stretch marks, my vagina will never be the same, and my tits are—"

"You're perfect, Liv," Aidan finishes, warmth entering his chocolate eyes.

She softens, but narrows her gaze in determination. "Perfect or not, you're buying me a new pair of tits."

"As he should," Mallory agrees. "You fed five humans with them."

Aidan chooses not to argue. Instead, he bends toward Blake, trying to steal the baby in his arms.

Blake leans away, holding David to his chest. "This one's mine."

"Mom said we have to share," Aidan argues.

"Yeah, toys when we were younger," Blake challenges. "Not our offspring."

Aidan and Olivia swing by once a week, and this song and dance occurs each time. Blake becomes territorial over Davy, and Aidan finds amusement in pestering his little brother. After a few minutes, Blake will be grateful for the help, and all will be forgotten.

As I step toward the living area, a pink animal sprints around the corner, racing into the kitchen amidst a slew of squeals. An orange, three-legged tabby prances after the miniature pig, followed by a hulking man with a towel wrapped precariously around his waist.