#cal!dates

“Stop staring,” Ashton says, deadpan, mid sentence about a bass line cut off to prod at Calum and give his shoulder a shove. “You’re being a little too obvious mate, just go over there.”

Calum scoffs, feigns offense at his less than subtle behavior and plays it off and dwindles down his curiosity. He weasels his way out of approaching with a thin excuse and finds reprieve when Luke strides for them. It’s enough to distract Ashton for a moment, to kill the conversation and get Calum away from the inexplicable nerves collecting in the pit of his stomach.

“You come to talk about the band or have Calum kick your ass in a game of footie?” Ashton inquires with a chuckle and motion at the football in Luke’s grasp.

“Can do both,” Luke jokes and drops the ball, one foot claiming it to keep it still.

Calum eagerly agrees; the game will take his mind away from the compelling figure under the willow tree.

“Yeah, alright,” Ashton relents and lets the half hearted and cramped game begin.

They weave around people and paths, use imaginary lines for the goals and it’s almost enough for Calum to get lost in. To forget about what had so urgently claimed his interest since sitting under the sun. All until Luke, with legs too long to control and a kick he doesn’t know how to aim, forces the ball at an arc and collision.

Coffee stains pages, papers fly through the wind, a disgruntled and disheartened huff joins the harmony of the breeze. Calum freezes, Luke runs the other way. The reason for Calum’s racing heart and mind filled with wonder looks up and pins him with a desperate and pleading stare. Soft eyes put him into motion, a bitten lip quickens his pace and a tactful hand reaches out to catch a page coming directly at him.

“I’m so sorry. My friend’s not really that coordinated. Are you okay?” he asks in a fanatical rush, all of the words pouring out of him as he clutches the page, drops to a knee and assesses the rest of the damage.

Coffee runs wildly around an already worn book. Taped in pages have been freed and streamlines of stains run along sheer tights. A pile of candies now scatter through the grass.

“I’m fine.”

Calum’s already racing heart adds in a leap and then stalls as glimmering eyes meet his full on. His breath catches. The page in his hand now feels like dead weight dragging down his arm. He wants to offer it over but he finds that he’s unable to move. He’s statuesque until a small laugh tumbles around in the air.

“I guess this was the world’s way of telling me to finally replace my book.”

Calum hangs his head low at the prospect of having ruined something that is clearly cherished. Even though it was not his kick that did it. He sighs deep from within his chest and looks back up.

“I’ll replace it,” he offers but a shake of the head kills that plan before it’s even in motion. He doesn’t want an awkward silence to follow so he introduces himself timidly, offers a hand and revels in the feel of a smooth and warm palm against his.

When you introduce yourself your voice goes softer. When your hand falls from his he feels cold creep along his skin. He finally collects himself enough to offer over the page he caught.

“There might be a few more around,” he says regretfully. “I caught what I could.”

You smile and it’s so genuine it’s almost startling.

“It’s okay,” you reassure and snap the book shut after tucking in what pages were rescued. “I’m already missing several.”

Calum laughs at the sheepish expression that crosses your face and the fact you’re reading a book with missing words.

“Can I at least get you a new coffee?” he wonders as he takes in the empty cup and running liquid anywhere and everywhere but the mug it was meant to be in. He lets his heart hang in tandem with hope and anticipation as you bite your lip and think it over.

“I don’t really have time for another one today,” you say as Calum feels his heart start to crash. “It was almost gone anyway.”

He knows it’s a lie, that you’re saying so he won’t feel bad. So he won’t offer to pay for something else. So the guilt he’s sure that lives in his eyes might go away. So that maybe, you can get away. He nods and stands, intent on backing away and affording you the space he thinks you want, especially when he notices the nervous flutter of your eyes and hears the sharp intake of your breath.

He feels just as rattled but he’s not so sure your reasons are the same. He stops short when you rise, feels as if the least he should have done is offer you a hand up. You brush a mixture of dirt and coffee from your tights, clear your throat and meet his gaze. You cross your arms around your middle and he notes the way you sway when you stand and the dance your eyes impose as they flicker over him.

“I wish I could make it up to you,” Calum admits in a small whisper as he takes another sweeping glance around the destruction that’s been caused.

He knows it wasn’t his doing but he did nothing to stop the ball on its venture.

“You could. Tomorrow,” you say softly, so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the breeze trailing between the two of you.

Calum feels his heart falter at the prospect of tomorrow. Seeing you again. Making things right. He has a notion in his mind, a plan that’s quickly forming as wildflowers stir in the warm air behind you. Purples and yellows clash together in a bundle of green stems. Calum’s cheeks warms at the thoughts that riddle his mind.

“Maybe we could meet for coffee.” Your knees knock together and you hold yourself a little bit tighter after the prolonged stretch of silence and your leap of faith. “Or something like that. If you wanted to.”

Calum quickly nods as he notes the stress and anxiety in your eyes. He’s not quiet on purpose, he wishes and wills for words to come out but there’s something about you that gets him flustered and shy. He nods still, fervently, tongue tied as his hands waver uncertainly at his sides.

“Something like that,” Calum finally manages to get out with a breath of exhalation. He feels freed as he commits to tomorrow. “Meet you here, around two?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and all of his heart and hope on his sleeve.

“That sounds good,” you confirm with a smile that makes him warm and glow and taste the sweetness of flowers perfume pluming through the air. “I’ll see you then.”

You collect your things and make to leave but Calum stops you short with a soft grip on your elbow as he notices something amiss. You’re still in his hold and he feels his skin prickle at the contact of his fingers on your soft skin. He gently moves foward, eases his free hand up and plucks a candied heart from a tangle in your hair. It lays flat in his palm. It’s a familiar candy, but the name evades him for a moment. Be Mine is written across the center in pink text. He nearly loses his breath at the intimacy of the moment as his eyes shoot back up to you.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbles as he finally remembers the candy’s name.

You furiously warm at the word and the gaze he holds as he offers the heart back to you.

You take it with a timidity that makes Calum even more tongue tied. With a laugh that makes him want to hear it again and again. After a brush of your fingers against his palm and a kiss of the wind in the place of you, Calum watches you walk away, wondering if this is the beginning of something that could last.

* * *

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

With every footstep down the sterile hallway he wishes your hand could still be in his. He’s stopped short, a nurse he barely recognizes from his disconnect while at your side stands in front of him.

“They’re bringing her to the NICU,” the nurse says and though her voice and eyes are kind Calum feels fear and frustration rising inside of him, boiling and breaking him as she stands in his way. “You can’t go in yet.”

“What—I’m—she’s my daughter,” he stumbles out, throat on fire and eyes burning just the same.

“They’re getting her in an incubator. She needs oxygen and vital care,” she says and goes on to explain it will take a bit of time. “When she’s ready you’ll be able to go in. You’ll need to scrub up and wash your hands first.”

Calum shakes his head, not quite able to process all of this information on the spot. He lets out a shaky breath, curls his fingers into his palms, feels the coolness of his wedding ring on his skin and it reminds him of you; he lets the thought of you attempt to calm him. His head shake turns to a nod though he’s still not sure he can completely comprehend all that is happening.

“When can I see her?” he finally manages to get out though it’s not without a fight or a broken syllable.

“Follow me,” the nurse offers and without thinking Calum is walking down the hallway again, trailing the nurse to a break in the white wall where a window rests. “You can watch from here.”

The view is startling. Machines and equipment line the NICU, doctors and nurses pass in and out and create fears with every step they take. It takes a moment to find the team that delivered your baby, joined by a few new nurses and another doctor. Just past the crowd he can see the incubator and your daughter being settled within, tubes for oxygen and the like disguising her small face. Her eyes are closed and though she looks peaceful the striking contrast of your sleeping daughter and the dire circumstances are enough to choke Calum. He can’t watch the rest, his eyes skirt to the floor but he stays put. He’s not leaving her, his resolve is shaken but stays intact. He wants you with him, he wants her to be on the other side of the glass, in his arms, welcomed to a world without complications.

Time passes in a blur, his eyes fixed on his shoes and the tile floor below. He’s vaguely aware of other people in the hallway. Doctors, parents, nurses and patients all pass him by without a word. The kind nurse is long gone and Calum finds himself wishing he had asked more questions. The silence is deafening. He wants to have your whispered words of reassurance in his ear. He wants the repeated mantra of “it’s gonna be okay” to be believable. His phone buzzes but he doesn’t reach for it. He knows he should make calls. Tell his parents, inform the guys he left with a million questions and concerns in their minds. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to do so.

His shoulders slump but he straightens himself when a doctor approaches.

“Mr. Hood?” he asks, clipboard in hand and cool eyes sweeping him up and down. Calum nods. “You can go in now. Follow me. We have to get you ready.”

Calum’s heart lurches with the first step he takes to follow the doctor, to be with his daughter. He thinks of you, doesn’t want to imagine the panic and pain that being alone is causing you. He reminds himself Mali is with you, that you told him to follow. He’s led to a solid door and ushered through. There’s a room connected to the NICU; cabinets with scrubs and gloves and sanitizer and a medical sink claim the small space. He realizes all parents must enter through here before getting to their babies. In a blink he’s wearing a gown, and his hands are thoroughly washed. He takes just one second to take a breath, to gather courage, keep you in his thoughts and ready his heart for his daughter.

“We usually encourage skin to skin contact to bond with babies while they’re being treated. You can hold her hand, talk to her, she’ll know your voice,” the doctor explains while they approach the incubator.

There’s a thousand questions swirling through Calum’s mind that he wants to ask the doctor beside him. But his breath catches in his throat at the sight of your daughter. Her eyes are still closed from when he first caught a glimpse of her through the window. The incubator is closed, she’s surrounded by the help she needs but holes provide a place for Calum’s hand to find her. The doctor talks to him, Calum knows he should be listening but the whir of the machinery and the thumping of his pulse inside his ears drown out the words. He keeps his gaze on her, swallows back a sob and feels the ache in his heart grow as he realizes you’re alone in the room down the hall, that she’s right in front of him but they’re separated by plastic and plexiglass.

He wants to say something to her, he can’t find words, more than anything he wants to hold her. He can’t. He sinks down to level with her and slowly reaches through to lightly hold her hand that’s so small it brings tears to his eyes. She doesn’t respond but he feels better having even the smallest form of connection to her. He doesn’t even know when he realized that he was right; your baby is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. Your bet is meaningless, winning and names are lost in the plight of life. The doctor leaves eventually but hospital staff still surrounds the NICU, nurses and doctors ready at a moment’s notice. It’s silent save for the hum of the machines. Only a few other babies are being treated, spaced out to afford families privacy. He doesn’t know how long he stays bent over with his hand lightly on hers before he finally finds words.

“We love you,” he tells her, knowing if you were with them you’d say it too.

It might have been minutes but is more likely hours by the time a nurse pulls Calum from her side. The mention of you finally rousing him from his state. He doesn’t want to leave but he wants you. He wars over it for a moment but nods, gives her hand another touch, tells her that you both love her and finds himself wandering the hallway back to you. You’re stricken when he enters the room. Mali is trying to be a calming presence, to keep you in bed, but it seems a losing fight.

“How is she?” you ask, breathless, hopeless and forlorn.

Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, bites back tears and tries to stay strong for you and for her. A rush of the doctor’s words come back to him. What scattered remnants of pieces he barely heard charge through.

“She’s beautiful,” Calum says first, sits down in the chair at your side and takes your hand as softly as he had taken hers. “The doctor said the first twenty four hours are the most vital. They’ll know more at forty eight and even more at seventy two.”

“I want to see her,” you say and Calum hears the edge of hysteria in your tone.

“You need to rest,” Mali tries but falls short when you and Calum both shake your heads.

“I didn’t even get to hold her,” you cry and it’s enough to bring Calum to you, his arms gently around your shoulders. You can’t hold her, he can’t hold her, but you can hold each other and hope. “I want to see her,” you repeat and the words hit Calum’s skin and wrench his heart.

“We’ll ask the doctor if you can,” he promises, not knowing how physically affected you are from labor, not knowing if getting up and going would be okay or not.

“I’ll go get her,” Mali says and excuses herself from the room to track down the doctor and to give you two a private moment.

You’re both quiet for a few seconds, content to hold each other together in the silence. Calum feels your grip on him tighten as you shift in the hospital bed and eventually pull away so he can see your face. He runs his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe away your tears.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, eyes wide and concerned. “I wish I could’ve been there with you. I don’t know how hard that must have been.”

Calum shakes his head as if he’s trying to shake away your worries. You feeling guilty for not being there with and for him was the same war he had about leaving you behind.

“‘I’m”—he says and sucks in a deep breath—“I’m okay. I’ll be okay. She’s gonna be okay,” he finishes and finds a new mantra though it’s hard to believe and each sentence sounds more like a question than the last.

You nod, a small shudder shaking your shoulders and racking your body. Calum reaches for you again, let’s his hands settle on your shoulders to give you strength and comfort.

“I know she will. She’ll be okay, she has to be, she’s half you and you’re the strongest person I know,” you rationalize, eyes lost to the wall in front of you. You look back at Calum and he sees the stony wall you’ve put up start to crack as you gaze at him. “But it’s okay to break sometimes,” you finish and Calum knows you’re saying it to him, reminding him that he can break into your arms and have you there to help him put back the pieces.

For the first time since your daughter was born Calum allows himself to crumble. The tears he’d been fighting back slide down his cheeks and his shoulders slump with the weight of the world. He’s brought back to you by your gentle pull and finds reassurance in the love you show him. Mali comes back in with the doctor and Calum tries to collect himself, wipes tears from his face and clears his throat.

“I hear you’re asking about your daughter,” the doctor says as she steps into the room and takes a sweeping glance at you, Calum and Mali. “Parents are allowed in at all times. Visiting hours for others are seven in the morning to seven at night. Only two at a time.”

“Can I go see her?” you ask, a fragment of hope clinging to your words and getting lost in your eyes at the mention of parents being allowed in whenever.

“In the morning,” the doctor replies and Calum swallows down a lump in his throat, knowing that’s not the answer you wanted. “Your labor was quick but very intense. Your body needs to rest, the drugs need to wear off, you wouldn’t make it down the hallway in your condition.”

Calum sees the refusal cross your face, the staunch disbelief that you can’t see your daughter almost enough to crack anyone’s resolve. The doctor keeps explaining to you but it falls on deaf ears and interjections. You ask if this way would be possible, if that way would, but nothing seems to be possible to the doctor who means to keep you in bed until morning.

“What if she doesn’t have a morning?” you finally ask and suck in a breath as if the words themselves strike physical pain through you. Calum’s nearly certain they did, just the thought is enough to make his chest feel like it’s caving in.

“She’s stable and comfortable. If anything was to happen we would get you in there. For now, please try to get some rest.”

The doctor gets paged and makes her escape. Calum clutches you, holds you and makes whispered promises he’s not sure can be kept.

“I don’t want her alone,” you whimper and Calum follows your gaze out the door.

“I’ll go—do you want me to stay with you? Where do you want me?” he asks, stumbling over his words, unsure where to go or what to do.

You nod. “Go be with her. Please. Make sure she’s okay,” you instruct and Calum can hear how much it pains you to let him go to her without you. He holds your hand, kisses your forehead.

“I’ll come back to check on you in a while,” he promises. “And I’ll take so many pictures of her. Sweetheart, she’s beautiful,” he adds, realizing his first time in the NICU was so filled with shock that not one photo was taken and the only time you’ve seen her was when she was being taken away.

“Thank you,” you whisper, eyes glossy. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answers without hesitation but takes an extra second to gaze at you before heading out the door.

He’s back with your daughter before he even realizes it. Her small hand is warm inside the incubator, her eyes are still shut and past the tubes that breathe life into her she almost looks peaceful. He takes as many photos as he can without disturbing her. He settles into the hard plastic chair beside her and tilts his head back until it gently thumps against the wall. His hands find his face and rub at his jaw. He hadn’t realized before but it’s been clenched and holding tension for hours. Time passes as he sits at her side, talks to her, sings and hums when she so much as stirs slightly. He’s able to lull her and he takes those moments as victory and ones to keep with him forever. Once more he wishes you were with them, knowing you would be able to do the same for her with the sound of your voice, the gentle touch of your hand. When it nears midnight and she hasn’t stirred in a while and a nurse has come in to check on her, Calum convinces himself it’s time to go check on you.

He knows he could call or text but he misses you. He’s faced with a conundrum as he gets one foot out the door of the NICU. Now he misses her. But he doesn’t have time to do much of either as the kind nurse he recognizes from earlier stops him once more. This time she has a clipboard with papers and pen in her hand.

“Forms for her birth certificate,” she informs.

Calum gapes at the papers. Even the easiest of questions and information seems impossible. You both still don’t even know her name yet.

“You can take your time on them. I’ll be around to help if you have questions,” the nurse says before excusing herself to rush off to help another patient.

Calum’s left with the clipboard in hand, aches in his heart and questions in his mind. He heads back for your room to find you awake and Mali gone. You smile to greet him but Calum can see how flat the gesture is and he can’t blame you.

“Where’s Mali?”

“Getting a coffee. I can’t sleep and she wanted to stay up with me,” you explain and Calum settles himself on the edge of your bed. He takes your hand and places the clipboard on his lap. “What’s that?”

“Forms for her birth certificate,” he says and sighs. “I can’t even fill in her name.”

You squeeze his hand in understanding. “Do what you can,” you reply and inch closer to take a peek at the papers. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you as you each get lost in your own thoughts. “I know you get to name her…”

Calum shakes his head. All bets off. “We’ll decide on something together. I love all the ones on your list,” he tells you and finally gets a genuine smile from you, eyes alight and all.

“I want to see her before we choose, I feel like I don’t even know her.”

Calum trembles at your words and the honesty in them. You carried her for seven months and had about seven seconds to see her before she was carried off. He leans closer to you, gives you many small kisses from your cheek to forehead as worries and fears tumble inside him, each one coming to life and bringing life to others. He drowns them out, for you and for her. He’s already crumbled once. He wants to be resilient. Mali comes back with coffee in hand and tired eyes but such a sheer will to stay Calum can’t even work up the nerve to even suggest she go home and get some sleep. And in all honesty he’s glad she’s here and can be there with you when he can’t.

“I called mum and dad, I hope you don’t mind,” Mali says when she takes a seat on the opposite side of you, sliding into the chair in a tired yet graceful way.

Calum shakes his head. He doesn’t mind at all. He wanted to do it but didn’t have the heart or the words or the right mind to even dial the phone.

“They’re flying out as soon as they can,” Mali further informs, then sips at her coffee. “We’re all gonna be here for you. Both of you. All of you.”

“Thank you,” Calum gets out past a choked up throat and stands to stride to his sister and give her a long overdue hug. She affords him comfort and when she realizes how tired his eyes are she gives him her coffee and says she’ll get another.

Mali leaves again and Calum spends the next few minutes drinking in the caffeine and soaking up some time with you. He wants to get back to your daughter but the war of you being completely alone confronts him once more. He decides to wait until Mali gets back to head back to the NICU. When she does stride back through the door he gives you a kiss, tells you he loves you and makes a promise to stay with her until morning; until you can be with her too.

He spends the night in the uncomfortable hospital chair, hand inside the incubator, finger lightly stroking her tiny hand in soothing rhythms. He talks to her when the moon is out, he shows her pictures of you and doesn’t let it bother him when her eyes don’t stay open for long. He comes to terms with the fact that she’s resting and when she’s resting she’s getting stronger each and every second. Through the night he shifts in the chair but never leaves it. There’s a kink in his neck and his muscles ache by the time morning comes but those pains are minimal in comparison. He rubs at his tired eyes after waking from a miraculous little doze. He straightens and finds her immediately.

“Good morning,” he sings quietly as he gets level with her. Her eyes are barely open. “You get to see your mommy today.”

He knows it’s not likely, probably impossible, but he swears she smiles when he tells her that. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He has no intention of answering it—he’s surprised it still has enough charge to buzz—but he checks who’s calling. Ashton lights up the screen. Calum sends him to voicemail and jumps when motion in his peripheral startles him. Ashton is standing outside the NICU window, looking in at Calum with his phone pressed to his ear. He frowns when he hears the voicemail greeting. Calum gathers up the courage to leave his daughter. He gives her a small goodbye squeeze on her hand, tells her he loves her and exits the NICU, the routine of leaving the used gown behind already set in stone.

“How is she?” Ashton asks, giving no time or thought to explaining how he knew where to go or why he holds a duffel bag in his grip.

Calum wracks his brain, trying to find the last update from a nurse or doctor but comes up short after his long night. He sighs and his shoulders slump.

“She made it through the night,” he says and hears the desperate intone of needing hope in his voice. “What are you doing here? How’d you know?”

“Mali texted, Luke has Duke,” Ashton explained and lifted a worry from Calum. He’d nearly forgotten Duke in the fray of it all. Ashton hoisted the duffel bag up. “I brought you both clothes, phone chargers, and I even have a present for her,” he continues and rummages around in a small gift bag until he pulls out a plush koala bear.

“She’s in a closed incubator,” Calum says though he knows he should be saying thank you instead. He can’t stop the words once they start. “She can’t have anything in there.”

Ashton nods, knowing the slight bite in Calum’s tone is not frustration at the gesture, just the circumstances. “It can go in her nursery.”

“We don’t even have it set up yet.”

Calum knows he’s starting to crack again but he doesn’t know how to stop himself. If it were anyone else he might have had a fighting chance of keeping himself together but Ashton’s been there for unspeakable highs and lows. He can’t fight himself into submission. He can’t keep himself together without a little help from his best friend. That’s exactly what he gets, a comforting hand on his back as the bags hit the floor and a hug to remind him that it’s not just you and him against the world. It takes a few minutes for Calum to pull himself together, to offer an apology for his tone that Ashton shrugs off in understanding and head for your room, the sudden remembrance that you get to finally see your daughter carrying his steps.

He finds you and Mali in the same spots as last night. He can tell you didn’t sleep. Your eyes are bloodshot and heavy but the smallest of smiles captures your lips when you see him.

“You ready?” Calums asks and you nod, needing no other prompting to understand. “Let’s get you dressed then we can go,” he adds on and searches through the duffel bag for some clothes as Ashton and Mali head to the hallway.

“How was last night?” you ask him as you pull a hoodie on.

“Long,” Calum answers and takes a breath. “But she made it through with no problems. I talked about you, showed her pictures, I think she’s excited.”

You laugh at Calum’s recount of the night and his projection of her possible excitement. It’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in nearly twenty four hours. It’s not as hearty and joyous as usual but it’s a start to feeling normal. You both hold onto that feeling as you exit the room and head to get ready for the NICU.

Calum doesn’t know what to expect when you enter and see her for the first time since she was taken away. He figures you might tear up, that you might clutch him or go straight for her. He doesn’t expect you to freeze in your tracks halfway to where she sleeps. He doesn’t know what to do when you wrap your arms around yourself and tremble where you stand.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, come on,” he tries with a soothing voice. He’s a step ahead of you and you continue to stand still. He backtracks to you, puts a reassuring hand on your back. “What’s going on?”

He focuses on the subtleties of your face and is drawn to your eyes. He sees the way they shine and knows that you’ll soon be biting your lip and scrunching your nose as you do your best to hold back your emotions.

“All these machines…” you trail off with eyes roaming the NICU and the sight of dozens of incubators and the like. Calum knows how overwhelming it is but he’s had time to adjust and get used to the hum and flow of the world your daughter lives in.

“They keep the babies safe and comfortable,” he says, knowing that’s what will get through to you. “I’ll show you, she’s nice and cozy, getting stronger every second.”

You nod and take very small steps with Calum at your side. He doesn’t rush you or push you along. He goes at your pace, his eyes skirting from you to your daughter. He knows you can see her from your vantage point. Her eyes are closed as sleep claims her once more. Calum is used to the tubes that give her oxygen and help sustain her life. It startles you when you first approach and Calum witnesses the tears that finally slide down your cheeks. You’re timid at the edge of the incubator, hands curled into fists and steadfast at your sides. He hears your breath shaking and reaches for your hand.

“You can touch her. Hold her hand. She likes that,” Calum informs, knowing his touch and voice had soothed her through the night whenever she stirred. “Like this,” he says and reaches his free hand toward her, lightly stroking the soft skin on the back of her hand. Her eyes open but she stays calm and content.

You go slowly, as if afraid to startle her or scare yourself. Calum retracts his hand from her but keeps his other in yours for support and comfort. It takes one touch for your fears and stone wall to come crumbling down. Your eyes soften as more tears make stride and a sob wracks your body.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you manage to get out through a cracked voice and Calum smiles at the choice of term of endearment. You’ve always been his sweetheart, now you have one of your own. You look up at your husband and Calum meets your eyes. “She looks just like you.”

Calum shakes his head. “She’s you too, look,” Calum says.

You giggle through another cry but Calum knows the tears and sobs are all born of something good. “She’s got your eyes and purses her lips just like you.”

Calum smiles at that. “But that nose and those cheeks are all you.”

“You think so?” you ask, turning away from her to look at Calum with hope in your eyes. He nods. You turn back to look at her and keep up the small rhythm you have of stroking her hand. “Yeah,” you agree upon further inspection with such adoration in your tone it makes Calum laugh.

For as hesitant as you were to enter the NICU it quickly becomes apparent that nothing in the world will tear you from her side. You take up residence in the chair Calum spent the night in, never once letting your hand leave her, keep your voice soothing as you talk to her. Calum finds his way to the other side, content to hold her other hand and listen to the sweet words you whisper to her.

“I love you so much,” you repeat, having found a new mantra. “I can’t wait to bring you home. You’ll get to meet your auntie Mali, grandma and grandpa, all your uncles. Your doggie, Duke. We’re all waiting for you, whenever you’re ready.”

“Some are less patient than others,” Calum says around a laugh as he spies two people on the other side of the window. You make a confused noise until Calum motions over to the window and you both take in the sight of Ashton and Mali waving behind the glass with glossy eyes and smiles to accompany them.

“They’re really special, huh?” you ask and smile, appreciative for all of the effort they’ve put in. You both know you wouldn’t be able to get through this without family by your side.

“The best,” Calum agrees with fond eyes.

You fall into silence, content to stay by her side and do nothing but gaze at her and each other adoringly. Calum doesn’t expect to look up and find you in tears again but he does and it nearly rips his breath away before he detects that though you’re crying it’s a good kind of cry this time.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asks.

“This is just—it’s all I’ve wanted,” you manage to get out with your gaze roaming from her to Calum and then to Ashton and Mali still watching from the window. “It’s our family.”

Calum smiles at the sentiment and the honesty in your voice and knows the gesture reaches his eyes and hopes you can feel it in your heart the way he does. He knows your rocky relationship with your parents and that you haven’t felt like family in a long time. They have still yet to meet Calum after bailing on a dinner and the wedding. He’s not sure if you’ve called them about the birth or if they even bothered to answer but he’s happy to see you content with the family that chose you.

You sniffle and meet eyes with Calum. “I have an idea for her name,” you announce and Calum’s heart skips a beat. He’s ready to start calling her by her name, to fill out the forms in his hoodie pocket, but then he laughs as he realizes he might more often than not call her a term of endearment, just like he does with you.

“Anything you want,” Calum promises, knowing that it will be perfect because it came from you and your heart.

***

Another day slips by and Calum finds himself alone with your daughter once more. You’ve been brought back to your hospital room to talk with your doctor and see where you’re at and when you’ll be ready to be discharged. Calum asks you to get some rest while you’re in there. You make no promises but heed his words. You both have thoughts of her name in your heads, still undecided, wanting more time with her to be absolutely sure but feeling that it could be right. Calum’s hanging on by a thin and tattered thread. He’s exhausted and nodding off in the chair when Ashton rouses him with a phone call and coaxes him out into the hall, but not before he spends the time to tell her that he loves her. He meets his best friend in the hall, a yawn falling from him, arms wide as they stretch out the aches and tightness from his prolonged position.

Calum rubs at his eyes. “Why’d you drag me out here?”

“I think you should go home for a while,” Ashton says, getting straight to the point. When Calum immediately refuses with a shake of his head Ashton sighs and continues, “just a little while. You’re running on empty.”

“No. No, I don’t want to leave her. I can’t leave them,” Calum refuses, head still shaking and eyes darting to the window.

“Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Take half an hour to sleep. They need you to be rested,” Ashton says and Calum can almost hear the words he didn’t say. They need you to be strong.

It’s the implication and words unsaid that even marginally make Calum consider the proposition. He runs a hand through his hair as tangles of thoughts snarl through his mind. He lets out an accidentally long held breath and turns the shake of his head into a nod as his shoulders relax. He decides he will, but only after he’s sure you’re okay and can be in with her. He tells Ashton as much.

“Good, I’m on shift right now so I can be in there with them when you’re gone if you guys want,” Ashton informs. Mali had finally gone home to get some rest for herself and Ashton slid seamlessly into her role at your sides to fill in the gaps when you have to be separated.

“I’m sure we’d all love that,” Calum assures, utterly grateful for his family’s presence.

Ashton does as promised. Calum watches as the two of you enter the NICU, sticks by the window until he sees Ashton take her hand for the first time and glow with such love and adoration it makes Calum certain she’s okay in his hands. And yours, though he’s never had a doubt about that. He heads home after waving and blowing a kiss—and laughing when Ashton pretends to snag it from you and keep it for himself. He calls for a car, knowing he’s well past exhausted and being behind the wheel would be dangerous. The car stops at the curb of your home and Calum stops short when he steps out. Two cars sit in the driveway where your cars are usually parked.

He enters the house and is met with disgruntled noises coming from down the hall. He makes way to the back room and finds Luke and Michael in a mess of boxes and half put together nursery furniture. He laughs as he stands in the doorway and it catches his friends attention, they look up at him, wide eyed and startled.

Michael is the first to stand as he abandons a screwdriver on the floor among the mess of cardboard, bubble wrap, and probably unread instructions. “How is she? How are you? What are you doing here?”

“She’s getting better everyday,” Calum answers and doesn’t even question the knowledge they have of her and the troubles she’s been facing. He knows Ashton must have filled them in. “Ashton forced me home to get some rest. But the better question is what are you two doing here?”

Luke blows out an irritated breath. “Trying to build her nursery. We figured Mali and Ash wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon so we might as well be helpful in the meantime.”

“Do they know when she can come home?” Michael asks and tucks his hands in his pockets, eyes sweeping the mess of a nursery. He clears his throat.

“Not yet. Hopefully soon,” Calum answers with an arched eyebrow, also taking in the room.

Luke stands. “Don’t worry. We set up a bassinet by your bed. We read it’s good for newborns to sleep near their parents. Just in case,” Luke informs. “She’ll have somewhere to come home to and rest. Now it’s your turn,” he finishes and waves a hand as if to dismiss Calum from their presence.

“Alright, I’ll take the hint. Just… try not to break anything,” Calum says and excuses himself to head across the hall to his own room. He spots the bassinet immediately and gravitates towards it without thinking. He has the stuffed koala Ashton got for her in his hoodie pocket. He pulls it out and places it inside, optimistic that she’ll be able to come home to it soon.

Calum doesn’t linger at home too long. He showers, eats and struggles to sleep for a while. Luke and Michael make minimal progress in their efforts to put together the nursery. Before heading out again Calum stops by to thank them.

“We couldn’t do this without you guys,” Calum expresses his thanks and means every word of it.

“That’s what we’re here for. It’s what families do,” Luke reassures.

“You can thank us by showing us some pictures of her,” Michael states and tilts his head. “The only ones we’ve gotten are blurry and through a window from Ash and Mali.”

Calum is more than happy to comply, he’s taken dozens, likely hundreds, since the first one he snapped for you. With two of his best friends by his side he swipes through endless photos. Most of just her, nearly identical, some with you and her, some of him and her and a few taken by a nice nurse of the two of you with her. He’s not looking at Luke and Michael—much too busy staring at the screen, wanting to be back with her and you to look at them—but he can feel the smiles in their voices.

“She’s the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Luke coos.

Michael makes a comment that she’s lucky she favors you over Calum and all three laugh. It’s one of few genuine laughs Calum has had over the past few days and even though it’s at his own expense he doesn’t mind. It feels normal. Michael and Luke aren’t treating him like glass and he feels less likely to shatter because of it.

“I gotta get back to her,” Calum concludes and locks his phone after the last photo is shown.

“Send us new photos when you get there,” Luke insists and lets Calum part with them after a hug for each.

Calum leaves the half finished nursery and hears his friends go back to squabbling.

“Where the hell did the crib go?” Michael’s voice asks as Calum heads for the door.

“I think it’s under the rocker,” Luke says. “Which is under that styrofoam.”

Calum leaves with a grin and gets back to you and her as soon as he can. He has to switch places with Ashton to get back into the NICU. He immediately greets you and her and though he’s sure at this point you both know he tells you he loves you.

“Will you sleep tonight?” Calum asks, knowing it will likely be your last night in the hospital, your visit from the doctor informing you that you could be discharged in the morning.

“No,” you respond.

“Will you at least try?” he questions with pleading eyes. He doesn’t want you to spend a night in a chair after all your body has been through though he knows you will without question. “You need rest,” he reminds. “I did. Now it’s your turn.”

You sigh and Calum can hear how tired you are just from that. You mull it over for a minute and finally nod. “I’ll try. Stay with her?”

“Always,” Calum promises and meets you around the incubator to give you a hug before separating for the night.

It’s another long and restless night for Calum but he finds small joys where he can. He’s happy to see her content and resting easily. He revels in holding her hand and talking to her. The doctor said she would know his voice and as time passes he starts to believe it. He can’t help but think back on all the times had talked to her before he was born. He found comfort in holding your bump and telling you both about his day or humming and singing familiar and beloved tunes. Those days aren’t so far gone and Calum feels a tug in his chest as he realizes how quickly they left. Seven months was too short. But as he gazes down at her he can’t help but be happy to have met her early. He laughs when the thought of her just wanting to meet you as soon as possible enters his mind and knows he’ll have to tell you that, knows it will make you smile. The night goes by without incident and it instills more and more hope into Calum’s heart that she could be going home any day now. He gets a text from you early in the morning when the sun is still making it’s ascent into the sky. 

He finds himself in your hospital room with a view of pink clouds on the horizon and the golden sun greeting you as the doctor says you’re okay enough to be discharged. You both listen to the instructions and advice the doctor gives you and Calum can see the relief and happiness on your face as you settle into the realization that you can be at your daughters side at any and all times. The doctor tells you to rest and take it easy but Calum knows nothing will be restful or easy until she’s home and you both know she’s okay. Your minds and hearts won’t have peace until she can rest in your arms. Calum helps you get ready to leave your own hospital room and head back to the NICU. Over the next couple of days you and Calum find an exhausting rhythm of being at her side. It takes a lot of convincing from Ashton and Mali to let them be there for her while you take just a small amount of time for yourselves. Though it’s hard and goes against all of your instincts to be there with her at every single minute you relent after nearly thirty six hours without real sleep.

The first time you and Calum leave and Ashton and Mali go in together you linger by the window and watch as they take up positions by her sides. Calum feels warm and okay as he watches, he even manages a smile when Ashton and Mali light up when they hold her hands. The first time eases the transition to being able to take small moments away, long enough to eat and stretch your legs. But you never stay away for too long and even when they’re in with her you always find your way to passing the window and checking in on her and them. Nights are a different story. There is nothing that will make either of you leave her side. Days go on with uncertainty and worries but having Ashton and Mali around helps take some of the pressures and anxieties off of your shoulders.

Night settles upon you both with weary exhaustion clinging to your minds, bodies and hearts. Your daughter has been doing well but there’s still no word of when she can go home. It leaves you reaching for fragmented pieces of hope. Curling your fingers around broken shards of optimism and the fabric of each other’s shirts, holding onto all that is dear. Calum tries convincing you to go home for a night but you staunchly refuse, you tell him that you’re okay though your eyes betray how tired and broken you really are. He doesn’t push the matter, just holds you close in the uncomfortable hospital chair and keeps his hand on hers and yours and whispers reassurances all three of you need.

“I don’t even care if we go home soon or not. I just want to hold her,” you whisper and cut through Calum’s attempts at soothing you. “It’s been what? Four days? Five?” you ask and furrow your brows, the concept of time completely lost.

“Six,” Calum answers and is only aware of it from the watch on his wrist. It feels like a lifetime and he realizes that for her it is. He nearly gets choked up but clears his throat and blinks his eyes rapidly trying to keep himself together. He feels you shake your head against his chest as if you can’t believe it.

“She’s so tiny she could probably fit in one hand,” you say and let out a forlorn sigh. “I don’t know if we have clothes small enough for her.”

“We can send Mali out for that, I’m sure she’ll have a field day. We might have to build another closet for her,” Calum says and a small laugh follows, you giggle slightly and it’s more than Calum has let himself expect in a long while.

You lapse into silence, too tired to keep talking but too aware and afraid to fall asleep just yet. Calum’s learned to blur out the noise of the machines and just focus on your steady breathing. It comforts him. Just as he knows the beat of his heart is comforting you with your head pressed to his chest. His lap is numb but he wants you as close as possible.

“Have you thought more about her name?”

“I like what you mentioned,” Calum answers, a tilt of a smile forming for you and the thought of her possible name on his face. “Let’s sleep on it one more night,” he says and hopes that you actually will be able to sleep.

He finds himself nodding off, neck crooked and head falling against the wall behind him. But slumber is quickly taken from him when he feels himself being shaken and hears your breathy whisper.

“Something’s wrong,” you say and he immediately perks up, heart lurching and breath catching at the two words. “Look.”

You point out the window of the NICU where a group of doctors have convened with sullen looks on their faces. There’s a moment where everything is palpable and tense. Calum’s throat tightens and his heart rate spikes with anxiety. He can hear machines beeping but it’s not uncommon. The doctors break their group and start to move.

“Please don’t come in here,” he hears you say but he’s too fixed on watching the doctors disappear from the window and waiting for the door to burst open. Waiting for a doctor to take his daughter away again. “No, no, no.”

Calum’s hand finds hers and it feels just the same as always, warm and soft and perfect. His heart drops. Nothing happens, the door doesn’t open and the beeping stops. He gives it another moment and clutches at his chest with his free hand. He lets out a breath that’s nearly painful. He doesn’t even notice that in the heat of the moment you left him and stood, but now he refocuses, where once there was white edging into his vision as panic picked up he blinks it away and notices your hands are shaking. When you turn back to look at him he sees tears in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” he says and reaches a hand out to bring you back to him. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and settle back against him, and he can feel the tears on your face as you find a home against the crook of his neck. “I was scared.”

“I know, it’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have woken you. I shouldn’t have”—you begin but Calum strokes your hair and stops the words from coming out.

“That’s what I’m here for. I would’ve done the same,” he promises and assures. “She’s okay, we’re okay,” he continues when your small sobs and shakes don’t stop. He knows that you’re panic stricken and need to let the fear out. He holds you while you do, keeps his gaze flickering from you to her and lets the hum of the machines settle back in. He runs his hand up and down your back and hopes the rhythmic motion will help to calm you. He’s nearly certain sleep won’t be had any more for the night, he’s been running on coffee, anxiety, naps and adrenaline for days now. Once you’re calmed, or at least calmer, you pull away from Calum and he watches as you move back to her, settle so you can hold her hand and whisper to her. Her eyes are open and she’s calm. Calum notes and realizes how quiet she is, has been since she was first born. Even her cries are small and timid. He listens to you tell her that you both love her, that you can’t wait to bring her home and promise to always be there for her. Once the panic flees you both settle back in for the night but stay awake with closed eyes and hands on hers.

Morning comes in a slow creeping way. Doctors and nurses enter the NICU, you both watch silently as they make sure your daughter is doing well. It’s a silent and solemn affair to watch someone else be able to hold your baby—even if it’s just for a routine check in to make sure she’s making the progress she needs. Calum sees your arms flinching, watches as they calm when she’s back in the incubator and quiet. He knows it’s killing you to not hold her, cradle her in your arms and keep her safe from the world. It’s killing him too. Though you’re both somber and exhausted from the previous night, Calum finds that the morning is easier, he’s a little more light and certain. He won’t call it a good feeling as he doesn’t want to jinx it, but as he stares down at her and her eyes flutter open to meet his gaze he feels more calm and collected than he has in a week. His phone buzzes and though he doesn’t want to peel his gaze away from her he looks down and finds a message from Ashton.

“Ash says we should go get breakfast, he and Mali will come in for her,” Calum informs you and for the first time you don’t argue in favor of staying. Last night was too much, twenty minutes to recollect yourselves sounds good, and you’ve both come to trust Ashton and Mali to be alone with her.

“Alright, just get something quick from the cafeteria,” you agree and give your daughter one last touch and affirmation of love. You’ve both made it a habit to have your parting words to her be “I love you”.

Breakfast passes in a blur, remnants of blueberry muffins get swept into the trash and soon enough you’re both on your way back up to her. You’re stopped short in the hallway, a doctor calling out to you.

“Hoods?”

You both turn and a nervous feeling flutters through Calum’s chest. He holds his breath for a moment as he takes in the sight of the doctor. He exhales when the doctor seems in no rush and holds no note of concern. Calum supposes it’s a routine check in to tell about her progress and what the next steps are. Calum’s about ready to ask if you might be able to hold her soon, knowing how far she’s come and how much better she’s doing but the words get trapped as the doctor starts talking.

“She’s put on some weight. Her vitals are good. We’ll be transferring her to an open incubator for the day and if all goes well she should be able to go home by tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“What?” you ask, voice small in Calum’s ears, tinny and distant as you both process the news.

The doctor runs through it again, tells you slowly and answers questions that pop up during the explanation. Once it all makes sense, once it sinks in and the reality that her and home is coming sooner than either of you could have hoped for you’re both struck with a whirlwind of emotions. You freeze and for the second time the life of your daughter brings Calum to his knees. He doesn’t realize that he’s sobbing until you find him on the floor and your gentle hands and voice start to soothe him. Your fingers run through his hair and you repeat a new mantra that’s carved in stone and faith.

“She’s okay. We can go home.”

Your voice is a whisper and the NICU door opening and closing and footsteps all scream around you both. Calum clutches you and tries to catch his breath.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Ashton’s voice cuts through and brings you both to your feet. Calum doesn’t let go of you, face buried against your shoulder, but he finds some breath and wrestles with words and comes up empty.

“We get to take her home,” you explain and Calum suddenly hears Mali too, excited gasps and squeals sounding all around. Calum doesn’t let go of you but he feels his sister and best friend join the hug and appreciates their presence more than any choked up words could explain.

“Right now? I’ll go get the car,” Ashton asks and is reeling and ready to go but is stopped short.

“Tonight or in the morning,” you explain and Calum is grateful you’re strong enough to find words when he can’t. He continues holding you when Mali and Ashton break away, spilling their excitement out in bursts followed by tears.

He feels your hands in his hair again and the gentle sway of your body rocking him as he tries to ground himself into the reality that she really is okay. That nights filled with worries and days packed with exhaustion and waiting and waiting and waiting are going to be over. He breathes a little easier and finally detaches himself from you. You wipe his tears and he wipes yours and small laughs formed from disbelief and exhaustion spill past your lips.

“We have to finish her forms,” you remind and Calum doesn’t hesitate to dig into his jacket pocket where the papers for her birth certificate have been on standby. All that’s left to fill in is her name. “Should we go with…?” you ask and trail off as you peek at Mali and Ashton who are waiting with great suspense. Calum nods.

You fumble with the paper and pen and write her name out against the wall. You stay silent as you turn back to the group. You can sense Mali and Ashton are trying to be patient but the anticipation grows and keeps them on edge. All you do is silently hand them the paper so they can read for themselves.

“Mila Ashe Hood,” Mali reads in a breathy whisper coated with surprise. “She’s named after us?”

“After her godparents,” Calum says, finally finding some words but getting the wind knocked out of him once more as another group hug ensues. “Thank you guys, for everything, we couldn’t have made it without you.”

“That’s what family is for,” Ashton says without hesitation. “Now get in there and celebrate with her.”

***

“Do you want to hold her first?” you ask and look up at Calum with wide eyes. He meets your gaze, remembers your outstretched arm falling as they took her away, your pained and whispered words of just wanting to hold her, the way you flinched with fear at the sight of doctors outside the window. He wants to hold her but he wants you to have the moment you’ve been missing for seven days.

“It’s all you, sweetheart, you can go first,” he says and is content to watch with adoration and love as you reach into the open incubator she will be leaving for good momentarily to take her into your arms for the first time.

“Hi love bug,” you whisper as she settles in your hold; eyes open, quiet and content. “She’s so tiny and beautiful and perfect,” you say and softly rub her back. Calum sees tears in your eyes and for one of the first times in a week he knows they’re made of happiness. “Are you ready to go home?”

Mila doesn’t so much as squirm and you both take her contentment as a resounding yes. Calum lets you hold her for a few minutes more, takes several photos to capture the moment forever, knowing neither of you will ever want to forget. Mila’s eyes find Calum and his heart flutters.

“That’s daddy,” you tell her in a coo. “Do you want to go see daddy?”

The slow motion of Calum’s world stops as his entire universe ends up cradled in his arms. Mila weighs barely five pounds and Calum surmises your guess of her fitting in one hand would be right. But he holds her with all of the soft strength and love he has and wonders if he’ll ever be ready to let go.

“Ashton’s bringing the car around,” you inform. “Her car seat…”

“Luke dropped by and installed it,” Calum responds and laughs when you give him an uncertain look. “I’ll make sure it’s secure.” He would never let anything bad happen to his baby girl.

The transition from the hospital to the car goes fast in comparison to the agonizing wait of seven days. You both sit in the back with her, holding her hands, talking to her and enjoying the feeling of freedom from the incubator and anxiety. Mila is back in your arms and seeing her home for the first time in what seems like no time at all. The car ride flew by. Calum heads down the hall and takes a peek at the nursery.

“Sweetheart, come look,” he calls down the hall and pushes the door fully open when you and Mila reach him.

The sight of the finished nursery is breathtaking. You and Calum show Mila around her room; from the white crib and the pictures of woodland creatures above, to the rocker in the corner and the endless clothes that line her drawers.

“This is your room,” you coo, and shift your weight from one foot to the other, already noting that she likes a small rhythm when she’s held. “You’ll sleep right here when you’re bigger. For now you sleep right by mommy and daddy.”

You go across the hall to your room where her bassinet is set up and timidly ask Calum if it can switch sides of the bed so she can be near you. You explain it’s so you can feed her easier in the night but Calum doesn’t need an explanation, he’d do anything for you and her. He makes the switch and you gently lay her inside, kiss her forehead and clutch Calum as he stands by your side.

“I want to have more kids, I want her to have a sibling like you and Mali but I can’t go through that again,” you whisper and Calum can hear the heartache in your tone.

He pulls you close. “She will. We wanted to adopt, remember?”

You light up at that and smile with such sincerity it takes the ache right from your hearts. “Yeah. We’ll adopt,” you say and snuggle against Calum’s chest as a smirk grows on your face. “So, do you want to start that process tomorrow or?”

Calum bellows out a laugh and runs his fingers through your hair.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah? Enjoy being home with her for just a bit.”

“Okay,” you concede and Calum lets you drag him to bed where you can both rest. With his arms around you and your eyes on Mila who has fallen fast asleep you let out a content sigh and Calum smiles.

“I love you,” Calum says once and then again, one for you and one for Mila and you repeat the same back to them.

“I’m so happy to be home with my family,” you say around a sigh.

Seven months of pregnancy and seven days in the hospital have worn you both thin but in that moment there’s no other place you’d rather be. Beside your baby and in each other’s arms. The wait and anxiety are worth it once you find that all you have now is happiness and love. Calum and Mila.

<< >>

I can’t believe we’ve finally made it to this point in the dates with cal universe. I’m so appreciative of the support whether you’ve been around since the very first blurb, joined somewhere in the middle or are just finding this world. Thank you all so much. There is much to come, I hope you stick around for the journey.

Premature birth can come with many complications. What was depicted in this fic is one scenario of struggles parents and preemies can face. If you feel so inclined there are amazing charities to check out to help support families and babies in their time of need. Overall, stay kind and spread love and support.

If you’d like to join my tag list just let me know!

“Have you slept at all?” you ask in a thick and tried whisper.

“Maybe for a few minutes,” Calum responds but can’t be sure of it. The night is getting hazy as time passes.

“I can’t sleep either,” you admit.

It’s the first night back at home, the first night in your own bed and not an uncomfortable plastic chair and yet rest doesn’t come any easier than all of the nights in the hospital. Calum nods at your words, understanding without explanation why sleep evades you. It’s the same for him.

“I’m just so worried,” you continue and Calum knows you need to talk about it, to get some weight off of your chest. “What if something happens? What if we’re asleep and she’s not okay?”

Calum doesn’t have answers to those questions and they only present thoughts he’d much rather never have to consider. He feels himself getting choked up but he shakes his head and shakes away the fear as best as he can. He trails his fingers along your jaw, soft and reassuring. A thousand thoughts spin through his mind and rocks the foundation of the world he shares with you and Mila. He comes to an answer though he knows it’s not a solution that is feasible long term.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Last I looked it was almost four,” you answer and bite your lip, Calum catching the motion of worry from moonlight.

“You get some sleep. I’ll stay up with her,” he offers and not only sees but feels the disapproving shake of your head. “Sweetheart, one of us has to sleep. Your body’s been through so much. Mila needs you to be rested,” he adds on and knows the tactic is a little low but if you won’t sleep for yourself or for him the only other person you would do anything for is her. “Sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

You give him a pout but he sees that you’re relenting from the tired look in your eyes and the way they can’t stay open any longer. You nod, beg for a kiss with a small noise and puckered lips and finally settle in to attempt to sleep when he gives you a peck. Calum stays by your side while you war with slumber, keeps a hand trailing up and down your back in a soothing rhythm and has his gaze pinned on the bassinet at the bedside. Mila has only stirred a few times during the night, to be fed and changed and soothed. Otherwise she’s slept and been sound. Once Calum is sure that you’ve finally drifted and the clock reads five he slips out of bed and rounds the corner to get to Mila.

Just the sight of her makes him smile, brings tears to his eyes and has him at peace with the restless nights. He would give up anything for her. Sleep. Time. The rest of the world. He wants more than anything to hold her but he doesn’t want to wake her.

He settles for something familiar, a soft fingertip trailing over her small hand. For seven days it was the only form of contact he had with her. She doesn’t flinch or react in any way, she stays still and calm. After a moment eyes that mirror his own open but she doesn’t cry. She’s secure with his touch and it warms Calum to know his presence keeps her calm. He looks over at you, finally burrowed under the covers and asleep, then looks back at her and reaches into the bassinet slowly and carefully and quietly. She fits so perfectly in his arms, her small body tucked into his hold with ease.

“We’re gonna let mommy sleep,” he whispers and presses a kiss to the top of her head as he strides out the door and for the nursery across the hall. “Would you like a good morning story, lovebug?” Calum asks as he settles into the rocker near the crib. He borrows your term of endearment for her, having heard you call her lovebug in the hospital.

Mila stays quiet and Calum takes that as a yes. As the sun comes up he reads to her about a bunny and once the pages come to an end he proceeds to talk to her instead.

“Your mommy and I used to read each other to sleep,” he says with a fond and far off smile as he recalls the gentle nights of whispered words. It was a tradition created when sleepless nights after breaking up and getting back together ensued. He sits and rocks Mila, tells her stories about you and revels in the warmth of her and the sun coming in through the window.

Just as the story of meeting you enters his mind and sits on his tongue your voice breaks the thought away.

“Good morning.”

Calum’s eyes dart up and find you standing in the hallway, pajamas a rumpled mess and hair in disarray but a more restful look in your eyes. He smiles, unable to stop himself, the mere sight of you enough to make him happy.

“How is she?” you ask when Calum stays quiet.

“Perfect,” he answers without hesitation, wanting to put any fears or questions at bay for you. “You could go back to sleep if you want. We’re good right here.”

You shake your head. “I’m awake now, I should probably feed her.”

Calum agrees with a head nod and laughs when you enter the room with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers in your anticipation to hold her. Calum understands the feeling of wanting her in your arms. Seven days without her makes every moment that much more important. He gives Mila one last kiss on the cheek before standing and gently handing her to you. He watches with caution and admiration as you settle into his place in the rocker with her in your arms. Mila makes the transition from him to you with such ease it’s almost startling how easy she is after so much turmoil.

“Do my sweethearts need anything?” Calum asks and plants one knee on the ground to be level with you and Mila and darts his gaze from you to her.

“Breakfast?” you ask with a little smirk and raised eyebrows. “If it’s not too much?”

“Nothing ever is, I’m on it,” Calum promises and rises from his one knee position.

He doesn’t forget to give you a parting kiss before heading for the kitchen. The house is quiet and calm and it’s such a striking contrast to the constant activity and anxiety of the hospital that it nearly winds Calum. He doesn’t even have time to get a pan out before a soft knock on the front door has him running off.

“I brought breakfast,” Luke says as a greeting when the door swings open. “Thought you guys could use a break, make things a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Calum says and means it, nothing but appreciation coursing through him at the thoughtful gesture. Calum takes the bag of takeout from his best friend and a sudden realization hits him. “How’s Duke? Do you want us to come get him?”

Luke waves off Calum’s question. “He’s fine. He can stay a while longer if you guys want time to get Mila settled.”

“That might be good,” Calum says and contemplates. He’s not sure how introducing Duke to Mila will go over but from his protective nature of you during pregnancy Calum has a feeling Duke will be nothing but a guard dog to Mila. When Luke lingers, eyes darting into the house Calum smirks. “Anything else?”

“Can I see her?” Luke finally asks and Calum huffs out a laugh as he expected that question as soon as their eyes met. Calum steps aside so the entrance is wide open for Luke.

“Come on in. She’s being fed right now,” he explains and sets the bag of food on the counter. “Want any?” he asks as he starts to unpack the near buffet Luke brought for only two.

Luke waves off the offer as Calum sets to plating the food and waiting for you to come out with Mila. When you do, with slow footsteps and an easy smile at the sight of Luke he lights up at the baby in your arms. Calum watches as his eyes soften and his lower lip juts out in awe. Mila is small in your arms, face buried against you with her eyes closed, tiny hand curled into a fist. Luke immediately stands from his seat and suppresses a gasp, or that’s what Calum believes the chortled noise is.

“Is that her?” Luke asks in a breathy and unbelieving whisper.

“No, it’s some other baby,” you retort with a laugh. Calum chuckles and grins when Luke falters for just a moment and then joins the laughter.

“She’s so tiny,” Luke comments as he stands from his position on the barstool. “Can I hold her?”

There’s a tense moment of pause where Calum watches your body language. You turn at an angle so Mila is slightly away from Luke. Your eyes skirt to Calum and show fears and anxieties as clear as day. You bite your lip and then frown.

“Do you have even a slight sniffle or sore throat?” you question, worries born of getting Mila sick and another hospital stay lingering deep inside.

Luke quickly shakes his head as he picks up on the meaning of the question. “I’m the pinnacle of health. I promise.”

Calum gazes at you as you begin to let your guard down and slowly nod. “Okay, but sit on the couch,” you suggest and Calum smirks at the momma bear protective instincts already coursing through you.

Luke agrees to that plan and Calum walks over to the living room with you and Luke. He settles on the couch and reaches out for Mila. You hesitate for a moment, needing to give her one last little squeeze and kiss before giving her up and it makes Calum smile as he’s already prone to doing the same thing. Mila stirs when handed to Luke, tiny cries falling from her as she makes the adjustment into a stranger’s arms. Calum flocks to Luke’s side, the one you’re not already on, and gently takes her hand.

“Hey lovebug, it’s okay, this is your uncle Luke, he just wants to hold you, it’s okay,” Calum whispers in as soothing of a voice as he can amongst her small cries. His heart hurts with every little noise that escapes her, his hand is soft on hers and his words are even softer. “It’s okay, we like uncle Luke, he’s big and goofy and loves you.”

You follow suit and whisper soothing words to Mila who’s cries begin to taper off. It takes another moment for her to become comfortable and trusting in Luke’s hold. Calum isn’t sure if he can attribute it to Mila trusting Luke or Mila trusting your presence and comfort. Either way he’s overjoyed that she settles in.

“We’re good now right?” Luke asks as he looks down at Mila, finally quiet and content. “You guys go eat, I’ve got her.”

You both hesitate as if waiting for Mila to decide she’s no longer okay but she stays calm and soothed as Luke rubs her back and coos to her. Calum releases a breath and heads for the kitchen with you but keeps his eyes trained on Luke and Mila. You eat breakfast in silence, merely observing and listening as Luke acquaints himself with your daughter. Calum can’t hold back his grins and snorts at Luke’s antics.

“Hi, how are you?” Luke asks in a baby voice as he shifts Mila so he can cradle her in his arms instead of against his chest. Calum gazes at the two with just as much fondness in his eyes as Luke has in his for Mila. “You know, I built your nursery and put your car seat in the car and even helped your auntie Mali pick out those cute little pajamas you’re wearing. And we got your things you’ll grow into; pretty dresses and cute little bunny slippers,” Luke continues, his words like business but his voice is higher pitched and more gentle than usual.

“What are you doing?” Calum asks around a bite of muffin.

Luke looks over at Calum from his position on the couch and Calum arches an eyebrow.

“Just pitching to her why I should be the favorite uncle,” he explains and doesn’t hesitate to turn back to Mila to continue talking to her as if she understands.

The interaction and explanation make both you and Calum laugh. You’re both hasty in eating the breakfast Luke brought for you, wanting nothing more than to get back to your daughter though with the way Luke holds her and speaks to her you’re not sure he’ll give her up any more willingly than either of you would. You end up back in the living room after eating and sit on either side of Luke and Mila, letting him have a little more time with her before swooping in to take her back.

“I can’t get over how small she is,” Luke says when you both join him. He has a light hold on her hand and smiles when her eyes meet his. “My pinky finger is bigger than her hand. Look at her. She’s tiny.”

Luke continues to fawn over Mila while you and Calum watch from your perches on the couch and while both of you would rather have her in your arms you don’t rob Luke of time with her. Only another knock on the door rouses both of you from watching them.

“I’ll get it, you make sure Luke doesn’t run away with her,” you offer and Calum laughs but sweeps a skeptical eye to Luke. There’s only a moment before Michael walks into the living room escorted by you and awe at your baby in Luke’s arms.

Michael voices his awe and Calum grins at the softness of his voice and eyes and picks up on the flinch of his arms as he also desperately wants to hold Mila. Luke doesn’t seem to get the memo, or completely ignores it in any case, and continues to hold her.

“Alright, my turn,” Michael finally announces minutes after taking a seat and trying to be patient, not one to hold onto subtleties for too long.

Luke shakes his head. “Get your own baby.”

“You get your own baby,” Michael says around a laugh at the staunch look of not giving up on Luke’s face.

“Maybe someday I will,” Luke mumbles and sighs, gives Mila one last little coo and finally relents.

The transition from Luke to Michael comes with a small fuss but you and Calum stay by her side until she’s settled. Calum watches his lifelong friend hold his daughter and feels overwhelming warmth and happiness radiate through him. Calum concludes Michael must be feeling the same as he gazes down at Mila with watery eyes and a gentle smile.

“I love her so much,” Michael says and a crack in his voice alludes to the emotion his words promise. “But I am disappointed I was the last one to hold her,” he adds on with a pointed and somewhat joking look to you and Calum.

Calum throws his hands up in the air in surrender and defense. “Shoulda brought us breakfast like Luke,” he jokes and shrugs, to which Michael narrows his eyes but laughs along. “Besides, my parents haven’t even met her yet. They’re catching a flight out tomorrow.”

Michael concedes his argument and jokes and settles into gently rocking Mila, holding her hand and getting himself wrapped her tiniest finger. 

“You guys gonna get any rest until then?” Luke questions in the vein of mentioning how tired you and Calum look but it’s only asked in concern.

“Maybe,” you answer and Calum catches the slight frown on your face.

“It’ll be easier when they’re here,” Calum says and rubs your back soothingly. “It’ll be nice to have them around during the nights.”

“Well, if you need any help you know we’re here,” Michael offers.

“I’ll take her anytime. Can’t promise I’ll give her back though,” Luke pipes in and smirks. “I am her favorite uncle after all.”

“Says who?” Michael asks and gives Mila a little tickle as if to earn affection and the coveted spot of favorite uncle.

“She did. We had a little talk before you got here,” Luke says casually.

You and Calum both laugh at the little argument that ensues and in the distraction swoop in and take Mila from Michael. You hold her and Calum holds you. Ashton and Mali let themselves in through the front door and as they join the group you both know your family will always be there for you and for your daughter.

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He knows you’re beside him but even that knowledge isn’t enough to pull him from his panic as white coats rush through the halls. His eyes shut, burning and pushing back tears, and all he can see is Mila smiling up at him from her incubator for the first time, all he can hear is her first giggle at the brush of his finger on her nose. All he wants is to hear her first word and see her first steps.

Calum clutches at the arm of the chair instead of your hand, knowing the force is too much and that the slight bite of pain from white knuckles helps remind him to stay alert. He hears you sigh, maybe yawn, he’s not even sure through the disconnect he still feels. It reminds him of the broken breath you took over the phone when you called earlier in the day. Two words had gotten him to his feet from his lax sitting position on Ashton’s couch. His songwriting journal had fallen to the floor. Mila’s sick. His heart had pounded at the explanation and the next two words you barely managed to utter. Come home. He was out the door before either of you could take another breath.

“She’s gonna be okay.”

Calum hears your voice and he rationalizes with your words and finally knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of something that feels so far out of reach. He doesn’t know how he convinced you she would be okay when she laid in an incubator, or even how he convinced himself, he doesn’t know why he can’t seem to grapple with that sentiment when her prognosis is less dire. All he knows is numbness. He’s numb to the truth that you speak, numb to the bright lights flashing before him and numb in his fingers and chest and just barely feels your hand settle on his forearm.

“Love, look at me.”

He manages to look up and find concern in your gaze. It’s the same gaze you gave him when he came rushing through the door that afternoon to see Mila in your arms and hear the panic in your voice. She’s barely breathing. Three words and little gasps and wheezes had rushed you both to the hospital with glass walls of worry separating you. It’s the first time he’s looked in your eyes since.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him, voice soft and trying to be soothing. Calum nods past a shallow breath and feels his shoulders tighten as they shroud in on himself. “You need to breathe. In… and out.”

Your hand runs up and down his arm with each instruction of in and out and within a few minutes he feels again. He feels your fingertips and the honesty in your words and the love in your eyes. The numbness shatters on the tiled floor below when the doctor’s voice cuts through.

“Hoods?” he asks and lets his gaze skirt to both of you when you immediately stand, Calum thankful that you haven’t dropped your hold on his arm. He’s sure it’s the only thing keeping him steady. “You can come see Mila now.”

The walk down the hallway is silent for you and Calum. Harsh lights pool down from above and Calum blinks back the brightness and the burning in his eyes as you both come upon an all too familiar door. You’re not in the same unit as when Mila was born, the NICU two floors above but the sentiment of a hospital room and your child being inside is eerily similar and heartbreaking.

“We have her using a nebulizer,” the doctor says and Calum realizes he’s been talking the entire time; filling the two of you in on how she’s doing. He steels himself and recollects some words. Pneumonia. Asthma. Medicine. Okay. When the door opens and Calum’s eyes land on Mila he feels his breath catch in the back of his throat.

“Can she come home tonight?” Calum hears you ask and he knows he should pay attention, it’s one of the only questions that really matter, but he’s too transfixed on images at present that remind him of the past.

Mila lays still and quiet, the nebulizer giving her medicine to help her heal. But all Calum can see is his newborn daughter taking in oxygen through tubes, the glare of plexiglass form the incubator and an entire life flashing before his eyes. His hand clutches yours as he forces out another deep breath. He can feel himself swaying and zoning in and out on the conversation you hold with the doctor. He’s glad to have you by his side, takes comfort in the soothing motion of your thumb running across the back of his hand. He remembers coaxing you to Mila’s side when she was just days old, encouraging you to reach into the incubator to hold her hand. This time it’s you who gives Calum a push.

With small steps and whispered words he follows your lead to Mila’s side. As soon as he can see her eyes staring up at him he breaks; the glass wall that had been up comes shattering down as he sinks into the chair at her side. He whispers to her and once he starts he can’t stop. He wants her to know that he’s there; a piece of guilt from being away for the day weighing on him unknowingly.

“Cal,” you cut in amongst his mindless blather of I’m here now. He turns to look at you, breath still coming with thought but feels himself ease when your eyes are gentle. “Don’t say that.”

With newfound curiosity Calum looks at you with questions in his eyes. He’s not sure what he’s not supposed to say, words tumbling out without much thought other than of Mila. He’s not sure what not to say or why he shouldn’t say it. You sit by his side, take his hand again and glance at Mila, eyes glossy but strong.

“Don’t blame yourself for not being there,” you finally explain. “It’s not your fault she’s sick. You being there this morning wouldn’t have changed anything. We’d still be here right now.”

Calum nods, rolls his shoulders back and bites his lip through the urge of a sob trying to break through. He understands what you mean and while a part of him can grapple with it and believe it there’s still a hairline fracture of doubt that threatens to break him again. He knows you can see it and appreciates you continuing to talk him away from the shards of broken glass.

“She was fine this morning. Smiling and giggling. It just happened, Cal. One second she was fine and the next she was coughing. You came rushing back. You’re always there for her. Never doubt that.”

A deep breath finally escapes Calum and belief floods him in its place. Your reassurance calms the stormy thoughts in his mind. The reminder of Mila’s smile and giggles replaces images of an incubator and fights for life. His grip on your hand tightens and he motions for you to come closer; you abandon your own chair and settle into his lap and arms. Calum decides this is okay, that the only way it will be better is once you’re all back at home, sitting in the rocker of Mila’s nursery with both of you in his arms.

“Did he say she can go home tonight?” Calum asks, finally finding his voice though it does shake with the effort. “I wasn’t listening.”

Your laughter makes the drab hospital room a little lighter. The kick of Mila’s foot in recognition of the noise makes Calum’s heart and worries a little less heavy.

“Yes. They’re going to finish her dose of medicine and then send us home with everything we need to take care of her.”

“Good. That’s good,” Calum mumbles and buries his face against your shoulder. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Mila but he needs a moment to remind himself that you’re there too.

Calum finds himself able to breathe and listen the next time the doctor comes in, finds that his need to be with Mila ends with him holding her from the hospital and sitting with her in the car as you head home. His only want, to sit in the rocker and have you both, comes to light as the moon shines through sheer curtains.

“I’m taking tomorrow off,” Calum says as the sway of the rocking chair guides Mila into sleep, her comfort in your arms insurmountable. “We were supposed to go to the studio but she’s more important.”

You can’t argue with that. Nor would you ever want to.

~~~

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“I can’t believe how big she’s gotten,” Calum’s mother coos from across the table.

Both you and Calum don’t see her as growing. You still see the baby fighting for life in an incubator, your daughter that could fit in one hand. You know she must be growing, getting stronger and smarter and more adept to the world around her. But you don’t see it yet. The changes are so gradual that when you’re with her everyday they slip past your eyes.

“She’s still my little girl,” Luke says and everyone shoots him a look.

“No, she’s my little girl,” Calum corrects around a laugh and shaking head. “Someone needs to get you your own baby before you try to take mine.”

Luke blushes but not in the humbleness of trying to claim Mila. He shrugs and waves a hand through the air to downplay Calum’s suggestion.

“If she’s anybody’s…” Mali says and trails off to look at you with a smile.

That warms your heart though you know it’s only half true. As much as Mila is yours she’s Calum’s too. You both love her with all of your hearts and as far as you can tell she loves you both equally. If she’s not with both of you she’s with one or the other. Calum pulled her first laugh from her but he often reminds you she first smiled at the mention and sight of you. Everyone simmers back into Christmas conversation, asking about presents for Mila and plans for the big day. Calum goes nonchalant and you catch the forced casualty but don’t question it; so much else is already on your mind.

“Sweetheart, you okay?” Calum asks in a whisper pressed to your ear.

You nod, downplaying the fact that you’re not sure about that answer. It amazes you he can pick up on the subtleties in your mood even when you try to mask it with all of your might. You steel yourself, try to shake away the crushing feeling pressing down on you at two empty chairs. You squeeze Calum’s hand and quietly stand to get Mila in your arms.

“I’m gonna go feed her,” you explain and gently take her to you and quietly disappear down the hallway.

Calum sits back in his chair and quietly muses over what to do. He thinks he knows what’s going on, eyes trailing to the same two chairs that were once in your sights. He knows you have Mila and wonders if maybe you want space from the event around you or space from everyone.

“Everything alright?” Ashton asks, his seat diagonal to Calum’s, his ability to pick up on his best friend’s distress a natural talent.

“I’m not sure,” Calum answers honestly and stands to excuse himself and go figure it out. “I’ll be back.”

He roams down the hall quietly but quickly. The door to the nursery is open and the room is empty. He moves past it to your bedroom door that stands shut. He doesn’t hear anything and while it would normally be a sign of relief a little tremble of anxiety slices through him. Usually you’d be murmuring to Mila, giggling with her or if she wasn’t hungry already back out to join the dinner. He taps his knuckles softly against the door and calls out to you to announce that he’s entering.

He stops short as soon as the door is open. You have Mila in your arms but you’re not feeding her. You’re sat on the edge of the bed cradling her against your chest, rocking slightly back and forth as silent tears fall down your face. Calum can feel his heart shatter at the sight and moves on instinct to the two of you. You look up and meet his gaze but don’t say a word, both of you communicating silently; always knowing what’s on the other's mind and in their heart and worries. Calum gently coaxes Mila from your arms to put her in her bassinet by the bed. She seems mostly unbothered, not able to understand anything but the comfort of your arms. She stirs a little bit as she settles in but is okay enough for Calum to seek you out and offer his arms for you to fall into.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks as he wraps you up in his hold and runs a soothing hand down your back.

“Yes, no, I don’t know,” you answer in a shaking voice. “I just feel so stupid. I should know better by now.”

Calum shakes his head at your words and the fact you genuinely feel that way. It wrenches at him. He knows exactly what you’re talking about and though he wants to defend you to the bottom of the ocean and back he wants you to come to some realizations on your own as well.

“They should do better,” Calum simply mumbles and runs his hands through your hair. He hopes you understand what he means. The struggle you’ve had with your parents being life long. You deserve better than empty promises and last minute cancellations.

“I thought maybe with Christmas and Mila it might be different, I thought they might try a little harder,” you finally manage to get out after a moment of prolonged silence. “It’s okay for them to cancel on me. I’m used to it. Mila deserves more. They haven’t even met her yet.”

Calum can hear the heart break in your words. He knows how heavily their absence in Mila’s life has hung over you. He sees the way you look at his parents interactions with Mila and the way you wish your parents would do the same. So many times you’ve tried to reach out to them and so many times they’ve let you down. He always reminds you that you have him and Mila and his parents and Mali and the guys as family but he understands it’s not quite the same and that a little hollow piece of you still yearns for your parents approval and care.

“You deserve better too,” Calum says and hopes you’ll believe it.

“It stopped bothering me for a while, I accepted they didn’t want to put in effort for me,” you explain around a few sniffles, face firmly planted against Calum’s chest as rogue tears stain his shirt. “It was pretty clear when they didn’t show up to meet you or to our wedding. I thought I was over it. Then we had Mila and almost lost her and it’s like they didn’t even care. Now it’s Christmas and they still don’t care. She’s the sweetest little girl, she deserves grandparents, she deserves everything. It breaks my heart. Why don’t they care?”

Calum has no answer to the shattering question you pose and even if he did he knows nothing—no answer or explanation—will ever justify their absence. He stays silent and holds you. Rocks back and forth with you in his arms almost like you both do with Mila. He can feel with every little motion that you’re trying to pull yourself together but he’s always been the place that you can fall apart. He doesn’t coax you to do anything. Just stays with you, becomes a presence to help fill the void.

“Sweetheart,” he finally mumbles after minutes of quiet. He feels your clutch on him tighten as you slightly shift to meet his gaze. His fingers lightly settle under your chin to keep you with him. “She doesn’t need them. They don’t deserve her or you.”

“What?” you mumble out the one worded question; clearly hearing the words but unable to grasp them fully.

“She doesn’t need them, she has me and you. You give her more love than imaginable,” Calum explains and you nod to show you understand. He lets out a breath and so do you though it shakes. “If they don’t care to try they don’t deserve to have you keep trying. You’re too good for them. So is Mila, look at her,” Calum explains further and coaxes you to raise your head and find your reason for everything. Mila smiles when you meet eyes with her and it’s enough to convince you of Calum’s words.

“I just feel bad she’ll grow up missing part of her family,” you finally admit and maybe it’s more or less about her and you.

“With all of those people out there who love her, she’ll never miss a thing,” Calum says and grins to himself as a thought enters his mind. “And I mean, Luke did walk you down the aisle so that kinda makes him her pseudo grandpa?”

You erupt into laughter and shake your head no. “Don’t even joke about that with him. He’s already vying for favorite uncle. We don’t need him fighting your dad to be the favorite grandfather.”

Calum purses his lips as he contemplates the very real possibility of that before laughing with you. He wipes away remnants of tears on your face and gives you another moment to collect yourself. Once he finds that you’re back together he gives you a little nuzzle. “Ready to get back out there?”

You nod and stand. Mila lights up and lets out a little noise as you bring her back into your arms. You keep her close and Calum stays by your side as you head back out to the dining room where your family waits. They all greet you warmly but don’t comment on or question your disappearance. You keep Mila in your hold instead of putting her back in her high chair. Small talk resumes and eventually Ashton proposes a toast.

“To a good holiday season,” he finishes.

“And to family,” you pitch in and make everyone agree. Glasses clink. “Thanks for being here with us.”

Everyone agrees with the sentiment and says there’s nowhere else they’d rather be. In that moment, gathered with those who love and care for you and your daughter, it’s easy to let go of those who don’t and to appreciate all that you have. When one of Calum’s hands grabs for yours and the other gently holds Mila’s you’re also sure there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

—

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He sets you down in the small living area where a fireplace stacked with logs greets you. Though the cabin is warm a chill runs through from the open door and you shiver, but it doesn’t last long as Calum wraps his arms around you, dips down to kiss your cheek and brush hair from your face.

“We’re married,” he says, the two words becoming much like a mantra as disbelief still sits with you both. You sway in his arms and blush as you look up at him.

“Everything is perfect,” you praise, hoping he knows you mean everything from the wedding to the cabin you stand in now. To him. “But we should probably shut the door.”

Calum laughs as a blow of chilly air comes in through the open door. Your luggage still sits on the small front porch. You both go out to bring it in and shut the door so the warmth can stay with you and the cold can stay outside. Large snowflakes fall from the sky and add to the blanket of white claiming the ground. You’ve travelled with Calum before, usually going to warmer places with beaches and sunsets. The contrast is stark and white and the sights of the mountain and snow that dazzles from sunlight are beautiful. You’d go anywhere in the world with Calum. He starts a fire and turns back to look at you as flames flicker to life. He glows golden from the light and you pat the couch cushion beside the one you’ve settled on.

The night previous was long and filled with excited bliss and lovemaking. You’d talked of starting a family, not wanting to wait any longer, and then set out to try and achieve it. You stayed up until the sun claimed the sky and then raced to the airport to make it to snowy hills. Exhaustion hangs thick and weary in the air, content sighs follow as Calum settles next to you and doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms.

“You like it?” Calum asks, eyes darting around the charming cabin.

You nod as a realization strikes you. “It’s very private.”

All you could ever want for a honeymoon is time with Calum. Uninterrupted. Just you and him and the warmth of being with each other.

“Good, we have an entire week here,” he says.

“I thought we had two weeks?” You ask, knowing he had said two weeks for the honeymoon.

“One week here,” he responds and noses at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “Next week is another surprise.”

You smile and find yourself spending the week between soft sheets, keeping each other warm, in the hot tub on the back deck, out on the mountain with cold noses that rub together and trying to start a family, all while dreaming of your hopes. Most nights bring candlelight and soft music. After days of roaming the mountain and spending time in the snow you’re both content to head for the bedroom where a king sized mattress bids you well. You pull him into bed, his lips roaming your skin, whispered words of want slipping from his lips, your body reacting to the desires between you both. He mumbles words of praise and compliments that make you shiver. You respond in kind, his name a song on from your lips as you sigh. You know each other and all of the things that drive the other wild. His hands roam and wander and his lips leave marks where you like them best. Highs are reached and come down into soft holds and small kisses peppering each other’s faces. More desires are traded as nights drag along. Talk of a family claims your discussions.

Time slips by in bliss and one week seems too short. Your goodbyes to the mountain are filled with sorrow. You don’t think that anywhere could ever get better but you’re willing to find out so long as it’s with Calum. He makes you close your eyes through the airport, his hand leading you and headphones claiming your ears so announcements won’t spoil the surprise. You’re not sure where you are when you land, nothing about the airport is of note, nothing about the view gives anything away but when Calum tells you there’s another flight in store you have an inkling of where you’re headed, the time and preparation for the sun clueing you in.

Another flight slips past though it’s long, you sleep against Calum and wake to his grin and a summer sky greeting you. He’s brought you home to Australia where summer is warm and those shorts and sun hats in your suitcase will be put to good use. You end up in a hotel near the beach, spend your time under the sun, trading kisses and bliss in the sand, in the hotel bed and shower and seemingly never take your hands off of each other. You both find new habits of twisting your wedding rings, holding each other’s hands and staring at the bands in wonder and awe as you dream about the family you want. It’s a subject that comes up when you go to visit Calum’s parents during a day you’re able to drag yourselves away from the beach and the bed and each other; somewhat, he still holds your hand and kisses your cheeks and keeps you close. They broach the topic and where Calum would have hesitated before, uncertain eyes flickering to you and then away, he answers right away, a sureness capturing his voice.

“We want at least two kids,” he tells his mum one afternoon you’ve taken her to lunch. “Sooner rather than later.”

You watch as his mom lights up and coos about grandbabies. When lunch is over and you find yourselves alone again, laid on the beach with the sun in your eyes and the crash of waves on the shore you turn to Calum.

“I love your family,” you say, starry eyed at the prospect of being parents like his—loving and caring and always there.

“They’re your family too,” Calum says softly and brushes your cheek with his thumb.

You smile and nod, knowing that’s true.

“Maybe we’ll have a start to ours when we get home,” Calum says with longing in his voice and softness in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be a parent with you.”

You can’t either. You’re not sure what will happen when you get home. If his words will come to life or if more time will be needed but you know you’ll be together through it all.

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“Good morning beautiful baby,” he whispers to Mila as you feel a smile grow across your face. You pull your legs up and slowly move across the bed to settle behind Calum. “Merry Christmas,” he adds to her, hair falling in his face as he doesn’t even contemplate looking away from her.

You reach out to gently push hair from his face and catch the grin at the form of contact. He looks up to find you and gives you a good morning kiss.

“G’morning,” you greet, voice still gravelly upon waking. He smiles up at you and then looks back down at Mila, your hands going back to sweeping his hair from his eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s her first Christmas,” Calum says fondly as he gently rocks her in his arms. She’s awake and alert, a tiny smile on her face as her dad looks down at her. “Feels like I was just able to hold her for the first time yesterday.”

Six months have gone by in a breeze. You nod your head in agreement and settle in closer at their sides. Your gaze fleets from Mila and Calum to the wonder of a white world outside. All that Calum has done to make her first Christmas perfect striking you in that moment. You blink back tears and bite your lip, thoughts caught in a drift of presents; a special one entering your mind. It takes all of you to not spring from the bed to race and grab it.

“I’ll feed her, then we can open presents?” you ask, unable to keep the glee and hope from your tone.

“Absolutely,” Calum agrees with a glint in his eyes as he carefully hands her to you.

Mila greets you with a giggle and you’ve never felt such joy on a Christmas morning before. It’s the first time you’ve woken to your family, felt unconditional love and excitement for the day ahead. For so long Calum has been able to ignite wildfires of warmth through you. Now with him and your daughter on Christmas morning you feel infinitely warm and safe.

In no time you’re back in the living room with Mila in your arms, excitement in your heart and a smile on your face. Calum stands in front of the lit up tree, the sun rising slowly behind him through floor to ceiling windows. Everything shines. Wrapping paper, gift bags, ornaments and smiles. Duke’s already curled up on the couch, the old dog no stranger to Christmas mornings.

Watching Mila on her first Christmas is one of the best gifts you could ever be given. She’s taken by the wrapping paper, paying more attention to wiggling scraps of it in the air as they glitter in the sun than the presents beneath the paper. You and Calum take endless photos as the mass of presents is slowly unraveled. When there’s only two left with your name and his on them little nerves spark to life. You went in search of the perfect gift for him, hid it in your drawer and kept it a secret for weeks though your excitement nearly made you spill several times.

“You first,” Calum insists as he too realizes the last gifts left are for you two. Mila’s in his lap, still entranced by wrapping paper and smiling at the shine. Calum hands you a small but long box wrapped in gold.

You almost insist he goes first but bite your tongue as you realize you want his reaction to be last so you can hold onto it a little longer. You carefully open the paper to be met with a velvet, the typical jewelry box peaking your curiosity and making your heart race in wonder. Calum’s gifts through the years have always been thoughtful. A favorite book. Pressed petals of your favorite flowers. Saved tickets from a special date. You can’t even fathom a guess as you open the box.

Your breath is fleeting as you’re met with a golden heart and chain. Immediately you know it’s a locket, the heart begging to be opened and loved. With gentle fingers you undo the tiny clasp and feel a visceral response to the photo inside. The first time you held Mila is captured and forever inside your heart. Your eyes glisten and you immediately close the small distance between you and your family.

“You like it?” Calum asks and you hear certainty in his voice, the question not needed as you burrow against his side and let your hand find Mila who wraps a tiny hand around your fingers.

“I love it,” you say without missing a beat. “And you,” you continue but pause to give Calum a kiss. He grins into the affection and you see his pride and happiness at his gift well received. You look down to Mila still in Calum’s lap, rebel in her touch and dip down to kiss her forehead. “And you. And Duke too. Now it’s your turn.”

Calum takes your wrapped gift you’ve been yearning to see his reaction to for weeks. It’s the biggest and most meaningful of the few you’re giving him. You bite your lip in anticipation as he rips open the wrapping paper and smirks at the velvet now in his hands. You reach for Mila and bring her to you as he pops open the box and eyes what’s inside. He says nothing as he pulls a chain out and rests a circular silver charm in the palm of his hand.

“Is that…?” Calum asks as you nod, knowing he knows what it is. “Her little thumb print. Look how tiny,” he says, voice cracking syllables as he runs a delicate finger over the impression of Mila’s thumb print on silver. “So I can always have her with me.”

“Just like my locket,” you say; your thoughts and needs and desires so intertwined you understand each other’s everything without words.

You simmer into a happy silence with the mess of Christmas around you. You’re all just content to be with each other. Even Duke is settled at your sides, the tiny Christmas sweater he wears for the cold not even a bother anymore. Mila drifts and the wrapping paper in her hand falls to the floor. You rest your head against Calum’s shoulder and sigh.

“Merry Christmas, love, thank you for my best one yet,” you say.

Calum dips down to kiss the top of your head and reciprocate your words and for the first time Christmas feels like family.

—

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Calum’s parents’ visit helps with the anxiety. Having them on standby eases worries, having two more people around who love Mila reinforces the fact that if anything were to happen someone would be there, someone would help. His parents' adoration and instant love for her fills you both with warmth. The first moment they laid eyes on her a silence befell them, his mom’s mouth slightly parting with a tiny gasp and eyes wide with joy and disbelief. His dad stood still and quiet as he took her in his arms and finally broke to coo at her and sway with a rhythm that always puts her to sleep. Their help has been immeasurable in settling in at home and finding peace. Their departure came with tears and promises to visit soon—and requests to bring her to them so she can see where Calum grew up. You both have every intention to make a trip of it when she’s older and better able to handle that amount of travel. For now, zoom calls and FaceTime become a regularity so her grandparents can see her.

Time passes and her first month of life goes without incident and harbors love and laughter; tiny moments that add up to everything encompasses your time with her. Ashton, Luke, Michael and Mali all pop in and help out when they can. Her second month goes by in a blue and all too soon her third month of life approaches and Calum decides he needs to mark the occasion with something special. He keeps his thoughts to himself, wanting it to be a surprise for you, something sentimental you and Mila will always be able to remember.

“Good morning, little love,” Calum says in a soft whisper as Mila stares up at him from her bassinet. He gently picks her up, cradles her to him so her head rests against his chest and his arms wind around her. She’s still tiny, smaller than an average three month old though that’s to be expected. “We have big plans today, but you have to keep it a secret from mommy.”

Mila doesn’t squirm or squabble or make a noise and Calum takes it as a good sign of faith that their secret is safe. He carries her to the living room, planting little kisses to her smushed cheek as he goes, every moment with her precious and filled with love.

You’ve already left the house to run some errands and chase after some normalcy, as much love and happiness as there has been for nearly three months there has also been lingering anxiety and shutting out the rest of the world in favor of being with each other and Mila. You and Calum had a talk about it the night previous, thick words and teary eyes finally coming to the conclusion that something needed to give. You start with a baby step; going to a cafe with a friend and getting a few groceries on the way home. Calum uses your time away for the surprise.

He’s all set up for the surprise, supplies all laid out across the coffee table, his second in command curled up on the couch with a slightly wagging tail as he and Mila come into view. He settles on the couch next to Duke and in front of all the supplies needed. A long sheet of paper claims most of the table, paint, pallet and a rag claim the rest. Mila yawns in Calum’s arms, the little breath shutting her eyes for a moment and making Calum wrinkle his nose at how adorable everything she does is.

“This won’t take long, then we can take a nap,” Calum promises with a small laugh and gives her another kiss on the cheek then readjusts his hold so she lays on his lap and is held by his arms. He gently picks up one of her tiny hands and can’t help but coo, “Look at those hands, the cutest little things I’ve ever seen. Mommy’s gonna love this.”

Mila lets out a small noise, filled with joy, something akin to a laugh and Calum’s grin grows with the sound. She’s still naturally quiet and Calum enjoys the fact that you always tell him she gets it from him. But he loves to hear her little noises and can’t wait for the day that a true laugh sounds from her, until he hears dada and I love you. For now he’s content with the little noises of happiness and contentment she’s able to produce. Another small one comes from her as he takes her other hand and makes more comments about how cute she is, how tiny her hands are, how sweet she is, how much he loves her.

The surprise doesn’t take too long to make, Mila being compliant and relaxed helping the endeavor. Duke’s nonchalance and indifference also aiding in the smooth sailing. Everything is picked up and tucked away by the time you get home.

You’re not greeted by Calum and Mila as you mostly expected, instead you walk into silence and confusion. It’s only mid morning and usually Mila is awake and being tended to in some way. When you finish with the few groceries you find your husband and baby in the living room, one half asleep on the couch and the other sound and out in a strong and sure pair of arms.

“Cal, love, wake up,” you gently coax in a soft voice so as not to startle him.

“I’m not asleep,” he answers almost instantly but his eyes spring open and his tired voice betrays him.

“I’ll take her,” you offer and reach your arms out for Mila. “I’ll put her in our room. I don’t want her to fall,” you say though you’re sure she wouldn’t. She’s in between the couch and Calum, nestled against him with her head resting on his chest. Heart beats and a rhythmic sway are one of two ways to get her to sleep.

“I’ve got her. And we’ve got something for you,” Calum announces as he carefully sits up with a sleeping Mila still content and safe in his arms.

“Something for me?” you ponder and bite your lip, wondering if it’s a special occasion. “I don’t need anything but you two,” you say and when Duke pops his head up from beneath blankets you laugh and correct yourself. “You three.”

“Indulge me,” Calum says and stands, goes to you and gives you a kiss and a moment to greet Mila before stalking off to the bedroom. He leaves you baffled but comes back before you can call after him or follow them down the hallway. Mila is in one arm, waking with heavy eyes, and his other hides behind his back. You raise an eyebrow in question and slowly approach him when he beckons you with a look.

“I hope it’s nothing expensive,” you comment and when Calum shakes his head you feel a bit better. You’d much rather be giving Mila gifts than receiving any.

“Open it,” he says and finally brings his arm from behind his back to reveal a rolled up parchment.

You give him a small look before unwinding a red ribbon from the center of the paper and rolling it open. In your hands are the hands of those you love the most. Three little sets of prints lay on the page in different colored paint. Four hands in blue and pink right in the center and scattered paws in black dots along the page. Your lip quivers and your eyes blink back tears as a shaky breath escapes you at the sentiment of the present.

“We left a spot for you,” Calum informs and gestures to the space just big enough for your hands between his hands and Mila’s. Your fingers clutch the page with heartfelt emotions coursing through you.

You don’t have the words to express your thanks but a kiss for each helps to get the message across. “I don’t understand. Why? What prompted this?” you ask, baffled but appreciative of the gift. “It’s not Mother’s Day… is it?”

Calum laughs and shakes his head but pulls you into his free side. You find your way into his hold and revel in the comfort as you find yourself gazing at your daughter. “Mila’s three months now. I wanted you to have something special.”

“Thank you,” you say and lift yourself on the top of your toes to give him a kiss. “I love it. And all of you,” you add on and smile as you realize that though the last three months have been filled with trials and tribulations it’s also been the happiest time of your life.

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