Archive of Our Own

Alex is halfway through reheating leftover pasta when there’s a knock on the door.

David is soundly asleep in his bed, not even bothered by the sound. It’s too early for Henry to be back home from the library—and he wouldn’t knock on the door of his own home unless he forgot his keys.

And Henry never forgets them.

Alex is not expecting anyone; he didn’t order anything, and they rarely get any unannounced visitors. The microwave hums beside him as his dinner heats up. Alex wipes his hands on a dish towel and heads towards the entrance, ready to say, ‘You’ve got the wrong door,’ or ‘We’re not interested.’

Opening the door, however, Alex’s whole world comes to a standstill.

The walk up to the classic Brooklyn brownstone he and Henry share—or rather, Henry owns and Alex moved into when they both began college—is only a few steps.

But the woman is standing on the bottom step of his home has rosy cheeks and is a little short of breath

Alex goes to speak but then he freezes. He hasn’t seen her in maybe six months—he doesn’t remember exactly, but he does remember her.

It’s hard to forget your one-night stand when you’ve only ever had one of them.

He remembers her by the way she laughed with her whole body—first her shoulders moved, then her mouth—like she didn’t mind being seen, so open and free with everyone around her.

He remembers how they’d met at an after-party, where the room smelled like cheap beer and bad decisions.

She’d told him she wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he’d told her he wasn’t either. But they’d both wanted a simple night of fun. Dancing the night away and drinking too much, they’d finally stumbled back to Alex’s place, had a perfect round of sex in his bed and then another quick one in the shower, before she gathered her clothes and walked out the door.

She talked about moving to Chicago for the next six months for an internship and about her hopes of getting a full-time job and settling there.

They didn't even exchange numbers. There was no need to.

But here she is now, on the front stoop of his home, her hair longer, her eyes tired, wearing a navy coat that’s open despite the chill in the February air, because the fabric can’t stretch enough to close around her very pregnant belly.

Oh.

Oh.

‘Oh—’

She’s pregnant. She’s standing on his doorstep and she’s pregnant.

Her cheeks are flushed from the chilly wind, and her hair is pulled into a braid that looks a little rushed. His eyes do another quick sweep—her face, her body, back to her eyes—before Alex manages to give a proper greeting, ‘Hi.’

“Hey,” she says. Her voice is the same—sharp and a little dry, just like Henry’s good gin. “I’m sorry to show up like this,” she says.

For a split second, his brain refuses to process the information, blinking once, twice, like maybe his vision will clear if he just does it hard enough.

“Sofia?” he asks, her name cracking on the second syllable.

“Hi, yeah—” she says again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry for just… showing up, I just—” She stops again. Her breath is a bit ragged, like she ran up a flight of stairs, but combined with the blush on her cheeks, it might be a sign of anxiousness. Something Alex is also starting to feel.

“No, I just—I mean, it’s been months. I thought you moved to Chicago.”

“I did,” she says with a shoulder shrug. “I stayed there for six months and then came back. I needed to sort out some things here, and—" she adds, looking down at her belly.

There’s a silence, filled only by the distant bark of David, who seems to have finally noticed the door is open and wants to know who’s there.

Alex swallows. “And you’re…?”

“About seven months,” Sofia answers quietly. “Give or take.”

The words land over him like an anvil.

Seven months. Alex does the math without meaning to. It lines up with the night she left his bed soon after sunrise, as they promised not to make it complicated.

He lets out a shaky laugh—more disbelief than humor. “Wow. Okay. Um—yeah, congrats. And you’re here because—” he says.

“Because it’s yours.” She says, without flinching, finishing his sentence for him. “I wanted to talk to you because—well, it’s yours.”

He drags a hand down his face. His heart feels too big for his ribs, and his vision is blurry. He thinks he knew this from the moment he opened the door and saw her face. That night, they were both so drunk and horny. And apparently so very fucking stupid.

“Jesus Christ, Sofia—”

“I’m not asking for anything,” she says quickly. “I just thought you should know. You deserve to know. And well—” she pauses, looking down. “—maybe I am asking for something.”

“After 7 months?!” Alex yells, unable to hold in the shock. Pain? Frustration? All of the above.

“I’m asking for you to listen.” Her voice wavers as she speaks again, and that’s what undoes him—not the actual words, but the way she looks at him, like she’s bracing for Alex to slam the door in her face.

“I’m sorry, I know I have no right, but—”

He steps aside instead.

“Come in and we’ll talk,” Alex says softly. “You shouldn’t be standing out here; it’s getting cold.”

She hesitates for a moment, then walks past him, the faint scent of rain clouds and cold air following her inside.

Alex closes the door and doesn’t turn around just yet. His hand lingers on the knob as he closes his eyes and takes another breath.

The microwave is no longer humming.

The pasta is probably cold again.

And Alex is already living an entirely different life than the one he was when he decided between reheating leftovers or making himself a sandwich a few moments ago.

“Sofia,” he says, turning to face her, and it comes out half a question. “You’re—um, do you want water? Tea? I have lots of tea; my roommate is obss—”

“Tea is perfect, thank you,” she answers quickly but doesn’t move further inside the house.

Sofia has a canvas tote on her shoulder, clutched across her front like a shield. She adjusts and her coat moves and now Alex can clearly see it. There’s a pregnant belly and his eyes can’t look away from it.

He manages to snap out of his stupor enough to take the coat away from her and remember how to form full sentences again.

“Here, let me take this. Do you want to—here, sit, please.” He gestures towards the couch Henry and Pez got from an auction. It’s a raggedy thing, but it’s apparently a brand-name couch and Pez insisted it speaks to the vibe of their living room. Henry had inherited the brownstone from his father. Getting to decorate it in a more modern fashion was something Pez insisted on.

Alex’s brain blanks again and then reboots with every move Sofia is making as she walks towards the couch and sits down. She watches him watch her and nods once, like they both should be spared the dumb detour of pleasantries.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words scrape along his ribs and find a nerve ending.

“You’ve mentioned,” is all Alex can say as he tries to remember how to make a cup of tea. Where the hell is Henry when you need him? he thinks.

Sofia settles on the edge of the couch, posture perfect. Alex finally pours her the tea and sets the cup in front of her, bringing a coffee cup for himself too. It’s more so he can have something to do with his hands, really.

“When?” he asks and then winces. “Sorry. That already sounds like an interrogation.”

“It’s okay.” Sofia answers, and the corner of her mouth lifts. “It’s on brand. For both of us. Getting right to the chase is what we did then and what we should do now.” She puts a hand, almost unconsciously, on the top of her belly. “Twenty-eight weeks. Due somewhere at the end of May.”

He does the math in his head. Yeah, the late August hookup checks out.

He nods slowly and tries again.

“Are you—are you okay?”

“I’m good,” Sofia says, like it’s an assessment she’s made professionally. Then she softens a bit, eyes looking down at the floor. “I wasn’t really sure about coming. I thought—maybe I could just not involve you at all. But then I kept thinking about how this should be your choice too, and with the risk of having you hate me afterwards, I couldn’t do it in good conscience without speaking to you first.”

“Do what?” Alex asks, but Sofia carries on, as if she didn’t hear him.

“You were so sure of what you wanted in life when we met. And I was too. I had a whole plan for myself and it kind of worked out, until—,” she laughs towards the ceiling. “Well, until I found out about this.” She tries to take a sip of the tea, but the drink is still too hot, so she puts the mug back down on the coffee table.

“And I could still have it. I could still have my plan and my life and everything I’ve worked for. I want that life, Alex,” she says, finally looking him in the eyes. “I thought I might want this, and I tried to want it too, but—” there’s a pause as she places a hand on her belly. “I don’t. I know I don’t.”

“What are you saying?” Alex finally asks, taking advantage of her silence.

“It was wrong for me not to tell you sooner; I know that. But I also had no way of contacting you. I looked you up, but you can’t even imagine how many Alexes are lawyers in New York, and I had already moved to Chicago, so physically looking for you was harder,” Sofia says, as she’s building up to something and Alex doesn’t know what.

The question elbows past his manners.

“Wait. How did you find me?” Alex asks. “We didn’t exchange numbers. I didn’t even give you my last name.”

Sofia tilts her head, the braid slipping down from her shoulder. “We were both being extremely cool and mysterious,” she agrees. Then she exhales. “I’ve honestly been trying to find you for months; you have to believe me.”

Something tightens behind Alex’s sternum.

“There was a photo. Some gala thing?” Sofia answers. “You were there for your firm. Black tie, bad lighting, but I recognized those curls and your eyes. You have such kind eyes,” she adds more to herself than to him. “Someone tagged the firm, not you. I remembered you talking about wanting to get a job there and focus on immigration law and I thought, ‘Look at him, he made it.’ I remembered you saying you wanted a job that counts, not a corporate job you need to marry.”

“That is absolutely a thing I would say,” Alex admits, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

“I looked up their event page and saw you in multiple photos, so I was getting certain it’s you,” she continues, amused at herself. “No name found yet. But you seemed so vibrant and happy, and your mouth was doing that"—she flicks two fingers around her mouth to mimic his smirk—"and I thought, 'That's definitely him.' I really had a feeling this time I would manage to reach you. So I called the firm.”

Alex blinks. “You cold-called my law firm.”

“Well, yeah,” she says crisply. “I know how phones work. I said I was trying to reach the person in the photo with a professional question, because I figured telling the receptionist, ‘Hi, I slept with that man one time and now I’m pregnant,’ was not the move.” Her mouth quirks. “They stonewalled me. Privacy policy. Respectfully, no.”

“Accurate,” Alex says.

“So then I checked the firm’s press releases,” she says, ticking the steps off on her fingers. “There was a quote attributed to ‘A. Claremont-Diaz’ in a piece about immigration law, where you said you were ‘from Austin, born and raised.’ I thought, ‘Perfect, now we’re cooking.’”

“Oh my god,” Alex genuinely laughs.

She looks at him, warm and a little triumphant. “Once I had your full name and hometown, the rest got less…detectivey.”

“You did all that,” he says softly.

“I did,” she says. “Because I didn’t want to knock on the wrong door with this news.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, but he has to ask. “And how can I be sure it’s the right door anyway?”

“It is,” Sofia says, without flourish. “You were the only guy I slept with and the math checks out. We can do a paternity test whenever you want. I understand your need for one, and I won’t judge you for not believing me from the start.”

“Good,” Alex says back. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“I don’t want to make anything harder,” he says. “You showing up here—this isn’t—” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m just trying to be clear and not say thirteen stupid things in a row.”

“You’re doing great,” Sofia says, with a soft smile.

Alex looks at her, really looks.

The braid, her coat, and the pretty face he had found irresistible that night are now anchored in place by something bigger than both of them.

“Do you—what do you want from me?” he asks. “It’s definitely not ‘nothing.’”

“I can’t do this, Alex. I don’t have a support system; I’m alone in Chicago and I’ve just started the career I’ve always dreamt of. I thought I might be able to do it, but as the months went on, I realized there’s not one maternal bone in my body.

“Okay?” Alex says, nodding his head for her to continue.

“I’ve decided to put her up for adoption—”

“Wait, her?” Alex asks, taking a step forward.

“Oh, yes, I—” Sofia pauses. “It’s a girl.”

“And you want to put her up for adoption,” Alex says, more of a comment than a question.

“That was the plan, yes. But then—” Sofia sighs and struggles to stand up from the couch. Alex dives forward and helps her. “But then I found you. And I thought it’s only right for you to know about her. And if you’d want to raise her—” Sofia says, looking deep into Alex's eyes. “Well, I wanted you to have the chance.”

“The chance,” Alex repeats.

“I’m not here to upend your universe, Alex. That was not my intention at all. But I wanted to give you the option to be in her life. If you want that. You still have some time to think. I don’t need an answer now.”

When Sofia leaves Alex’s apartment, she says goodbye to a different man than the one she found an hour ago.

Henry gets home just as Sofia is leaving.

The lights in the living room are low, and Alex plops himself on the couch, staring at the wall, his eyes cold and empty, even though his mind is restless.

“Love, is everything alright?” Henry asks gently, dropping down to his knees and scratching David behind his ears. “Who is that girl that was just leaving? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alex’s voice cracks when he answers. “Sofia,” he whispers, before clearing his throat and saying it again. “Sofia came by.”

“Who?” Henry asks, and Alex thinks it’s a legitimate question. How would Henry remember Alex’s one-night stand? Alex barely remembered her.

“She was—” he tries, but he can’t really find his words. “We met a while back, and—” Alex stops again and can’t bring himself to say it.

If he says it, it’s going to become real.

But it is real, he thinks. She was just here. Pregnant. With his baby. Maybe. And offering Alex a chance to get to raise said baby. Or Sofia would put her up for adoption. Her. Maybe his daughter.

“We met seven months ago and we hooked up,” Alex says, still staring at the wall.

Henry walks over and sits next to Alex on the couch.

He lays a cold hand on Alex’s warm one, and the sensation should sting. It should feel like little needles stabbing his skin, but instead, Alex finds comfort and peace in the sensation. He feels like—now that Henry’s home, sitting next to him—he can finally breathe.

So then it all comes out—faltering and messy—his words tripping over each other as he tells Henry everything: the way they met, the night they spent together, not being careful and not exchanging numbers. And then he tells him about the baby—the baby—that he still needs to do a paternity test for—and the offer. The reason why Sofia came.

Does he want this? Does he want to do the test and find out the truth and have his life explode?

Alex didn’t plan to be a dad.

Scratch that. Alex hasn’t even thought about being a dad. Kids are something for future Alex to—maybe, possibly—someday consider, once he has his shit together.

Present-day Alex doesn’t know how to feel and what to think. His career has just started to grow wings.

But the thought of having a child and knowingly abandoning it—just like he was abandoned—Alex can’t even think about that.

When his words finally run out, he’s nearly shaking, crying, and clutching to Henry’s chest as he lets out all the emotion that is clawing its way out of him.

And Henry sits beside him, at first, close enough for their knees to touch, for their shoulders to brush—and then gripping Alex tightly, pulling him closer and holding him in a tight embrace.

“What are you thinking?” he asks softly, after a moment of quiet, once he can see Alex’s breath has calmed down and there are no more tears staining his cheeks.

Alex presses his palms to his face before he replies. “I don’t know, Hen. I just—what if I can’t do this? What if I mess it up—mess her up? What if deciding to keep the baby will only ruin her life instead of being what’s right?”

He takes a ragged breath, voice breaking as he adds, “My dad left when I was eleven and it genuinely broke me. He just… decided he was done being part of our family. And I—” Alex’s throat tightens around his words. “I know it’s not true, but I could never stop thinking that maybe there’s something in me that made it easy for him to leave. What if I have that same thing in me? What if I become him? What if I don’t love her enough to stay?”

“Darling,” Henry says as he reaches out, wrapping his hand around Alex’s wrist until Alex looks at him.

Alex can tell that Henry’s heart aches for him. “You’re not your father,” Henry says quietly, firm but gentle. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to be the opposite of him. You care too much to not love her enough. That’s just who you are, love.”

Alex shakes his head, eyes still wet. “But what if I screw up anyway? What if I can’t love this baby enough or the right way or give her all the time she needs, all the attention? How can I raise her alone, Henry? Sofia knows she can’t.”

Henry squeezes his hand, then brushes a thumb over the back of it. “You won’t be alone. You have June and Nora—even your parents, I bet. And you have me, Alex. We’ll figure it out together, you and me.”

Henry leans forward and presses his forehead to Alex’s, a silent promise passing between them.

“I can’t ask that of you—” Alex begins to say.

“We’ll make it work, love,” Henry whispers. “Whatever it takes. If that’s what you decide you want to do, we’ll make it work. You won’t be alone in this.”

***

Alex isn’t alone in the hospital room.

There’s a sterile stillness that hovers around him, broken only by the dull beep of monitors and muffled footsteps outside the door. He’s sitting in a chair pushed up against the far wall, facing the bed, elbows braced on his knees as he’s watching Sofia sleep.

She looks exhausted, her face a bit pale but peaceful under the cold neon light. The delivery had been grueling but quick and it’s over now. She gave birth to their daughter today.

His daughter.

These words have been echoing in his head, reverberating until they hardly made sense anymore. Sofia gave birth to his daughter.

Alex has already held her once—an impossibly small, warm little bundle with a tuft of dark hair and lungs capable of making sounds that could probably shatter glass. The nurse quickly wrapped her in a soft pink blanket and placed her in his arms, and Alex—once again—felt his entire world tilt off its axis.

Now, hours later, his arms still remember the weight of her little body as his mind thinks it finally settled on a name.

“Welcome to the world, Olivia June Claremont-Diaz.” Alex thinks. “I hope your life will be peaceful.”

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He feels everything all at once—terror, joy, confusion, awe. He feels like crying, like laughing, like running down the hall screaming, I’m a dad. He feels unqualified, unprepared.

But he knows he could never walk away.

He thinks about his own father, about coming home and no longer finding his dad’s car in the driveway. The memory hits him so hard he has to press his palms into his eyes until the world around him steadies.

Alex can’t do that to her. He won’t.

He doesn’t know what kind of father he’s going to be—hell, he barely knows what kind of person he is most days—but Alex knows one thing with absolute, gut-deep certainty: He’s not going anywhere.

***

​​The day Ollie is born starts as chaos.

It’s early in the morning, before sunrise, when Alex’s phone buzzes with a call from Sofia. Her voice is calm but strained as she tells him she’s in labor, contractions are close together, and she’s already on the way to the hospital.

Alex is out of bed before he’s fully awake, heart pounding, hands fumbling to pull on his jeans and a hoodie and grab the overnight bag he’s kept ready for weeks “just in case.”

Sofia was living with a friend, who’s driving her to the hospital. He’s tried to convince her to move to his apartment, but she insisted she was ok at Julie’s place.

“I can’t invade your life, Alex,” Sofia had said. “I’m perfectly fine crashing at Julie’s, and once this is over, I’m moving to Chicago for good.”

This. The baby. Alex’s baby, who was due to arrive any time now. This: The new chapter in Alex’s life that he’d prepared for intensively, once he came to his decision. This: A new human being that Alex needed to keep safe, alive and loved.

No pressure.

The minute he gets the call, Alex bursts through Henry’s door, shaking him awake.

“Hen, shit—wake up! It’s time to go!”

“Time’s it?” Henry mumbles, still half asleep. He insisted that Alex needed to take Henry with him once the baby came.

“We’re going to do this together,” Henry had said to him. “I promised you won’t be alone, so I won’t let you go through it alone, Alex. I’m going with you no matter the time of day.”

“Six-thirty, I think,” Alex replies. “Sofia just called; she’s having contractions and she’s on the way to the hospital with Julie.”

“Ok. Ok—bloody bollocks, I’m up,” Henry says, getting out of bed and stumbling on his feet like a baby deer. “Where’s my bloody—” he mumbles as he rushes to get dressed while Alex fidgets in the doorway, waiting for him.

There’s a pang in Alex’s chest—a warmth that builds up and fills his lungs and heart and veins. He’s nervous and scared and probably a hundred more things. But seeing Henry be so supportive and willing to help him, so committed to not letting Alex go through this alone—it’s a moment where Alex thinks of Henry’s friendship and how much he appreciates that Henry is part of Alex’s life.

The hospital is full of fluorescent lights and dull beeping—the smell of antiseptic and awful coffee floating in the air.

By the time they get there, Sofia’s already in active labor, and things progress quickly. There’s no time to think, barely time to breathe. Alex gets permission to enter the delivery room and holds her hand through every contraction, murmuring reassurances that sound steadier than he actually feels.

When the baby finally arrives—a girl, small and perfect—she is red-faced and furious at the world, and Alex forgets everything else. All his worries and troubles, all his doubts and the anger he initially harbored towards Sofia—everything leaves his system the moment he sees Ollie settle in the nurse’s arms.

Ollie is taken to the newborn nursery for routine checks—she’s cleaned and weighed and measured and then brought back to Sofia’s room. She’s small and loud and Alex feels a pain in his chest when he first sees her settled against Sofia’s chest.

It isn’t a bad kind of pain, though. It’s the kind of pain where he feels like he needs to protect and love and adore her—the kind where it’s instinctual for Alex to want to hold her close to his own chest and never let Ollie go.

Once some more hours pass and both Sofia and Ollie wake up, the nurse comes and asks if Alex wants to do skin-to-skin.

His throat closes up and he nods. They place Ollie on his bare chest, her tiny body warm and soft, her heartbeat steady against his rapid one. She’s a bit agitated at first but then swiftly quiets, her little fist curled up and settling over his pec.

Alex stares down at her, eyes wet and stinging. His voice is a whisper, barely audible at all, as he says. “Hello, Ollie. I’m your dad. Nice to meet you, little princess.”

That’s when the door creaks open and Henry walks in.

He’s there, breathless, eyes still heavy with sleep and cheeks flushed from running through the corridors. He’d run back home to feed and walk David before he grabbed another round of coffee and came back to the hospital. He let June and Nora know, and he made sure they had everything ready at home for when Ollie gets discharged.

He did everything Alex was too tired and too busy to think about.

Henry is here and Alex is not doing this alone.

“Alex—” Henry whispers, trying not to wake Sofia up.

“Sweetheart, in here!” Alex says, eyes darting towards Henry.

“How are they? How are you?” Henry asks, emotion flooding his eyes. “Is everything ok?”

“I’m fine,” Alex replies, looking down at Ollie, his voice a whisper. “And she’s perfect.”

***

Alex is a dad.

A weird sentence to say aloud, he still thinks, but that doesn't make it less true.

He brought Ollie home a month ago. It didn’t take long after that for them to sort out the necessary paperwork. They went to court and Sofia signed the termination of parental rights as the judge gave his approval. Sofia kissed Ollie on the forehead and Alex on the cheek and thanked him for everything before walking away.

“I’m glad you decided to do this,” Sofia said with relief in her voice.

“You know you’ll always be welcomed in her life, Sof. I won’t keep her from getting to know you if that’s what she wants. And I won’t keep you away from her either.” Alex had told her.

“I know that,” Sofia nodded. “And I’m grateful to you for it.”

Alex’s gaze went from Ollie, still sound asleep in his arms, to Sofia standing before him, and then, like a gravitational pull he couldn’t escape, he looked further down the corridor, where Henry was waiting for them to take Alex and Ollie home. “I just hope I’m enough for her,” he says softly.

Sofia’s hand settled on his bicep, squeezing it as she said, “You are, Alex. You are good enough and strong enough and you are full of love to give her.” Turning her eyes towards Henry and then back at Alex, she said, “And you are loved and not alone,” before letting go. “That has to count for something, right?”

Alex nodded and let his gaze drop back on Ollie's sleeping face. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said before he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Nodding at that, Sofia pulled away, turning to walk down the corridor, where her friend Julia waited. Once she reached Henry, she stopped and spoke to him before she continued to walk out the door.

It was too far away for Alex to hear, but Alex could see Henry nodding to her before his eyes flicked back at Alex. There was a pink blush on his cheeks yet again and Henry’s blue eyes seemed warmer than ever.

“Ready to go home, my lovelies?” Henry asked, while placing an arm on Alex’s back, gently squeezing his side.

Alex took a deep breath and let his head fall on Henry’s shoulder for a moment. “I guess it’s now or never,” he answered before starting to walk toward the exit, Henry’s hand still on the small of his back.

It was such a soothing feeling whenever Henry’s hand started to rub delicately up and down his spine, or he placed a palm on Alex’s shoulder, squeezing his tensed muscles and grounding him back into the moment. Alex often found himself thinking of Henry’s hands, what they do and what they could do.

But in that moment, Henry’s hand placed on the small of his back offered him comfort, and that’s exactly what Alex needed.

***

Alex is religiously trying to keep up with the skin-to-skin regimen the nurses suggested. In Sofia’s absence, they advised Alex to try and get as much skin-to-skin time in as possible. It is supposed to help with the baby’s sleep; it’s supposed to help with their bonding and especially—it’s supposed to help Alex come to terms with the fact that yes, Ollie is here to stay.

Alex is in his shorts with his t-shirt thrown on the side of the couch and Ollie’s cheek pressed to his chest the moment Henry walks through the front door. David is gently snoring at Alex’s feet, not even bothered by the sudden presence of his dad in the room.

David has been so attached to Ollie, following Alex around the house and always settling as close to him as possible since the moment they brought Ollie home. Before Ollie was born, Alex and Henry worried over what they would do if David didn’t take to her—and Alex feels guilty once more, thinking about Henry’s offer to have David move in with his sister or Pez. That Henry would have been willing to sacrifice living with essentially his own son for the sake of Alex’s kid.

There are no bounds to Henry’s big heart. Alex doesn’t know how he’ll be able to ever repay him. Henry’s been there for him since the first moment.

He’s helped him prepare, looked up books Alex should read, and read them himself and even babyproofed their home. Henry made sure to move his projects around so he could focus on Alex and Ollie for the first weeks they were home. Knowing Alex’s paternity leave would be shorter than ideal, Henry said he wants to spend this time with them together so they have a better chance of getting to know each other and falling into the rhythm of this new life.

Alex could have cried then and there if it weren’t for all the tears he’d already spent before he finally managed to accept the fact that raising Ollie by himself was never going to happen. Everyone in his life offered him support, but Henry especially.

He felt loved. He felt supported. He wasn’t going to be alone.

Just as Sofia had told him.

“I missed it, didn’t I?” Henry’s voice is soft—regretful and reverent—as he walks into the room.

Alex looks up, eyes shining but smiling anyway. “By about fifteen minutes. She’ll wake up and need more food in no time.”

Henry crosses the room in three strides, dropping his bag at the side of the couch and crouching down beside Alex. He touches Ollie’s tiny foot with trembling fingers. “She’s perfect,” he says, and his voice cracks halfway through the word.

Alex nods. “Yeah. She really is.”

There’s a long, quiet moment where Henry just breathes, soaking it in—the baby’s soft noises, Alex’s steady heartbeat, and the way his chest rises gently, lulling Ollie back into her sleep.

“Promise you’ll let me feed her next,” Henry whispers again, unable to take his eyes off the tiny human.

“You say that like I’m keeping her hostage, Hen.”

“You didn’t let me do it this morning, and now I missed it again, so I don’t know what your play is here, Claremont-Diaz.”

“Oh boy, I’m in trouble here if we’re using last names,” Alex softly giggles. “You’ll be able to feed her next time and I’ll make dinner for us. How does that sound, sweetheart?”

Henry’s eyes gleam with warmth and joy. “Sounds perfect.” He takes another look at Alex and then at Ollie’s sleeping form before he adds, “I’ll go put the groceries away and do some editing before she wakes up.”

“Ok,” Alex replies. “I’ll be here—held hostage,” he says as David settles his head back on Alex’s foot and Ollie lets out a sweet cooing sound.

***

It’s calm and quiet now. But for a long time it wasn’t.

It had barely been five days since Alex’s life got completely upended. Five days since he suddenly became someone’s father.

And he’s failing.

Ollie had been screaming for an hour, her sharp cries piercing his eardrums. And Alex had already done everything he knew or thought was needed.

He changed her, fed her, rocked her, and walked around the apartment with Ollie pressed close to his chest, whispering, "Shhh, shhh, please, baby, I don’t know what you need—and nothing is working. Please tell me what you need," as tears threatened to start streaming down his face.

His head was pounding. His hands were shaking. He felt like he hadn’t slept in years.

He was all alone at home because Henry insisted he should go and do the grocery run, solve some of their chores and take David out, while hopefully Alex would catch up on some much-needed sleep.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

When he came home from running errands, Henry found Alex on the couch, sitting stiffly, staring blankly at the wall while Ollie wailed in his arms.

"Alex—" Henry said as he walked through the door.

Henry rushed to wash his hands and change out of his clothes and as soon as he stepped back into the living room, he kneeled in front of Alex.

"I can’t do this," Alex’s voice came out flat and quiet. “I don’t know how to. She’s hurting and I don’t know how to fix it. I wasn’t supposed to be a dad, Hen.”

And Henry didn’t say anything at first. With gentle hands he reached to take the baby from Alex’s embrace.

“Let me try, sweetheart,” Henry said. “You’re stressed and tired and she can feel your frustration.”

With hesitation, Alex let go of Ollie and gently placed her in Henry’s arms.

“I fed her and changed her and she’s still crying,” he said. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Rocking his body from side to side, Henry held Ollie close to his chest. “Let me take over, love. Go have a shower and something to eat and I’ll try to put her to sleep.”

“But I need to—”

“You need to let me help—that’s what you need to do, Alex. You’ve been nonstop this last week, caring for her, but you need to rest too. I’m here and I can help. I want to help. So please, go take a shower and then come eat some dinner with me.”

“You’ve—” Alex started but Henry cut him off again.

“We’ll be fine, love.”

“Ok, fine.” Alex got up from the couch. “Thank you, Hen,” he added before padding away towards his bedroom to wash the grime of the day away from his skin.

The moment he felt hot water touching his skin, Alex managed to relax. His muscles were so tense, and his jaw was tight, eyes burning from his unshed tears. He knew deep down that he was tired, maybe too tired, and that had to affect Ollie too. But that was only further evidence of him not being strong enough to be her father. He couldn’t let Henry shoulder this burden—Alex needed to put Ollie to sleep if it was the last thing he would do.

So he hurried and washed, lathered and soaped up his body before rinsing in cold water, hoping to shock his body awake. He got out of the shower and grabbed a fluffy towel—Henry had insisted they upgrade their towels and linens, that everything should be new and soft for Ollie's arrival.

By the time he steps out of the bathroom and throws some fresh clothes on, the house is calm and quiet. He steps out into the hallway, holding his breath and the moment he walks into the living room, Alex is greeted with a sight he could never have imagined.

There is Henry, sitting in the chair he usually reads in, with his shirt off and his soft skin shining under the warm light of the lamp—and Ollie peacefully sleeping with her head on his chest. Alex can hear him humming a song and it sounds so familiar. It takes him a few moments to realize Henry is actually humming a lullaby—'Hush-a-bye, baby' seems to be the one he chose.

Alex drops his head into his hands. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s feeling so many feelings, he doesn’t even know how to catalog them.

There’s relief and peace and happiness. But there’s also a burning heat low in his stomach at the sight in front of him. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Henry shirtless before—he has and he’s admired Henry’s body. He's not going to lie about it, not to himself. He won’t say it aloud, of course.

But seeing Henry here, now, so soft and quiet, holding his daughter on his chest, embraced and protected in Henry’s arms. That does something to Alex’s insides.

He thinks he should be jealous that Henry managed this feat in no time, after Alex tried and failed for over an hour. But he’s not jealous. No—he’s grateful and at peace and—

“Oh, hey there, stranger.” Henry whispers over Ollie's head. “How was the shower?”

“Good. Perfect. Thanks,” Alex replies in one-word sentences, because apparently that’s as much as his brain can provide right now.

“Good. I’m glad it helped,” Henry says. “She finally fell asleep and I was waiting for you to finish your shower before I went and put her in her bassinet.”

“I can do it,” Alex offers as Henry slowly gets up from the chair.

Henry shifts the baby against his chest, rubbing slow circles on her back. “You’re not failing, you know.”

"It sure feels like I am."

Henry exhales. He waits until Alex looks up again before he says, “Do you think anyone gets it right on the first try? Alex, you had zero warning, and you’re still here. Still trying. That’s more than a lot of people would do.”

"That’s not enough."

"It is," Henry’s voice is firm. “She doesn’t need perfect. She just needs you.”

Alex looks down at his hands.

He thinks about Sofia. Thinks about what she said to him.

"I think maybe you are doing it better than me."

Henry shifts forward, pressing the baby—warm and sleepy—back into Alex’s arms. This time, she doesn’t cry. Just settles against him with a little sigh.

"Nonsense, darling. You’re not alone in this," Henry murmurs. "I'm right here, and we'll conquer every day as it comes."

And Alex—exhausted, overwhelmed, scared out of his mind—leans his forehead against Henry’s, breathes him in, and whispers, “Okay. Yeah—every day as it comes.”

***

In the months after Ollie is born, life finally starts to settle into a new rhythm they both quickly learn to love.

Alex returns to his job. Mornings start with sunlight spilling through the window and Ollie’s soft babbling from her crib. Alex, bleary-eyed after a truncated night’s sleep, pulls on a shirt while Henry steps into his room, rocks Ollie in his arms, and whispers to her about how her little socks never match because Alex keeps losing one and how that’s so charming for someone who can’t even crawl yet.

Early mornings find David circling Alex’s legs as he feeds Ollie, tail wagging as if to remind him that feeding times should involve dogs as well. He sometimes gets a snack, sometimes only a scratch behind his ears, with the promise that he’ll get to go on a long walk once Ollie’s meal is finished.

By the time his workday is done and Alex steps back inside, tie slightly crooked and empty travel mug in hand, Henry is halfway through his second afternoon cup of tea and a board book about farm animals. Ollie is sitting on a blanket surrounded by toys, occasionally glancing up at him as if she is listening to his soothing voice.

“You see, my lovely, the cow says moo,” Henry explains in a solemn tone. “Though frankly, I think it’s more of a low, existential hum.”

Kicking her feet and squealing, as if she completely agreed, Ollie's face always brightens at the sight of Alex.

It’s comforting to know Henry is at home with her, and that if he has to step out, June and Nora are a phone call away. Never in his life could Alex have imagined the whole support system he would find in the people around them. As hard and as frightening as it was in the beginning, life with Ollie in it turns out to be the best life Alex could have.

Or, at least, close to the best one.

Because late at night, when Alex lies alone in bed, despite how helpful everyone in his life has been, there’s still a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, telling him something is missing. When his hand instinctively stretches out on the cold sheets next to him, finding that spot empty, Alex tries to imagine who could fill that space.

And when he closes his eyes, trying to imagine someone lying on the pillow next to him, all he can see are locks of golden hair.

Alex manages to focus on his career but also find a balance: getting home on time, not pulling extra hours just because he doesn’t have anything better to do, and not letting his job consume him. Now he has Ollie waiting at home, and Henry too—always ready to tell Alex about all the shenanigans he, Ollie and David went through during the day.

As months pass and Ollie gets bigger, afternoons start to be for walks where Henry straps Ollie into the stroller and they set off, David trotting ahead of them. They walk to Alex’s job and pick him up, then wander through the park towards home as Henry narrates their journey for Ollie or catches Alex up on all of their daily adventures.

“And on our left,” Henry says, Ollie snuggled tight in Alex’s arms, “is the mighty taco stand, purveyor of all that is holy and spicy. Here we shall purchase your father’s favorite dinner,” he adds with a wink, as Ollie gurgles in reply, clutching a teething ring, cheeks flushed pink from the breeze.

“Shi—, umm, Henry,” Alex gasps, his eyes brimming with joy. “We haven’t had these tacos since forever.”

“I know,” Henry grins back. “That’s why I suggested this little detour. Well this and the fact that David needed a longer walk. We were all cooped up in the house all day.”

“And I get to have a treat because you suffered?” Alex asks.

“We all get to have a treat, because we all deserve it, love,” Henry replies. “You’ve had a hard day too. Hell, you’ve had a hard week. So we’re going to get our tacos, have a nice dinner back home and then tuck in with a movie.”

“You’ve got it all planned out, sweetheart,” Alex says, smiling.

“Indeed I do. Now, let's get these and get home before the little miss here needs a new diaper.”

As they stop by the taco place, Henry orders carnitas for both of them, some tostadas and a couple of bottles of Jarritos. They pack everything tight and place Ollie back in the stroller as they make their way back home. As they unpack and get undressed, Alex watches Henry fuss around in the kitchen as Ollie is caught in another deep conversation with David by her side. The sight makes the exhaustion of the day dissolve instantly from his bones, as warmth and love take its place.

Home smells like baby lotion, tea, and Mexican spices. Evenings are a blur of bath time and bedtime stories—Alex reading from a picture book, Henry humming softly as Ollie’s eyelids grow heavy. They often take turns putting her to sleep, but there are nights when they both hover over her crib until she’s asleep.

Henry also started singing to her.

After that first time Alex caught him humming a lullaby, it evolved to properly singing, sometimes even in Spanish. There are moments when Alex is making their dinner or putting away the laundry while Henry puts Ollie to bed. His voice, soft and unhurried, fills her room and Alex’s heart with warmth, as he listens to Henry doing his best not to butcher the lullabies Alex used to listen to when he was a child.

Duérmete niño, duérmete ya / Go to sleep child, go to sleep now
Que las estrellas te acunaran / May the stars cradle you
Entre las flores lejos del sol / Among the flowers far from the sun
Mientras te canto esta canción / While I sing this song to you

Sometimes they sit on the couch, Ollie’s tiny body tucked away in Henry’s arms as his feet are splayed out in Alex’s corner of the couch. On those nights, Henry doesn’t always put her down right away. Instead, he lies back on the couch with her small, warm body rising and falling against his chest, one of his hands cupping the back of her tiny head. 

That’s how Alex often finds them when he comes out of the shower—Henry half-asleep, a book abandoned on the armrest, Ollie nestled against him, both of them wrapped in the softest kind of peace. He sneaks onto the couch next to them, taking Henry’s legs and resting them on his lap, as David curls down around Alex’s feet. And that’s how they spend an hour or so before Ollie needs another feeding.

There are nights when Alex does need to stay late for work. He always hugs Ollie harder whenever he comes home. He also hears Henry talking to her when he thinks Alex is in the kitchen eating.

​​“You know,” Henry says to her quietly, tracing her tiny cheek with his thumb, “your father was terrified he’d mess this up. But he’s brilliant, isn’t he? He loves you so, so much.”

Ollie babbles back, arguing with him through vowels and giggles. Henry nods solemnly back at her. “Yes, I quite agree, my lovely.”

When Alex steps into the room—hearing Henry’s patient murmur and Ollie’s bright, bubbling laughter—it makes his chest ache in the best possible way.

Their world is small now. Their days are measured in nap times and diaper changes. The brownstone no longer just has the smells of cinnamon coffee and Earl Grey but also baby shampoo. The house settles around Henry’s quiet hum as he reads Goodnight Moon for the hundredth time.

But this new world is so full—it’s full of love and laughter, of tired nights and joyful days that sneak up on Alex between loads of laundry and bedtime cuddles. He has a sense of fulfillment he’s never felt before.

June and Nora often visit, either keeping them company or babysitting Ollie when needed. It’s nice having a full house and a lighter soul. It’s nice seeing the promise they all made to Alex being kept, as much for his sake as for Ollie’s.

And when June and Nora visit, they always bring coffee and tea, gossip from their own lives and energy to boot.

Alex is on the floor, next to a newly sitting Ollie, building a precarious tower of blocks while she watches, utterly fascinated, as though her father is performing magic. Henry opens the door, and before he can say hello, Nora’s already cooing, “Where’s my favorite niece?”

“Hello to you too,” Henry laughs as Alex’s voice pierces through the hallway.

“She’s your only niece,” he calls and Nora follows the sound of his voice as June stops and gives Henry a kiss on his cheek.

“We brought caffeine and donuts,” she says, stepping inside, sunglasses perched in her hair.

“You are a blessing,” Henry says. “She’s been teething for a while now, and everything was decent until three nights ago when she started crying and just never stopped.”

June looks at him with kind eyes, taking in the mess of hair and dark circles under his eyes. As she steps into the living room, Alex is no better looking himself.

“Y’all are really going through it,” she says.

Nora flops onto the couch while June kneels to greet Ollie, whose face splits into a wide and mostly toothless grin at all the attention. “God, she’s cute,” June says, glancing up at Henry, who’s now juggling a block in one hand and Ollie’s pacifier in the other.

“That’s because she’s quiet now,” Alex says. “If you would have come last night, you would have found a Tasmanian devil in her place.”

“And both of us on the brink of crying,” Henry adds with a laugh.

“You’re joking,” Alex replies, “but it’s not far from the truth. I’m so panicked whenever I hear her cry. I want to help and don’t know how. I haven’t been this stressed about her since the week I brought her home.”

“She’s going to be ok, love,” Henry says, placing a hand on Alex’s shoulder and squeezing. “It’ll be hard until all her teeth break through, but this is the process. She’s doing well—you’re doing so well,” he pauses, looking back at Ollie. “We’re going to be all right.”

Alex nods, letting Henry’s soothing words and Ollie’s relaxed babbles wash over him. June and Nora are looking back at him too, their eyes moving between Alex and Henry, until he can no longer stand their gaze.

“I’ll go set up a plate,” he says and stands to walk to the kitchen.

It doesn’t take long before June finds him there, hands braced on the kitchen counter, placed on either side of the sink, as he glances outside the window.

“This is disgustingly domestic,” June says jokingly.

“Heh, yeah,” Alex agrees. “Who would have thought?”

“I’m not going to answer that,” June mutters but she doesn’t repeat herself clearly. “It’s good, isn’t it?” she does say, as she moves next to Alex.

“It is. It’s hard, but so good. And I’d be nothing if it weren’t for Henry,” he says.

“Thank God for Henry,” June adds with a heavy pause. “Let’s get back to him—the poor guy can’t handle both Nora and Ollie on his own.”

Alex laughs and grabs the box of donuts and a plate. “Let’s go save him.”

The visit turns into an afternoon of easy laughter and takeout. June takes a thousand photos of Ollie—“For Grandma,” she insists, although Alex knows she’ll post them first—while Nora teases Henry about his “posh dad voice,” and Henry almost chokes on his drink.

“It’s not a voice,” he says, slightly defensive. “It’s how I talk.”

“Uh-huh,” Nora replies. “Sure, Mr. Darcy. Next thing we know, you’ll be teaching her to say ‘Pardon me’ before she burps.”

“Wouldn’t that be adorable?” Henry muses, looking down.

June leans her head against Alex’s shoulder as they watch Henry scoop Ollie up and kiss her chubby cheek, her little fist tangled in his shirt. “You know,” she says softly, “you guys… you really fit. All three of you.”

Alex glances at her, the teasing warmth in her tone replaced by something tender. “Yeah?”

***

“Good morning, my lovely,” Henry says, stepping into Alex’s room, his accent wrapping around the words like a lullaby. “Shall we have some pancakes?” He coos at her as Ollie giggles back at him, high and sweet. He takes Ollie to the kitchen while Alex finishes up getting ready for work.

He joins them fifteen minutes later, tie still undone and hair damp from the shower. Henry’s got Ollie propped in her high chair, spooning mashed banana into her mouth and pretending to be scandalized every time she grabs the spoon herself. There’s a mug of coffee waiting for Alex, steam curling up to the ceiling and a plate of toast, eggs and bacon next to it.

“You don’t have to make breakfast for me too,” Alex says, leaning down to kiss Ollie’s temple.

“Hmm,” Henry replies. “I do not, but I do fear that if I don’t feed you, you’ll survive on vending machine coffee and spite. And darling, that’s just not sustainable.” He turns back to Ollie and her banana.

Ollie was doing so many new things and growing up so fast that Alex was in constant fear that he’d miss something crucial.

“Did she—uh—do anything new lately?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

Henry looks up, spoon paused midair. “New?”

“When she rolled onto her stomach I missed it, and—” He breaks off with a shrug, staring into his mug. “I just don’t want to blink and have her suddenly walking or talking and realize I wasn’t there.”

Henry’s expression softens. He puts down the spoon and reaches across the table, covering Alex’s hand with his.

“Love, you’re here,” he says gently. “Even when you’re not physically in the room, you’re still her dad. She knows your voice, your laugh. Every night she looks for you when the door opens. And I promise to take photos and videos no matter what,” Henry adds.

Alex nods, swallowing hard, trying to hide everything behind a smile.

“I know it’s not the same, darling. But I swear that nothing of importance happened that you haven’t seen with your own eyes,” Henry says, squeezing his hand once more.

“Yeah, I know. I just—I just don’t want to miss important pieces of her life,” Alex says, just as Ollie turns to face him, and pointing at Alex, she says, “Da! Da!”

Alex freezes.

“Wait—did she just—?”

“I think she did,” Henry says, beaming.

Alex walks around the counter and picks Ollie up in his arms. “Tell me, baby,” he says, holding her close. “Say that again,” he practically begs as Ollie squeals with excitement.

“Da! Da!” she finally says and Alex could cry of happiness. He is crying, he realizes, as his eyes become blurry and he can't hold back his tears.

“She said ‘dada.’” Alex turns to Henry, who’s beaming, looking back at them.

Ollie lets out another happy squeal, as if in agreement, and both of them turn to look at her. She’s smiling at Alex, banana on her chin.

“Da,” she says again, more a sound than an actual word, but to Alex it’s everything. He kisses her soft cheek as she babbles against his collar. “Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I’m Da. I’m here, okay? I’ll always be here.”

He’s reluctant to go to work now, but all the pain that threatened to poison his chest is now replaced by waves of love and warmth, his mind adding a new memory to the long list he’s been collecting since the day he brought her home.

Later, after Alex leaves for work—reluctantly, kissing Ollie’s forehead one more time before stepping out the door—Henry adds a new video to their shared folder. There are so many moments saved there already: her first smile, her first laugh, and the first time she reached for Alex’s face.

When Alex texts him later that afternoon, asking how they are, Henry answers with a photo of Ollie asleep on his chest, tiny hand curled over his heart. And beneath it, he adds, “We’re waiting for you to come home, Da.”

***

Stepping inside his bedroom looking for Ollie’s stuffed fox, Alex cannot contain his giggle.

Under the golden light of sunset, perched on top of her crib, he finds David snoring his troubles away.

With shades of pink and olive green pastels, the crib was the last piece Alex bought before Ollie came into the world. Henry helped him put it together during the early hours of their final weekend alone.

David has never done this before. He'd been sniffing around the new room even before they brought Ollie home, but he never invaded that space unless he was called in. But now, with his belly full of treats and his body tired after running in the park all afternoon, he’d suddenly decided a nap in Ollie’s crib is what he deserves.

Not that he doesn't have his own special bed or nightly cuddles on the couch between Henry and Alex. The crib is simple but full of soft blankets and the warm light coming through the window must have called to his old bones.

"Have you found it?" Henry calls from the kitchen.

Slowly stepping outside the room, moving over down the hallway, Alex whisper-yells, "Henry, come here," he says. "And bring your phone."

"What is it, darling? Why are you whis—"

Alex is leaning in the doorway, waiting for Henry to reach him. As Henry finally stops in the doorway and notices David, his eyes start to glisten.

Warmth surrounds Alex’s heart just as Henry’s hand wraps around his waist and pulls him closer. "I'm honestly amazed he managed to get up there," he says.

"He looks so peaceful," Alex says. "Go on, take a picture, you know you want to," Alex jokes.

"You want it too, you menace. You told me to bring the phone."

Henry takes a few pictures and slips his phone back in his pocket with a sigh.

"Are you thinking about ordering another crib?" Alex asks.

"How di—" Henry starts to ask indignantly, but Alex’s laugh shuts him up immediately.

"I know you, sweetheart. You basically had tears in your eyes the moment you saw him."

"I suppose I did," Henry says bashfully, leaning his head on Alex's shoulder.

"C'mon, let's find that fox before Ollie starts crying," Alex says. "And then we’ll see if we have enough space to get David his own crib."

***

They’ve been expecting it to happen—seeing Ollie starting to stand on her own, grabbing the side of the couch with her tiny hands and arguing with David over secrets known to just the two of them. But it still takes both Alex and Henry by surprise.

It’s a quiet Saturday morning, albeit a rainy one—one of the rare weekends when Alex has no calls, no deadlines, and nothing to pull him away from his baby. Henry suggested they celebrate with a picnic in the park, but instead, it turned out to be a picnic in their living room.

“Not to worry, darling,” Henry says, spreading a blanket on the living room floor. “We’ll just stay in and enjoy all the snacks, and we’ll go for a walk in the afternoon when the rain stops.”

Alex smiles as he watches Henry unpack their ‘indoor picnic’ they prepared before the weather decided to move against them. It’s small sandwiches and a bottle of homemade lemonade for Alex and Henry, some tuna pasta and sliced strawberries for Ollie, and a small container of treats for David—who currently sits next to Ollie on the blanket, already half asleep.

Ollie is wearing one of her softer onesies, the baby blue one with little puffy clouds, and her curly hair sticks up in every direction. June said she’s the spitting image of Alex when he was little, with big bright eyes and a mouth that always babbles. She always has something to say, especially to David, although Henry also likes to engage in conversations with her. Alex caught them together enough times as Henry had Ollie in one hand and a book in the other, talking her through the story he was reading.

Henry has his phone resting on the coffee table—he always keeps it at hand, trying to capture any new thing that Ollie does. He says it’s for the grandparent’s sake, as Ellen and Oscar have only visited Ollie a few times, but Alex knows it’s for him as well.

Restarting his job was hard, and there were moments when Alex felt like he’d left Henry alone in taking care of her. But Henry never complained and always tried to make it so that Alex was present for every possible milestone—and constantly took pictures and clips of Ollie, documenting her growth.

“Can’t believe she’s already turning one,” Alex says, leaning back on his hands. “It feels like she was just a tiny, squirmy little thing who fit in the palm of my hand just yesterday.”

“She still is a tiny, squirmy little thing,” Henry says, eyes fond, as he looks at Ollie. “Just... more mobile, maybe with more purpose,” he says as Ollie starts to crawl towards the edge of the blanket.

Alex grins, reaching over to bring her back, as he brushes his fingers through Ollie’s soft curls. “She’s growing too fast.”

“She’s growing right on time,” Henry replies, soft but sure. “You just want to keep her small because you’re so sentimental,” Henry adds as he grabs Ollie from making another escape.

Alex hums, a little sheepish. “Yeah, maybe I am. It's just that—” he pauses with a sigh. “I never thought I’d have a kid at this age, and now that I have her,” she stops and looks at the way Ollie is playing with Henry’s hair, “—I just can’t imagine life without her. Without her being so little and cute and soft.”

Henry shifts Ollie in front of him, steadying her under the arms. “Up you go, my little brave explorer,” he says. “Go give Dada a kiss,” he says in a conspiratory tone.

Ollie laughs, kicking her legs as Henry sets her upright. She’s been pulling herself to stand for weeks now, holding onto furniture, her grip unsteady but determined. Today, though, she seems stronger—more confident.

“Look at her,” Henry says proudly. “Standing on her own.”

Alex claps quietly, his eyes full of awe. “That’s my baby girl,” he says, reaching his arms towards her. It’s a small blanket so with both Henry’s and Alex’s hands stretched towards each other, Ollie can balance her tiny body in a safe circle of limbs.

And then it happens.

Holding only Henry’s arm, Ollie sways, takes one hesitant step, then another—tiny feet padding forward with a determined, though wobbly, courage. Henry’s still behind her, ready to catch her, but he doesn’t have to. She moves toward Alex with a third careful step, eyes locked on him like he’s the only thing in her universe.

Alex freezes in place, breath held and eyes filling up with tears. The air is quiet around them, as if they both feel that even talking would sway Ollie sideways and they don’t want to risk it.

“Henry,” he breathes, barely a whisper. “She’s—she’s walking.”

“I see her,” Henry murmurs, voice thick with pride. “Go on, darling. Go to him.”

“My baby is walking,” Alex says proudly.

Ollie stumbles, catches herself, and takes one final step—straight into Alex’s waiting arms. He scoops her up instantly, laughing and crying all at once, pressing kisses all over her chubby cheeks.

“Oh my god, baby girl—you did it! You actually did it!”

Ollie squeals in delight, clapping her hands against his chest like she knows exactly what she’s done. David, startled from his slumber gets up and starts to wag his tail in excitement, eager to join the celebration. Henry’s laughing, too, eyes wet as he lowers the phone he’d been recording with, capturing the moment Ollie took her first steps into Alex’s arms. “Well, love,” he says, sniffling through a grin, “I think that’s going to be your new favorite video.”

Alex can’t even answer him. He just holds Ollie tighter, his wet cheek pressed against her soft, curly hair. His heart feels too big for his chest—so full it almost hurts. It’s a double-edged sword, seeing her grow and transform, celebrating her milestones, while feeling like he’s losing so many precious moments because time, unfortunately, cannot be paused.

Henry scoots over and settles beside them, wrapping one arm around Alex’s shoulders, his other hand resting gently on Ollie’s back. They sit there for a long moment, tangled together on the blanket, the afternoon sunlight making its way through the clouds that parted, painting them gold.

“She walked right to you, darling,” Henry says softly.

Alex laughs through a shaky breath. “I can’t believe this just happened. I can’t believe she walked to me.”

“Of course she did,” Henry murmurs. “She’s got your heart as her compass.”

Alex looks at him then—at Henry’s gentle smile, at Ollie’s tiny hands curled one around his finger and one reaching back to Henry’s golden hair—and realizes this is a moment he’ll replay in his heart forever.

“June and Nora will lose their minds because they missed it,” Alex says, trying to snap back to reality.

“They kept laughing at me and my filming obsession,” Henry says, “but I did catch her by the end, so they better be grateful for me now.”

“Henry, I am so fuuu-dging grateful to you,” Alex says, with the biggest smile on her face.

Later, after Ollie’s asleep and the house has gone quiet again, Henry uploads the video to their shared folder, naming it simply ‘First steps—walked to Da’

Alex watches it several times on the couch, eyes both glassy with tears and almost closed from all his smiling. Henry sits next to him, palm settled on his leg, squeezing it in a silent assurance. As Ollie’s baby monitor crackles softly on the coffee table, there’s the sure, quiet knowledge that time may move too fast—but Alex is right here for the parts that matter most.

***

A whole year has passed and Ollie’s birthday is coming up.

Her toys have multiplied across every surface of their home, with tiny shoes by the door next to Henry’s and Alex’s and a stuffed fox living permanently on the couch. There are framed photos on the shelves—Ollie in Henry’s arms at the park, Ollie asleep on Alex’s chest, and Ollie laughing with yogurt smeared across her cheeks. Their days blur into one another, stitched together by small moments that Alex tries to hold onto as he looks back and wonders where the time went.

He remembers her first time sitting up on her own—Alex calling Henry over, a spark of awe in his voice as he started to applaud. Her first crawl across the living room rug with David following closely as though she needed a bodyguard. Her first taste of solid foods, her first lost doll and the search for it around the park, and her first fit of giggles so contagious that Alex had laughed until he cried.

Now she’s one, and life without her feels impossible to imagine.

Ellen insists they celebrate her birthday at the Texas lakehouse.

When the three of them arrive, the place is filled with laughter and the smell of barbeque, sunlight glinting golden off the lake’s surface. There’s a birthday banner that June and Nora hung up together, bickering about whether it’s straight enough, and a cake shaped like a duck because Ollie’s obsessed with them lately. Oscar already set up the grill and Ellen made her famous cornbread, while Henry—turned into Ollie’s designated photographer—has a camera slung around his neck, trying to capture every moment.

When it’s time to celebrate, Alex carries Ollie out into the yard, and everyone cheers for her.

She claps her tiny hands, delighted by the commotion, and June immediately swoops in to kiss her cheeks. Nora follows, and then Ellen, until Ollie is passed around from arm to arm, babbling happily, loved from every direction. Henry stands a few feet away, filming the whole thing, zooming in on her gummy smile and the way Alex keeps hovering near, half laughing, half tearing up.

The day passes full of celebration, and it hits Alex as he is sitting on a log around the fire, with his whole family around him—it’s the kind of realization that settles over him not all at once, but in layers.

A year ago, he’d been terrified.

He’d made a decision, thinking he’d have to do it all alone. Dreading the possibility of failing Ollie, of not being there for her the way his own father hadn’t been. But watching Ollie now, surrounded by all these people who adore her, Alex feels something inside him settle. He’s still a single dad, yes—but he isn’t doing this alone. He never has.

He has his mom and dad, who dropped everything to help when both he and Henry were buried in work. He has June and Nora, who treat Ollie like their own. And he has Henry—steady, patient Henry—who’s been there through every stumble and sleepless night, always finding a way to capture the joy Alex might’ve missed on his own.

And when June and Nora announce their engagement later that night, it feels like the world opens up again. It’s a loud celebration around the fire, as June takes Nora’s hand in hers and everyone starts laughing or crying or both.

Later, when the night quiets and Ollie’s asleep inside, Alex and Henry sit on the porch, each with a fresh bottle of beer in hand.

“They look good together,” Henry says, smiling faintly at his bottle. “I’m really happy for them.”

Alex nods, eyes still on his sister, as she and Nora sit embraced on the dock. “Yeah,” he says softly. “It must be so nice,” he pauses and clears his throat. “—having someone you love next to you for the rest of your life.”

Henry doesn’t answer right away, letting his gaze drift towards the lake, sparkling under the moonlight. The sound of crickets fills the silence between them and when he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “You’ve done something beautiful too, you know? With Ollie. You should be proud.”

Alex swallows hard, blinking against the sudden burn behind his eyes. He looks back toward Henry, thinking about Ollie’s little form sleeping in the portable crib, clutching her new duck toy. “Yeah,” he whispers, smiling. “Yeah, definitely am. I couldn’t have done it without you, though,” he says, placing his head on Henry’s shoulder. “You are as much her father as I am, sweetheart.”

It’s like a peace settles in Alex’s heart. The quiet surrounding them is, however, quickly broken by Henry clearing his throat and trying to get back up to his feet. “I better—” he says, as he sets his beer down and stands. “I’m going to go check on her and get another beer,” he says before turning away and walking towards the house.

His almost full bottle of beer remains abandoned next to Alex.

***

After the birthday weekend ends, as everyone starts packing up to leave, Alex decides—almost impulsively—that he, Henry, and Ollie should stay a few days longer. Nobody even questions it. Ellen hugs him tight and says, “You all deserve a break, sugar. Stay here for however long you need to.”

June and Nora promise to FaceTime them as soon as they’re back home, and Oscar insists on leaving them with enough supplies to last them for a couple of days.

When the house finally empties out, silence settles over the lake like a soft blanket. The summer air smells like pine. It’s quiet in the best possible way—no deadlines, no noise, no expectations.

Their second day alone, Alex needs to go shopping. Oscar left them with a fridge brimming with food, but they hadn’t packed enough diapers or food for David.

As soon as he steps back into the house, Henry's soft laughter fills the air. Alex drops his keys on the counter and follows the sound into the kitchen, where he finds Henry standing at the sink with his sleeves rolled up, gently cupping water over Ollie's head.

“You know, most people use a tub,” Alex says from the doorway.

“And where's the fun in that?” Henry replies, rinsing shampoo off Ollie's hair.

“What happened, sweetheart?” Alex asks,

“We had an...incident, let's say," Henry answers as Alex slips around him, grabbing Henry’s camera from the counter.

“Uh-huh. What kind of incident?”

Henry sighs dramatically, shifting Ollie slightly as she makes a delighted noise, reaching her tiny hands toward Alex.

"Someone—" he pauses to kiss Ollie’s forehead, “—thought it would be fun to empty her whole food bowl on her head.”

“Oh, bubba. You didn't like Henwy’s cooking?” Alex asks mockingly.

Ollie squeals as if in answer as Henry deadpans and turns to face Alex, just as he clicks and takes a picture of the two of them.

Henry is serious, with suds up to his elbow, while Ollie is ecstatic, enjoying the bubbles surrounding her and the little rubber ducky Henry had added to the mix.

“Oh, so that's how you want to play?” Henry asks, splashing Alex with his soapy hand.

Alex bursts into laughter, kissing Henry's cheek. “Let me help, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for the very slippery and wriggling baby.

Henry’s cheeks turn crimson and he steps away, making room for Alex to take his place.

After dinner, as the night settles, Alex finds Henry outside sitting in a lounge chair, looking up at the stars. He has Ollie in his arms, her back tucked against his chest as he’s whispering to her stories of all the legends painted in the sky.

David is curled at his feet, always the protector, and Ollie’s hands are reaching towards the moon—and Alex knows that Henry would pull it down from the sky if Ollie asked.

It’s the kind of sight that makes Alex’s chest ache in a way that’s both painful and healing all at once.

He stands there for a long moment, just taking it in—the warmth, the quiet, the soft, perfect normalcy of it. All the things he once thought he’d never have.

And he knows. Alex knows it deep inside his bones, flowing through his veins and filling up his heart. This is the life he’s always dreamed of. A life so simple and easy and perfect, with walks by the lake as David trots ahead, Ollie perched on Henry’s hip, her little sun hat askew. Evenings with the windows open, crickets singing, and dinner on the deck as the sky fades from pink to indigo.

And Henry’s hand in his.

***

When they finally return to New York, the air feels different—everything moves faster. Sounds are louder, and lines are sharper after the softness of the lake.

The first night back, Ollie refuses to sleep in her crib, wailing until Alex gives up and lets her curl against his chest. Henry stands by the door with a small smile, watching them both like he’s trying to memorize the sight before turning away to finish unpacking.

In the morning, under the new light of day, Alex wants to say something to him—about how that week they spent alone by the lake had changed him, how he can’t stop thinking about the look on Henry’s face under the stars. But every time he tries to form the words he wants to say, they catch somewhere in his throat and he ends up retreating in silence.

Until one evening, when, as they’re cleaning up after dinner, Henry sets his dish towel down and says, “Alex, I’ve been thinking.”

Alex hums, bent over the sink, but the serious tone in Henry’s voice suddenly makes him pause.

Henry’s hands are clasped in front of him, knuckles whitening as he rubs his hands together, like he’s gathering the courage to say whatever’s on his mind.

“I think you should start dating again,” he finally says.

“What?”

Thank God Alex had just placed the last glass back on its shelf. Otherwise, it would have shattered against the floor, because he no longer has feeling in the tips of his fingers.

Henry swallows before he continues in a steady voice.

“It’s only fair,” he says. “You deserve to find someone who can give you and Ollie everything you need, everything both of you deserve. Someone who’ll be beside you every day, someone to love you—both of you—without conditions.”

Alex opens his mouth, then closes it again. His heart thuds painfully in his chest. “Henry—”

“The quicker you find someone,” Henry continues, eyes fixed on a spot on the counter, far away from Alex’s eyes, “the better it’ll be for Ollie. Stability, you know? A family.”

The word lands heavy. Family.

Alex almost laughs, because what they have here, between the three of them, has already felt like one. Henry doesn’t look up as he adds, “And she’s just one now, but she’s growing fast. The quicker she has stability in her life, the better.”

“She has stability,” Alex says.

“She has a family,” he thinks but doesn’t say.

Something in him—some quiet fear—stops Alex from saying what he wants to. Just because he recently realized that a life with the three of them is what Alex wants, that doesn’t mean Henry feels the same. Henry’s helped him and been there for him; Henry has kept his promise. But Alex can’t expect anything more.

Flashes of memories form before his eyes.

Moments since the beginning, since the day they met and all the other ones that followed. The ways in which they settled into their life as roommates and how they became friends.

As Alex thinks back—it always felt like something more. Lately, they hardly ever went on dates, and the relationships they both had through the years never really lasted long. They always preferred to have a night in, watching a movie on the couch together, rather than going out to party. The one time Alex went to a party without Henry by his side ended up with—well, it ended up with Ollie.

Alex thinks back on their morning system of Henry making their drinks as Alex was cooking breakfast, of how they took care of each other when they had rough days and celebrated together when they had wins—it was always so domestic and soft and Alex now thinks back on how he just took that life for granted.

He thinks about all the times he’s thought of Henry in other ways too. Times in which Alex got lost in his blue eyes, in his soothing voice, and rounded vowels as Henry called him ‘darling’ or ‘love.’ All the times they fell asleep together on the couch and Alex woke up with his hair a mess and his nose full of that clean linen mixed with grass scent that was so deeply Henry. He always took a lungful before fully opening his eyes.

Alex thinks of all the times he watched Henry step out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, skin still pink from the heat and glistening with water droplets. All the times Alex was himself in the shower, hand firmly gripped around his cock as flashes of soft golden hair danced under his eyelids.

Yes, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place at the lakehouse, but Alex knows that all these feelings were there long before Ollie became part of their life. He was just too cowardly to do something about them.

And now—now Henry is standing in front of him, eyes still blue and voice still soft, telling Alex he needs to find someone else to love.

Someone else who will love him back, because, apparently, Henry is not that person.

A knot of something heavy and hard and painful settles in Alex’s chest. Something he can’t let Henry know is there.

So he just nods.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right.”

***

Dating again feels awkward at first, like wearing clothes that don’t quite fit your body, even if your mind thinks they should.

Alex tries to keep an open mind. He lets June set him up, goes to blind dates and dinners arranged with Nora’s friends, and even tries an app once before deleting it after a few days. Most of the time, the moment he mentions he has a daughter, people’s smiles falter. Some make polite excuses. Others ghost him completely.

Henry never says anything, but Alex can tell he notices. The way he asks, “How was your date?” with a careful neutrality, or how he always volunteers to watch Ollie so Alex doesn’t have to scramble for a sitter.

Then he meets Anna.

She’s kind and open-hearted, and from the start, she tells Alex she loves kids. When he tells her about Ollie, her face lights up. “That’s amazing,” she says. “You’re a dad? That’s beautiful.”

They start seeing each other regularly—coffee dates that turn into dinners and walks through Central Park when she pushes Ollie’s stroller and tells her stories in a singsong voice. Ollie seems to like her, giggling every time Anna makes a funny face at her, and that alone makes Alex’s chest twist with something complicated.

It’s good on paper. It should feel great.

But there’s still a pang in his chest each time he leaves for a date and sees Henry watching him.

Alex tells himself it’s what’s best. That this is exactly what Henry wanted for Alex. That Anna’s warmth is good for Ollie, good for both of them.

Henry suddenly goes out more too, asking June and Nora to babysit Ollie. Whenever Anna visits, he smiles politely but quickly excuses himself and leaves their home in a hurry. And then there are nights when the apartment quiets down and Ollie’s fast asleep, when Alex can see him sitting by the window with David curled up at his feet looking gray and sullen.

They don’t talk about it, but there’s a clear rift between them. This new endeavor was supposed to bring him stability and happiness, but Alex can’t help but feel the opposite.

Whenever something new happens in his life—a new job accomplishment, or a new word Ollie suddenly said—he tries not to think about how empty the space beside him feels. How Henry is not there—or even if he is, Alex feels like he’s no longer the one he should run to.

He should be telling Anna. That’s how you build a relationship; you share your life.

He should tell Anna.

He doesn’t.

Then one Friday night, as Alex steps through the front door, he finds Henry ready to be on his way out—pressed shirt, nice jacket, hair styled just right.

“Big plans?” Alex asks, trying to sound casual, but his voice catches a little in his throat.

Henry hesitates, hand on the doorknob. “Just dinner,” he says. “A date, er—” he pauses. “—a second date, actually.”

Alex freezes in place. Something sharp and unfamiliar coils low in his stomach. A feeling of dread, of loss.

You can’t lose something you never had, he tells himself as he shakes his head.

“Oh,” he says finally, forcing a smile that feels like it’s hurting his face. “That’s… great. That’s really great.”

Henry gives a small, polite smile and leaves.

When the door closes, Alex stands there for a long moment, staring at the empty hallway. Ollie babbles from her playmat, her voice bright and innocent. He walks over and scoops her up, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Guess it’s just us tonight, huh?” He murmurs, rocking her gently.

He feeds her and bathes her, but his mind keeps drifting away—constantly imagining Henry somewhere across the city, smiling at someone else, even touching someone else.

Someone who isn’t Alex.

By the time Henry gets home later, Alex is still awake on the couch, looking at the TV but not watching it.

He told himself all night that he doesn’t care. He told himself it’s good that Henry’s moving on with his life. Alex did too. He has no right to hope that Henry will always be here and be part of his life and Ollie’s life. Not in the way Alex would want him to.

But when Henry slips quietly past the front door, looking as sad as Alex feels, Alex realizes

He’s acting like he doesn’t care if Henry goes out on first dates or on second dates. He’s acting as if everything is fine.

And it’s not. He’s not. He says, “That’s great,” when Henry says he’s going out—and it’s a lie, it’s a lie, it’s a goddamned lie.

It’s not great. It’s a fucking tragedy. Alex doesn’t want to lose Henry. And he doesn’t want anyone else to have him either.

***

The tension between them has been simmering for days now.

The silence that surrounds them feels unbearable, but Alex doesn’t know what to say. Until one evening when the silence breaks as Henry announces casually, “I’m going out tomorrow night.” He offers no other details.

“Oh, cool. Are you excited?” Alex asks, looking up from where he’s sitting on the couch, a beer in hand.

Henry shrugs, his expression calm. “I wouldn’t say excited. Just hopeful. I haven’t exactly had the best luck finding anyone lately. Thought maybe I’d at least have a decent night tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, ‘decent night’?” Alex asks.

“I suppose I’m hoping this one will at least end up in sex,” Henry adds with nonchalance. “It would certainly make it less of a waste of time for the both of us.”

Alex freezes mid-sip of his beer. “Jesus, Hen,” he says, lowering the bottle to the coffee table. “That’s your bar now? Just—what? Someone who’ll fuck you?”

Henry blinks back at him, defensively. “I didn’t say that’s all I’m after, but yes, I’d rather have a bit of fun.”

“Fun? That’s what we’re calling it?” Alex says as he feels the need to swallow down bile.

“What’s wrong with that?” Henry asks, frowning. “I’m single, Alex. I’m allowed to have fun.”

Alex huffs, standing up, the sudden need to pace pushing his body forward.

“Yeah, but—fuck, sweetheart,” he says and he can see Henry subtly flinch at the nickname. “You deserve better than some random hookup. You’re—you're not that kind of guy.”

Henry gives him a humorless laugh in reply. “You seem very sure of what kind of guy I am and what I need, Alex.”

“Yeah. Because I know you, Henry,” Alex says. “You—you're kind and thoughtful and careful with people. You shouldn’t be wasting your time on someone who’s just in it for one night.”

“And what if I want one night, Alex?” Henry says, voice sharpening with anger. “What if I’m tired of waiting for something that doesn’t exist?”

“It does exist,” Alex says low, almost a whisper. His gaze is falling down, unable to look Henry in the eyes. “You just—fuck, Hen, you shouldn’t settle for less than what you actually want, what you actually need.”

“And what exactly is it you think I need, Alex?” Henry says, taking a step towards him.

Alex can feel Henry studying him, eyes narrowed on his burning face. “What do I need?” he asks again.

“Someone who actually cares about you. Who loves you,” Alex says, taking a step forward as well. He finally lets his gaze meet Henry’s, a sudden courage surging through his veins. “You deserve something real.”

Henry’s eyes linger on him then, long enough that Alex feels the air shift between them—there’s a sudden tension, thick, uncertain, and charged, and Alex thinks there’s no turning back now.

“And what if ‘real’ doesn’t want me back?” Henry asks. “What if ‘real’ has a real life already and I’m no longer a good fit in it?”

“You do fit in it, baby—”

“No, Alex I—”

“Henry, please look at me,” Alex begs. “I’m real, this is real, Ollie is real and so is how much she loves you.”

“No, Alex,” Henry says, shaking his head, as tears start streaming down his face. “No, because last I checked, you have Anna now and she loves Ollie, and with Anna you can build the perfect life, the life you two deserve.”

Alex swallows hard but doesn’t let him go.

“Well, it’s a damn shame,” he murmurs. “Because we already had the perfect life.”

Henry’s eyes widen, but there’s still a sadness behind his gaze. “You can’t say that, Alex.”

“I just—” Alex exhales sharply. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all.”

Henry blinks back, a questioning look on his face. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Alex nods softly. “Better. I think you deserve us. And I really fucking hope we deserve you too.”

The room goes still. Henry looks back at him but can’t say a word and Alex opens his mouth, but nothing comes out either. Then he takes a step closer, and another, his voice breaking when he finally speaks.

“Because I love you.”

Henry freezes. His lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. He barely manages to repeat, “You can’t say that.”

Alex’s heart is pounding so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t stop. He grabs Henry’s wrist with one hand and places the other on Henry’s cheek, holding his face upwards so Alex can look him in the eyes.

“I can say it. Because I—I think I always have,” he continues, voice trembling but steadying with each word. “No matter how nice Anna is, or how good she’s been with Ollie, she’s not you. She hasn’t been here from the start. She doesn’t know me like you do. She doesn’t love Ollie like you do.”

“I can say it,” Alex continues, his voice low but steady. “I can say it because it’s true. And the thing is, Henry… It’s been true for so long. I’ve been such a coward and so afraid to let myself really feel it. But in truth, I’ve been in love with you for quite some time, sweetheart.”

“What do you mean?” Henry asks sheepishly. “You—you’re straight, Alex.”

“I’m really not,” Alex replies with a chuckle. “I’ve dreamt about you, Henry. I’ve dreamt about holding your hand and kissing you and—” He pauses as he feels his cheeks getting hotter.

“Well, I’ve dreamt about you a lot. And I always took you being in my life for granted. I loved our friendship and I was always scared of losing it. But Henry—” Alex pauses to take a deep breath, as if he’s preparing to give a big debate speech. “You’ve always been here,” he says, putting one hand over his heart.

“And I think I’m in there too,” Alex adds, as he lets his other hand settle over Henry’s heart. “At least, that’s what I hope. I think I was, and I hope I still am, now that I found the courage to say it. To try to make those dreams real.”

“Darling,” is all that Henry says, but he does place his own hands over the one Alex has on his own chest.

“It grew slowly, but it’s really rooted inside my heart,” Alex continues. “All the times you took care of me, all the times you allowed me to be there for you. The way you smile, Henry—” Alex says, the corners of his lips pulling up in his own smile. “It just lights up the room, sweetheart. I always want to see you smile, to make you smile. The way you move, with so much poise, and the way you talk—I could listen to you talk for hours. It’s rooted in the way you hug your arms around me or card your fingers through my hair when you know I need to relax. It’s in the way you make the whole house smell of Earl Grey and in how many times I’ve wanted to taste it off your lips.”

Henry’s mouth is parted, but there’s no sound escaping his throat. His bottom lip is trembling and all Alex wants to do is run his thumb over it or place a gentle kiss on it.

“I figured it out so late and I’m so fucking sorry for that. I was too caught up in the goodness of it all to realize what it all meant. But Henry—all the moments we’ve shared, all the memories we’ve made through the years, and everything since Ollie,” Alex adds, “—it’s what makes us a family.”

“But she needs a mother,” Henry begins to say.

“No. She needs people who love her,” Alex says firmly. “And she already has that.”

“But what if Sofia decides to get involved?”

“Then she’ll have another person in her corner. It’s not like I’m going to be with Sofia, Hen. I don’t want her. I don’t want Anna, as kind as she is. I want you.” Alex pauses as his gaze drops to the floor. “That is if you also want me.”

There’s a loud laugh bursting from Henry’s chest that brings Alex’s eyes back up.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, love. From the moment I laid my eyes on you—curls dripping from rain and dressed in that flimsy thing you used to call a jacket.”

“Coming to my rescue with an umbrella and hot tea. So British of you,” Alex reminisces.

“I think we both suffered from the same ailments,” Henry continues. “Loving our friendship too much and not wanting to risk losing it. I thought I’d be alright if I was just there, next to you, taking whatever you were willing to give. And you gave me so much, Alex—you’ve made me so happy through these years, even though, deep down, I still wished for more.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?” Alex says, shaking his head. “I just want you to know that I’ve never been as happy as I was this last year, sweetheart. It was hard and it was scary, but you were always there. You pulled me through it and helped me breathe. You love Ollie more than you love yourself, and she’s so lucky to have you in her life. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. We were a family, sweetheart,” Alex says, finally letting his hand cup Henry’s cheek and wiping away rogue tears with the pad of his thumb.

“We are a family,” Alex says as he takes Henry’s hand—the one pressed to his own heart—and kisses the palm of his hand. It’s chaste and it’s reverent, and it holds so much weight.

“And I can’t sit back and watch you go through life so close to me but still so far away. It’s—” His voice breaks again, raw and honest. “It felt like I was reaching out for you, and there was this thin wall always standing between us—it’s barely anything, but I could never quite reach you.”

Henry’s eyes glisten. Alex swallows hard and clears his throat, trying to make his voice as clear as possible.

“I want to reach you, Henry. And I want to keep you.”

“Love, you have me,” Henry says and lets his body fully fall into Alex’s arms.

They hug tight for a moment, then let their foreheads meet as they settle nose to nose, breath to breath.

Henry exhales shakily, the faintest whisper escaping his lips.

“Alex—” Henry pauses before saying the words Alex has dreamt of hearing for so long. “Kiss me.”

So Alex does.

He takes Henry’s face in both his hands and holds him there for a moment—a moment of calm and silence before his hand moves from Henry’s cheek to his chin and tilts his head up. Alex leans in and when their lips finally touch, it’s so soft and warm but firm at the same time. Henry gasps and kisses back and Alex starts breathing through his nose, taking his time with the feeling.

He needs to stay in this moment forever. He needs to kiss Henry forever.

Alex lets his other hand card through Henry’s golden hair just as he feels Henry bring his own hands to Alex’s face. He feels the way they tremble before they get lost in the thickness of his curls. There’s a knot in his chest that finally gets loosened; it unspools and turns to warmth, filling up his veins and every fiber of his being.

When they do come apart for air, a small, desperate whine leaves his throat, but Alex doesn’t get to miss the warmth of Henry’s mouth for too long before Henry is back, kissing Alex once more.

They go from gripping each other so tight it hurts to breathing each other in, lips close together yet barely touching. Alex can no longer remember his life before this moment. He can no longer fathom a life without this. How could he have lived so many years without knowing the taste of Henry’s lips?

When they pull apart for real, there’s a long, suspended moment where the world narrows down to the heavy silence between them.

Their breaths are ragged, and their cheeks are flushed. They hold each other together in that silence until Alex’s laughter splits it like shattered glass.

“I’ve been dying to do that for so long, baby,” Alex says as he starts to pepper sweet kisses all over Henry’s face. His cheeks and the tip of his nose, the line of his jaw and over his eyelids. He covers every inch of his face, making Henry laugh.

He made Henry laugh.

“Stop it, you cretin.” Henry pushes him away, only to pull him back in an embrace.

Then Henry’s hands frame Alex’s face like he is holding something fragile, as Alex grips Henry’s shirt with a desperation that feels bone-deep.

“I love you too, Alex,” Henry whispers in the silence as he lets their foreheads rest against each other once more.

“I love you so much, baby,” Alex says, and then his face shifts—something sharp but resolute settling in behind all the softness. “I—sorry, Hen. I need to go,” he says, voice trembling but firm.

Henry blinks back at him, confused. “What? Go where? Now, Alex?”

“I need to talk to Anna,” he says quickly, wiping his eyes. “I can’t—” He gestures between them. “I want so much more of this, but I can’t do this until I end that. It’s only right. I didn’t plan for this to happen tonight, it just—” Alex shrugs and shakes his head. “It just came out and I had to tell you, but I need to tell her too now.”

Henry nods and pulls to step away, but before he can, Alex pulls him back into another hug, pressing his lips to Henry’s cheek.

“I’ll be back in a bit, baby. Don’t go anywhere,” Alex says, unable to stop grinning.

“Of course,” Henry answers, smiling back at him, eyes shining, no longer from shed tears, but from happiness. “Go, we’ll be here.”

When Alex finally returns, it’s well past midnight.

The apartment is dim except for the warm light spilling from his bedroom. Henry has fallen asleep on his side, one arm protectively curved around Ollie, who cuddles tight between his ribs and his arm, tiny fingers fisted in Henry’s t-shirt.

Alex stands in the doorway for a long moment, chest aching at the sight.

It’s so painfully right it nearly breaks him. He undresses in silence, slipping into bed next to them, careful not to wake either. He places an arm on Henry’s waist and rests his forehead against Henry’s over Ollie’s sleeping form. Henry stirs just enough to lean back into him, half-asleep but now aware, and Alex exhales for what feels like the first time all day.

“Are you ok, love?” Henry whispers. Alex’s heart grows twice in size at the nickname he’s missed hearing so much.

“I’m perfect, sweetheart,” Alex whispers back. “I’m home.”

When morning comes, Ollie’s happy babbling fills the room before sunlight even reaches them through the curtains. Alex blinks awake to find Henry already up, eyes heavy with sleep but softened by love. His hair is a wild, golden mess, smiling at Ollie as she kicks her legs and talks between their arms, squealing at something only she can see.

“Morning, sweethearts,” Alex smiles, voice rough with sleep, as he looks between his daughter and Henry.

“Alex. Last night—I didn’t imagine that? It wasn’t a dream? We’re doing this?” Henry asks, still almost disbelieving.

Alex looked at him across their daughter, a slow, sure smile spreading over his face. “We’re doing this,” he says.

Alex reaches over Ollie’s little body and kisses Henry’s warm lips. Alex’s hand finds Henry’s and it fits perfectly in his. For the first time in months—maybe even years—Alex feels like he is exactly where he is supposed to be.