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It was no sooner that Brooke sat down on the steps of their porch, Riley’s collar jingling as he dutifully padded after her, that Vanessa became visible at the end of the road, her small frame reduced down a hundred times from the distance. Brooke waved, unable to stop herself from smiling widely as Vanessa trudged closer, her skin glistening with sweat and sun even through the veneer of dust kicking up under her feet.
“Ariel and Yvie already head home?” Brooke asked as Vanessa flopped down hard next to her, laying back on the sun-warmed wooden slats beneath her and letting Riley lick the sweat from her face.
“Fuckers left as soon as the lavender was all pruned.” Vanessa growled. “Ain’t even say goodbye.”
“It’s the end of the month, I guess.” Brooke laughed. Summer always came with a parade of university students from the neighbouring towns looking to tend crops and keep bees for a summer job, and without fail, by late August, all of them were fed up enough with wasting their precious social time that they did everything they could to wriggle out of any extra work. Brooke couldn’t blame them, and deep down, she knew neither could Vanessa, but she understood why it smarted. Of all the kids that blew through Hytes-Mateo Horticultural and Honey Farms, Ariel and Yvie were by far the two smartest and funniest they’d had. Yvie especially took a liking to verbal sparring matches with Vanessa over open bags of mulch, and Ariel and Vanessa’s mannerisms and senses of style were so similar that people who only saw them from behind as Vanessa walked Ariel through the basics of beekeeping would swear that they couldn’t tell who was who.
Vanessa would miss them, and in a certain selfish way, it hurt Brooke to know that as much as Vanessa loved her, when it was just the two of them for the other nine months, the fire in her eyes died a little, and her brisk, loud laugh became just a little duller.
It wasn’t personal, not even a question of who she was keeping company with--it was just that Vanessa was a social butterfly, an extrovert if ever there was one, someone who loved being the centre of attention. And as much as Brooke knew Vanessa craved and loved her attention, the attention of many was always better than the attention of just one, the same one as every day and night.
Brooke was different; she didn’t need very many people around her, and breaking routine made her sick to her stomach. Sometimes, all she craved was being in a cool room alone with Riley, the cats, and her thoughts, turning over conversations with herself in her head.
Brooke liked her space, and so she took it as much as possible, Vanessa the only one allowed to cross over the threshold. A little sad, maybe, to someone else, someone looking from the outside in, but to Brooke, it was more than enough.
They were silent for a moment, until Brooke reached beside herself and grabbed two mugs, one of which she handed over to Vanessa, who was struggling to heave herself upright.
“Thanks, ba-- Again? ” Vanessa glared at Brooke pointedly, her eyes narrowing when Brooke only shrugged and took a cool sip from her mug.
“What?” Brooke tried and failed to hide a sheepish grin behind the mug’s thick ceramic edge. “Water just tastes better in a mug. You know it.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes, but took a sip of her water nonetheless, closing her eyes against the cool sensation of ice hitting her lips.
Just beyond them, the sky had begun to cast an orange glow over the neat, seemingly endless rows of purple that stretched out before them.
—
If there was one thing Vanessa loved about her farm, it was the blueberries. Early every morning, she would walk through rows and rows of containers, shooing away birds trying to break through the tents’ protective shields and scouting for plants that needed harvesting, ones that had begun to die and needed to be uprooted and the plot saved for re-planting later. It was almost meditative, in a way; walk, shoo, check, think. Walk, shoo, check, think. Walk, shoo, check, and think, and think, and think. About politics, about The Bachelorette, about what she would have for dinner that night--it didn’t matter.
Lately, her thoughts were about her life, and about Brooke, about how they started the farm together, how they got to where they were now. How she had met Brooke on her own family’s farm, when Brooke walked the three miles between her own family’s land to deliver the seeds her mother had promised Vanessa’s, shyly explaining that her truck had broken down halfway down the road. How Vanessa’s mother spent half the day fixing the engine, knowing full well Vanessa could have done it herself, winking at her as she suggested Brooke come in for a snack and some lemonade.
How they had gone to agricultural university together, spending late nights in their dorm room (bunking together being specifically Brooke’s suggestion to the university, thank you very much ) poring over textbooks about industrial harvesting and anatomical diagrams of pea plants, biting their lips and wondering if the girl opposite from them wanted to kiss them as much as they did.
How they had actually shared their first kiss during a continuing education beekeeping certification course, Brooke’s lips sticky with hard work and honey, her breath hot and hitched through excited giggles about how she’d wanted to do that for a long time.
Vanessa smiled to herself, a rush of affection blooming in her chest.
She had already known by then that she had loved Brooke, and though it took a while for Brooke to actually say the words, Vanessa knew how the other woman felt based on how she talked to her, how she listened to her go on about her interests like they were her own, how she lavished Vanessa in compliments and always knew the right things to say when she was down. Vanessa could tell in how Brooke looked at her, eyes brimming with not just happiness but utter satisfaction , like Vanessa was all she needed to be content for the rest of her life.
And then there was how Brooke touched her, soft and delicate and almost reverent, fingers tracing the smooth skin of Vanessa’s arms as if it were the finest fabric she’d ever laid hands on, beaming when Vanessa practically purred in content at the sensation.
Nothing had changed between them since then, not much. They’d gotten comfortable with each other, had their fights and rough patches, but always came through, always came back to each other, always stronger than they had been before. And Brooke still talked to, looked at, and touched Vanessa in the same way.
So Vanessa walked up and down the blueberry fields, shooing, checking, and thinking, remembering and formulating a plan.
--
They had finally gotten their farmland three years and eleven months ago, a month before they’d gotten married right on the land they’d built together. Or, more accurately, that their community had built for them--months before the deal was sealed on their land, they had friends and neighbours and old acquaintances banding together to help them renovate the farm’s barn, which they had inherited from the previous owners, an older couple who moved back to the city to live with their children. They had spent days out together getting ready for the handover, planting and buying and setting up connections, getting the word out that in less than a year, they’d have enough produce and flowers and honey to start building themselves a future.
A future that had started in that very barn, Brooke in her white pantsuit and Vanessa in her flowing princess dress, exchanging vows that they intended to keep even after death did them part.
I promise to always support you through thick and thin.
Brooke got sick and Vanessa threw her in the backseat of their pickup wrapped up in a blanket, siren-sounds blaring from their AUX cord through open windows as Vanessa tore down the highway to get to the nearest hospital. She made the same trip hours later when Brooke was getting her appendix out, towing back boxes of Brooke’s favourite flowers for when she woke up.
I promise to always listen, to always see your point of view.
Vanessa had a temper, and while Brooke often flared it, she always took Vanessa’s words to heart, cooling it with a compromise when she was ready and always knowing exactly how to soothe over and forgive the words both of them wish they hadn’t said.
I promise to share my equal portion of the work, and never leave you carrying any burden without help.
The big tasks were done together, the small tasks separately. Only sometimes, Vanessa finished her small tasks early, Brooke being just a little too meticulous when tending to their bees or checking the pH of their hydrangeas’ soil. And at those times, Brooke would find Vanessa by her side, both their hearts beating loud enough to fill the air without the need for conversation as they let their fingers brush together and shoulders bump, four hands getting the jobs done in no time at all.
I promise to love you always and forever, with the same passion as the first day we met.
In two months, it would be their fourth anniversary. And Brooke was making plans, big plans.
Vanessa was usually the romantic one, the one who always had some grand gesture or scheme cooking in her head. She loved surprising Brooke, and Brooke loved being surprised by her.
This time, though, Vanessa wouldn’t know what hit her.
--
They made dinner together in excited silence, completely in sync as they chop carrots and stir simmering pots, both of them in their own worlds as they think of the two months ahead.
--
“Happy anniversary, baby.” Vanessa woke Brooke up with a hand between her legs and two soft lips on the skin behind her ear. Brooke squirmed, keening into Vanessa’s hand as she yawned and mumbled something sleepily, the word anniversary barely intelligible somewhere in the middle of what barely qualified as a sentence.
Vanessa chuckled, working Brooke over with her hand for a few more moments before leaving another kiss on her temple, whispering out permission for Brooke to keep sleeping as she slipped out of bed.
Even as she walked out of their room, pulling on a sweater over her pajamas, she knew that Brooke would follow close behind.
Morning chores on the farm were simple, monotonous even, but for Vanessa, there was something beautiful in them, a charm that no other chores held for her. Not that they were any different from midday, or afternoon, or evening--rather, it was the time. You couldn’t go out and watch the sun rise at midday, the sky painting itself orange and pink as darkness faded behind the distantly-neighbouring hills. Nor could you feel the early-morning dew under your feet during the afternoon, the cold wetness somehow sharp as it marked itself across your ankles. And by evening, you’d have already heard the daily forecast, meaning you couldn’t be surprised by rain the report hadn’t warned you about, or by your wife coming out close behind you to bring you the jacket you bought precisely because it matched hers. Which meant you couldn’t lean up and thank her with a kiss on her lips, fat and heavy droplets rolling down your back and her hands warm and rough around your waist.
Vanessa was the luckiest woman in the world, and by the time they retreated in for breakfast, muddy boots and soaked jackets laid out to dry in the foyer, she was buzzing with excitement at the thought that tonight, she just might get even luckier.
--
The mixed-berry pancakes sizzled on the crisco-greased grill, the tangy smell of cooking strawberries smothered with thick layers of batter seeming to waft out of the kitchen and fill the whole house in a matter of minutes. Brooke smiled over at Vanessa, who was practically bouncing with excitement on her chair at the kitchen table as she watched Brooke work. Brooke couldn’t help but smile a little herself at the reaction; after all, the church didn’t beg for her to run the kitchen on Shrove Tuesday for nothing. Not that Vanessa couldn’t cook--it was just that when it came to pancakes, Brooke couldn’t be beat. A niche talent, for sure, but hey. Once or twice a year, on special days like today, it made Vanessa incredibly happy, and as far as Brooke was concerned, that made it her most important skill.
Brooke smiled widely as she slid the pancakes onto a large plate, gingerly switching off the grill before rushing to the table to put the pancakes down while they were still hot.
“Oh my God , babe, they smell so fucking good!” Vanessa licked her lips and rubbed her hands together, her feet lifting up on the floor and swinging in happiness.
“You say that every time I make them.” Brooke laughed, though the compliment still made her heart swell with pride.
“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time.” Vanessa retorted sheepishly, darting a fork out to stab at and drag a pancake onto her plate. “Pass the syrup?”
“You’re sweet.” Brooke grinned as she passed over the jug, her fingers sticking a little to its plasticky surface. Vanessa didn’t respond; she was completely focused on pouring just the perfect amount of syrup on her pancakes, just so so that they were covered in the most correct way. Brooke watched with her amusement, and then her mind went other places.
She’d planned the perfect day for them, the kind of day that was beyond even Vanessa’s wildest dreams. Just after breakfast, Ariel, Yvie, and some of their friends would arrive to work the farm all day while Brooke drove Vanessa into town, taking a scenic route she herself had only recently discovered after accidentally taking a wrong turn on a trip to the (relatively) local mall. When in town, she’d bring Vanessa to a private cookie-baking class, then they’d enjoy an all-you-can-eat seafood lunch before driving back and stopping in at their church, where they would renew their vows.
Not to mention the surprise she’d have ready for Vanessa when they’d arrive back home--Brooke had spent ages picking out the perfect roses to strip petals from and had Yvie’s word that they’d be scattered on the bed with classical music playing and champagne chilling, all the cliches she knew Vanessa loved, when they’d finally retreat up to their bedroom that night.
Brooke was just about to mention the plans to Vanessa when suddenly, Vanessa spoke up first. Or, rather, blurted something out, something so big that Brooke spat out her pancakes and had to ask Vanessa to repeat herself.
“I wanna have a baby with you, Brooke.”
--
Vanessa knew she’d made the wrong decision the minute Brooke spat out her food, but for some reason she persisted, hoping she was misinterpreting the gesture for some kind of pleasant shock, and that Brooke might wipe her face and smile, tell Vanessa that she was thinking the same thing. The minute she’d said it a second time, though, Brooke’s face confirmed the worst. Shit.
“Wh--Where’s this coming from?” Brooke’s brow knit in confusion, her voice suddenly shaken.
Stupid. Vanessa had had a plan; she was going to butter Brooke up, hint a little during the day, bring out baby pictures and ask when Brooke’s mind was in the right place, when she wasn’t going to overthink all the little details that they’d have to sort out down the road. Why hadn’t she stuck to it? How could she let herself get so excited that she ruined the conversation by starting it too early?
“Brooke, listen--”
But Brooke was already on a tangent of her own, the cogs clearly turning in her head to formulate the words coming out of her mouth as she spoke, shaking her head.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m opposed to the idea, we talked about that before, but we can’t , babe, we just can’t, not while we’re like this--”
“What do you mean, like this?” The words hit Vanessa like a slap in the face. Brooke faltered, and somehow, that made it even worse--whatever Brooke had meant, clearly it was so deep-seated that she couldn’t even tell Vanessa what exactly she was trying to express.
How could that be, when Vanessa thought it was going so well? The farm was booming and they were pulling in more income than ever. They had a great social life with friends from the community. Riley and the cats were thriving. Hell, they were cuddling and having sex every night , so clearly it wasn’t anything in the romance department, either. They were happy , or so Vanessa thought.
So what the fuck was wrong?
“It’s just that we’re… Well, there’s just so much to consider , Ness. Financially--”
“Financially, we’re doin’ A-plus, so I don’t see why that’s an issue.”
“It’s not just about wealth, it’s about where the money is going, we’d have to divert significant funds, which means we couldn’t expand--”
“Cut the shit.” Vanessa leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You an’ I both know that we ain’t lookin’ to expand that fast. We would’ve talked about it by now if we were, an’ our growth hasn’t been that fast anyway. So what’s the real problem?”
Brooke looked at her with wide, sad eyes, and that’s when Vanessa knew.
“You don’t think we’ll be good parents.”
“There’s just so many ways we could fuck it up, Vanessa. I mean, think about it--it won’t stay a baby forever. We can’t protect it forever. And what if we’re the ones to hurt it in the first place?” Brooke was getting progressively redder and redder in the face as she continued, “Do you know how to deal with it if the kid gets bullied? If God forbid, they go through some kind of trauma? Or get into an accident, or get so sick they might die? If they get into the wrong crowd when they’re a teenager and start doing drugs?”
“Well, they wouldn’t, because--”
“You don’t know they wouldn’t, Ness! You don’t. And I…” Brooke stopped suddenly, looking up at Vanessa for the first time since starting her spiral.
Vanessa realized at that moment that she was shaking a little, though she couldn’t figure out why.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to bring a kid into the world when you’re so naive that you think the power of love can protect it from everything.” Somehow, the suddenly soft look in Brooke’s eyes made her words even worse to hear, her pity turning the accusation into daggers.
“I don’t think--” Vanessa started, her heart dropping into her stomach as Brooke cut her off with a shake of her head.
“Your response to me was literally ‘they wouldn’t.’ How do you know they wouldn’t?”
How the fuck could Brooke stay so calm?
“Ness, I think it’s wonderful that you have such a lovely view of the world.” Brooke continued, “And maybe you’re right, maybe you can protect our kid from everything. But I can’t, and that means that I can’t in good conscience pretend I’m ready for one. Not until I know how to deal with all the worst-case scenarios.”
There was silence, and Vanessa felt hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. Brooke was supposed to be excited. She was supposed to say yes. She was supposed to smile and hug Vanessa and start talking about adoption in that excited way she always talked about the future when she was sure of it.
Only Brooke wasn’t sure of it. And now Vanessa wasn’t, either.
“I think I want to be alone right now.” The words came out of Vanessa’s mouth before she even knew what she was saying, but Brooke didn’t fight them. Instead, she only nodded and hurried out of the room, leaving Vanessa alone with the pancakes.
Vanessa instantly wished she hadn’t.
--
They had talked about a kid well before they got married. What they’d name it, how they’d raise it, what kinds of toys they’d buy it and what colours they’d choose for its nursery. They’d name it Isabela if it were a girl, Brock if it was a boy. Or maybe Jordan or Cameron, something more gender-neutral, so that the kid could choose for itself what it was going to be, or opt out of that decision altogether. Their kid would be adopted, too, because when they talked about how they’d bring little Isabela-Brock-Jordan-Cameron into the world, that’s just what felt right. They would buy their kid all sorts of toys, soft ones and crinkling ones and squishy ones, ones that made noise and ones that stayed silent, ones that lit up and others that were sewn together with patches of loud patterned fabric. They would paint the nursery yellow, and decorate it with butterflies and giraffes and teddy bears.
No matter what, whenever they talked about their future child, Brooke and Vanessa decided that it would grow up to be safe, kind, compassionate, funny, smart, and absolutely, unequivocally loved.
That was then, though. Now they were grown, and married for four years, and the aunts of no less than twelve nieces and nephews. And the more those kids grew, the more Brooke saw all the things that could go wrong, and the more fear overtook Brooke when she thought about having her own kid. There were so many ways she could fuck that kid up, and she loved even the idea of her child too fiercely to think about hurting it.
So wasn’t she doing the right thing by preemptively making sure she could never hurt it, by making sure it went to family that could keep it safe?
Or maybe it wasn’t about the kid at all. Maybe it was just about herself, about how she could avoid any sense of guilt or blame.
She thought of Vanessa suddenly, and a flash of resentment stirred in her stomach, cutting through it like a knife.
How could Vanessa be so hopeful, so sure ? How could she still be holding onto their dream, so determined to make it come true? And how could she have the gall to bring that dream over to Brooke, make her feel so conflicted and guilty for being the one to squash it?
How could she bring all those dreams back up, make them resurface when Brooke had done her best to convince herself that she didn’t want them anymore?
“I thought I might find you here.” Brooke turned around and saw Vanessa walking towards her through the rows and rows of blueberry cages. Of course Vanessa would look here; of course. Leave it to Brooke to need space from her wife and go to the one place that had her written all over it.
“We’re gonna have to harvest soon.” Vanessa plopped down beside Brooke at the edge of the field in silence and staring back through the crops with her.
“Yvieand Ariel can do it today when they get here.” Brooke grunted. “I was gonna leave them to take care of everything today with a few of their friends while we went out to do some stuff I’d planned.” She grunted as she looked over at Vanessa, her wife’s brow up in confusion and surprise. “Surprise, I guess.”
“Yeah.” Vanessa replied hollowly.
“You really think we could be parents?” Brooke asked, forcing the question out before she could think twice about it.
“I do.” Vanessa nodded. “I mean, sure, we got shit to figure out. And we can’t protect the kid from everything, you right about that. But that don’t mean we can’t try, and it don’t mean we can’t love ‘em and support ‘em anyway. I mean, that’s what our parents did, right? And we turned out pretty alright.”
Brooke laughed a little despite herself. “Yeah, I guess we did.”
They sat there in silence a little longer, the wind picking up and whistling in the mid-morning air, until Vanessa slowly leaned over to rest her head lightly on Brooke’s shoulder.
“You remember when we started this farm?” Vanessa asked, closing her eyes as if she was trying to conjure an image of the memory in her mind. Brooke did the same, the flashes and snippets playing through her eyes with ease.
“Remember saving up for it? And our parents cosigning that loan, the one we thought we’d never get out of?” Brooke laughed as she recalled sitting in the financial advisor’s office, Vanessa’s hand on hers the only thing stopping her from tearing her skin apart in anxiety as they weathered his discerning coughs and little hmmmms , their future at his mercy. Her parents had been so much calmer, as if they knew everything would be okay, as if the huge estimate and heavy contract the advisor whipped up was nothing more than a few dollars and a single slip of paper.
“Yeah, moneybags was pretty dumbfounded when we paid it back so fast, wasn’t he?” Vanessa laughed too, scooting closer. “Remember how anxious we was, plantin’ our first crop?”
“The lavender.” Brooke nodded, bringing her arm over Vanessa’s shoulder. “I’d been growing it for years , but I was still so nervous I’d fuck it up, remember?”
“Yes, bitch, I do.” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “God, you were the worst back then, always so convinced you wasn’t enough…”
The tone sobered quickly then, and the silence resumed.
Not enough. That’s right. She could still feel the weight of the insecurity in her chest, the anxiety that constantly played through her head, creeping into her bones and making her feel on edge. All the things that could’ve gone wrong, all the things that she could have fucked up…
“But you was enough, wasn’t you? You showed everyone. I mean, look at us. Now we got lavender, bees, blueberries, an’ you know we almost sold on the hydrangeas startin’. The risks paid off, thanks to you bein’ such a hard worker an’ thorough planner.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t just me, babe. Both of us. I mean, you’re just such a big thinker, you’ve always got these amazing new ideas…” She laughed despite herself, quickly wiping away the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.
Vanessa noticed, though, she always noticed, and leaned in to kiss Brooke on the cheek before guiding her face over to look Vanessa in the eyes.
“We make a good team, Brooky-poo. An’ there’s risks in everythin’ we do, but we always get through it. ‘Cause we got each other, we got our parents, Hell, we even got Yvie an’ Ariel’s lazy asses if we need ‘em.”
Brooke laughed harder than she had all morning, and when Vanessa smiled, genuine and happy and relieved, Brooke swore she could look at her wife’s face forever.
“You really think we could do it, Ness? We could be parents?”
“Oh, baby.” Vanessa’s smile took on a tenderness that melted Brooke’s heart. “I don’t think we could do it. I know we could. No matter what happens to come our way.”
Yvie and Ariel called out to announce their arrival at that moment, they and their friends visible walking towards them at the edge of the field. But even the noise of ten undergrad students wishing them happy anniversary and assuring them they could go, that they got this, couldn’t drown out Brooke’s answer, her words carried on the wind.
“Let’s do it, Ness. Let’s have a baby.”
--
They got the call around 2 AM that Plastique, the mother of the little girl they were adopting, had gone into labour. It was as if time had suddenly sped up, with everything on fast-forward as they threw together clothes, a thank-you gift for the girl’s mom, a diaper bag full of baby essentials, and--almost forgotten but snatched up at the last minute--their video camera. Excitement choked the air throughout their whole drive to the hospital, the highway seeming to stretch on endlessly and the route somehow seeming twice as long the closer they got. They were both so giddy that neither could speak, not unless it was to ask a panicked question (“Oh my God, babe, did we forget the mittens?”) or to just squeal with happiness that the day had finally arrived (“We’re having a baby, baby! We’re having a baby!”). Every song on the radio seemed to be a love song that night, and so when they arrived at the hospital at last, they were practically floating on air until they finally set foot in the maternity ward.
Despite the late hour, the ward was absolute chaos--screams and cries echoed through the hallways, and nurses, doctors, and impatient family members rushing about gave the whole floor an air of urgency that caused a pit to open in Vanessa’s stomach.
What if some of those screams were coming from Plastique’s room? What if they weren’t regular pain, but a sign that something was wrong? What if there were complications, and the baby was sick, or injured, or worse, about to die? About to die, and she hadn’t even been there to see it born--
“Ness.” Brooke squeezed her hand, bringing her back to reality, “I know. It’s okay.”
Vanessa breathed out deeply as Brooke led her into their baby’s room, the permission to be scared somehow managing to calm her fear almost completely. And the minute they walked into the room, the minute they saw the Plastique in front of them squeezing her husband’s hand, forehead sheened with sweat, it was as if everything else lost any meaning.
“What can I do to help?”
--
They were there for another eight hours before Cameron finally greeted the world, loud and big and already the best thing to ever happen to them. Plastique was the first to hold her, Brooke watching with a tear in her eye as the young girl kissed their baby good-bye, then passed Cam off to Brooke.
Brooke had thought about this moment since the very beginning of their journey towards adoption. The moment she’d finally be able to hold her baby, the minute she’d be able to call it a part of herself.
Call her a part of herself.
It was funny; back when she had imagined this moment, she had imagined herself tense, scared, fighting back images of herself somehow fucking it up the minute her little girl was passed off to her. Thinking that she might drop her, she might hurt her, that Cam might actually hate her and start crying. That maybe, just maybe, Plastique would decide she wanted Cam back, and snatch her up and run before Brooke could even kiss her daughter good-bye. Now, though, she was waiting for that shoe to drop, and it never came. Instead, all she saw was Cameron’s beautiful, round face, and in that moment, everything clicked.
“Oh, did we miss it?” Everyone in the room looked up in surprise as Brooke and Vanessa’s mothers came crashing into the room, arms full of fake flowers, teddy bears, and latex-free balloons that floated up taller than Vanessa.
“No, Mami,” Vanessa laughed, kissing Brooke, then Cam, before taking her turn to scoop her new daughter up into her arms, “You haven’t missed anything at all.”
--
As far as Vanessa was concerned, Cam was the most beautiful baby in the world. Sure, she was small, red, and wrinkled, kind of like a really fat, really ripe tomato, but she was theirs . And that made her more amazing than anything else the world had to offer.
“Welcome home, baby!” Vanessa squealed enthusiastically as she walked through the door, Cam swaddled up in a blanket in her arms. “D’you like it?”
“She hasn’t even seen it yet, baby.” Brooke laughed, closing the door behind them.
“Oh, hush.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “She loves it here, see? She’s even waking up to look at everything!”
It was like she’d just said magic words; Brooke dropped the diaper bag she was holding and ran to Vanessa’s side, a huge grin spread on her face as she began to coo and fuss over Cam’s wide-eyed stare.
“She looks so confused, oh my God ,” Brooke squealed, already practically in tears, “I love her, Vanessa, I love her so fucking much.”
“Hey!” Vanessa barked, “You want some kinda swear to be her first word? Watch your mouth, bitch.” Realizing what she’d just said, she reddened as Brooke began to laugh.
“What d’you think, Cammie, should we take you upstairs to see your new room?” Brooke took Cam from Vanessa’s arms and cradled her gently, bringing her up to her face and breathing in that intoxicating new-baby smell, the scent even sweeter now that it belonged to her own child.
“Oh, d’you know if my mom dropped off Bertha yet?” Vanessa frowned as they walked up the stairs, and Brooke nodded.
“She texted and said she’d be back in about an hour with lunch and some food for the week, too.” They pushed their way into the nursery, decked out with soft yellow walls, monkey-patterned curtains, and, indeed, Bertha, a stuffed frog that had served as Vanessa’s favourite toy growing up, sitting on the change table. In the middle of the room, just beside the table, sat Cam’s basin, a white and lacy thing that the little girl seemed to settle into right when they put her down. Of course, this was short lived, and she began to cry soon after Brooke let her down, but all was well again when she was in Brooke’s arms, safe and sound and comforted as Brooke rocked her back and forth.
“See?” Vanessa placed a hand on Brooke’s shoulder, the other one coming to rest gently on Cam’s small, bundled-up body as they continued to rock her gently, “We got this, Brooke. Together.”
--
You’re not going to get any sleep tonight, I hope you know that, mija. Vanessa’s mother’s coy warning rang in her ears as Brooke and Vanessa settled to bed that night, baby monitor blinking by their bedside and door wide open to give them a view into where Cameron was sleeping. They were both on edge, both listening for any signs of trouble, any little whimpers that might turn into full-blown cries.
When Vanessa woke at 3 AM, realizing with a jolt that she’d fallen asleep, and that she hadn’t been woken up the entire night, the first thing she did was look for Brooke, only to find her wife’s side of the bed empty.
Oh no.
Oh God.
Without another second passing, Vanessa was up and sprinting across the hall.
When she got to Cam’s room, though, her heart instantly returned to its normal pace, all her worries dissipating.
Brooke was standing in the middle of the room, bags under her eyes and their daughter’s tiny form nestled against her chest, head firmly supported in one of Brooke’s hands.
“She started crying about half an hour ago, and didn’t want me to leave.” Brooke whispered, shrugging a little.
“How many times have you been up tonight?” Vanessa frowned, walking over to Brooke and laying a soft hand on Cameron’s back for good measure.
“I don’t know,” Brooke shrugged again, bouncing Cam when she stirred in her arms until the little girl settled again, “Four or five, maybe? It’s okay, she just wants company. Maybe we should move the basin into our room for now?”
Seeing Brooke’s face go from loving to concerned, biting her lip with worry as she continued to bounce their daughter lightly, absolutely melted Vanessa’s heart. Brooke had worried so much, had been so hesitant, yet here she was, already attentive, already intuitive, already knowing exactly what their baby needed.
How fitting that all their baby needed right now was her mothers.
Vanessa nodded, already moving to grab the basin and carry it into the bedroom, Brooke following closely behind.
“What’s the matter?” Vanessa frowned at Brooke, who had suddenly frozen to the spot in front of the newly-settled basin, her demeanour becoming hesitant.
“I, um… What if she cries again?” Brooke looked down at their daughter, brow knit in concern. Vanessa couldn’t help but give a laugh.
“Go sleep, baby.” Vanessa craned up to give Brooke a kiss on the cheek before gently replacing Brooke’s hold on Cam’s sleeping body with her own arms, “I got you.”
Brooke smiled gratefully, collapsing into the bed and snuggling up into the blankets with a contented sigh.
“And your mama thought she wouldn’t be a good parent.” Vanessa cooed to Cameron as she leaned down to give the sleeping baby a gentle kiss, finally laying her down in her basin and creeping back into bed, hoping that Brooke hadn’t fallen asleep before having a chance to hear her.
When Brooke turned and snuggled close, though, Vanessa knew that Brooke had absorbed every single word.