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As Bridget stepped out of the shower--her first in what felt like months--she was taken aback by the uproar of giggling coming from the living room. Curious as to what was going on, Bridget threw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, not even bothering to towel dry her hair before making her way down the hallway. It had been two years since Will’s arrival, and a little over a year since she married Mark, which meant the trek from the bathroom to the living room was much farther than it would have been in her cozy flat. It wasn’t that she disliked Mark’s house in Holland Park, it was just that she wasn’t used to the space. Even as Bridget was now making her way down the hallway to the top of the landing, she was cursing the time it was taking her to get to the living room. The giggling was escalating in volume and intensity, and Bridget was afraid that she was going to miss out on what was happening.
As she crept down the stairs, another sound met her ears, and then it was quickly drowned out again by the giggles that were uncontrollably spilling out of her son. She paused mid-flight in the hopes that she would hear it again. Will’s giggles began to die down, and then she heard it once more. Bridget couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as realization dawned on her. She followed the echo of giggling--now mixed with Mark’s low chuckle--into the living room, where she found her son and husband beside themselves with laughter on the couch. She had crept in quietly enough that neither of them noticed her arrival. Bridget leaned against the frame of the room as she watched the two most important men in her life having the time of their lives.
Mark was sprawled out on the length of the couch, Will sitting on his chest. Bridget watched Mark catch his breath from laughing. Will’s face was covered in drool and flushed from laughing, but the grin on his face made her heart soar. The bright blue eyes he had inherited from her were barely visible from his fat-cheeked grin, and the brown curls that he had inherited from his father shown in the dying sunlight that was coming in through the front window. Mark’s face was incredibly animated as he scooped Will up underneath his arms and lifted him up over his head. “Oh noooo,” he teased Will as their son flailed his chubby arms and kicked his legs. “Heeeere itttttt coooooomes!” In the next instance, Bridget fully understood what was going on. Mark pulled Will all the way into him, and blew a loud and seemingly wet raspberry against Will’s neck. The giggles erupted from Will once more, which in turn caused Mark to let out an uncharacteristic guffaw.
Bridget couldn’t help but let out chuckle herself, which caused Mark and Will to both look in her direction. Mark’s face was flushed from laughing, and his glasses were smudged from the contact they had made with Will’s drooly chin. “I didn’t even hear you come in,” he said to her, gently setting Will back onto his chest. “Mummy!” Will shouted. “I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want to ruin the fun,” she replied as she made her way over to them both. “Isn’t his laugh the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard?” Mark said, looking adoringly at their son. “I can’t get enough of it.” Bridget smiled and replied, “I think we may be a bit biased in that department, but I do have to agree...it’s pretty wonderful.” As if to prove his point-- Always defending his argument , Bridget thought smugly to herself--Mark lifted Will back up into the air and blew another raspberry onto the exposed belly that stuck out of his shirt. Will squealed and giggled, which set Mark off again.
Sinking into an adjacent armchair, Bridget watched in loving wonderment at this new Mark that had invaded her life. Since Will’s arrival, Mark had ran headfirst into fatherhood with gusto and excitement. He went to work everyday after having breakfast with Bridget and Will, but made it a point to come home by 5:00 so that he could have quality time with Will and spend the evening with his wife. He almost never worked weekends anymore, much to Bridget’s surprise, and was always planning little day trips for the three of them to take. Sometimes they were educational trips to museums where he pointed out famous works of art to his son, and other times they went to Kent where Mark taught Will about the seashells they’d find on the beach. The responsible, stuffy, emotionally constipated man that Bridget had fought for and against for the better part of 15 years was slowly starting to ebb away, and in his place was a bright-eyed, inquisitive father who adored his son.
Even now, in this exact moment, Bridget made mental note of how much Mark had changed in the past 2 years. On a Saturday afternoon at this time, he would have still been in chambers or on a very important international flight, kissing her as he walked out the door with promises of making it up to her. Now, though, he was lounging on their couch in a pair of jeans that she was sure hadn’t seen the light of day since the night he came back from America to win her back. His black t-shirt was covered in drool, and she could see that he hadn’t even combed his hair properly. Despite these little details, the most glaringly different thing about her husband was the unabashed grin that was across his face. Bridget had, of course, seen Mark happy before, but the happiness he reserved for his son was incomparable.
“I love you,” she heard him murmur, and by reflex Bridget began to return the sentiment. She was cut off, though, when Mark looked back over the arm of the couch at her and said, “I love you, too, Bridget.” In that split second, Bridget realized just how far they had come. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love you,” she whispered back to him. The grin she had just seen on his face reappeared as he looked at her, his head arched back so that he could properly see her over the pillows and couch. “C’mere,” he said, and Bridget happily obliged. With Will still sitting on Mark’s chest, Mark leaned up towards Bridget and they shared a chaste kiss, but one that spoke volumes. When the kiss broke apart, Bridget looked down at her husband’s shining face one more time before snatching Will out of his hands. “Let me see what all this fun is about,” she said as Mark sat up, and with much gusto and dramatics, Bridget blew a raspberry against her son’s neck, holding it out for as long as possible. The three of them burst into giggles again, and a bit of Bridget’s heart burst with happiness.