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You’re still the best Daddy
Thomas was crying… again.
This wasn’t polite crying, not a little sob here or there, not crying that would suggest that at some at point in the near future, he might consider stopping.
No this was sustained, in for the long haul, can’t breathe crying.
Thomas had started crying one whole hour ago, Pen had fed him and then passed him over and since the moment he was placed in Colin’s arms he hadn’t stopped. Ugly fat tears, crying that stole your breath and was quite literally stealing Colin’s will to live at an alarming and unsustainable rate.
He was three weeks old and had turned their lives upside down. He loved him, of course he did, but Colin Bridgerton was questioning every life choice he had made in the last year. “That’s it I’m cutting you off,” he said to Pen who had snuggled completely under the duvet, her head popped up, “no more babies.” She rolled her eyes, like he was kidding, he was not kidding.
He paced their bedroom, with the air of a man that had been wronged, he had of course, it was 2.30 in the morning, and he had had no more than one solid hour of sleep, Pen even less, since this child had been born. “I am speaking to you calmly,” he said, bouncing the small, furious bundle in his arms with what he hoped resembled confidence. Why was this so hard? Aggie had been easy; this was like having teeth pulled at the dentist. “This is a calm discussion between two reasonable men.”
Thomas was not open for discussions, and if anything, his crying intensified. Which was an impressive feat, given the length of time he had been crying and that Colin had already thought he was crying at maximum volume.
“Col… please.” Came a muffled whine from a half-hidden Pen.
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
Colin stopped pacing and looked down at his son. Thomas looked… exactly as he had done thirty seconds ago. Tiny, deep red and clearly offended by his existence.
“I don’t understand,” Colin said, more to himself than anyone else, “Mummy’s fed you, you’ve been changed, what else could you possibly need?”
A sharp, indignant wail cut through the air, Colin bounced him some more, “Well, that seemed unnecessarily personal now.”
From the bed, there was a soft sound, which suspiciously sounded like a muffled laugh. Colin turned, as Penelope appeared from under the duvet, her eyes half-lidded, her cheeks all puffy and red. She looked exhausted, understandably, but there was something distinctly unhelpful about the way her mouth kept twitching.
“You could help me you know.” Colin pointed out.
“I could,” she agreed, voice warm with sleep and something dangerously close to amusement, “But where’s the fun in that?” She didn’t move, instead she snuggled back down and rolled onto his side of the bed.
Colin narrowed his eyes at her for a moment before looking back down at Thomas, as though the baby might offer up some sort of explanations for this ridiculous behaviour. “This is not how I imagined this going,” he muttered.
Thomas objected loudly.
“Right,” Colin said with renewed determination, “we’ll try something else.” He shifted his hold, moving Thomas to the crook of his neck and began patting his back gently. Thomas stilled and Colin let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, he’d done it. He turned back to Pen and was about to celebrate when… another cry. Louder. Sharper.
“Ah come on little man,” Colin attempted, in what he thought was a soothing tone. “You’re in the best company, I am…”
Thomas screamed. An ear-shattered, high-pitched scream.
“… well liked,” he finished.
“Debatable.” Pen mumbled.
“Hey…” he shot her a look, “this is not the time for your jokes.”
“Who says I’m joking.” She deadpanned.
Thomas made a sound that could only be described as outrage and Colin exhaled slowly through his noise.
“Stories!” Colin said, as suddenly struck by a stroke of genius. “Aggie likes my stories, the last time you didn’t cry with me I was telling you a story.” He began pacing again.
“Once,” he started, adjusting Thomas slightly, “there was a man who liked to travel. He’d disappear for months…”
Pen coughed, “How is telling our son you used to leave all the time, helpful?”
“I’m setting the scene.” He said defensively. Thomas did not care about the scene, if anything, hearing about his Daddy leaving offended the child more. He screamed again. Colin faltered. “…he move from one city to the next…” The crying continued.
Colin stared down at his son, and he felt the ball in his stomach tighten. It wasn’t quite panic yet, but it wasn’t far off.
“I came back Tommie,” he said softly, looking down at the small bundle in his arms and automatically tightening his grip. “You should know I always came back.” Thomas’s crying escalated. Colin stilled, he didn’t dare move, and then another wail. He closed his eyes and slumped down onto the end of the bed.
“Right,” he said words almost a whisper. “I see you’re not ready for my stories.” Pen shuffled turning over in bed and sat up. He couldn’t look at her. “Pen,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think Thomas likes me.”
There was a moment’s quiet but before Pen could answer, the bedroom door slowly opened. “Oh god, someone is punishing me” He muttered.
Agatha was standing in the doorway. He was failing on an epic scale tonight, almost three in the morning and both his children were awake. She looked so small, barefoot, hair stuck up and in a matted mess at the same time, and she was holding what looked like her blanket dragging it behind her like a train.
She looked at Thomas and then at Colin. “He’s very noisy tonight.”
“I know, sorry baby we didn’t mean to wake you up.” Colin said.
“You didn’t,” Agatha said with air of confidence that was much older than her years. “He did.” She pointed at Thomas.
“Fair.” Colin responded, because what else was there to say.
“But that’s because you’re doing it wrong.” She said shrugging her shoulders and climbing up on the bed next to Pen. Thomas wailed again and Colin automatically bounced him some more. “Give him to me.” Agatha said once she was settled at the side of Pen.
“Sorry, what?”
“He’s just too loud,” she said simply. “And like I said you doing it wrong.” Pen made a noise which suspiciously sounded like a laugh from behind her hand.
Colin straightened his spine, “I am not… doing it wrong.” And as if right on cue Thomas let a pretty aggressive cry, as if to let him know, he was in fact doing it wrong.
Agatha held out her hands, “Daddy,” she said patiently, “just give him here.”
Colin blinked at his daughter and there was a moment he was definitely going to refuse, because what could a three-year-old do that he couldn’t? When Thomas screamed that loud he thought his ear drums might burst. He exhaled, “Fine.”
He moved round the bed and transferred Thomas carefully, with all the gravity of a man handing over something of immense importance, and also, perhaps, his last shred of dignity, into Agatha’s waiting arms.
He watched her pulled the blanket around him tighter, lift him to her shoulder, a little rub of his back which could have passed as accidental, and Thomas burped.
Loudly.
And then… silence.
Not gradual, no build up, just total silence.
Colin stared as his daughter rocked Thomas slightly, humming quietly into his ear.
“I see,” he said after a moment, very calmly. “So, that was all it required.”
“Yes.” Agatha said sleepily.
“And you didn’t think to share that with me before?” He asked Agatha pointedly.
“You didn’t ask.” Agatha said with all the seriousness of toddler who hadn’t just schooled her dad.
Penelope was absolutely not laughing into her pillow; Colin ran his hand over his face. “I’ve been negotiating with him for hours.”
Agatha looked at Thomas then back at Colin, “He’s a baby Daddy.”
“Yes,” Colin said. “I’m beginning to realise that.”
She nodded satisfied and leant back on the pillows closing her eyes. Thomas was quiet, Pen was drifting back to sleep, Agatha was now dropping off. He snuggled in at the side of them to watch over both his children for the rest of the night.
*****************************************************************************************
“My son doesn’t like me.” Colin announced as Anthony slid a glass of whiskey towards him. He had joined his brothers for a drink a few days after that horrendous night, Pen had practically chucked him out the door.
Anthony and Ben glanced at each other then back at Colin, “I’m telling you,” he said, with feeling. “That boy doesn’t like me.”
Ben leaned back in his chair, a shit eating grin spreading across his lips, looking deeply entertained, “Your son doesn’t like you?” Colin nodded. “That seems… unlikely.”
“Trust me that baby holds no love for me, I have evidence.”
“Evidence?” Anthony asked.
“Yep.” Colin said gulping back his whiskey.
“Such as?” Ben asked.
“He cried.”
“Colin,” Anthony said carefully, “He’s three weeks old.”
“And he has already formed very strong opinions.”
“Colin,” Anthony said placing down his glass. “You’re clearly sleep deprived, because this is your son you’re talking about.”
“I am well aware.”
Ben, who was barely holding back laughter at this point, drained his glass placing it down. “Okay, I’m listening, so he cried that’s nothing new, Colin, what else?”
“He only cries for me.” Colin moaned, slumping further back into his chair.
“What do you mean?” Anthony asked, “I’m sure he cries with others.”
“Okay, two nights ago he woke around 1.30am, Pen fed him, I changed him and then he cried for nearly two hours straight.” He said clearly exasperated, “that’s not normal, that’s personal.”
“Colin!” Ben and Anthony said together shaking their heads.
“Honestly nothing I did was good enough.” Colin continued, “I paced he cried, I told him a story he screamed. I mean, that’s just rude, everyone loves my stories.”
“Again, he’s three weeks old,” Ben pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t like me. I know it. You want to know who eventually got him to sleep?”
“Well, I presuming Penelope,” Anthony said, “Unless you’ve finally hired a nanny like I’ve been telling you to.”
“We don’t need a nanny.”
“Don’t you?” Ben asked.
“Agatha.”
“Sorry?” Both brothers asked at the same time.
“Agatha got him to sleep, he woke her, because in her words he was too loud, told me I was doing it wrong. Demanded…” Colin made sure he emphasized that word, “that I handed over Tommie.”
“And did you?” Anthony asked.
“Yes, I’m not completely stupid.” Colin said, “I mean I did contemplate not, for about half a second but I was so tired Ant.”
“Okay, so you handed him over. Where was Pen.”
“Next to Agatha in bed, laughing.” He shook his head. “She was bloody laughing at me finding the whole thing highly amusing.”
Ben flagged down a passing server and order three more drinks, motioning for Colin to continue.
“So yeah she was on the bed, I handed him over, she tightened his blanket patted his back and do you know what happened.”
“What?”
“Silence. Silence happened, the little sod went straight to sleep, right there on Aggies shoulder. Pen fell straight to sleep, Aggie followed, only after asked her why she didn’t tell me that’s all he needed and she told me I didn’t ask.”
“You were replaced by… by a toddler.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
“I am struggling to find an alternative way of phrasing it.”
Ben made a thoughtful noise, “Dramatically outperformed, ought to do it.”
Colin stared at him, “I came here for support.”
“And you have it,” Ben said warmly. “I am entirely in your corner. I simply also find this very funny.”
Anthony pushed his empty glass to one side and accepted the new one being placed on the table. “Have you considered,” He said taking a small sip, “that he might be sensing your nerves?”
Colin scoffed, “I’m not nervous, I have done this before, remember. Agatha my 3-year-old that bosses me around.” Both of the brothers glanced at each other; Anthony raised his brow. “What I am perfectly at ease with him.”
Ben raised his glass, “Colin,” he said gently, “you do tend to get flustered quite easily. Remember that swan at the lake at Aubrey Hall.”
“Hey that swan was hostile,” Colin bit back, “and do you even have a point.”
“That swan was minding its own business, living its life. And you started flapping around causing a scene which in turn upset the swan.”
“And?”
“And the swan sensed your energy.” Ben continued, “and now Tommie’s doing the same.”
Colin opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, “This is entirely different.”
Anthony leaned forward in his chair, “You’re overthinking,” He said. “Children don’t come into the world holding onto grievances.”
Colin hesitated, “Tommie might.”
“Why would he?”
For a second, just a flicker of something passed through his expression.
“I wasn’t there,” he said finally.
The atmosphere shifted and Ben let out a soft ‘Oh’.
“Colin,” Anthony said, “You can’t hold onto that, because he didn’t know, he had no clue you weren’t there. But he knows you are now.”
Ben nodded, “And he’s three weeks old if he’s holding that against you, then I would be impressed.”
Colin huffed, “I did tell him that I came back. That I always come back.”
Anthony’s mouth twitched, “and how did he take that.”
“He screamed.”
Ben let out laugh, “Give it time,” he said. “Or if you prefer…” Colin looked at him warily. “…you could just ask Aggie for guidance.”
Colin froze.
“Yeah,” Anthony piped up, “you should definitely do that.”
“I will not be taking instructions for my daughter on how to take care of my son.”
A moment passed… “but I will observe.”
*****************************************************************************************
It was like a bad game of Uno. Like he had been served reverse Uno on repeat by his opponent, that opponent was of course Thomas.
It was a few days after the night out with his brothers and their words about him feeling uneasy were rattling around his brain. It was early afternoon and Pen had taken Agatha to the park, some much-needed mother and daughter time she had said. He was beginning to feel like everyone was conspiring against him. Because the moment Pen left, which felt like hours, but in truth was about 45 minutes, Thomas had done nothing but cry.
Actually no. This wasn’t crying anymore, no, that would be too simple. He was fussing and squirming and screaming blue murder.
Colin had never known a baby so stubborn that could make the sounds Thomas was. He fixed Colin with a stare that said, ‘I’m watching you, and you’re fucking this up.’
Colin shifted him slightly against his shoulder, bouncing him once again. “Alright,” he murmured, quieter now less frantic, and Thomas actually stilled, took a breath as if he was going to settle. “Okay, okay we are past the worst of it.” Colin said smugly.
Thomas made a noise of clear disagreement.
Colin moaned, his own disappointment clearly evident as Thomas began wailing again.
He began to pace, and panic, which were not a great combination. Thomas screamed directly into his ear, his mouth rooting at Colin’s neck.
“I hear you little man.” Thomas rooted some more, and Colin paused, pulled him away from his shoulder and stared at him, “are you hungry?”
Thomas screamed louder.
Colin smiled, impressed at himself that he had worked it out but then the panic set in. Thomas, who was clearly unimpressed with his dad’s problem-solving skills, mouthed over his own fist.
“Right,” he said carefully, “you’re hungry I know, but that presents a secondary issue.”
Colin sighed deeply heading to the fridge to see if Pen had pumped any milk. Empty. Thomas squirmed and wriggled in his arms. “I know, I know little man, this is just something I can’t help with.”
Thomas did not find this explanation helpful.
****************************************************************************************
It felt like hours before he heard the front door click open but in reality it must have only been about half an hour since he last check the time.
He looked up to see Pen leaning on the door frame, watching the disaster of Colin’s parenting skills playout in real time.
“Oh, thank God..” Colin sputtered out.
Thomas screamed louder. Pen raised her brow, “Everything under control?”
Colin stared at her and then gestured to the chaos of their front room, “does this look under control?”
She tilted her head at him, considering her answer. “You seemed more confident before we left?”
“I was confident,” he snapped. “Before he decided to…” he gestured vaguely, “…betray me.”
Thomas let out another wail. Pen pushed off the door frame, walking into madness slowly, like she had all the time in the world. She leant down kissed him and gathered up Thomas, “Hey little man.” She whispered, “why you giving your Daddy such a hard time?” Thomas was mid-wail but paused almost the moment Pen spoke.
“He doesn’t cry for you.” Colin said with a hint of sadness.
“He does Colin, trust me.” And almost like it had been rehearsed Thomas screamed into Pen’s chest. Pen smiled smugly as if to say, ‘see I told you,’.
“He cries like this,” she continued, “when he’s hungry.”
“Yes.” Colin said tightly, “I gathered that. Thank you.”
“Hey, I’m not having a go.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Colin, no you’re doing a wonderful…”
“No. I am not. The boy doesn’t like me.”
“Oh, Colin of course he does it’s just…” she gestured towards her chest, “I supply the goods.”
“That feels widely unfair.”
She settled onto the sofa at the side of Colin, adjusted her top unhooked her nursing bra. Colin looked on in amazement as Thomas rooted around before latching on, all sounds of crying gone. “And yet.”
“Oh that’s…” he pointed at Thomas, “that’s favoritism.”
Pen huffed out a small laugh. “That’s biology Col, because let me tell you something,” she shifted moving Thomas and for a moment he lost his latch and let out a small cry, “this boy is one hundred percent you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Look at him go, he is one hungry boy.”
Colin couldn’t help but laugh at that. A little while later the room was quieter. Thomas fed, content, tucked against Pen. Agatha had wandered in at some point and plunked herself on Colins knee, juice box and biscuit in hand.
Colin was slumped slightly into Pen’s side, like a man that had done ten rounds with Mike Tyson and had been thoroughly defeated.
“I had him.” He murmured. “He was calm for a moment.”
“A moment counts.” Pen hummed.
“He doesn’t like me Pen.” Aggie mid slurp of her juice stilled, as if shocked by her dads revelation.
“Stop saying that Col, he adores you.”
“He screams at me.”
“He screams at everything.”
“He stopped for you, for Aggie.” He watched Pen shift Thomas without disturbing him, she wasn’t even looking at him, it was natural, easy. He was almost jealous. “He knows you.” He said softly.
Pen’s gaze flickered past Colin to Agatha who had settled her juice down, and with chocolate covered fingers had wrapped her hands through Colin’s. “He knows you too, you’ve just got off on the wrong foot.”
Colin snorted, “Understatement.” He said drily, “he judges me Pen.”
“He judges everyone Col. He’s three weeks old and all he knew before that was darkness and muffled voices, give him time.”
Colin smiled, eyes flickering to Thomas, his hand tightening on Aggies, and he nodded. Because Pen was right she always was.
Silence settled on the foursome, and Pen’s eyes fluttered shut, grabbing what respite she could.
“Daddy,” Agatha said in a quiet voice.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Sometimes you bounce him too fast.” She informed him.
Colin shifted to look at his daughter, “Too fast?”
“Yeah.” She nodded seriously, “he doesn’t like it, I didn’t like that either.”
Colin’s brows furrowed slightly, “you didn’t?”
Agatha shook her head, curling into him some more. “No, it kinda makes your tummy feel funny.”
“Right, I see.”
Agatha beamed up at him, pleased with herself. “And” she added clearly on a roll, “when you pat his back you should do this.” She patted gently against his arm. “Softly, not like you’re knocking on Nana V’s front door.”
Colin huffed back a laugh, “I do not pat him like…”
“You do.”
Colin went still, “Oh.”
Agatha snuggled back down into his arm, “You just have to do it properly.”
“Of course,” he said. “How foolish of me.”
She titled her head up once more, studying him for a moment, like she was deciding something very important. She smiled and reached out to pat his cheek.
“You’re still the best daddy in the world.” She said, very matter of fact. “Even if you do forget things.”
Colin froze, eyes never leaving her. Agatha yawned, already halfway done with the conversation. “You used to sing,” she added, words going soft with sleep. “I liked that.”
His throat tightened, “you did?”
She nodded against his arm, “Mmm. It was nice.” She paused and as if satisfied she had fixed what she needed to and she slid from his lap.
“I’m going for a nap” she announced. “Mummy should too.”
“Very wise,” Colin murmured, “you heard your daughter Pen, go take a nap you can’t sleep there.”
Pen’s eyes opened, “you sure.” Colin nodded and she lifted a sleeping Thomas into his arms, before raising and following Agatha out if the room.
The door hadn’t it closed before Thomas shifted and small whimper left his lips.
He glanced down at Thomas, “Well little man,” he said more confidently now. “It seems I have been instructed.”
Thomas stared up at him, his lips curled as if he was going to scream but then Colin shifted him, gentler now, patted on his back, not like he was knocking on a door, just as Agatha had said. And Thomas stilled, wriggled, let out a small whimper but was calmer.
“Okay, okay we’ve got this baby.” Colin whispered before he began to hum and then to sing. It was a bit rusty at first and he was sure he’d got the words all muddled up. But it didn’t matter because Thomas’s sounds all but faded, only to be replaced by the soft humming of his snores. His little body relaxed against Colin’s and for the first time in three weeks Colin felt connected to his son.
When Thomas stirred again, an awkward nappy change. He dealt with it, settling him carefully and with the patient Thomas clearly needed form him.
The room fell silent, no audiences, no witnesses to see this breakthrough. Just Colin and his perfect, small stubborn boy.
Colin settled in the armchair, Thomas tucked securely into the crook of his arm, “there we are,” he murmured more to himself that anything. “I’ve got you baby. I will always have you.”
Thomas slept.
Colin watched him for a long time, then slowly, inevitably he did too.
*****************************************************************************************
When Pen woke the house was far too quiet. It was the fragile kind, the one that settled between cries. But the deep kind, when everything that needed to has finally fallen into place, had.
Agatha was curled up at the side of her still flat out, she slid her arm out slowly careful not to wake her and headed back downstairs.
Colin was where she had left him, the scene was the same but highly different. He was slumped into the armchair, head tilted back, fast asleep. Thomas was securely in place in his arm, small hand fisted into Colin’s shirt.
For a moment she just stood there and watched, a warmth bloomed in her chest. She reached for his phone and snapped a picture. Fiddled with the settings and set it as his lock screen.
A precious moment captured forever.
“Colin,” she whispered.
He stirred, blinking awake slowly, slightly disorientated for a moment before his eyes flickered to Thomas and he smiled.
“He’s asleep.” He murmured, like he need to say it out for it to be real.
“I can see that.” Pen’s lips curved into a smile.
“He didn’t cry,” he said, almost surprised, “not after…”
Pen reached out brushing her fingers gently over Thomas’ forehead, and then Colins arm. “He likes you.” She said gently.
Colin huffed a quiet laugh, “It didn’t feel like it.”
She smiled and leaned into kiss baby then him, “You just need a minute, to figure each other out.”
He glanced down watching Thomas again, like he needed to convince himself that what he had done was real. “Agatha helped.” He admitted.
Pen’s smile only deepened, “of course she did.” She paused watching her two boys. “You’re really good at this you know.”
Colin looked up at her, “I am?” he asked quietly.
Pen’s hand slid into his, “Yes,” she said. “You are.”
His shoulders eased at that, not pride, not quite, just something, settled inside him. He leant back again, careful not to disturb Thomas.
“Don’t tell him that,” he murmured after a moment, “I’d like to maintain some authority.”
Pen laughed quietly, the sound that made something hum low in his stomach.
“I think you’ve earned that.” She said. She placed another kiss on his temple and left him with his son.
The room stayed quiet, but it was full, complete and entirely his.