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Coming home from the hospital with his family in tow was the best feeling Mark could ever experience. It had been a whirlwind 48 hours, leaving Mark with a plethora of things unsaid to Bridget, a newborn baby boy in his arms, and the woman he loved the most in the world leaning heavily against him. As he opened the door to Bridget’s flat, Will in his carrier and Mark’s arm around Bridget, Mark felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. He was so proud of Bridget for being an unstoppable force during labor, and he was practically brimming over with Smug-New-Dad-Syndrome.
Mark placed the baby carrier on the kitchen table, and took a step back. Bridget wound her arms around Mark’s waist, leaning against his chest as the two of them stared at the perfect little package that they had made together. Will’s little bow lips were pressed together, hungrily suckling in his dreams, while the dip of his eyelashes laid against the full, round cheeks that he had so clearly inherited from his mother. The fawn colored curls that were so clearly from the Darcy bloodline haloed his head. Bridget felt Mark sigh against her ear, and she smiled.
“Did you ever think we’d end up here?” she said, giving his waist a squeeze.
“At one time, yes, but it’s all rather stupefying to be honest. Never in a million years did I think coming over here to tell you I still loved you would turn into seven hours of labor and a son that’s actually mine.” He paused. “Don’t get me wrong, though...it’s the best stupification I’ve ever experienced,” Mark continued quietly. He leaned down to place a kiss against Bridget’s forehead.
“My water breaking didn’t ruin your trousers, did it?”
Mark let out a choked guffaw. “Bridget, my trousers are the least of my worries, darling. I’m a father now. I have...fatherly things to worry about.”
“Why don’t you do your fatherly things while I take a shower? You smell far cleaner than I do, and I’m dying to get out of these sweats and into some pajamas.”
Mark nodded and released his arm from around Bridget. “I think that’s a splendid idea. And then we can settle in for the night, just the three of us.”
Bridget chuckled and said, “I don’t know if we’re going to necessarily be ‘settling in’, Mark. Sure, the bassinet will be in the bedroom, but he’s been pretty prompt with his feeding schedule. Must get that from you.” She gave him a playful nudge.
“Darcy, through and through. Go ahead and take your shower. Us men will be in the bedroom.”
Bridget leaned up to plant a kiss against Mark’s cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.
Mark gently picked Will up out of the carrier, holding his breath and saying a prayer to avoid waking him up. The only response he received was some agitated squirming, and then the flickering open of his son’s eyes. There was no crying or screaming, though--just the two of them locking eyes. Mark knew that he was basically a blob in his son’s line of vision at this point, but it still didn’t deter his heart from catching in his throat. Mine. This perfect little creature is mine. Unable to stop himself, Mark brought William’s face up to his lips and placed a gentle, reverent kiss against his son’s forehead. Will let out a mewling yawn, his little fists flailing as he fought against sleep.
The doctor at the hospital had encouraged Mark to spend as much one-on-one time with Will as he could, especially since Bridget was breastfeeding and would have an inordinate amount of time with the baby. She suggested skin-to-skin contact to him, rambling off a list of benefits that included boosting mental development and improving whatever bonding the two of them would share. Mark didn’t want to sound pompous and showy, but he had secretly known all of those things--despite Jack’s hands-on approach to Bridget’s pregnancy, Mark had drowned himself in prenatal literature and read every article possible directed towards fathers-to-be. Mark Darcy never went into a new situation without doing some research, especially when it involved his future child.
Mark carefully carried Will into Bridget's bedroom, his son nestled sweetly in the crook of his arm. With the delicate touch one would use with the Crown Jewels, Mark placed Will directly in the middle of the mattress to avoid him rolling off of the bed. He toed his loafers off at the foot of the bed and yanked the jumper he was wearing off over his head. He smoothed a hand through his hair to try and tame his curls, which weren't gelled back since his brief visit home after William’s birth. He had popped out for an hour to shower and change, not even bothering to style his hair.
Taking a steadying breath, Mark started to undo the front of the white button-down he had on underneath the jumper, but kept it on instead of discarding it. He then lay down on the mattress, propping himself up on the pillows that stood against Bridget’s headboard. He could hear the shower going, and he knew that this was something he was going to have to do entirely on his own. The challenge thrilled him and scared him all at once. Mark looked down at Will’s little body, still in the furry onesie they had bundled him into before leaving the hospital. Mark reached over and gently picked Will up, placing him on his outstretched legs to get a better angle to unzip the onesie.
He wriggled Will free from the confines of his furry prison and settled back against the pillows, holding Will in the crook of his arm. Will’s little body trembled in Mark’s arms, and Mark became hyper aware of just how fragile his two-day old son was. Not wanting to prolong his suffering, Mark placed Will against his chest, wrapping his left arm around his own torso to support Will’s bottom and keep him upright against Mark. He frantically looked around him, trying to find something to drape over Will to keep the warmth in, and his eyes settled on his discarded jumper. With his right hand, Mark leaned over and snatched it from the edge of the bed, huffing with exertion as he brought it back over to where he and Will lay. He took the fabric and tucked it around Will’s body, grateful that he had chosen a soft cashmere jumper instead of something itchy.
Immediately, Will melted into Mark. Mark let his eyes roll back into their sockets with relief as he shifted his body weight to something more comfortable. Now that Will was secure against Mark’s chest, Mark brought up his free hand and cupped the back of Will’s tiny head with the spanse of his palm. One of Mark’s hands was almost the length of Will’s entire lower body, and it wasn’t lost on Mark just how tiny Will was. He pressed a kiss against the downy fluff of Will’s hair, holding it there while he inhaled what he was now deeming as his all-time favorite smell in the entire world. It was almost as if he could smell the essences of himself and Bridget mixed together into the intoxicating newborn smell that Will was giving off.
The two Darcy men lay there, Mark soaking up the feeling of this tiny human he could call his own laying on his chest. He was overly sensitive to the beat of his own heart, thudding in time with the tiny one inside of Will. Will’s little fingers flexed and unfurled as he let out a contented sigh, and Mark felt himself completely melt. Nothing else in this world will ever matter as much as this, Mark thought to himself, pressing his lips against the crown of Will’s head.
“I love you very much, Williams Jones-Darcy,” Mark murmured against his son’s curls. “I plan on being the best father in the world to you, and that’s a promise. Darcy men always keep their word, and mine to you is as good as gold. I’m going to teach you about the constellations, and we’re going to go to footy matches together, and once you’re old enough, I’m going to teach you the importance of being able to tie a proper Windsor knot. And no matter what you want to be in life, I will support you...as long as it’s a rational choice. And I’m going to love you no matter who you love...woman or man. Just as long as they’re respectful and treat you well, and love you unconditionally. It took me far too long to realize that I had that person for myself all along, but then you came into our lives and fixed that for your dear old dad.”
Mark took a breath, pressing another kiss where his lips lay against Will’s head.
“Speaking of your mum, you’re an incredibly lucky little boy to have her. She wanted you and fought for you, no matter what kind of hardship she came across. Even when I and your Uncle Jack were being absolute arses, she lifted her chin up and showed us both that she had enough love in her heart to make up for ten-thousand absent fathers. You’re not old enough yet to understand, but one day you’ll realize just how big of a feat it was for her to give up drinking for nine whole months. Between you and I, I’m still amazed she even managed it. But it was all out of love for you, and no one else. That’s one thing you should know about Mummy--her heart is ten times bigger than any other person I’ve ever met. It’s full to the brim with love, especially for people who don’t think they deserve it. Sometimes I think if someone feels that way about themselves, it makes Mummy love them even more...otherwise, I don’t know if I’d be sitting here right now, holding you in my arms. Make sure you listen to her. She knows what it means to accept someone for all of their flaws and tics, and she makes people realize that they’re worth something. I think that’s what makes me love your mum most of all.”
Mark’s monologue was cut short by a choked sob coming from the doorway. Bridget stood there, wrapped in a towel with her hair in soaking wet strands surrounding her face. She was clutching the front of the towel closed with one hand, and had the other up to her mouth, trying to suppress another sob from coming forth.
“Mark,” she began, her voice wavering. “Did you really mean all of that?”
Mark gave her a smile, his eyes crinkling with sincerity. “Of course I did,” he murmured. “I wanted to say all of it to you when I came by the other night, but...well, you know. Things got a little hectic,” he continued, nodding his head towards the slumbering infant in his arms.
“You’re bloody incredible,” Bridget said, crossing the threshold of her bedroom. She walked over to where Mark and their son lay, and she pressed her lips to Mark’s, cupping his cheek while she did so. Next, she pressed a kiss against Will’s head, where Mark’s lips had been lingering only moments before. “You’re going to be an amazing father, Mark,” she murmured as she righted herself up again.
“Well, you’re already an amazing mother. I’m just trying to catch up.” He smiled at her from across the room.
“Let me get my pajamas on and join you two. Give me two shakes,” Bridget continued. Mark watched her with practiced familiarity as she rummaged around inside of her disorganized drawers for a pair of pajamas. He couldn’t help smiling as her toweled rump bobbed and weaved in front of him as he listened to her curse under her breath.
“God, Bridget. I’ve missed you so much,” he said.
Bridget whipped around, still clutching the towel to her chest. “What makes you say that?”
“Just watching you...it feels like old habit at this point. How many years did I sit here and watch you haphazardly throw yourself together before we went out? Or, how many times did I sit here and beg for you to drop that towel, and you’d just laugh and tell me to bugger off? It’s like we’re entering a new chapter of the same scene.”
“You’re lucky you’re holding our son, otherwise I’d chuck something at you,” she said with a glint of mischief in her eye.
Mark laughed, causing Will to stir in his arms. Mark looked down at the baby he was holding with concerned ferocity. Will let out a small mewl, which suddenly started to increase in volume as he became agitated. Bridget was now fully dressed in a pair of mismatched pajamas, and she was braiding her wet hair as she approached the empty side of the bed. She picked up her cell phone and checked the time while Mark patted Will’s bottom and sent soothing hushes across his hair.
“He’s definitely hungry,” Bridget said matter-of-factly. She settled herself down next to Mark and unbuttoned the top few buttons of her nightshirt. “Give him here,” she said, opening her arms towards Mark. With deft precision, Mark placed Will in Bridget’s arms, where she promptly hoisted him up and offered him her breast. He eagerly took it, and Mark watched as Bridget settled back against the pillows with a sigh. “Thank God he’s a good eater,” she said as she closed her eyes.
Mark turned over onto his side facing towards Bridget, a hand under his head to prop himself up. He watched Bridget feed Will with hushed reverence. A certain level of emotion started to rise in his throat as he thought back on the past 48 hours. He pressed his lips against Bridget’s shoulder and held himself there, peeking over to watch their son. Mark felt Bridget turn her head towards him and kiss him softly on the forehead.
“Thanks for being there for me, and talking me through delivery,” she said quietly.
“You don’t have to thank me,” Mark murmured, his face still pressed against the soft fabric of her pajama top.
“Yes, I do. This entire thing has been an absolute mess and it was all my fault, but you were still so happy and understanding. That’s a big deal, Mark. You surprised me quite a bit these past nine months.”
“I suppose that could be seen as true, but let’s be honest, Bridget--I could’ve been a lot better to you. Cutting out on you at the hospital that day and ignoring you wasn’t exactly the right thing, now was it?”
Mark felt Bridget give a shrug against his cheek as she said, “That’s true. You were a bit of a prick. But honestly, I can’t say I blame you. Emotions were running so high between you and Jack, and even though I don’t commend what he said to you at all, I don’t blame your reaction to it. I probably would’ve done the same thing...gone home and drowned myself in a bottle of vodka and watched terrible romance movies until I passed out on my couch.”
“I basically did just that,” Mark said with a chuckle. “Minus the romcoms and replace the vodka with whiskey.”
Bridget laughed as she ran her free hand over Will’s curls, pausing to cradle his head and run her thumb along his hairline.
“Look at you, Bridget. You’re an absolute natural,” Mark said. He truly was in awe of how relaxed and comfortable she was with their son, comforting him as he suckled at her breast.
“Chalk it up to being everyone’s favorite godmum,” she said with a smile, turning her head to look at him.
Mark leaned up and kissed her reverently on the lips. She tasted like toothpaste, and he could smell that part of her that he could smell on Will. As the kiss broke apart, Bridget locked eyes with him and smiled. Mark smiled back at her.
“He definitely has your eyes...I just hope they crinkle like yours do when you smile. That’s when I know you’re really happy,” she said, lifting her hand up to cup his cheek and brush a thumb over the crow’s feet near his eye.
“That’s just age, Bridget. I’m not the spring chicken I once was.”
“You’ve always had them, Mark. And those dimples,” she continued.
“What about the jowls? And the gray hair?” he quipped.
“Oh, shut up. You’re just as handsome as ever.
Mark laughed and kissed her shoulder again, drawing himself closer to her body heat.
There was a few moments of silence as Will finished, both of his parents staring contentedly at him. As he unlatched, Bridget lifted him up to her shoulder and gestured towards the burp cloth that lay across the chair across the room. Without needing words, Mark knew what she needed--he got up off the bed and retrieved it for her before sitting on the edge of the mattress next to her. Bridget lifted Will up over her shoulder and patted him on his tiny back, which made Mark wince. He knew that Will was far from delicate in this sense, but it didn’t deter him from reacting with some hesitation as he watched Bridget thump on his tiny body. Will let out a healthy burp, and Mark saw Bridget relax. She brought the baby down from her shoulder and laid him out on her legs, just as Mark had done.
“You’re staying tonight, right?” she whispered without looking at Mark.
Mark glanced at her, a small flutter in his chest erupting. He had been hoping she’d ask him, practically praying for it, but he didn’t want to overstep boundaries and ask. Secretly, he had stashed an overnight bag in the back of his car when he made his stop at home, unsure of whether or not he’d need to use it.
“If you want me to,” he whispered back, lifting his hand to push the wisps of hair off of her face.
“I...I don’t think I can do it alone, Mark. It scares the shit out of me.”
“Then I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” He paused. “I’ll stay forever, Bridget. You’re my family.”
Finally, Bridget lifted her eyes to meet his. “You’re sure?”
“What would I be unsure of?”
“That you want us. You didn’t sign up for this, Mark. I know that...I get it. I just need to know that you’re not just saying it because I’m scared. I need to know that you’re saying it because you really want us both.”
Mark felt emotion catch in his throat as he stared at her. How could she ever think that? Then he thought back on his exit from her life at almost eight months pregnant, at the letter he wrote her offering financial assistance with no emotional attachment. Bloody idiot , he thought to himself. Scrubbing a hand down over his face, he looked at her. Gently, he took her hand in his.
“Bridget, I know I’ve been far from ideal these past few months, but I meant what I said when I came here the other night. You are my world...you always have been. Life is warmer with you in it. It’s worth living. And now that we’ve made this beautiful miracle together, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. I meant what I said--even if William wasn’t mine, I’d love him as if he were. We wanted this for forever, darling. Why in Christ’s name would I back out now?”
Bridget gave him a watery smile. “For thinking you’re so crap at emotional declarations, you really aren’t.” Mark laughed and leaned forward to kiss her.
“Let me go get my bag out of my car. Why don’t you put Will down and we’ll settle in for the night?”
Bridget nodded, the smile still on her lips. “Okay,” she murmured, looking down at their son with a soft fondness.
After reassembling the buttons on his shirt and putting his loafers back on, Mark ran down to the street and quickly grabbed his overnight bag. He practically bounded back up the stairs to Bridget’s flat, but not before a guilty note of the plastic covering the gaping hole in the window of the building door.
When he returned to Bridget’s flat, he found her rocking Will in the living room. She had dressed him in a simple white onesie, and it was evident that he had drifted off to a peaceful slumber. Mark walked over to her and placed a kiss against her head.
“Need anything?” he whispered.
Bridget looked up at him and said, “The bassinet is in the nursery--can you move it to the master? I don’t think I can keep him in another room tonight.”
Mark smiled fondly down at her and nodded. “Of course.” He went into the nursery and found the small bassinet she was referring to, and he carted it across the landing of the flat and into the bedroom, along with his overnight bag. When he stood up after placing the bag on the floor, he turned around to find Bridget standing in the doorway with Will in her arms. Mark gestured with an outstretched arm at the bassinet, and she smiled at him. Quietly, she entered the room and gently placed Will down. He watched her lean over the bassinet and place a kiss against their son’s forehead.
When she stood up, Bridget looked at him, and Mark could see how exhausted she was. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, and he felt her melt against his chest.
“I’m knackered,” she murmured against his chest. “What time is it?”
Without letting go of her, Mark checked his watch and couldn’t help the guffaw that came out of him. “It’s only 8:00.”
“Bloody hell,” she sleepily murmured against him, tightening her grip around his waist. “Bed. Now.”
“You go climb in. Let me put on some pajamas.”
He felt Bridget slip out of his arms and watched her shuffle over to the bed. She pulled back the covers and crawled in, pulling the sheets up to her chin and sleepily looking at him as he began to unbutton his shirt again.
“Mmmm, sleep and a show,” she said, smirking at him. Mark rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Remember how you reminded me of you begging me to drop my towel? Well, remember how I always used to beg you to give me a little show whenever you got home from work? That’s what this reminds me of.”
Mark couldn’t help the smug smile on his face as he let the oxford slip off his shoulders. “You have the strangest turn-ons, Bridget Jones.”
“You’re fucking hot, Mark. Especially when you get all unbuttoned. It’s sexy.”
“Well, you can’t do anything about it for at least four more weeks, so I guess I’ll just have to torture you until then.” His pants and socks came off next, and he neatly folded everything into a pile before sliding on a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt. “Now, scoot over so I can properly cuddle you.”
“Ooooh, Mr. Darcy cuddles. My favorite.”
Mark slipped in under the sheets next to Bridget and leaned over to click off the bedside lamp. He hadn’t even completely turned back towards Bridget before she was burrowing under his arm and nestling her head under his chin. He felt her sigh contentedly as her arm draped across his torso, and he gave her a squeeze.
“Love you, Mark.”
Mark pressed his lips against her head. “Love you more.” Bridget murmured something, which Mark didn’t quite catch. “What was that?”
“I said, ‘I know.’”
Mark grinned to himself. “I’m glad.”
As Bridget drifted off to sleep in his arms, only to be woken in a mere few hours, Mark soaked in the feeling of the moment. He could hear Will’s breathing from the bassinet, and the feeling of Bridget’s warm weight against him sent a wave of warmth through his body. After months of uncertainty, roller coaster rides of emotion, and inexplicable heartache, Mark finally felt himself level out. An overwhelming sense of stability and trust had settled into his chest, and it was a feeling that he had missed for the better part of five years.
It turns out that oxytocin is an amazing hormone, indeed.