Where We Left Off

I propped my crutch against the wall and hopped over to Corbin’s crib, mostly because it was easier to handle a one-year-old without hanging on to a crutch, but also because it also made him burst into the cutest fit of giggles every time.

“Hey, my favorite little buddy.”

Corbin grasped the rail of the white crib and used it to help him jump wildly up and down. His smile gaped so large that drool dripped right out from it. It soaked the neckline of his cotton onesie.

“I hear you had a pretty epic day.” Reaching down, I hoisted Corbin from his bed and hauled him over to the rocker near the window. I needed to steady myself with a hand on the wall, but once in the chair, we settled in for a snuggle. “Walking already, huh? That’s huge!”

Corbin babbled something incoherent and I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Super impressive, buddy. Not to steal your thunder or anything, but I gotta let you in on a little secret.” Leaning close, I brought my mouth to his ear. “I walked today, too.”

As if he could comprehend what I’d said, Corbin let out an excited squeal.

“I know, right? Big day for the men in this household.”

There was a collection of board books stacked like pancakes on the low table next to the rocker, and I picked up the top one to flip it open. It was one of Corbin’s favorites with fuzzy farm animals and noises that chimed with each turn of the page.

We were on the pig page, his little hand under mine as I guided it over the soft texture when he looked up me with his huge baby eyes and stopped my whole world from spinning.

“Dada.”

It was a mistake, of course it was. I shook it out of my head with a jerk.

“No, buddy. That’s a piggy.” I pressed his hand to the book. “See? Oink, oink.”

“Dada.”

I closed the book shut and placed it back on the table.

Then I saw her.

“How long have you been standing there?”

Mallory fidgeted uneasily with her apron and glanced to the monitor on the table next to me. She slumped against the doorframe. “You walked today?” Her eyes were wet, her cheeks pale. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Corbin’s super confused about his farm animals. I think we need to take a field trip to sort it out—”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

My feet planted under me and I pushed back in the rocker and sighed. “I didn’t want to steal Corbin’s thunder. This is a big day for him. For you both. Like ‘going in the baby book’ kind of day. I’ve walked before.”

“It’s not the same, Heath. This is a really big deal.”

“This is a moderately big deal.”

“This is a big deal and you should have shared it with me.”

I huffed out my air. “I’m sharing it with you now. I walked today. Four steps, but that’s it. I was scared shitless and worried I wouldn’t remember how to do it, but I did it. Maybe I’ll do it again tomorrow.”

Her tears streamed down her face. “I’m proud of you, Heath.”

“Yeah … I am, too.” Now I was crying. I found it a little ironic that the only one not crying was the actual baby. “I didn’t want to tell you about the appointment in case it went badly. In case I ended up sprawled out on the floor in a heap of shame.”

“There would be absolutely no shame in that.” Her mouth was downturned. “None.”

“It’s cute and adorable when babies fall down when they’re learning to walk. It’s a whole lot less adorable when a grown man eats it.” I scratched at my neck. “The faces on those poor kids at school this week—you should’ve seen them. It was like they were horrified and sad for me and embarrassed for themselves and it made me sick.”

“Do you think my father never fell down?” Her voice shook out of her in a way I’d never heard before. “Do you think I never had to come rushing into his room when he’d crashed to the floor, the paint and the brushes splattered and scattered around him? And do you think—ever for one moment—that I was embarrassed by it? That I’d lost respect for him or something? Heath—” Mallory shifted her weight and her eyes narrowed. “I love you. Good or bad. Walking or not. No matter what, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. So you sure as hell better let me be there for you.”

She said them as vows and my heart became a kick drum, thundering uncontrollably in my chest. “Mallory—”

“By the way, he knows what a pig is,” she said before turning to leave to head back to the kitchen. “And he knows who you are, too.”