Michael had done the school runs when my back gave out in the third trimester. He had picked up Chloe from ballet, sat with Ava at the pediatrician when I was on bed rest, brought us groceries on Sunday afternoons. Aaron’s best friend since they were fourteen — tall and easy, part of the furniture of our lives.
Once, Aaron had come home early and found Michael and me laughing over coffee at the kitchen table.
“You two look comfortable,” he’d said.
He’d smiled when he said it, and I’d rolled my eyes. But that night, he asked how often Michael came by when he wasn’t home.
“He’s healthy. Seven pounds, four ounces.”
I’d laughed then, too. I hadn’t thought there was anything underneath the question.
I thought of him suddenly at a pool party two summers ago, climbing out of the water while Lily shrieked from his shoulders. His shirt had ridden up as he bent to set her down, briefly exposing the pale crescent-shaped mark near his lower back.
Then the memory slipped away as another wave of exhaustion pulled me under.
“Elena,” the doctor said from the doorway, her mask lowered, her eyes crinkling. “You did beautifully. He’s healthy. Seven pounds, four ounces.”
“Ready to meet Dad, little man?”
Aaron’s face lit up in a way I had never seen. Not on our wedding day. Not when Lily was born. Not any of them.
“A son,” he whispered. “We have a son.”
His eyes filled.
“Thank you,” he said to the doctor.
“He’s perfect.”
Rachel, the nurse, wheeled the bassinet closer, our tiny bundled boy inside.
“Ready to meet Dad, little man?”
Aaron lifted our son into his arms like something sacred.
“Look at him, Elena,” he whispered. “He’s perfect.”
Then Aaron went quiet.
I nodded, unable to speak. Eight years. Four daughters. And now the son Aaron had wanted for as long as I’d known him.
“Let me get him into a fresh onesie,” Rachel said.
Aaron reluctantly handed him back.
She laid the baby in the bassinet, peeled back the swaddle, and unsnapped the tiny gown.
“It can’t be.”
Then Aaron went quiet.
Not the quiet of awe. A different quiet. The kind that made the room drop ten degrees.
I lifted my head.
“Aaron? What is it?”
