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Donna and Harvey couldn’t believe it.
Their honeymoon in Paris was perfect—walks along the Seine, dinner at the top of the Eiffel Tower, Harvey surprising Donna with a Cartier diamond eternity wedding band to go with his grandmother’s sapphire ring he had given her when they exchanged their vows, and their slow mornings on the balcony of their hotel suite, sipping their coffees, eating their breakfast as they listened to the sounds of the city of love. But three nights ago, they received a little honeymoon surprise neither of them expected, or at least didn’t think it would happen so quickly, as they both stared at the five white sticks in their hotel bathroom—all positive. There were tears, both of overwhelm and of happiness. Harvey had pulled Donna into his arms, lifting her slightly off her feet, kissing her like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment with her—his wife, now mother of his child.
Now they were flying back to New York to start packing their apartments, moving across the country to Seattle to work with Mike and Rachel, and, thanks to their little honeymoon surprise, to start their family.
They had a mid-morning flight out of Charles de Gaulle to JFK. They checked their bags and made it through security without any hiccups. Harvey reached for Donna’s hand, fingers intertwined, as they made their way through the terminal to the American Express Centurion Lounge to sit and relax until they had to board their flight.
Donna hadn’t been feeling the greatest when they woke up. She wasn’t sure if it was the nerves of the flight, the anticipation of the move, the morning sickness she’d been having, or a mixture of the three. She settled into one of the extra plush couches in the lounge while Harvey fetched some breakfast for the two of them. He had brought back some toast with butter and strawberry jelly for her, just as she liked it, and, of course, an overflowing plate for himself: a ham-and-cheese omelet, made to order by the chef, toast, potatoes, and a couple of different pastries.
Donna had only taken a couple of bites of her toast before she leaned back into the couch with a deep exhale, her eyes closed as she instinctively moved one hand to her belly—a gesture still so new.
Harvey looked up from his plate, his chocolate brown eyes focused on his wife. He placed the plate of food on the end table next to him and put a hand on her thigh. “You okay? Are you going to be sick again?” he asked, his voice low and steady in the way that made her feel like he was going to make everything okay.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, a small, wary smile curved on her lips. “My stomach’s just—figuring all this out.”
“What do you need?” he said as he started to stand up from the couch, ready to get whatever she needed to feel better.
Donna looked up at her husband and smiled. The man who once denied any feelings, who said that caring makes you weak, now stood beside her, waiting for her to tell him whatever it was she needed to feel better, and who looked like he could burst into tears every time his eyes drifted toward her belly.
“You think you could find me some ginger tea?” she asked gently. “Or ginger ale? Really just anything ginger because apparently that helps.”
“I’m on it,” he said immediately. He bent down and kissed her forehead, her temple, then her lips. “I’ll be right back.”
Harvey turned to make his way out of the lounge and into the terminal to find a shop, but Donna quickly grabbed his hand before he could walk too far.
He turned back towards her and raised a brow.
“Wait. One more thing,” she blurted out. “Canada Dry, not Seagram's for the ginger ale,” she requested. “If you can’t find it, Seagram’s will do.”
“Got it, Canada Dry ginger ale. Anything else?”
“Oh—and Cheez-its or Chix Mix for the flight. If my stomach stops doing this flippy thing.”
“I’ll get both,” he said gently as he bent down, sneaking another kiss to Donna’s lips, then turning towards the lounge exit.
Donna watched him weave through the lounge and into the busy terminal. She closed her eyes again, her hand remaining on her belly.
Hi, baby, she thought. Your daddy is already trying to fix things. He’s good at that. You’ll see.
***
Harvey walked through the crowded terminal, scanning the overhead signs to see what was nearby. He passed a perfume shop, a duty-free store filled with all kinds of whiskies and scotch that he didn’t care about at the moment, and a bookstore. Finally, he spotted a travel essentials shop—half snacks, half travel items that was conveniently next to a coffee shop, which hopefully had ginger tea.
He entered the shop and headed towards the refrigerators filled with drinks, swiftly scanning the variety of beverages on the shop’s crammed shelves for ginger ale.
“Ginger ale, ginger ale, Canada Dry ginger ale,” he muttered to himself as he searched shelf by shelf.
Water, sparkling water, Coke, Diet Coke, Sprite, everything but ginger ale. “Gotcha,” he murmured as he spotted the bottles of ginger ale. He grabbed two just in case Donna would need one for the flight.
Harvey started walking towards the other side of the shop to grab the snacks Donna had requested. He turned into an aisle lined with different souvenirs, miniature Eiffel Towers, neck pillows that looked like croissants, but something near the end of the aisle caught his attention and stopped him dead in his tracks.
There at the end of the aisle was a section of plushies—food plushies. Harvey smirked as he skimmed the shelves of plushies that resembled croissants, macarons, bacquettes, and even a fruit tart, but one in particular caught his eye that had made him stop.
There in the mix of the croissants and baguettes was one lonely red tomato with black button eyes and a tiny smirk—damn, he was already imagining their baby with his smirk. He picked the tomato off the shelf and squeezed it.
He smiled at the little red tomato, then chuckled to himself. Donna and her stupid yellow tomatoes on her pizza. Then he remembered when he once told Louis he thought about tomatoes when he—well, you know.
He shook his head, remembering what he was initially in the shop for—snacks for his pregnant wife. His pregnant wife. They were going to have a baby. A baby that was half him and half Donna. A baby that would one day be crying at him to buy them a lovey.
A lovey, he thought—a little lovey. Our baby needs a lovey, and how silly and perfect that their baby’s first lovey be a tomato.
He suddenly pictured their baby holding this silly tomato, fingers curled around one of the green leaves that he assumed was supposed to be the tomato's hair as Donna rocked them and hummed a lullaby to help them fall asleep in their nursery.
Harvey’s eyes began to fill with tears at the thought—this was their baby’s little lovey. He tucked the tomato under his arm, then continued to the back of the store to find the snacks.
Finally, after he found the bags of Cheez-its and Chix Mix, Harvey headed towards the cashier. He stood in front of the register and placed the items on the counter for the cashier to ring up.
The cashier greeted him with a “bonjour,” and he replied with “bonjour,” completely butchered in his American accent. He wondered for a second if their baby would learn to speak French.
The cashier smiled when she noticed the tomato plushie. “Un cadeau?”
Harvey swallowed. “Pardon?”
The cashier smiled at him and then scanned the tomato. “A gift?” she said softly with her French accent as she placed the tomato in a bag.
“Yeah, my wife and I found out we are going to have a baby a few days ago.”
The cashier grinned slightly as she looked down at the tomato, then to Harvey. “Le premier ami de bébé,” she said softly. “Baby’s first friend.”
He froze; the words hit him square in the chest. “Yeah—their first friend.”
The cashier handed Harvey two bags, one holding the bottles of ginger ale and snacks, the other with their baby’s tomato lovey, as he tapped his phone to the card reader to pay. He thanked the cashier with a “merci,” then walked towards the coffee shop next door, hoping they had hot ginger tea for Donna.
***
Harvey stepped back inside the lounge with bags in hand, along with a hot ginger tea he had found at the coffee shop.
Donna looked up from her Kindle as he walked towards her, her stomach feeling a little better once she saw him.
She sat up straighter when he reached her, and she laid eyes on the hot ginger tea in his hand.
“You were gone a while,” she said as Harvey handed her the cup of hot tea. “Did the ginger need to be negotiated through EU policy?”
Harvey smirked. “They’re drafting the legislation as we speak?”
She smirked as she took a sip of the tea, instantly feeling better as the hot tea made its way through her esophagus to her queasy stomach.
She took another sip and let out a soft moan, “Oh, that’s so much better. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said softly as he handed her the bag with her snacks and bottles of ginger ale, keeping the bag with the tomato plushie in his hand.
Donna took the bag of snacks and ginger ale from him and raised a brow, wondering what was in the other bag. “What else did you find?” she asked, gesturing her chin to the bag in Harvey’s hand as he sat on the couch across from her, tucking the shopping bag into his bag.
Harvey zipped the bag with a shaking hand. “Uh—just a little something. I’ll show you later. We should head to our gate. They will be boarding soon.”
She raised a brow at him, not wanting to push, so she let it go. He offered her his hand, helping her up from the couch. They walked towards the lounge's exit, holding hands, and entered the busy terminal, heading to their gate.
***
Shortly after they reached their gate, they began boarding. They settled into their seats, first class, the only way Harvey traveled. Donna curled slightly toward him, finishing her hot ginger tea before they took off. She rested her head on his shoulder as they began to taxi from the gate. Harvey brushed a stray red curl behind her ear, and she closed her eyes as the plane ascended into the air.
It wasn’t until the plane leveled off after takeoff and the seatbelt sign came off that Harvey shifted in his seat, Donna still resting her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed.
She stirred as Harvey shifted to grab his bag under the seat. She sat up in her seat, groaning slightly at the shift. “Hey, I was comfortable,” she teased.
Harvey looked up at her as he brought the bag to his lap and grabbed the shopping bag from it that held the tomato plushie. “I wanted to show you what was in the other shopping bag that you were so curious about earlier.”
That made her perk up. “Oh, let me see. It's not like you to buy a souvenir.”
He rustled his hand into the bag and pulled out the tomato plushie.
Donna was speechless; she gave him a dumbfounded look, but she also wanted to cry because she knew exactly who the tomato plushie was for.
“Harvey—” she said, barely above a whisper.
“I know we just found out,” he said softly. “It’s early, I know, and maybe a little ridiculous, but when I walked by this little tomato—I knew it was theirs. Their little lovey.”
Donna looked at him like she was memorizing him, every detail, maybe she was. She can’t believe that this is her Harvey—soft and mushy, buying a silly stuffed tomato for their baby.
“It’s not ridiculous,” she said softly as she shook her head, her emotions betraying her as her eyes began to fill with tears.
Harvey turned the tomato in his hand to look at him, then back towards Donna. “I think his name should be Tomate,” he said with a grin, wiggling the plushie back and forth in his hand. “You know, tomato in French, since we found out about our baby in France.”
Donna chuckled with a grin as she shook her head, a tear rolling down her cheek, and placed a hand on her forehead. “It’s to mat, not tom ate,” she told him, enunciating tomate in her elegant French accent.
“Tomayto, tomahto.”
Donna reached for Tomate, and Harvey placed it in her hands. She squeezed the stuffed tomato; he was soft, squishy, and lovable, and her fingers brushed the green leaves at the top of his head, then the tiny black button eyes, and she completely broke open.
She looked up at Harvey, who now had tears of his own rolling down his cheeks. “You bought our baby their first friend,” she said, barely audible.
Harvey didn’t say a word. He cupped her cheek and wiped away her tears with his thumb; he did the same to the other. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, both of them looking down at Tomate in Donna’s hands.
He lifted his forehead, lifting Donna’s chin, then kissed her lips, softly, lingering. “I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “And I love this baby so much. A day isn’t going to go by that they don’t know how much I love them—and you.”
“I love you, too,” she said softly. “I still can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you, and now we’re having a baby.”
“We are. And I can’t wait to meet them,” he whispered.
Donna placed Tomate between her and Harvey, then rested her head on his shoulder, making herself comfortable again. Her hand drifted to her belly, and she reached for Harvey’s hand and placed it over hers.
As the plane drifted farther into the clouds, Paris grew smaller, but their family was growing larger—by one baby Specter.
***
They had been back in New York from Paris for a few days. As soon as the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac, it seemed like the chaos never stopped. Boxes had taken over their condo; it looked like an Amazon warehouse had collided with a moving truck. Boxes were stacked against every wall, half-filled, labeled in Donna’s elegant handwriting. It also seemed as if their life were already slowing down amongst the chaos.
The mid-October sun was beginning to slip across Manhattan when Harvey woke up to go on his daily run in Central Park. He carefully pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard, trying not to jolt his sleeping wife next to him. He looked over at Donna to make sure she was still asleep, the first trimester exhaustion and morning sickness making her no longer a morning person. She was curled under the duvet, tucked under her chin, her curls spilled across the pillow. She looked peaceful, he thought, something rare these days, with the nausea that came every morning like an uninvited guest. He leaned down, brushed a kiss to her forehead, and whispered, “I'll be back soon.”
Donna didn’t wake up; she only made a tiny grumble and burrowed deeper into the duvet, if that was even possible.
Harvey smiled at her like the idiot in love that he was, then slipped out of bed and into the ensuite. He quickly changed into his black joggers and gray hoodie, then quietly slipped out of the bedroom, trying not to wake Donna, and into the living room to put on his running sneakers.
He sat on the black leather couch and laced up his sneakers. As he got up from the couch and grabbed his phone off the coffee table, he turned and saw all the open boxes half-filled with his vinyls and some sports memorabilia, including his signed baseballs.
Before heading out, he took a glance in one of the boxes, and right on top was a baseball, signed by Derek Jeter, in its plastic display container. For years, Harvey never admitted that he was a sentimental guy; he would rather go to the theater with Louis than admit it, but now he couldn’t help but imagine their child’s small finger pointing at the baseball and asking him, Daddy, tell me about signing Derek Jeter.
He shook his head, then ran a hand over his face, still getting used to the fact that the life he thought wasn’t for him was exactly the one he wanted. And now he had it. He placed the baseball back in the box, then headed out of the condo, the door clicking shut behind him.
***
The early morning chill hit him the moment he stepped outside; the air had a faint smell of wet leaves, one of the many things that was uniquely New York, and he knew he’d miss it. He assumed Seattle would have its own charm, but nothing compared to fall in New York City.
Central Park was quiet at the early hours of the morning; only a few runners, dog walkers, and cyclists were out. Harvey fell into his routine pace, the crisp air hitting his lungs, muscles loosening with every stride. He started running years ago to help clear his mind, to help him think, and lately, it has helped him process his life that was currently shifting faster than he could’ve imagined.
Married.
Moving across the country to Seattle.
Honeymoon in Paris.
And now Baby Specter.
Pretty soon, his thoughts were going to be: What are the best cribs, strollers, and car seats? And anything else baby-related.
As he continued his run, circling his usual path, he thought back to a few days ago in Paris, when he bought their baby their first lovey, that silly tomato plushie.
Damn, was that really the first thing I bought my baby, a tomato lovey? he thought as he continued his run. Shit. I could’ve bought them something more sentimental than a tomato?
As he ended his run in the park and jogged back to the condo, something made him suddenly stop short.
It was a small baby boutique he’d never noticed before near the condo. It was tucked between a busy Starbucks and a vintage clothing store. The display window featured an array of baby items: wooden toys, knitted sweaters, and, of course, plushies.
But none of them was the reason that he had stopped; what caught his eye was something else.
In the window, draped over a crib, was a white muslin blanket with NYC-themed items like a taxi, the Statue of Liberty, and a bagel scattered throughout.
Harvey took two steps forward, his breath fogging the glass a little.
He thought of their baby’s nursery, which he and Donna will be decorating in Seattle in no time, and, in eight short months, would be wrapped around their baby.
He stepped toward the boutique’s door like some force was pulling him in, reaching for the door handle, and walked inside.
The bell above the boutique door chimed as he walked inside, soft lullaby music playing throughout. An older woman with cat-eye glasses looked up from behind the counter as he browsed the store looking for the blanket.
“Good morning,” she greeted. “Can I help you find something?”
Harvey glanced at the shelves, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.
“I saw a blanket in your window,” he replied, pointing over to the boutique’s window.
“Oh—the New York City themed one, I assume,” she said softly as she rounded the counter and walked towards Harvey.
“Yes, that one. Do you have any more?”
“That is the last one, but you are welcome to have the one in the window if you like.”
He nodded at the woman. “Yes. Thank you,” he replied softly.
The woman climbed swiftly into the window display to grab the blanket, Harvey not far behind, a little worried that she would fall.
When the woman climbed out of the window display with the blanket, already folded neatly, she looked over at him. “Did you want to look around some more, or is the blanket everything?”
“No, I think that’s everything.”
The woman led the way to the counter, with Harvey a few steps behind. She carefully placed the blanket on the counter. He reached over and brushed his fingers across the soft muslin fabric.
“Is the blanket for someone special? I can put it in a gift box and wrap it in ribbon if you like?” the woman asked gently.
Harvey didn’t look up from the blanket; he continued to brush his fingers over it, memorizing every detail that represented the city he loved—loves—the city where he fell in love and married the love of his life.
“It’s for my wife—our baby. We just found out a week ago,” he murmured.
She smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he said softly, looking up from the blanket. “And yes to the gift box. I want to surprise my wife when I get home.”
Harvey paid, and the woman wrapped the blanket in white tissue paper, placed it in a white gift box, and wrapped the gift box with a satin yellow ribbon.
“Congratulations, again. I’m sure the blanket is going to be a part of many memories for you and your wife,” she said as she handed the gift box to him.
Harvey smiled, almost teary-eyed. “Thank you, and I think you’re right.”
***
Harvey entered their condo a short time later, carrying the gift box. He kicked off his running shoes near the door, padded his sock-covered feet into the kitchen, and placed the gift box on the kitchen island. He didn’t hear Donna in the bedroom; she was probably still asleep. He quickly walked towards the bedroom door and took a quick peek inside the bedroom.
There she was, still asleep; she had shifted a little since Harvey left on his run. She had one arm thrown over her head, the duvet tangled around her legs, her face pressed against the pillow, she made a slight noise as she slept.
Harvey quietly closed the bedroom door and padded back into the kitchen. He went to turn on the espresso machine to make himself and Donna vanilla lattes, but paused. Donna probably wouldn’t want coffee—the smell might make her stomach feel worse. Instead, he filled the kettle and set it to boil, and pulled the ginger tea from the cabinet. He made sure, after learning that it helped Donna’s stomach on the way home from Paris, to order some in bulk from Amazon while they were on the plane.
The kettle clicked off. Harvey poured the hot water over the ginger tea, steam curling upward. He grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers from the pantry, Donna’s current go-to breakfast these past couple of mornings.
He moved towards the bedroom with the gift box under his arm and held the mug in the other hand, the sleeve of saltines between his teeth, because he was determined to make one trip to the bedroom.
Donna stirred in the bed; she was awake—barely. She rolled over when she heard him enter the bedroom; her eyes were still heavy as she blinked up at him, sitting up against the headboard, hugging a pillow against her chest.
“Morning,” she murmured, voice still filled with sleep.
“Morning,” he mumbled the best he could with the sleeve of saltines still between his teeth. He placed the mug of tea on Donna’s nightstand, along with the gift box and the sleeve of saltines. “I made you tea because I didn’t think coffee was safe yet, and some crackers since that’s been helping with the nausea.”
Donna smiled up at him, still a little sleepy. “Thank you. You are slightly forgiven.”
He raised a brow, confused. “Forgiven? What did I do?”
She grabbed the mug off the nightstand and took a sip of tea. “You are slightly to blame for me feeling like this,” she replied, smirking into her mug.
He didn’t argue. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her thigh.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She sighed deeply. “Like I might throw up, but only if I move, so I’m staying here forever,” she muttered, but added softer, “But I’m—good. I’m not used to feeling this exhausted all the time.”
He brushed a stray curl behind her ear. “You’ll get past this.”
She took a bite of a saltine. “I know. It’s just rough with everything. From moving. A new job. A baby. It’s a lot.
“We’ve survived harder transitions before,” he said with a smirk.
Donna laughed into her tea. “Like you running from your feelings for over a decade. I guess to you, this is easy.”
“Touché.”
Donna looked over to the nightstand, placing her mug on it, and spotted the white gift box, then raised a brow at Harvey. “What’s in the box?”
He cleared his throat. “I uh—saw something on my run, for the baby.”
Donna tilted her head at him, but then lifted a brow, slightly suspicious. It wasn’t like him to buy gifts; he was a horrible gift-giver for as long as she had known him, and here he was buying not one, but two things for their baby in a matter of days.
“You went shopping on your run?”
He chuckled. “Technically, I was on my way home from my run, and—I paused.”
“Paused?” she said playfully, nodding her head, taking another bite of a saltine.
He stood from the bed to grab the gift box from the nightstand and handed it gently to Donna.
She paused for a beat, taking in the simple white gift box with a satin yellow ribbon. She carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. She pulled out the blanket wrapped in tissue paper and unwrapped it slowly.
Her breath caught when she saw the blanket. It might have been simple to others, but to her and Harvey, New York meant everything, and now it was going to mean something to their baby, starting with this blanket.
Donna brushed a hand over the soft muslin fabric of the blanket, then lifted it from her lap, feeling the soft fabric between her fingers so she could take in the blanket in its entirety.
“Harvey,” she whispered, her voice trembling a little. “It’s perfect.”
Harvey watched her as she took in the blanket. “Even though our baby will be born in Seattle, they will always be a New Yorker. It's in their blood.” His glance lingered on her for a beat. “It's also where they were conceived,” he said softly with his Specter smirk.
Donna continued to look at the blanket in her hands, her thumbs continued to brush over the soft muslin. “You’re an idiot,” she murmured with a grin, then leaned forward and kissed his lips slowly.
She leaned against the headboard, hugging the blanket against her chest. “Our baby is going to love it. And someday they’re going to drag this blanket everywhere with that silly tomato you bought.”
Harvey laughed, then smiled at the thought, their baby toddling around with this New York City blanket and the silly tomato plushie. “I can’t wait.”
***
It had been five months since Donna and Harvey officially moved to Seattle. They finally felt like they were settling into their new home, their new jobs, but now it was time to get ready for Baby Specter, who was officially named Jude.
Donna’s pregnancy had been smooth for the most part, despite her husband blessing their baby boy with his big baby gene. She was now 30 weeks pregnant, a few weeks into the third trimester. She was in the nursery, and the peaks of the spring afternoon sun spilled through the nursery’s windows, dusting golden streaks on the light gray walls of the nursery. The room was soft and calming, a perfect fit for their little boy.
Donna leaned against the oak-wood crib, with a wallpapered accent wall behind it. The wallpaper was white, with images of the Statue of Liberty, yellow taxis, bagels, pizza, the Brooklyn Bridge, and pigeons scattered throughout, their boy’s name in black block letters hung above the crib, her hand resting on her growing belly, taking in the finished crib, now with sage green sheets and the New York City muslin blanket that Harvey had bought when they were still in New York was draped over the crib. She smiled as she thought that in ten weeks or maybe less, their not-so-little boy will be swaddled in that blanket, sleeping in this crib.
She felt a swift kick from her boy. She rubbed a circle with her palm where she felt him kick. “Your room’s ready for you, Jude,” she whispered to her belly. “And so am I.”
“Don’t forget about me.”
Donna turned towards the bedroom door, where she found Harvey leaning against the doorframe with a baseball in a plastic protective case in one hand and a light brown, fuzzy, and ratty teddy bear in the other.
She tilted her head slightly. “How can I forget you?” she teased. “You are half the reason for all of this,” she said softly, gesturing to her belly.
Harvey grinned, walking towards her, kissing her lips when he reached her.
Donna looked at the baseball and bear in his hands. She had seen the baseball before; it was one of many, but she hadn’t seen the bear before. “What’s this?” she asked, grabbing the bear gently out of his hand.
Harvey hesitated for a beat, slightly embarrassed by what he was about to tell her. “It—he’s mine—from when I was a kid.” He paused for a beat. “ My dad bought him for me.”
She looked up from the bear in her hands to her husband. Her face turned from amused to empathic. “Oh—Harvey.”
He reached for the bear, brushing its tattered fur. “He named him Miles. After Miles Davis.”
Donna chuckled at the name. “Of course he did. A jazz musician named his son’s stuffed bear after another jazz musician. Very original.”
“I thought Jude would like to have him.”
She started to get teary-eyed, which happened a lot throughout the pregnancy. Damn hormones she would tell him.
“I think Jude would love to have Miles,” said softly, looking at the bear more closely. “What’s with the baseball?”
“Also for Jude,” he replied, holding up the baseball in its plastic display box to her. “Derek Jeter. Since we are making our Seattle boy a NYC-themed room, I thought it would be fitting to have a baseball signed by one of the Yankees' greatest on display in his room.”
Donna smiled, a single tear escaping. “I love it, and so will Jude. Where should we put them?”
He walked towards the bookcase, already filled with books and other small knick-knacks, on the other side of the room, near the plush glider. “I was thinking the bookcase.”
She walked over to the bookcase and placed Miles on one of the middle shelves, next to Tomate, now called Tom for short. Then Harvey put the baseball on one of the top shelves, next to his old baseball glove that he had snuck into the nursery when Donna wasn’t home.
They stepped back from the bookshelf, taking in the new additions to Jude’s room. Harvey wrapped his arm around her waist as she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Jude’s little lovey with his daddy’s little lovey,” she muttered, her eyes focused on Tom and Miles on the bookshelf.
“He’s going to love them.”
***
It was a cold, gray, and gloomy afternoon in Seattle, typical for October. Harvey had taken the afternoon off from Specter Ross, like he did every Friday. He entered the house from the garage, kicking off his shoes, taking off his coat, and tossing his keys on the kitchen island. He hoped he wasn’t too late as he made his way through the kitchen and up the stairs.
He cracked the bedroom door slowly, peaking in before opening the door fully. There they were, Donna and Jude. Donna sat in the glider, rocking back and forth as she cradled Jude, now four months old. Harvey smiled at the sight of his wife and son as they fell into their typical naptime routine, he tried not to miss it when he had the afternoon off. His focus went back to Jude, whose chubby little hand wrapped around his little lovey, Tom’s green leaf hair on the top of his head, his pacifier bopping back and forth as he made gurgling sounds, fighting back sleep. He had pictured this only a year ago: his wife and son in this nursery, rocking in the glider with the little lovey he bought in Paris, the NYC themed muslin blanket he bought in the boutique on one of their last days in New York wrapped around Jude, his other hand wrapped around one of the blanket’s corners as he brushed his fingers against the fabric, soothing himself to sleep.
Harvey slowly stepped into the bedroom, trying not to distract his son from falling asleep or startling his wife. But Donna sensed him; she always had.
She looked up from the now sleeping baby when he got closer. “Hey, you,” she whispered. “How was your day?”
Harvey smiled at his wife and baby. “Better, now that I’m home with you and our boy,” he whispered, brushing his hand through their boy’s blond waves.
Donna looked back down at Jude, sleeping, pacifier still bopping back and forth, holding onto Tom and blankie for dear life. “He really loves this stupid tomato and blankie.”
He chuckled softly. “He does.”
“Do you want to put him in his crib?”
Harvey didn’t hesitate. He reached down, one hand under Jude’s head, the other under his butt, and scooped him up from Donna’s lap.
Jude stirred slightly, but settled after a few shh’s and whispers of sweet nothings from his daddy.
Harvey laid the sleeping baby down in his crib, removing the blanket and Tom from his grip, and moved them to the other side of the crib away from Jude. He leaned down and kissed Jude’s forehead. “Have a nice nap, my boy. I will see when you wake up.”
Donna smiled, leaning against Harvey’s back, looking over his shoulder at their boy. “We really made the most perfect boy, didn’t we?”
He grinned, a slight Cheshire cat grin. “We did. He’s absolutely perfect.”
Donna rested her chin on Harvey’s shoulder, hugging him from behind. “I love you, Harvey.”
He turned towards her slowly, kissing her lips. “I love you, too,” he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. “Now, what do you want for lunch? I’m sure you are starving.”
She giggled, softly, trying not to wake the baby. She grabbed the baby monitor screen from the shelf before Harvey pulled her by the arm towards the bedroom door, closing it slowly behind them.
Everything changed for them the past year since they found out Donna was pregnant. It was chaotic, amazing, and they wouldn’t have had it any other way.