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“Heading out this morning, into the sun…”
The soft, honeyed rumble of Eddie’s voice draws you nearer, footsteps light on the creaky wooden floorboards.
“Riding on the diamond waves, little darlin’ one…”
The door, covered in purple coneflowers and orange Canada lilies that you and Eddie had lovingly painted, is pushed slightly ajar. You tip-toe closer in crumpled pajamas, lips curling into a smile at the warmth that drips from his words.
“Warm wind caress her, her lover, it seems…”
Your palm is gentle against the colorful wood, a subtle push before the door opens just enough for you to quietly slip through. You wiggle your toes against the plush mauve carpet, marveling at the luminous beams of early-morning sunlight that peak through the billowy curtains.
“Oh Annie, dreamboat Annie, ship of dreams…”
You move your attention to Eddie, who, in a pair of checkered boxers and his prized “World’s Best Farter I Mean Father” t-shirt, cradles your six-month-old daughter in his arms. Her small body is tucked against his chest, comfortably snug in his embrace as he sways the two of them in place. You watch him swipe a thumb over the springy curls at her temple, the way he gazes down at her with unbridled awe in his eyes, like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again.
“Oh, Annie, dreamboat Annie, little ship of dreams…”
You still remember the day you showed him the test, your fingers trembling as you placed it in his clammy palm. He glanced between you and those faint pink lines, his mouth agape in shock, his big brown eyes wide and watery.
“We’re having a baby?”
You nodded because it was all you could do in the moment, your words restrained by the lump that sat in your throat. There was a long minute of quiet, a minute where your shared fears and anxieties ran freely between the two of you, where you both questioned if you would even be good parents, but when Eddie wound his arms around your waist, and when you buried your face in the crook of his neck, you knew in the end that you’d be okay. You had each other, and Wayne, and an army of friends and family who, without a shred of apprehension, would help keep you afloat.
The fear continued to linger throughout your pregnancy, fading in and out of existence like a shadowy specter, but you didn’t let it steal your joy. It was strange and wonderful to watch your body change, stretching and shifting to accommodate the life growing inside of you. Some days were harder than others—particularly when the baby’s movements morphed from cute little flutters to full blown kicks—but through every new pain, every questionable craving, and every instance where you peed a little during a loud bout of laughter, Eddie was right beside you, dedicated and so damn enamored with you.
Seven months later, Annelise Louise Munson made her presence known to the world with what Eddie had deemed “the most metal debut ever” – with chaos, blood, and one hell of a scream.
Standing before the two of them, witnessing his devotion to baby Annie—who, despite having her father’s eyes, is the perfect blend of both of you—to fatherhood, and to you—his best friend, his partner, his soul mate—you feel a pleasant warmth thrumming just beneath your skin, the rush of it through every vein until it settles deep into your marrow.
Love.
Annie’s eyelids flutter, and with bated breath, you and Eddie wait for her to awake with a cry. You see her body tense, the small furrow between her brows, her lips beginning to purse, and just when it looks like she’s about to wail…she grows limp again, an angelic smile spreading across her face.
“False alarm,” you whisper to Eddie. “No tears, but I think she just pooped.”
Eddie lifts her a little to get a whiff, pulling away a second later with a grimace and a laugh that he has to stifle. “Definitely poop. And from the smell of it…it’s a gnarly one.”
You smirk playfully. “Like father, like daughter, right?”
“Damn straight. Annie Lou makes her daddy proud with her atomic farts. Isn’t that right, baby girl?” He coos down at her, still gently rocking her in his arms. Then, he stares at you with the sweetest of smiles, a look that, after all this time, still makes your stomach swarm with butterflies. “She gets all the best parts from you, though.”
You feel your heart squeeze at his words, and very quietly, you edge closer to him, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. A light dusting of pink blankets the apples of his freckled cheeks after you pull away from him.
“Very sweet…but quit trying to butter me up. You still have to change her diaper.”
“Gladly,” he simpers, playfully fluttering his lashes at you. “But I require something a bit more substantial to get the job done efficiently, sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes, unable to contain the smile that stretches across your face. You lean in once more, your lips meeting his this time. The kiss is soft and doesn’t last more than a few seconds, but the look in his eyes—those warm pools of brown that, in the sunlight streaming through the sliver of window not obscured by the curtains, glisten like whiskey in a glass—promises something more to come later.
“Alright, you got your kiss. Now get to work, Munson.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, wearing a dazed grin as he gently places Annie in her crib.
The two of you work side-by-side, Eddie fastening on a clean diaper while you dispose of the soiled one. When he’s done, he wraps your baby in his arms again, continuing to rock her while he hums her lullaby.
“You think she’ll ever get tired of hearing ‘Dreamboat Annie?’” you ask him, your thumb tenderly brushing against her chubby cheek.
“Nah, but if it stops working its magic, then there’s always ‘Barracuda.’”
You have to quiet the laughter that threatens to bubble out of you when you envision him whisper-grumbling the opening riffs of Heart’s “Barracuda,” bouncing in place with your daughter sleeping peacefully in his embrace.
“Her taste in music is gonna be legendary when she gets older.”
“That’s the goal,” Eddie beams. He bumps his shoulder against yours, his smile never abandoning him. “Have I told you that I love you?”
“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you shrug, casual yet teasing. “Care to remind me?”
“Always,” he says, impassioned and unwavering. “I love you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”
You catch him by surprise with another kiss, that same delightful warmth humming underneath your skin when you hear the hitch of his breath. His lips are still parted in awe as he gazes at you, grateful for the life that he’s built with you, thankful that he gets to spend every waking moment with you and Annie Lou.
Your finger loops around a curled strand of hair that falls from his messy bun, lightly tugging on it before you push it behind his ear. You cup his cheek, smiling as he leans into your touch.
“I love you, too, Eddie. Forever and ever and ever and ever.”