While sleeping, John had been blissfully unaware of anything but Brett’s body close to him, but it all came back in a rush, banishing the last traces of exhaustion from his mind. The doctor had his complete attention now, and he peered at the man, who was smiling down at the two of them with perfect benevolence.
“First of all, Merry Christmas,” the man said, and when John glanced up at the clock on the wall, he saw that, yes, it was after midnight. Well after, almost two in the morning. He felt Brett’s arm wrap around his waist, and cuddled close to him, taking comfort from him. The doctor couldn’t have any bad news, or he wouldn’t look so happy, but that didn’t stop him from being nervous.
“Just tell us, please,” John pleaded, gripping Brett’s slender body close against him, and honestly not sure how he would even be able to handle this without Brett by his side. He was making all of this manageable, even if John was still terrified.
“You have a beautiful daughter.” The doctor, thankfully, had some mercy on them and came right to the point. “A Christmas baby. Eight pounds, five ounces, born at one thirty-six am Christmas day.”
John felt tears stinging his eyes, and for once, he didn’t even try to hide them. Even his father couldn’t fault him for crying at the birth of his baby. No one could, no matter how macho they were. When he looked over at Brett, he saw that he, too, was suspiciously wet-eyed. And that was okay, too.
“Can we see her?” John asked, and the doctor immediately nodded.
“Yes. Madison is resting comfortably now, but she said that we could let you in. Congratulations.” And even though the doctor clearly wasn’t all that certain who Brett was or why he was there, he was saying it to both of them. With one more smile, the doctor was gone, doubtless to try to get some rest.
“Go,” Brett urged him, finally releasing his grip, but John shook his head and didn’t let him pull away.
“Forget that. You’re coming with me,” John decided. Before Brett could protest, he took his lover by the hand and tugged him into the room, where Madison lay, utterly exhausted, blonde hair dark with sweat, but a slight smile on her face. Even when she saw Brett, that smile didn’t fade.
“Oh, good, you found him. So now, it’s really over,” Madison commented, and John smiled, a bit bashful, but he didn’t let go of Brett’s hand. He knew just what she meant. Her part was over. She’d had the baby, and she knew that the baby would have John and Brett.
“I want you to come by as often as you want,” John informed her once more. “I mean it. We’ll raise her, but it would be nice if she could see her mother sometimes, too.”
“What should we name her?” Brett asked, and that one simple question meant so much to John. He went over to Madison, who handed over the red-faced, wrinkly, damp creature that she had been holding, so small, so perfect to his adoring eyes. Brett wanted to have something to do with that decision. More and more, it was seeming like Brett was going to be fully involved.
“I like Noelle.” Madison was already drifting off to sleep, and was probably high on all sorts of painkillers, to offer that sort of suggestion. Noelle, for a baby born on Christmas? It was cheesy as hell, but when John looked down into the baby’s sleeping face, when he felt Brett’s arm around his waist and his presence by his side, for some reason, the name didn’t seem as ridiculous as he might have imagined.
Besides, it was a pretty name, and it somehow seemed to suit her.
“Noelle,” he murmured and glanced over at Brett, who nodded his agreement. “Welcome to the world, Noelle, and Merry Christmas.” He rested his chin on Brett’s head, this little family that they had formed the best possible Christmas present that he could imagine. He had a family. What a weird, wonderful thought. “Merry Christmas, Brett.”
“Merry Christmas, my love,” Brett returned, and even exhausted, even stiff and sore, John knew that this was a moment that he would remember for all his life—because it was the best Christmas ever.
Well, maybe the best one so far. There were many, many more years of Christmases to come.
