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Zeke narrowed his gaze as Mesmer twisted his lips and leaned in. “The first quill you’ll be able to hold with confidence.”

Zeke’s brow furrowed, that little dip in his brows adorable, paired with how exhausted he was, he looked so vulnerable. “What?”

“Quillen.” Mesmer reached out and rubbed a finger over our baby’s cheek, and I kinda liked how it sounded. “And this is your second.”

Zeke froze in place as Mesmer pulled a pen from his pocket, a rather nice little fountain pen. With a flick of his fingers, he deftly pushed the pen behind his ear and drew his hand back, cupping Zeke’s cheek as if holding him still to study the bewilderment on his face. “Because you really can change the world with this little one. And besides… You and Lexi made a cuter baby than I think we ever could.”

Zeke didn’t say a word, only held our child.

“I kinda like that name,” I said, and Zeke nodded. “It’s fitting.”

“Quillen,” Bitty hummed, and I stared at our little one, fussing as his eyes opened, unfocused, unseeing. I low-key hated his first sight being Mesmer’s blurry little form. But still.

Zeke brought him over to us, settling down as Jess threw a burp cloth over my shoulder and we tried to figure out how that whole process worked. Fortunately, by some small miracle, Quillen seemed to know what he was doing. And after a vicious little wooling about against my chest, he got a nipple and latched on with a little coo of comfort. It seemed good enough to me, and Jess approved—as did Bitty—because for some fucking reason, everyone had to rate my nips and posture before they were satisfied. I smiled and stared at our little one, his hair a little fluffy mess. “Quillen it is.”

Zeke brought a towel up, cupping it to my chest on the other side. “It’s leaking.”

“Gross,” I laughed, and Bitty went back to tidying up. “Speaking of gross, can someone tell Syl to come in?”

Bitty nodded and slipped out, and I rested lightly until they pulled Quillen from my arms.

Quiet muttering stirred me, and Bitty gave me a little wave. “I can’t find him, and he’s not answering his phone.”

I frowned. “Must have really grossed him out. Did he take my car?”

She shook her head. “I checked.”

Part of me wanted to sleep while I could, but that went out the window as Bitty fluttered over me, hooking up some profane-looking milking device to my chest. “Pump what we can while we can. Your new milk is the best stuff. Plus, if I have bottles, I can get you used to a pump and feed the baby as needed and let you rest more. After all, it’s my job.”

I put up with it because it sounded convenient. Sleep sounded great. “Well, tell Syl he’s an uncle and send him up when you find him.”

I yawned and settled back in bed as Zeke slid out, checking on Quillen once more before leaving the room. Mesmer and Jess had gone, too.

So, when it was just me, the rumbling milker and Quillen in the room, I watched him, afraid to even touch him as his little mouth formed a soft o and his little breaths made his chest rise and fall. The pattern on his onesie made it easier to watch, and I thanked the heavens for it. Dark hair in messy little wefts, soft features, everything too new and alien to really compare to us, but I saw bits of myself, my mom, my dad, and Zeke. I even wondered if Zeke saw something of his father in Quillen.

“Welcome to the world, little one. It’s your chapter one.”

Epilogue

Syl

My best friend in the world had gotten baby juices on me and I couldn’t get out of my sleep shirt fast enough. Streaks of what had to be milk and a wet patch lower coated it, and I tossed the clothes over a railing on my way to take a long, hot shower, trying my best to ignore the noises of birth above.

Part of me thought it would have been sweeter, that I would have felt some sort of way about it, kinship, delight. I mean…part of that was a thing for me. I kinda had a kink for male lactation, after all. Not too much the pregnancy part, but when it was Lex leaking his milkies all over me—ew. I scrubbed at myself harder.

It took a while for me to calm down, getting over the intimacy of what was assuredly my little nephew or godson’s welcome water. When I left, all I could hear was Lex swearing at Mesmer, Jess kvetching, and Bitty being weird as usual. Maybe someone had dropped her on her head as a baby? I didn’t know. She was way too into Zeke and Lex’s life. But I got it. If Bitty hadn’t been there and I was more comfortable with babies—I’d have been that way, too. Total stan for the cute couple.

Not knowing what else to do, I dressed and wandered into the formal den and sat down, staring at the TV like it would turn on by itself. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found it dead—no cat Tetris or weird, kinky fanfic for me. Not that I liked it much, anymore. Being able to dive into those worlds made me afraid, fearful that I’d run into someone I didn’t want to.

Months spent on the run had given me a complex and far too many hang-ups, trying not to get caught up in syndicate bullshit. Letting the Archivist’s Society have me was for the best, I knew, but Mesmer hadn’t made me any promises, yet.

As I tapped my fingers and wiggled my feet, leaning this way and that on their couch, I left to get a snack and a drink and sat down, catching a glimpse of Bitty’s e-reader.

She’d never let us know her author name, and kept the device off the internet to keep any unsavory sorts from accessing her manuscripts and creating leaks. The thing was password protected to hell, but I had a gift with electronics. And I stared at her device as the pin option came up.

Four worn spots appeared on the matte screen. 1, 7, and 9 lay coated. If a one and a nine were in a document, it meant she was silly enough to use her birth year—statistically speaking. I typed in a quick 1977.

Nope, wrong pin.