Izzie, Creed, and Anna all take a step back at the same time.
“You guys are so dumb,” I mutter, rubbing Otter’s back.
“I don’t even know why this is happening,” Otter says, voice cracking. “I’m fine. I’m happy.”
“It’s because of the pregnancy hormones,” I tell him. “They’ve infected you. Maybe you should listen to me next time.” He glares at me, so I add hastily, “Or we can just chalk this up to being a very exciting day. That works too.”
“Jerry cried,” Alice says, smiling at her husband and son. “With Oliver. Even really before everything started. I was having these horrible contractions, and he’s got these tears streaming down his face. I thought I was hurting him, squeezing his hand too tightly.”
“But I was just happy,” Jerry hums. “And nervous and exhausted and oh so excited. That’s all this is.”
“Creed cried too,” Anna says.
“I can admit it,” Creed says. “I’m man enough. I bawled like a little bitch. And then JJ came. We’re so lucky that we—JJ, I swear to god, if you even go near that fire alarm, I will cancel Christmas this year and give all your presents to orphans.”
“Orphans get everything,” JJ grumbles, backing away from the fire alarm.
“Pretty much how it is,” Ian says. “It just catches up with you when it starts.”
“And then everything starts happening so fast that it’s over before you know it,” Dom says.
“I’m not crying,” I say. “I must be broken.”
“Sarah McLachlan thinks you should donate more—”
“Goddammit, Izzie! Why are you like this?”
MARTY AND Megan are walking up and down the hall an hour later, Megan’s hand at her stomach. Marty told Otter and me that we have to maintain at least a ten-foot distance because he’s trying to get her into her birthing space, whatever the fuck that means.
So instead, we’re sitting on the floor, our backs to the wall, watching them from a distance. Marty’s got such a hold on her, like she’s the most precious thing in the world. She’s gripping him tightly, and he’s whispering in her ear, and for a moment, I allow myself to think just how amazing Marty is. But only for a moment.
Otter’s sitting cross-legged next to me, clutching my hand in his lap. His grip is a little clammy, and it’s uncomfortable, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, so I don’t say much on it. I think he’s embarrassed, at least a little, about crying in front of everyone like that. I don’t know how to tell him that it just made me love him more without probably setting one or both of us off all over again.
“It’s weird, right?” he says quietly, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” I say promptly. Then, “What is?”
“That we’re here. Now. In this position. In this moment. After everything.”
“Good weird?”
He smiles a little. “The best weird. It’s just….”
I wait, knowing this is important. I don’t want to rush him.
He says, “After I… left, back then, I—it wasn’t good. For me. I was running from something I don’t think I quite understood. I felt—it’s not your fault, okay? That’s not what I’m trying to say. But I thought if I stayed, it would kill me. Seeing you. As you were. And it was wrong, because you were so young, and I was nothing. To you. I was your best friend’s older brother, and who was I to get to have anything from you?”
“You know that’s not true. You were never just my best—”
“I know. I’ve known that for a long time. But back then? It wasn’t—you know things were off. Mom and Dad hadn’t taken my coming out very well, I was crushing on this kid whose whole world had just imploded, and I just… couldn’t.” He squeezes my hand. “And there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of you. I told myself it was stupid. That it was probably borderline creepy. That I was just wallowing in guilt for breaking a promise to you that I’d always be there.”
He shakes his head ruefully. “I thought I could be happy, you know? I went to parties. I met famous people. I met… Jonah. And for a long time, I thought it would be enough. I put that picture I had of you away and told myself I didn’t need to look at it.”
“The one of me standing at the beach. With the storm coming in.” It’s hanging in the Green Monstrosity, Otter having set it almost reverently on the wall after we’d first moved in.
“Yeah. That’s the one. Because that’s how you’ve always been to me. This great big storm, all flash and rumbling and kinetic energy. And I just—I couldn’t do it anymore. I used Jonah’s cheating on me as an excuse, I think. Even if it hadn’t happened, I was always going to come home.”
“And you did.”