Charlie
“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”
Emma stopped beside me and eyed the driveway through the living room window. At thirty-two weeks pregnant, she looked radiant, even with the wrinkle of concern between her brows.
I forced a grin. “More like a tiny tornado of terror.” My fingers found hers, intertwining. “You sure you’re up for this? It’s not too late to call Jesse and cancel.”
She squeezed my hand. “And miss out on all the fun? Not a chance. Besides, it’ll be good practice, right?”
Before I could respond, the roar of an engine cut through the air. A familiar SUV came barrelling up the drive and screeched to a halt outside my door.
“Brace yourself,” I muttered.
The car doors flew open. Excited squeals and incomprehensible babble filled the air as Jesse’s little terrors spilled out before he could even get his door open. He’d helpfully forgotten to mention that they could undo their child seats. Great. Just great.
He corralled them with a look and a shout, ushering them towards the front door. Why had I thought this was a good idea?
The door burst open — why hadn’t I thought to lock it? — and suddenly my pristine foyer was overrun by a swarm of tiny humans.
“Special delivery!” Jesse’s voice rang out, filled with barely-contained glee. “One trio of adorable terrors, as promised!”
“Wait, Jesse—”
But my so-called best friend was already backing away, hands raised in surrender, a manic grin plastered on his face.
“Gotta run! Important... uh, agent stuff. You know how it is. They’ve had lunch, but they’ll probably want snacks soon. And maybe a nap. Or not. Who knows?” He laughed, the sound bordering on hysterical. “Good luck!”
Before I could even process what was happening, Jesse had vanished, leaving Emma and me standing in the foyer, mouths agape, as three tiny hurricanes disguised as children barrelled past me and chaos erupted around us. My pristine house transformed into a toddler warzone in seconds flat.
A blur that I assumed was Ezra zoomed past, heading straight for my prized collection of signed scripts.
Emma, already waddling as fast as her thirty-two week pregnant belly would allow, called out, “I’ve got him!” She managed to intercept Ezra just before he could use Pulp Fiction as a colouring book.
I shook myself out of my stupor. Right. Three kids. We could handle this.
I turned to Emma, eyes wide. “Did he just—”
“Yep.” She nodded, lips twitching with amusement.
“And we’re—”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shit.”
“Language,” she chided softly, gesturing to the kids still clinging to our legs.
Right. Tiny ears. I cleared my throat. “I mean, uh, shoot. Okay, team. Who wants to... watch Frozen?”
Three heads snapped up, eyes shining with an almost feral intensity.
“Fozen!” Luna shrieked, already making a beeline for the living room.
“Me first!” Ezra shouted, shoving past his sister.
Noah toddled after them, clutching a ratty stuffed elephant to his chest. “Ellie want Fozen too,” he mumbled.
I exhaled slowly, my body tense like I’d just defused a bomb. “Well, that bought us five minutes of peace.”
Emma laughed, the sound warming me from the inside out. “Oh, you sweet summer child. You think it’ll be that easy?”
As if on cue, a crash echoed from the living room, followed by the distinct sound of something expensive shattering.
“Sparkle did it!” Luna’s voice rang out.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, wondering if it was too late to call Jesse back. Or maybe hire a team of professional nannies. Hell, I’d settle for a small army at this point.
“Tell me again why we thought this was a good idea?”
Emma’s arms snaked around my waist, her belly pressing against me. “Because we’re going to be parents soon, and we need all the practice we can get?”
I leaned into her touch. “Right. Okay. We’ve got this. It’s just three kids. How hard can it be?”
Another crash. This time, accompanied by Ezra’s voice: “Oopsie!”
Emma patted my chest consolingly. “You were saying?”
I squared my shoulders, steeling myself for battle. “Alright, let’s do this.”
We marched into the living room, hand in hand, ready to face whatever chaos awaited. The scene that greeted us was... well, apocalyptic might be a bit dramatic, but it wasn’t far off.
My pristine white couch was now decorated with what looked like grape juice stains.
Where had she found grape juice?
Luna stood proudly next to her artwork, marker in hand. Even better, where the hell had the markers come from?
“Sparkle says purple is pretty!” she declared.
A vein throbbed in my forehead. “Luna, sweetie, we don’t draw on furniture. Or walls. Or anything that’s not paper, okay?”
“But Sparkle said—”
“Sparkle needs to learn some manners,” Emma cut in smoothly. “How about we find some paper for you and Sparkle to draw on instead?”
While Emma dealt with our budding artist, I turned my attention to Ezra, who was suspiciously quiet. I found him in the corner, my phone in his tiny hands.
“Hey buddy, whatcha got there?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Phone!” he exclaimed, his little fingers already smearing the screen. “Why it no work?”
“It’s sleeping.” I gently pried it from his grasp. “How about we play with something else?”
“Why?”
Oh boy. Here we go. “Well, because phones are for grown ups?”
“Why?”
“Because they have important information—”
“Why?”
I looked to Emma for help, but she was busy trying to convince Noah to let go of the curtains he had wrapped himself in. I was on my own.
“You know what? Great question, buddy. How about we talk about it over some snacks?”
At the mention of food, all three kids perked up. “Snacks!” they shouted.
I led our little parade to the kitchen, feeling a small sense of victory. Food. I could handle food. Right?
Wrong.
“I want cookies!” Ezra demanded.
“No, ice cream!” Luna countered.
Noah just clutched his elephant tighter and echoed, “Ice cream!”
Emma waddled in, looking amused. “How about some apple slices and peanut butter?” she suggested.
You’d think we’d offered them Brussels sprouts dipped in cod liver oil. The chorus of “No!” was deafening.
“Okay, okay,” I said, racking my brain. “How about... uh... monster toast?”
Three pairs of eyes stared at me blankly.
“Toast with silly faces.” I said, hoping we had enough variety in the fridge to pull this off.
To my relief, this seemed to pique their interest. As I set about gathering supplies, Emma corralled the kids at the table.
“Why monster toast?” Ezra asked.
“Because monsters are fun,” I said, pulling out bread, peanut butter, banana slices, and blueberries. “And who doesn’t want to eat a silly monster?”
“What if a monster eat me?” Luna asked, eyes wide.
Emma jumped in, “Then you eat it first! That’s the rule with monster toast.”
I grinned at her quick thinking. We made a pretty good team.
As I assembled the faces — peanut butter spread, banana slice smiles, and blueberry eyes — the kids watched in fascination. Noah clutched Ellie close, whispering something about friendly monsters.
“There we go,” I announced, presenting each child with their own monster toast. “Silly faces, ready to be devoured!”
Luna giggled, immediately biting off her toast monster’s ‘nose.’ Ezra studied his intently before asking, “Why monster have blue eyes?”
“Because... uh... blue-eyed monsters are the silliest,” I improvised, catching Emma’s amused smirk.
As the kids munched on their monster toast, I thought we might actually get a moment of peace. But then...
“Ellie wants to swim,” Noah announced solemnly.
“Swim?” Emma repeated, confused.
Before we could stop him, Noah had toddled over to the sink and was attempting to hoist his stuffed elephant into it.
“Whoa there, buddy!” I scooped him up just in time. “How about we keep Ellie dry for now? Maybe she can take a pretend swim instead?”
Noah’s lower lip trembled. Oh no. Please no.
“But... but... Ellie want real swim!” he wailed.
And just like that, the fragile peace shattered. Noah’s cries set off a chain reaction. Luna decided she was no longer interested in her sandwich and instead wanted to ‘paint’ the walls with peanut butter. Ezra, not to be outdone, made another grab for my phone.
As chaos reigned once more, I caught Emma’s eye across the room.
Despite the madness, she smiled. “Still think we can handle this?”
I grinned back, feeling a surge of affection for this amazing woman. “With you? I can handle anything.”
And you know what? I meant it. Sure, my house was being systematically destroyed by three tiny tornadoes. Yes, I was pretty sure I had peanut butter in my hair and marker on my shirt. But watching Emma navigate this chaos with grace and humour, I couldn’t help but feel excited for our own little one to arrive.
#
As the afternoon wore on, the kids started to get restless. Luna had run out of walls to decorate, Ezra had asked “why” approximately five hundred times, and Noah was still sulking about Ellie’s missed swimming opportunity.
“Okay, troops.” I clapped my hands, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Who wants to see something really cool?”
Three little heads swivelled towards me, eyes wide with curiosity.
Emma raised an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”
I winked at her. “You’ll see. Follow me, munchkins!”
I led our ragtag group to the guest room, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As I pushed open the door, I heard Emma gasp behind me.
“Charlie, what is all this?”
The room was filled with colourful baby toys — stacks of blocks, a mini ball pit, a play kitchen, and even a tiny slide. I’d gone a bit overboard during a late-night online shopping spree last week…
And add all of that to the stuff I’d bought before…
I have a problem, okay?
“Surprise?” I said, sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck.
The kids didn’t wait for an explanation. They barrelled past us, squealing with delight as they dove into their new playground.
“Blocks!” Ezra shouted, immediately starting to build a wobbly tower.
Luna made a beeline for the play kitchen. “I make cake for Sparkle!”
Even Noah perked up, toddling over to the ball pit with Ellie tucked under his arm.
Emma turned to me, her eyes shining. “When did you do all this?”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Oh, you know, just thought it might come in handy. For practice.”
She saw right through me, of course. “For practice, huh?” She placed a hand on her belly, smiling softly. “You big softie.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Don’t tell the guys.”
The first time she caught a large delivery, she’d teased me but didn’t ask questions. She had a glint in her eyes now that warned me that the day was coming, but what did it matter? I had more than enough money to spare, and I wanted our son to have everything he could ever want.
Including Los Angeles Kings signed skates…
For a while, we just stood there, watching the kids play. It was chaos, sure, but a joyful kind of chaos. Ezra’s tower grew taller and more precarious by the second, Luna was having an animated conversation with Sparkle about proper cake-baking techniques, and Noah was contently buried in colourful plastic balls.
“Why tower fall?” Ezra asked as his creation toppled for the third time.
I knelt beside him, picking up a few blocks. “Well, buddy, it’s all about balance. See, if we put the bigger blocks on the bottom, like this...”
As I helped Ezra rebuild his tower, explaining basic engineering concepts in toddler-friendly terms, I caught Emma watching us, a soft smile on her face.
“What?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Nothing. You’re just... really good with them.”
My chest tightened, but in the best possible way. “Yeah?”
She nodded, then laughed as Luna tugged on her hand.
“Auntie Emma! Try my cake!”
I watched as Emma pretended to take a bite of the plastic pastry, making exaggerated “yum” noises that had Luna giggling uncontrollably.
The next hour flew by in a blur of imaginative play. We built cities out of blocks, cooked gourmet meals in the play kitchen, and went on daring rescue missions in the ball pit. I found myself getting more and more into it, putting on different voices for each character in our make-believe games.
“The brave Sir Charlie scales the treacherous mountain!” I narrated dramatically as I pretended to climb an invisible peak, eliciting shrieks of laughter from the kids.
Emma leaned against the doorframe, shaking her head in amusement. “And they say I’m the dramatic one in this relationship.”
I struck a heroic pose. “I’ll have you know, this is Emmy-worthy material right here.”
As I went to execute a daring leap, I miscalculated. My foot caught on a stray block, and suddenly I was on the floor, surrounded by the ruins of our block city.
For a moment, there was stunned silence.
Then, Noah’s little voice piped up. “Uh-oh. Charlie go boom.”
And just like that, the room erupted in laughter. The kids were in hysterics, Emma doubled over, tears streaming down her face, and even I couldn’t help but join in.
As our laughter died down, Emma helped me to my feet, still chuckling. “My hero,” she teased, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I pulled her close, both of us a mess of dishevelled hair and clothes stained with who-knows-what.
The moment was broken by a loud yawn from Noah. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, clutching Ellie to his chest.
“I think someone’s ready for a nap,” Emma said softly.
But as we tried to herd the kids towards the guest bedroom we’d set up for nap time, Noah dug in his heels.
“No nap!” he wailed. “No sleep without Ellie!”
I looked at the stuffed elephant in his arms, confused. “But Noah, Ellie’s right there.”
He shook his head vehemently. “Not real Ellie! Want other Ellie!”
Emma and I exchanged baffled glances. “Other Ellie?” she mouthed at me.
I shrugged helplessly. “Okay, Noah,” I said, kneeling down to his level. “Can you show us where you last saw the, uh, other Ellie?”
What followed was a frantic search of the entire house. We looked under couches, in cabinets, and even in the washing machine. But ‘other Ellie’ was nowhere to be found.
As Noah’s cries grew more distressed, a knot formed in my stomach. How had we lost a stuffed animal in the span of a few hours? And more importantly, how were we going to get this kid to nap without it?
“I think I found Ellie,” Emma called from the back door, her voice tight.
I rushed over, Noah in my arms. My heart sank. There, floating in the middle of my pool, was a bedraggled stuffed elephant.
“Oh no,” I groaned. “How did she even get out here?”
Noah’s lower lip trembled as he spotted his beloved toy. “Ellie swimming?”
I looked at the pool, then at Noah’s tearful face, then back at the pool. There was only one thing to do.
“Ellie’s just having a little spa day,” I said, setting Noah down. “But I think she’s done now. Watch this, buddy.”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I kicked off my shoes and dove into the pool, designer clothes and all. The cold water shocked my system, but I pushed through, swimming towards the waterlogged elephant.
As I emerged from the pool, soaking wet but triumphant, Noah’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Ellie!” he squealed, reaching for the dripping toy.
Emma wrapped a towel around my shoulders, her eyes dancing with a mix of amusement and admiration. “My hero,” she said, her voice warm.
I grinned, water dripping from my hair. “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”
With ‘other Ellie’ rescued and properly dried, Noah finally agreed to nap. As we tucked the triplets in, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. We’d done it. We’d survived a day of babysitting three toddlers.
As the last little head hit the pillow, Emma and I practically collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but exhilarated.
“I can’t believe we did it,” I said, running a hand through my still-damp hair.
Emma snuggled into my side, her baby bump pressing against me. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”
I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “The best. You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait for our own little chaos-maker to arrive.”
She looked up at me, her eyes shining. “Me too. Seeing you with the triplets just makes me fall in love with you even more.”
As we sat there, surrounded by the aftermath of our babysitting adventure — toys strewn about, a faint smell of dirty diapers in the air, and the quiet sound of three sleeping toddlers — I realised something. This chaos, this beautiful, messy, wonderful chaos, was exactly what I wanted for the rest of my life.
I pressed a kiss to Emma’s forehead, my heart full to bursting.
#
The sound of the doorbell jolted us from our peaceful cocoon on the couch. Emma stirred, rubbing her eyes.
“Is it time already?” she mumbled.
I glanced at my watch and groaned. “Yep. The cavalry has arrived.”
We dragged ourselves to the door.
“Well, well, well,” Jesse said. He wore a grin that was far too cheerful for my liking. He peered past us into the suspiciously quiet house. “I half expected to find the place in flames. Where are my little monsters?”
“Asleep,” Emma replied, stifling a yawn. “Finally.”
Jesse’s eyebrows shot up. “You got all three of them to nap at the same time? Impressive.”
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “What can I say? We’re naturals.”
As if on cue, a small voice called out from the guest room. “Daddy?”
Soon enough, three sleepy-eyed toddlers stumbled into the foyer, clutching various stuffed animals and dragging blankets behind them.
Jesse knelt down, opening his arms wide. “Hey, kiddos! Did you have fun with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Emma?”
The kids nodded enthusiastically, suddenly wide awake as they regaled their father with tales of monster toast, imaginary adventures, and Ellie’s swimming expedition.
As Jesse gathered their belongings, he turned to us with a knowing smirk. “So, feeling ready for parenthood yet?”
Emma and I exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between us.
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” I said, wrapping an arm around Emma.
Jesse nodded approvingly. “You two are gonna be great parents. Thanks again for watching them.”
After a flurry of goodbyes and last-minute hugs, the house was finally, blessedly quiet again.
Emma and I stood in the foyer for a moment, surveying the damage. Toys strewn everywhere, mysterious stains on the carpet, and I was pretty sure I could still smell dirty diapers.
“Well,” I said, breaking the silence. “That was...”
“An adventure?” Emma supplied, a tired smile playing on her lips.
“I was going to say chaos, but adventure works too.”
We made our way back to the couch, collapsing onto it in perfect sync. Emma curled into my side, her head resting on my chest.
We sat in comfortable silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts.
“Hey, Em?” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“I’m really glad Finn and Abi insisted on having that second wedding.”
She shifted, looking up at me with curiosity in her eyes. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “If they hadn’t, I might never have met you. And that expired condom? I’m grateful for it too. It brought you back into my life when I thought I’d lost my chance.”
Emma’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Charlie...”
“I mean it.” I cupped her face gently. “I know this wasn’t planned, and god knows we’re in for a wild ride, but there’s no one else I’d rather do this with. You’re it for me, Emma Sullivan.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb. “You’re it for me too, Charlie Delacroix,” she whispered.
As I leaned in to kiss her, our unborn child kicked, the movement vibrating against my side where Emma was pressed against me. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think someone agrees,” I said, placing my hand on her belly.
Emma covered my hand with hers, intertwining our fingers. “He takes after his daddy already. Always has to have the last word.”
I pulled back, surprised. “He? What happened to being so sure it’s a girl?”
Emma rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing on her lips. “I’ve reconsidered. No self-respecting future debutante would host nightly raves on my bladder. This has to be your son, practising dance moves for whatever wild Hollywood parties he’ll no doubt attend.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, so now he’s my son? I see how it is. When the baby does something cute, it’s your daughter. But the moment there’s a 3 AM dance party, suddenly it’s my son?”
“Exactly!” Emma nodded, her face completely serious for a moment before breaking into a grin. “I’m glad you understand.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, both of us gently caressing her belly. The peacefulness of the moment was a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, but somehow, it felt just as meaningful.
A year ago, I had no interest in anything outside of work. The next deal, the next client, that’s all that had mattered to me. Now? So much had changed. Like the fact I was covered in marker stains, reeking of baby powder, but still grinning like an idiot.
I’d dreamed up some grand gesture — a weekend getaway, a private dinner on the beach. But those plans seemed... hollow now. This moment — us, exhausted and dishevelled, but so stupidly in love — this was us.
It had to be now.
I shifted, gently moving Emma as I stood. She grumbled, her face buried in the couch cushion.
“Where are you going?” she mumbled.
I bit my lip, staying silent as I crept to the bookshelf. My fingers found the small velvet box hidden behind my prized first editions. Palms sweaty, I gripped it tight and turned to face Emma.
Her eyes remained closed, a tiny frown creasing her forehead. “If you’ve found more toys, I swear I’ll...”
Her voice trailed off as her eyes fluttered open, landing on me. One knee on the ground, box open in my trembling hands.
Emma’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. She struggled to sit up, one hand on her belly, the other clutching the couch edge.
“Charlie?” Her voice quivered.
I gulped, willing my voice to steady. No turning back now, Delacroix.
“Emma Sullivan,” I started, gazing into those eyes that had knocked me sideways from day one. “A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined this moment. Me, on one knee, covered in god-knows-what, proposing in a living room that looks like a toy store exploded in it.”
Emma laughed, tears already welling in her eyes.
“But here’s the thing — I wouldn’t change a single second of it. You’ve turned my world upside down in the best possible way. You’ve made me laugh, challenged me, and shown me what real partnership looks like.” I took a deep breath. “I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me?”
Emma’s hands flew to her mouth, tears now streaming down her face. For a heart-stopping moment, she stared at me.
Then, she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. Louder, “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you, you big goof!”
My hands shook as I slid the ring onto her finger. I pulled her into a kiss, pouring every ounce of love and joy I had into it.
When we finally broke apart, both laughing and crying, Emma looked down at the ring, then back at me.
“You know,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “if this is how you propose, I can’t wait to see what you do for the wedding. Should I expect skywriters? A marching band?”
I grinned, pulling her close. “For you, my love? Nothing but the best. Although maybe we should wait until after the baby comes. I have a feeling our little dancer might steal the show.”
Emma laughed, resting her forehead against mine. “I love you, Charlie Delacroix.”
“And I love you, soon-to-be Emma Delacroix.”
As if on cue, a tiny foot (or elbow, who could tell?) pushed against her belly where it pressed between us. We both laughed, our hands meeting over the spot.
“Well?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any thoughts on the wedding, daddy-to-be?”
I pretended to consider it seriously. “How about monster toast for the reception? I hear it’s all the rage with the under-five crowd.”
Emma swatted my arm playfully. “Don’t you dare. Although...” She paused, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Maybe we could ask Jesse’s kids to be in the wedding party. After all, if it weren’t for them, who knows how long you would’ve waited to pop the question.”
I clutched my chest in mock offence. “I’ll have you know I had a very elaborate plan involving skywriters, a flash mob, and possibly a trained dolphin.”
“Of course you did.” She nodded solemnly.
I pulled her closer, marvelling at how perfectly she fit in my arms. “In all seriousness, though,” I murmured into her hair, “as long as I’m marrying you, I don’t care if we do it in a palace or a drive-through chapel in Vegas.”
Emma tilted her head up, her eyes shining. “Sweet talker. But let’s maybe aim for something in between, yeah? I do have a reputation as a wedding planner to maintain, after all.”
“Whatever you want, future Mrs Delacroix,” I said, leaning in for another kiss. “Whatever you want.”
