"Baby."
"Mm."
"Look at me." I turned around as I was buttoning my shirt, my eyes meeting Connie's. "You doing okay? With work and everything? You don't talk about it much anymore."
I gave her a smile, "It's fine." She didn't buy it so I just gave in and sighed. "I don't know, Connie. It's like people are getting fired left and right and they're not allowed to talk about why. Isn't that weird?"
"Maybe it's...a contract thing?"
"I don't know, but I'm praying I don't get that email to work in Bristol."
Her eyes widened, "Bristol?"
"The new building—it's in Bristol. Didn't I tell you?"
"I thought you said Windsor! Niall, Bristol is a two hour train ride. You'd have to get up at like, four-thirty to get there by seven." I didn't say anything. She knew I already knew that, and was just talking it out to herself. "And you'd be getting home so late...it won't be safe."
I went to sit next to her on the bed. She was still wrapped in her robe, too lazy to get dressed after her shower. The look on her face was laced with concern and anxiousness, but she was looking at me for some reassurance. She was counting on me to make this better.
"We don't have to worry about anything yet. If I don't get an email today, we're good. And if I do, we'll work something out. Don't worry, okay, angel?"
She nodded, but didn't look any convinced. My hands were taken in hers, fingers idly playing with mine. "I'm worried you'll be gone all the time."
"I'm talking to HR about paternity leave today," I stood up to tuck my dress shirt in. The new dress code required what used to be considered meeting attire at all times now. "I'll have that," I leaned in to kiss her forehead. "And weekends." Then her cheek. "And I'll be here all night." And finally her lips. "I'm not going anywhere, angel. I'll always be here."
"Promise?" She whispered.
I leaned in, pressing my mouth against hers again. "Promise." Once I pulled away, she finally got up to get dressed, then checked on Archie to make sure he'd gotten up the first time he woke him.
For the first time since the spring, I had time to sit down and have breakfast before going to work. Though Camp didn't come to work until nine, he wanted everyone else to be there and functioning by seven forty-five. I had a feeling the last two people who got fired were let go because they just couldn't get here before eight, but of course I didn't know for sure since they weren't allowed to talk about it.
Since Anthony Camp started, twenty people—of eighty—have been fired and replaced. Everyone was given the three strikes rule, like he told us in his introductory meeting, but I can't even wrap my heard around twenty people getting fired because they couldn't accommodate to his changes. You'd think it would make him realize that not everyone can just drop what they're doing and change their whole life around to get to work forty-five minutes before what they were accustomed to. He doesn't consider his employees lives at home; he was focused on the company and nothing else.
I had half a mind to call Robert Flander himself and tell him about Camp's inconsiderate way, but that would be complaining. And I didn't want to insult him by saying the guy he handpicked to take over his company was a fucking psycho. The idea was tempting but it has only been six months since he took over. It didn't seem like enough time to complain.
The first thing I did after clocking in was pour myself another cup of coffee before starting my work for the day. Brandon and Vince were already in the office, looking tired and unhappy—probably just like me. I mostly had phone calls to make, phone calls and emails to get a negotiating process started, as well as finalize a small take over.
Our office, along with the other three floors that belonged to Flander Inc. in the building, everything was very modern looking. Black and white and grey—to match our dress code most likely. Sleek, square. Glass walls so Camp could see everything without actually going in. As cold and unwelcoming as possible. Nice.
Brandon, Vince and I barely talked as we worked. Noise was to be kept at a minimal. We covered the usual 'how was your night', and 'was there much coffee left in the break room'; other than that, we kept the chatter to mostly business questions.
At lunch, instead of actually eating lunch, I finally went down to the HR office to ask about my paternity leave. I knocked on the door until someone grumbled 'come in', then walked in.
"Niall, yes?" the old woman's voice was raspy, as if she'd eaten a pack of cigarettes instead of smoked them.
"Yeah, I wanted to ask about paternity leave."
"Okay, have a seat—I'll pull up your file." As I sat down in the hard leather chair, she typed and clicked around on her computer. I don't know why I was nervous. "Niall Horan?" I nodded. "Right. Our usual policy is up to twelve weeks."
Three months. Okay, that sounds good. "Are they—?"
"They're unpaid."
And that's what I feared. Twelve weeks unpaid. Connie has six months partial pay, and she says she'll do side work from home to keep herself busy. How much do I have in the bank right now? Would that, combined with Connie's salary, be enough for us before we have to go into our savings? My brain was buzzing trying to making calculations and predictions. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't even notice Camp walk into the room.
"...Oh. Am I interrupting Queenie?" He looked from the old woman to me. "Afternoon, Horan."
"Afternoon," I muttered.
Queenie spoke up, "I was just talking to Mr. Horan about—" shut the fuck up, Queenie! "—paternity leave. Just told him the policy."
"I see." Camp's face was passive, almost bored looking.
"So, hon?" Queenie pressed. Camp kept standing there, radiating disapproval that I was even here instead of working. He might as well have yelled 'take your twelve unpaid weeks and be fucking done with it' in my face.
I cleared my throat, "I...guess it'll be enough time off."
"When do you plan to leave?"
"Next Wednesday, if that's alright." A couple days before Connie's due date. Should be safe enough.
"Sounds good, hon." She looked at Camp, "The submission has been sent to you. Just needs your stamp of approval—then you're out of here, Niall."
Camp's eyes drifted towards me. "Forgive me if I don't get to until tomorrow. I'm very busy."
"Of course," I forced myself to say, instead of, 'fuck you and how busy you are'. Then left the office to return to mine.
The majority of the day panned out smoothly and quietly. I ate the lunch Connie, bless her soul, made for me as I waited for someone to email me back. My fingers drummed on the black table top that nor replaced my desk. The clock ticked. Three more hours.
My computer pinged with an email. I sat up to read it, but my eyebrows pulled together when I saw it was from the RF Recruitment Team. Not who I was expecting. And as soon as I opened it, my stomach dropped—because I should've expected it.
You've been chosen to work in our new building!
As if this is fucking exciting.
As if I fucking wanted to get moved to fucking Bristol.
——
I was packing up, more than ready to go home. The email said I had forty-eight hours to response, so I chose to utilize that time. I did have to talk this over with Connie anyway, there not a doubt in my mind she'll be less than happy.
I said goodbye to Vince and Brandon, reminding Brendon to text me when Big Brother comes on. He was much better at staying awake than I was. Wonderful practice for when the twins get here...
"Horan." I froze in front of the elevator. Damn it. When I looked over my shoulder, Camp was approaching me, with the same stoic look on his face as always. "Congratulations on your child."
"Thanks." I didn't bother on correcting him.
"I know you'll be leaving in a week, but I also wanted to congratulate on getting added to the Bristol team. I personally suggested you." My eye twitched as I forced myself to hold my neutral expression.
"That was...thoughtful of you."
"Yes, I believe you can do good work there. And with the bulk of work splitting between buildings, there will be no need for three business managers here. You'll...accept the offer, right?"
I swallowed, "Well, I have to talk to my wife first. It's a bit of a...distance away."
"I see." He mused. "To help with the decision process, I must inform you that climbing in the Bristol building with be a much easier. You could be in my position in merely a couple years. Or, you could change positions, if you'd like. Employees who've been moved will have an advantage over the newly hired." He patted me on the shoulder, "Just some food for thought...for you and your wife."
"Right..."
"Enjoy your evening, Horan."
He boarded the elevator and pressed the button before I could get on.
——
'Less than happy' might've been a bit of an understatement.
"You're never going to be home," she cried. "I'll be on my own, and everything is going to pile up—I'll have to quit my job to take care of the kids. And Pickles! It's going to be just me—" She went on, and on, making up scenarios that probably would never happen, and just saying ridiculous things. My stomach churned at the sight of her though. This was a pregnant hormones overreaction—but she wasn't being completely irrational.
I moved to sit next to her on the bed. "You're not going to be on your own. I have three months off for paternity leave—so I'll be right here every day."
"What about after that?!" She cut off. "What about when your leave is over?"
"I'll leave for work at the crack of dawn, then do my best to come home early as much as possible. And we can ask people to help you out in those three months until you go back to work too." She sniveled but didn't say anything. "Then, after all that, we'll see how money is and see about a sitter that can stay here during the day until one of us gets home. Piece of cake."
"Stress cake," she murmured bitterly.
"Family cake," I corrected, chucking.
She rested her head on my shoulder, "So...starting December, I'll be waking up without you next to me."
"Yeah," I sighed. "I'll wake you up before I leave."
"And you have to kiss Zach, our daughter and Archie goodbye."
"Okay—"
"Aria!" She suddenly shouted. "Aria—do you like that?"
"Aria?"
I looked up at the ceiling as I put the name to a little girl in pigtails, running around the house. With Zach and Archie. I pictured her forcing me to play with her, and scare away the monsters under her bed; playing with Connie's hair, and asking Archie to help her with something she couldn't reach.
"I like Aria." I slow grin spread over her face. "We'll call her Ria, because Ari it too close to Archie. You'd get mixed up."
"I will not get mixed up!" She laughed; mind you she was crying a second ago. "I want her middle name to be Hallow."
I traced my finger over her stomach, "Why?"
"That was my mum's middle name. I think it's pretty."
"Aria Hallow Horan. Her initials will look like a scream."
"I'll teach her to write in cursive so it's a pretty scream."
A laugh blurted out of me as I got a sudden rush of accomplishment. "We named our kids."
"Zach and Aria. We need to get Zach a middle name—then all that's left is..."
"For you to push them out. Good luck with that, angel."
She narrowed her eyes, "Thanks..."
——
——
The next day was hectic.
I had a lot to do at work, attend briefs and introductory classes for when I go to the new building in December, as well as the work I already had to do. I'd agreed to do the move after talking it over with Connie again this morning. The new building could be more opportunities, maybe even a different job that pays a bit more, something that we be more flexible with my hours. That was the goal. Get to a position where my hours are a little more flexible. It was the only—literally the only—hopeful sliver that kept me from punching a wall because of this job in Bristol.
Today though, I was able to leave early since it was both Friday, and Connie had a doctor's appointment that couldn't be rescheduled. When I got home, Archie's bus was just pulling away. Connie was standing in the threshold, carrying Pickles, probably to make sure he didn't run out again. When she saw me though, the cat was gently tossed inside, she grabbed her purse off the floor, and got in the car; Archie wasn't far behind her.
"Where are we going?" Archie asked.
"Mum has a doctor's appointment to look at the babies."
"Zach and Aria."
"Yup."
"Are they being born today?"
Connie turned around and look at him, or at least she tried. "Two more weeks, more or less. They could be born tomorrow, on Dad's birthday, next week. Maybe even the beginning of next month. Zach and Aria could surprise us."
"Hopefully they'll wait until I'm on leave," I muttered.
The doctor's office smelled cleaning supplies and medicine, according to Archie. Since his trip to the hospital when he was four, he's become as...uncaring for them as I was. He seemed nervous as we checked in, but I assured him no one was going to bother him.
"What about mum?"
"Everything will be okay. You have nothing to worry about," I promised. He didn't seem convinced and leaned his head on Connie's arm while we waited in the sitting area.
Minutes later we were called back. A nurse led us to the room, Connie took a seat on the examination table and Archie and I sat in the chairs by the door. Connie chatted with the nurse while she was looked over. The nurse scribbled everything down on a clipboard.
Her eyes suddenly did a double take towards Archie, a bright smile lighting up her face. "You must be Archie! I've heard so much about you—soon to be cool big brother." She gave him a hand shake. "Are you excited?"
"I guess."
"Don't you worry, Archie. You have a good set of parents here. They'll do very well at splitting up their attention." My stomach dropped a little. Is that was Archie is worried about? I have been noticing he was getting less and less enthusiastic whenever someone asked about his soon-to-be siblings. Was he just sick of hearing the question, or is he actually less excited?
The nurse wrote something else down before looking at me and Connie. "The doctor will be in shortly," she stated then left the room.
"Maybe we should use your dad's name as Zach's middle name," Connie mused.
"Zachary Bobby...?"
"Zachary Robert," She corrected. "What do you think Archie?" When he didn't respond she turned her head to look at him. "Are you tired from school, love?" He nodded. Archie could've told her he had cancer and she would've looked less heartbroken. "You can take a nap once we get home, how's that?"
"Okay."
——
The visit flew by. Everyone had a clean bill of health, we were 'coming down the home stretch now'. I'll admit I'm both nervous and anxious, but honestly I was ready for Connie to stop being pregnant. I love her to death, and I'm still amazed that we even got pregnant in the first place—but pregnant Connie is an irritation that I can do without. I wonder if postpartum Connie will be better to worse.
I also wondered about myself during all of this. Three months, starting next Monday, until I have to get up at four in the morning to get ready for work; until I get home at nearly eight every night. I wondered if we'll have money for someone to help Connie while she's still home and when she goes back to work. I wondered how this all was going to play out.
"Niall." Connie called from upstairs. "Baby, can you make me some hot chocolate?"
"Hot chocolate makes you throw up, Connor." It was tragic, really.
"It won't this time, I promise.
She ended up throwing up all over the bathroom.