Jake
"So," Cassian says after a sip of his drink. "When are you going to knock Gemma up and have a baby?"
I nearly choke on my gin and tonic, slamming the glass down on the sticky wooden tabletop and gaping at my best friend, who is also going to be the best man at my upcoming wedding. Though, I'm starting to wonder if I should still allow him to play such an important role when he continues to use shock value against me – God knows what he could say during his speech at the wedding. To say I'm dreading that would be an understatement.
"What?" he smirks, taking a sip of his drink. I'm not entirely sure what Cassian is drinking at the moment. Unlike me, he'll try anything. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd think it's some kind of imported beer he's nursing. "Don't tell me you and Gemma haven't discussed the possibility of kids. You love kids."
I rub the back of my neck and lean back in my chair. Yeah, I do love kids. The only issue is, I spent most of my life raising one. And although she turned into a smart, sophisticated young woman, I don't know if I'm ready to raise a kid from baby to adult. At least my sister was old enough to have her own sense of direction and I didn't have to teach her too much. I just had to be there to support her and provide for her. It was difficult to balance between being a parental figure and the older brother, but I managed. "We have," I admit, toying with the lime on the edge of my drink. "But it's mostly been a back and forth conversation with no sustenance; she's tries to convince me that kids are a good idea, I try to remain elusive and postpone the conversation."
"Why?" Cassian asks, signalling the bartender for another drink. He reaches over and picks at the nachos we ordered earlier, dipping the cheese-coated chip in a small bowl of guacamole. He pops the chip in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "You raised Hanna without any issues. What's so different about raising your own kid? You're getting married – isn't that supposed to be the bridge between a couple before they have kids?"
I swirl my drink around. It's not that I don't want to have kids. Fuck, I've pictured what our kids will look like more times than I can count on my fingers and toes. I've wondered what they'll be when they'll grow up or if they'll have Gemma's stubbornness and my determination. What I'm scared of is the day Gemma has to deliver the baby because I know all I'm going to be able to do is stand there and do nothing. I want to be able to feel like a participant in the delivery room, and not like some sperm donor. And while I have plenty of experience in raising my little sister, I have no experience whatsoever in baby care.
"Bro," Cassian says, smacking my shoulder. "Talk to me. What's going on?"
"I want kids," I admit, tossing back the rest of my drink. I signal the bartender for another one. After what I'm about to admit to Cassian, I'm going to need to forget that this night ever happened. "I want at least four of them, if I'm being totally honest. But I'm scared. Not only about what it could potentially do to our relationship in the future – what happens when we can't make time for each other? – but also about being in the delivery room. Gemma has to go through this whole thing on her own, and all I can do is stand there and do nothing while she screams and writhes in pain. Her body will change and all I get to do is stand there and feel helpless. I don't want to leave her alone again, Cass. I did that to her back in high school. I can't let it happen again."
Cassian sets his drink down and swivels on his stool. He rests his elbows on his knees and gives me his no-nonsense look. I suppress a sigh. Either he's about to let the shit hit the ceiling or he's got some of his rare knowledge to spill. It's difficult to tell which way he's going to go. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe Gemma knows this? That maybe she doesn't care? How often does she bring up the topic?"
I suppress an eye roll. Ever since she started working at our old high school, she's been dropping obvious hints. Christ, she even left a baby magazine on the counter one morning. Right next to a plate of pancakes she'd left for me. She even makes subtle comments when we're having sex, asking things like Do we really need a condom? or Remember that one time, in the cabin, when we went bare? "Constantly," I reply quietly. "She always talks about how much she loves working with kids every day and then will hint at having our own."
He lifts his hand up, upturning one corner of his mouth. "Then that should be enough. Jake, just talk to her about it. I'm sure she'd understand your concerns. If you ask me, I don't think Gemma gives a fuck about you not being able to do anything so long as you stand there and hold her hand while she goes through it." He takes a sip of his drink, cocking an eyebrow at me. "But I mean, y'know, if you don't want to do it, I could totally take your place."
It's my turn to cock an eyebrow. "You want to watch my wife push a small human being out of her vagina?"
Cassian shrugs. "She's a friend. Even if I want to puke my guts out, I'll stay by her side. It takes a lot to gross me out."
I suppress the urge to gag. As much as I love Cassian, there's no way in hell he's watching Gemma give birth. And, if I'm going to be entirely honest, I can't believe we're having this conversation between the two of us in the middle of a bar. "Funny," I drawl, "but that is never happening. You can come in and meet the child after she's had him or her. And, while I'm talking, how about we end this conversation right now and find something else to discuss?"
"Yeah," he snorts, "good idea."
We both chuckle, taking some time to sip our drinks and pick at the food we ordered. Although, I can say my appetite has dwindled a little since Cassian decided to spring the topic of me knocking Gemma up on me. I know there are plenty of ways for me to get over my irrational fear of being able to do nothing for her, but I can't seem to shake that feeling of helplessness from my system. After everything that happened, I promised myself I would never leave her alone in situations where she needs support. Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. Just because I'm afraid I'll break my promise, doesn't mean I can keep something that Gemma wants – something that we want away from us.
"Jake," Cassian says.
I glance up at my friend, wondering if I look as pathetic as I feel.
"Take a deep breath, man," he says, his eyes softening a little. "I know we're talking about this like she's already pregnant but she's not, and I think you need to remind yourself of that. That aside, you shouldn't be scared of being a father. You're a total dolt sometimes – and if you two ever decide to have a baby I'll probably have to make up for your idiocy with some advice from Uncle Cassian – but you've got a heart and you've learned some valuable lessons you can pass on. Both of you have valuable knowledge you can pass on."
I smile weakly at him. It's times like these where I remember why Cassian is like a brother to me and why I also consider him my best friend. Despite his jackass-ish ways, he's heading in the right direction. "Thanks, Cass," I say. "But, for the record, you are not giving my children any advice. That's a given fact."
He presses a hand over his heart, staring at me with mock disbelief. "That's very harmful to my ego, Jake. What have I ever done to prove not worthy of giving my nieces and nephews advice?"
I snort, taking a sip of my drink. "Do I really need to list shit off?"
Cassian twists his mouth to one side, a crease forming between his brows. In the haziness of the bar, his skin looks a couple of shades darker and the look on his face seems overly dramatic. I have to suppress an eye roll. Why is it that everything seems to play in his favour no matter how ridiculous he is? "I'd prefer it if you didn't list all those events off," he chuckles, his voice low and his eyes filled with a hint of melancholy.
The look on his face is a kaleidoscope of different emotions – ones I can relate to. Sometimes, I find it hard to believe that we're grown-ups, no longer the reckless, rash teenagers we were back in high school. It's sad to know that so much time has passed already, especially when I think about how much my sister has matured and begun her own life. But it's also invigorating to know that we're stepping into new chapters of our lives. Gemma and I are getting married. Hanna is close to graduating from her photography program. Morgane just broke up with her girlfriend. I feel bad for her, but she's navigating her way through it. Cassian will be spending some time in the Okanagan when fall comes to oversee the location we're opening.
It's invigorating to have an idea of what's going to happen but to also have no clue as to what the future is going to look like. And the more I think about it, the more the melancholy and happiness begin to blur together, creating a sense of comfort. Nothing is set in stone, and nor will it ever be. But you can always dream, always have an idea of how things are going to be when the time comes. And that's why life is so unexplainably beautiful. You can dream, you can imagine, but in the end, no matter how much you suspect or expect, life will throw you curveballs and change in the blink of an eye.
I glance down at the engagement ring on my finger, a small smile on my lips. I don't know if our future together will ever involve us having kids. I don't know if we'll ever move from the Island. But what I do know is that these two weeks leading up to our wedding and the wedding itself, are going to be the best days of my life.
Smirking, I flick my gaze up to Cassian's. "You're right. I'll leave those stories for your wedding. Whenever that comes."
Cassian rolls his eyes, tipping his drink in my direction. "To growing up."
I clink my glass against his. "To growing up."