Chapter 5

(Barley's POV)

Three weeks later…

A wail pierces the night, waking both Becky and me up.

"I got him, honey. You go back to sleep."

"What if he's hungry?"

"Then I'll bring him over here."

I go over to Wilden's bassinet (which is in our room) and pick him up.

"What is it, buddy? What do you need?" I ask my crying son. I feel his diaper. Nope. Not wet.

"He's probably hungry, babe." Becky says, sitting up. I bring Wilden over to his mother and she takes him in her arms and he latches on. I gently drape a blanket over him so they can have their privacy. I walk over to the window.

"What if I'm not as good a father as my dad was? What if I get sick, like he did?"

"Someone's having another existential crisis."

"You're right. I am. I'm just thinking, though." I turn to face my fiancée.

"Barley, honey, you're not supposed to be as good as a father your dad was. You're supposed to the best father you as yourself can be. And, heaven forbid, if you do get sick, we'll get through it."

I smile softly at Becky.

"You're right, honey. You're right. I'm not my dad, as great as he was. I need to start being me."

"That's the Barley I know and love." We move to kiss each other, but Wilden starts hiccupping.

"'Scuse you, mister. Has someone got the hiccups?" I ask our son.

"Apparently so. Way to break the mood there, bud."

"I think he's just adding to the mood."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really. You decent?"

"Yep."

I remove the blanket from Becky and begin to burp Wilden after getting a burp cloth. He lets out the loudest burp he's ever let out in his three weeks of life. Becky and I both chuckle at that.

"Son, that was the loudest burp we've ever heard from you. But that's only the beginning."