Ficlet: Not What I Expected
This is a Christmas(ish) story. I know it’s late, but I spent mine traveling so it’ll have to do!
Not beta’d, blame the mistakes on the nog.
Also, it’s long. Really long. As in 4,500+ words long. You can blame that on the nog too!
Title: Not What I Expected
Author: chebomic
Rating: PG-13 for language and, errr, images.
Summary: If you’d asked me a few years ago what I’d be doing for Christmas anytime in the future, this would be at the end of my list.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, they belong to someone else, I’m not profiting in any way, just for fun, etc.
Spoilers: None. It’s Christmastime a couple years after the finale. Assumes the baby was born around Thanksgiving and is now two years old. Olivia’s POV.
A/N: Rafe never joined the army in this world. I just like to pretend he went off to college instead of training camp, because in reality that would have never been possible. So you should just pretend with me for the sake of this ficlet, mmmk? Thanks!
This is not what I expected.
Oh no, definitely not. If you’d asked me a few years ago what I’d be doing for Christmas anytime in the future, this would be at the end of my list. Scratch that - it wouldn’t be even on the fucking list in the first place.
Baking. That’s what I’m doing. It’s Christmas Eve and I’m baking. In the kitchen. Wearing an apron. Baking.
And it's not even the whole June Cleaver thing that’s getting to me either. I think aprons can be sexy as hell. Like when a certain Latina is wearing nothing but one and a pair of black Jimmy Choo’s waiting for you on the kitchen table when you come from work on a Wednesday. She told me it was a birthday surprise. My birthday had passed two months prior. Not that I was complaining.
Merry Fuckin’ Birthday, Olivia.
Wait a sec. I meant Happy Birthday. You get the drift. And if you could see what I saw you’d be mixing up your holiday adjectives too.
One word: Stove.
Such a convenient piece of machinery. Jesus.
Anyway, back to the baking. Like I said, it’s not the housewife part that’s bothering me. I was a chef once; I may not like the kitchen but I can handle it. The baking isn’t the problem. It’s the willingness.
I’m standing here on Christmas Eve mixing cookie batter simply because Natalia asked me to.
I would do anything for that woman. Anything. It’s actually kinda pathetic how far that sentiment has taken me these past couple of years.
There are a bunch of things I’ve done for her, big and little.
Like keeping the death stares to a minimum with Frank. That took me a while to get under control, but for good reason. Imagining his hands on my Natalia made me want to slap that sappy golly-gee-Natalia-I’ll-always-love-you smile off of his face. And so I did. Once. But I swear after that (and two weeks on the couch) I was done. Ever since then he’s behaved and so have I. Olivia Spencer, perfect angel.
Or making her the official other mommy to Emma. Apparently that was the best Mother’s Day present ever. Although when she first opened the envelope and saw the adoption papers she just started crying. Boy, was I confused. Then she hit me and I was pissed. But the next thing I new she was kissing me. I took that as a yes.
Or cutting back on the cheeseburgers and martinis. That was hard. But once she hit me with that pout-“I thought you wanted us to be an old married couple with matching jogging suits?”-there was no question. We’re going to be the most badass old couple in Springfield if I have anything to say about it.
Or just doing things to make her smile. Little surprises here and there, flowers, candlelit dinners sans children. But she takes them much more seriously. “It shows how much you care. I love it. I love you.” Totally worth the dimples.
Or giving up half my designer wardrobe just so we can share a closet. When I first moved back in half my stuff was in the one in the hall, but she said it didn’t feel right. So I made it feel right for her. Done.
Or limiting the cussing, saving it for Natalia-free and Natalia-Me times only. She officially named our room exempt from the Swear Jar. Thank baby fuckin Jesus for that.
Or leaving work at five thirty everyday, no matter how busy, so that I can be home for dinner at six.
Or simply helping with doing the laundry.
And that’s not even the half of it. I’m whipped. Incredibly so, in fact, and I don't give a damn.
So when my lovely girlfriend ordered me to finish the baking on her way out-Emma in tow-to get the little one from Frank’s, I readily obliged.
After some mandatory sarcasm.
“I see how it is. Leave me here to slave away while you two go get the Bear? Hardly seems fair to me.”
That go me an eye roll.
“Oh hush, Olivia. There’s only one more batch to go. And would you please stop calling our daughter a bear? She’s not an animal.”
“But she’s my little Gummi Bear,” I pout. “Plus, Emma’s not a vegetable and she’s still our Bean.”
“Yeah, Ma. I’m not a vegetable!” Emma echoed as she twirled around trying to find the sleeves of her puffy pink coat.
“Well I don’t like it, so you’re going to change it.”
To hell I will.
Gummi Bear may be a strange nickname, but it’s the right one. First of all, it goes with the whole candy theme. I mean, the Bean is only the Bean because of my never-ending cravings for Jelly Bellies when I was pregnant with her. So Gummi Bear fits.
Plus, the kid’s a little beast. Between her floppy-haired father and Natalia’s oh-so-luscious locks, Francesca popped out looking like the fetal version of Diana Ross.
Poof.
And you know how some newborns lose some hair before it really starts growing? Yeah, that didn’t happen with this kid. Not-uh. Her hair just got darker and curlier and messier and bigger. She was barely two months and we were already using hair clips. One day I gave her a bunch of little ponytails all over her head while Natalia was at the grocery store. Funniest. Thing. Ever.
Mama didn’t think so.
Oh, and the baby not only looked like a beast with her wild black hair, she acted like one too. Instead of crying when she was hungry, she growled. Cute and tiny baby growls, complete chubby little fingers pawing the air in search of Mama’s boobies.
Poor kid, I knew the feeling.
And that pretty much solidified the name for me. She was the Gummi Bear. Emma liked it, and the Bean always greeted the baby with a little growl and a kiss. Much to Natalia’s displeasure, I started doing it too.
That’s probably why, around six months, our youngest baby girl said her first word: Grrrr.
Now, Natalia says that grrrr is not a word.
“It’s a sound, Olivia. And what makes this grrrr any different from the other ones, hmmm?”
I’ll tell you exactly what I told her.
This grrrr was special. It had meaning other than MamaBoobyNow! and it came at a very precise, non-feeding related time. And a very good one at that.
We had just finished eating at Company, where we usually meet Frank and Blake to have some pseudo family time before giving up Francesca for a few days. So there I was, standing with the baby nestled comfortably against my chest. I dropped a kiss on her head, told her I loved her and gave her a little squeeze before turning towards Frank. He was ready and waiting, arms outstretched.
And that’s when it happened.
Franky reached for the baby and the baby growled at Franky.
Grrrr.
All five of us-Natalia, Emma, Blake, Frank and I-went silent.
Frank frowned briefly before readopting that sap-ass smile and reaching again.
Grrrrrrr.
I smiled. Natalia swatted my shoulder. Emma giggled, vanilla ice cream dribbling down her chin. Blake gaped. Frank pouted.
It was the perfect moment, and after a few more growl-filled attempts Francesca left with her daddy looking none too pleased.
So like I said, she’s the Bear. My sweet little Gummi Bear.
Natalia will just have to get used to it.
Speaking of, I think she’s home. Yep. That was definitely a car door shutting.
I hear the telltale crunch of snow at a rate that is way too fast to be considered safe, and before I can start yelling like a madwoman I hear my other half’s mothering tone.
“Slow down, Em, you’re going to fall.”
The crunching immediately slows and I sigh. Thank God for Natalia.
I finish up stirring the batter for my secret batch of cookies before checking on the ones I already put in the oven. Not done yet. I walk to the kitchen door and open it, just as Emma busts through the back door and into the mudroom.
“Wait a second there, Bean. Jacket and boots.” I’m blocking her from entering the kitchen. One of Natalia’s biggest pet peeves is dragging the outside into her kitchen. “That’s what the mudroom’s for. It’s not just there to be walked through. Use it.” Emma shucks the jacket and kicks of her boots, sniffing the air suspiciously as she does.
“Did you burn them, Mom?”
I sigh. I’m Mom now. Not Mommy. Apparently eleven is too old for your kid to call you Mommy. Damn double digits.
“No, Emma, I didn’t torch the cookies. Now scoot! Go wash you hands so we can decorate ‘em.”
She runs past me in a blur, socks squeaking against the hardwood floors of the kitchen. Once I hear her start to thud up the stairs I open the back door and head out.
Natalia’s getting Francesca out of the backseat. I’ll have to talk to Emma about helping her Ma out. Again.
“Hey there,” I say as come up next to her, putting a hand on the small of her back.
“Hey yourself.” She smiles and pulls our girl out of the car seat. It’s started to snow so I pull up the hood on her jacket. Of course her unruly hair pops out in random spots.
“Hi Grrrr,” she smiles brightly at me, complete with one dimple. She’s got the cutest little face. Perfectly chubby with brown eyes just like her Mama. And that little voice, too. Damn I got lucky.
“Hello Miss Bear!” Natalia snorts. “Did you miss me?”
“Ya I mi’d you, Grrr.” She reaches her little hands out to me, but Natalia starts walking towards the house.
“Baby, Mommy’s too old to pick you up. And you’re getting far too big.”
So not fair. It’s like Natalia still thinks I’m going to have a heart attack the second I pick up the kid, and she’s not even thirty pounds!
I run to catch back up to them, stepping in front of Natalia to stop her progress.
“Gimme.”
“Olivia, no.”
“Gimme…please?” I wiggle my fingers and pout. She’s thinking it over, I can tell. I think she’s about to say no again so I whip out the big guns. “Honey, it’s Christmas!”
She frowns as the Bear parrots, “Uh-nee, it kwitma!” She wiggles and tries to escape into my arms.
Kid’s got skills. And I take full credit for them.
“Fine,” Natalia huffs. She’s trying not to smile, something the half-dimple on her left cheek easily gives away.
I settle Francesca on my hip, giving her a big raspberry on her cheek that earns me a precious giggle. I grab Nat’s nearest hand with my free one and intertwine our fingers as we head for the house.
Finally inside-jackets and shoes left in the mudroom, mind you-I put the Bear on the floor and give her a little pat on the butt.
“Go on and wash your hands, Miss Bear. Then go find your big sis and bug her for a bit, will ya?”
“Okay, Grrrr.”
She waddles out of the kitchen excitedly, and I peek my head around the doorway to make sure she gets up the stairs safely. When I turn back Natalia has already retrieved the cookies from the oven, saving them I’m sure from a blackened doom.
I slide up behind her as she expertly transfers the cookies to a cooling rack, resting my chin on her shoulder and wrapping my arms tightly around her midsection. She relaxes a little and finally turns around in my arms after the cookie transport is complete.
“Hello dear.” I lean in for a quick kiss.
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Hi sweetie.” She hugs me closer and drops her head on her shoulder.
Huh.
That’s not a particularly happy gesture according to my index of Natalia Rivera’s body language.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
She shakes her head.
Score two for the negative body language.
Shit. What did I do wrong?
I baked the cookies.
Did she ask me to do anything else?
No, definitely not.
I turn my head a little to inspect the floor. No snow was dragged in.
Double huh.
That leaves me with nothing else besides something happening at Frank’s. I hope. ‘Cause if I did something to ruin her Christmas I’m going to be so pissed. Dammit, Spencer!
“Did something happen at Frank’s?”
Another shake.
“Are you sure?”
A nod.
Okay, I may be ten times more patient now than I was before Natalia, but I’m nearing my tolerance level fast.
“Baby,” I start rubbing circles on her back, “if you don't tell me what’s wrong I can’t fix it.” And I hate not being able to fix it.
I wait for about a minute and finally she mumbles something.
“What was that?”
She raises her head and looks at me with sad eyes. “They were all there.”
Uh. Okay. I have no fuckin clue what the fuck that means. Fuck me!
“Who was all there, baby?” I’m trying to remain patient, but apparently it’s not working because she leans back a little and her eyes start to water. I know she wants to walk away but lucky for me she’s pinned to the counter.
I move my hands from her back and bring them up between us to grab the sides of her face.
“I’m sorry.” I lean and kiss her forehead. She closes her eyes so I kiss them too, willing the tears not come. “I just want to help you and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I kiss her lightly on the lips and rest my forehead against hers. “Please?”
She pulls back from me and an almost indecipherable “all-the-Coopers-were-at-Frank’s-and-Blake’s-family-too-and-it’s-Christmas!” explodes from her mouth before she buries her head into my neck sobbing uncontrollably.
What. The. Fuck.
Okay. Figure this out, Spencer.
I return to rubbing her back and turn us around so I can lean on the counter and she can lean more fully on me. She tightens her hold around my neck to the point that I’m almost choking. I can feel my shirt begin to soak up her tears.
So the Coopers were all al Frank’s house? I don't see how that could be upsetting. It would annoy the shit out of me but Natalia actually likes them. Well, except Marina. Oh shit.
“Was Marina there?”
She nods. It’s my turn to tighten my hold.
“Did she say something to you again, baby? I swear to God if that stupid oompa loompa so much as looked at you I’m going to rip her orange fu-” the rest gets mumbled into Natalia’s hand.
She hasn’t even moved from her resting place in the crook of my neck, but she waits until I nod submissively to return her hand to the back of my neck. Her crying is starting to slow a bit, or at least she trying to control it. I hear little sniffs and some muffled hiccups.
I still don't get what the problem is. It’s not Marina, much to my displeasure. I would love an excuse to punch that bitch in the face. She’s been nothing but a nuisance since the baby, making snide comments about Natalia and I every chance she gets. She made Nat cry once, so she’s currently sitting pretty at the top of my hit list. It’s hypothetical, of course.
Maybe.
“So all the Coopers were there when you picked up the Bear?”
She nods and starts crying harder again.
Good job, Spencer. Very smooth.
As a mull over the implication of the Cooper clan’s presence, two heads peek around the doorway of the living room. Both my girls are pouting, concerned at the sight of their Ma crying. And even though Francesca is practically Natalia’s clone she’s got the Spencer pout down. She’s definitely our kid.
I smile reassuringly at them, beckoning them quietly with two fingers. They sneak forward silently and I motion them to stop and stay quiet once they’re about a foot away. I’ve got the problem figured out now.
“Are you sad because all the Coopers are together but Rafe is still at school and not here with us?”
She nods.
I squeeze her a little harder and lean back.
“Well you know,” I say, wiping at her tears with my thumbs, “I may have something that’ll make you feel better.”
She frowns disbelievingly so I smile wide and yell, “NOW!”
Before she has any chance to process what is happening, I feel two thuds hit her one after the other. My back rams painfully into the counter, but Natalia is now laughing in delight so I forget about it quickly.
Emma wriggles her way in between us, hugging Natalia around the waist with one arm as she uses the other to hoist Francesca up and into our arms.
“Now didn’t I tell you I could make you feel better?”
“Yes.” She smiles and readjusts the baby so she’s bearing all the weight. I don't even think she realizes that she’s always trying to take care of me. “You were right.”
“Aren’t I always?” I smirk, wrapping my arms as well as I can around all of my girls. “I know you’re sad that Rafe’s not here, but we’re here and we love you very much. Don’t we, girls?”
“I love you, Ma.” “Ya, Mama!” Emma squeezes harder while Francesca’s gives her a big ole kiss on the cheek.
Damn, my girls are good.
“Okay girls, why don’t you go wait on the couch while your Ma and I get all the stuff ready for cookie decorating?”
The Bear squeals and wriggles down and out of Natalia’s grasp, quickly catching up to Emma as she leaves the kitchen.
I turn back to the abandoned bowl of cookie mix I was working on earlier and begin to plop little mounds onto a sheet. Natalia grabs sprinkles and icing out of the cupboard and starts loading them onto a tray.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, I had some dough left over.” I’m trying to be nonchalant. I don’t know if it worked or if Natalia is just too drained to notice how nervous I am. Either way, she doesn’t question me and I’m thankful.
I pop the cookie sheet into the oven and head to the living room. Natalia’s sitting on the floor with the baby in her lap and Em’s sitting next to her. They're all leaning over the coffee table, getting the cookies and toppings ready for our little Christmas tradition.
Emma sees me approach and smiles. “Can we start, Mom?”
“I don’t know, Bean.” Bending down, I drop a kiss atop her head. “Something’s missing.”
They’re all frowning at me now, and just when I’m about to come up with an excuse to postpone the cookie-fest there’s a knock at the door.
I glance down on my watch. Eight. Just on time.
Emma shoots up off the floor to answer it, ignoring my plea to stay put. Before I can even attempt to stop her she flings the door open and reveals the special delivery to the living room’s other occupants.
“Rafe!”
Holy shit I’m going to be deaf.
“AVA!”
Now I am deaf.
Natalia gets up in a hurry, carefully shoving the Gummi Bear into my arms before running to the door. Apparently in this case my health can take a back seat. I should do this more often.
“Ow. Ma! Lemme go!”
Natalia’s squealing in delight, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping almost maniacally. I briefly wonder if perhaps this is what she looked like as a kid, before she got pregnant. I’ve never seen her so happy. I wish I knew her back then too. Five years feels like a raw deal.
“Hello Miss Franny-Panny!” Rafe walks over to me and extends a hand. I shake it awkwardly. “Olivia,” he nods. This has become a ritual of ours, one he started back around the double-wedding. I know he still has problems with me and Natalia-more specifically the me part-so handshakes will do just fine. They are completely odd and unnecessarily formal, but they’re better than nothing and they’re ours. I like to think we share something, because as much as he may hate me I love him. He’s my only son.
Natalia walks over with an arm wrapped around Ava. I’ve always found their relationship rather amusing. When we first got back together Ava was pissed. Being my daughter she was quite vocal about her displeasure, calling up Natalia and giving her the Spencer version of the “If-you-hurt-her” speech. It must’ve been one hell of a talk, because Natalia didn't say a word the entire time and when she finally hung up she just walked over and said, “I’ll never leave you.” Something in the way she was looking at made me turn into a giant blubber ball and the waterworks didn’t stop for a good half hour. Not one of my proudest moments. But nowadays Natalia and Ava are like best buds, trading secrets on how to manage the difficult Olivia Spencer. Pffft.
“Rafe, please. Don’t call her that. It sounds so…”
“You named her Ma, not me. Deal with the consequences.” He takes the wriggling Bear out of my arms, ruffling her mess of hair playfully.
I can’t help but chuckle at that, and Natalia is quick to elbow my side. Ouchie.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be laughing,” Rafe continues with a smirk directed at me. Francesca is pulling at his ear with one hand and smacking his cheek with the other, desperately trying to get his attention while ignoring her big brother’s mini flinches at the barrage. “Ma told me the name was your idea. One too many martinis that day, Spencer?”
“Rafael!”
I’m laughing even harder now, partly because it was my idea and partly because the scandalized look on Natalia’s face is just priceless.
“Wafe!”
We are all interrupted by the topic of our conversation herself, who is now pulling relentlessly on Rafe’s favorite Cubs sweatshirt.
“Wafe, look me!”
“Yeah, Wh-Wh-Wafe, look at her!” Emma’s little impression earns another scandalized look from Natalia.
Rafe obliges, sitting on the couch and looking pointedly at his little sister.
“Yes, Franny-Panny-Lanny? What’s up?”
Natalia rolls her eyes and the rest of us laugh, waiting as Francesca looks intently back at him. She seems to be mulling something over, searching that little noodle to come up with the right combination of words to meet her needs.
“Grrrr.”
That’s my Bear!
“Olivia!”
Oops, I must have said that out loud.
Before Natalia can scold me too much I hear the oven timer beep and escape into the kitchen. A few minutes later I head back to the living room to find everyone settled on the floor around the table. Francesca, Natalia and Emma are leaning against the couch while the big kids sit opposite them nearest the tree.
I set the plate of new cookies on the table in front of Rafe.
“Sugar-free,” I explain.
Did he just smile at me?
I shake my head and take a place next to my now-dimply girlfriend, scooping the Gummi Bear into my lap. Natalia scoots closer to me and kisses my cheek, nuzzling closer to my ear.
“I don’t know how you did this, honey, but thank you.” She kisses me again right along my jaw line, causing me to shiver involuntarily at the simple gesture. All I can do is smile at her and nod weakly. Olivia Freakin’ Spencer, puddle of goo.
A few minutes pass and we’re all pretty engrossed in our task, cookies being purposefully covered in icing and sprinkles with care. It’s kind of ridiculous, decorating cookies just so you can eat them. The old me wouldn’t have seen the point. But I know that when we all wake up in the morning, long after Santa has come and gone, these cookies will be well worth the work. We’ll snuggle next to the fire in our PJ’s with some hot cocoa and open all the presents, and the cookies will meet their delicious end in our stomachs.
I’m working on a tree-shaped cookie with my Bear, half-listening to the conversation Natalia is having with my second daughter.
“What’re you making next, Ma?”
“Mmmm, I think I’ll decorate this heart.”
“A heart isn’t a Christmas shape.”
“It is.”
“Not-uh.”
“Yeah-huh. You spend Christmas with the people you love, so a heart is definitely a Christmas shape.”
I look up at this, not surprised to see Natalia already looking right at me.
“And I made this heart,” she continues, “just for you mom.”
Emma mutters a disgusted “yuck” and turns her attention back to her star.
Natalia winks playfully at me before focusing again on the heart. I watch her spread red icing precisely over it, making sure the covering is smooth and even. She then grabs a little squeeze tube of white icing, writing something on top.
I still haven’t stopped watching her when she looks back up at me, her bubbly smile making my heart skip a beat or two.
Doesn’t this woman know I’m a heart patient?
She slides the cookie over to me, raising an eyebrow at me in the process. I follow her silent order and look down.
FOREVER.
I must have been staring for a while because the next thing I know Natalia’s hand is worriedly feeling my face and I hear her saying my name frantically.
I look up and everyone is staring at me.
“Grrrr?”
Shit, Olivia, you’re scaring the two year old.
“Grrrr,” I say back, giving her a little tickle. She goes back to dipping her fingers in green icing and smearing it over her mouth like lipstick.
I turn back to Natalia, swatting away her probing hands. “I’m fine.”
“Is it your heart?”
“Yes,” I reply absentmindedly.
“Honey?” “Mom?" “Mommy?” “Olivia?”
All four voices sound at the same time, only Francesca remains oblivious.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I explain. I start digging through the massive pile of cookies in front of me, looking for one I had made for fun while Natalia was at Frank’s. Finding it, I clasp it tightly between my hands.
“Did you mean it?”
I’m staring directly at Natalia now, and her brow creases slightly in confusion. I keep staring, waiting for her to catch up like she always does. Suddenly her brow unfurrows and she’s giving me a small, shy smile.
“Of course.”
I knew she did, but I had to make sure.
“Will you marry me?”
Four gasps.
I smile, bringing my woeful attempt at a cookie diamond ring up within view.
It looks pretty pathetic; one side of the diamond baked bigger than the other and the actual ring looks more like an amoeba than a circle.
But I guess it’s good enough, because Natalia screams “YES!” and starts kissing me. Vaguely I register some clapping and hear Ava suggest we move upstairs.
When we part I realize that the Gummi Bear was in my lap the entire time. I look down to find green icing smeared all over my shirt. Lovely.
Before I can address the issue she grabs the cookie out of my hand and bites off the diamond, smiling contentedly up at me.
Natalia starts giggling and I frown.
“I guess I’ll have to get you a new ring,” I snort.
Getting up I set the cookie monster next to her Mama, heading towards the kitchen to work on my shirt.
I’ve only taken a few steps when I feel a strong hand on my shoulder.
Oh shit.
I cautiously turn around and suddenly Rafe is wrapping me up in a warm hug, ignoring the icing that will now cover his prized sweater too.
“Congratulations, Mom.”
This is not what I expected.
Not at all.
Not beta’d, blame the mistakes on the nog.
Also, it’s long. Really long. As in 4,500+ words long. You can blame that on the nog too!
Title: Not What I Expected
Author: chebomic
Rating: PG-13 for language and, errr, images.
Summary: If you’d asked me a few years ago what I’d be doing for Christmas anytime in the future, this would be at the end of my list.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, they belong to someone else, I’m not profiting in any way, just for fun, etc.
Spoilers: None. It’s Christmastime a couple years after the finale. Assumes the baby was born around Thanksgiving and is now two years old. Olivia’s POV.
A/N: Rafe never joined the army in this world. I just like to pretend he went off to college instead of training camp, because in reality that would have never been possible. So you should just pretend with me for the sake of this ficlet, mmmk? Thanks!
This is not what I expected.
Oh no, definitely not. If you’d asked me a few years ago what I’d be doing for Christmas anytime in the future, this would be at the end of my list. Scratch that - it wouldn’t be even on the fucking list in the first place.
Baking. That’s what I’m doing. It’s Christmas Eve and I’m baking. In the kitchen. Wearing an apron. Baking.
And it's not even the whole June Cleaver thing that’s getting to me either. I think aprons can be sexy as hell. Like when a certain Latina is wearing nothing but one and a pair of black Jimmy Choo’s waiting for you on the kitchen table when you come from work on a Wednesday. She told me it was a birthday surprise. My birthday had passed two months prior. Not that I was complaining.
Merry Fuckin’ Birthday, Olivia.
Wait a sec. I meant Happy Birthday. You get the drift. And if you could see what I saw you’d be mixing up your holiday adjectives too.
One word: Stove.
Such a convenient piece of machinery. Jesus.
Anyway, back to the baking. Like I said, it’s not the housewife part that’s bothering me. I was a chef once; I may not like the kitchen but I can handle it. The baking isn’t the problem. It’s the willingness.
I’m standing here on Christmas Eve mixing cookie batter simply because Natalia asked me to.
I would do anything for that woman. Anything. It’s actually kinda pathetic how far that sentiment has taken me these past couple of years.
There are a bunch of things I’ve done for her, big and little.
Like keeping the death stares to a minimum with Frank. That took me a while to get under control, but for good reason. Imagining his hands on my Natalia made me want to slap that sappy golly-gee-Natalia-I’ll-always-love-you smile off of his face. And so I did. Once. But I swear after that (and two weeks on the couch) I was done. Ever since then he’s behaved and so have I. Olivia Spencer, perfect angel.
Or making her the official other mommy to Emma. Apparently that was the best Mother’s Day present ever. Although when she first opened the envelope and saw the adoption papers she just started crying. Boy, was I confused. Then she hit me and I was pissed. But the next thing I new she was kissing me. I took that as a yes.
Or cutting back on the cheeseburgers and martinis. That was hard. But once she hit me with that pout-“I thought you wanted us to be an old married couple with matching jogging suits?”-there was no question. We’re going to be the most badass old couple in Springfield if I have anything to say about it.
Or just doing things to make her smile. Little surprises here and there, flowers, candlelit dinners sans children. But she takes them much more seriously. “It shows how much you care. I love it. I love you.” Totally worth the dimples.
Or giving up half my designer wardrobe just so we can share a closet. When I first moved back in half my stuff was in the one in the hall, but she said it didn’t feel right. So I made it feel right for her. Done.
Or limiting the cussing, saving it for Natalia-free and Natalia-Me times only. She officially named our room exempt from the Swear Jar. Thank baby fuckin Jesus for that.
Or leaving work at five thirty everyday, no matter how busy, so that I can be home for dinner at six.
Or simply helping with doing the laundry.
And that’s not even the half of it. I’m whipped. Incredibly so, in fact, and I don't give a damn.
So when my lovely girlfriend ordered me to finish the baking on her way out-Emma in tow-to get the little one from Frank’s, I readily obliged.
After some mandatory sarcasm.
“I see how it is. Leave me here to slave away while you two go get the Bear? Hardly seems fair to me.”
That go me an eye roll.
“Oh hush, Olivia. There’s only one more batch to go. And would you please stop calling our daughter a bear? She’s not an animal.”
“But she’s my little Gummi Bear,” I pout. “Plus, Emma’s not a vegetable and she’s still our Bean.”
“Yeah, Ma. I’m not a vegetable!” Emma echoed as she twirled around trying to find the sleeves of her puffy pink coat.
“Well I don’t like it, so you’re going to change it.”
To hell I will.
Gummi Bear may be a strange nickname, but it’s the right one. First of all, it goes with the whole candy theme. I mean, the Bean is only the Bean because of my never-ending cravings for Jelly Bellies when I was pregnant with her. So Gummi Bear fits.
Plus, the kid’s a little beast. Between her floppy-haired father and Natalia’s oh-so-luscious locks, Francesca popped out looking like the fetal version of Diana Ross.
Poof.
And you know how some newborns lose some hair before it really starts growing? Yeah, that didn’t happen with this kid. Not-uh. Her hair just got darker and curlier and messier and bigger. She was barely two months and we were already using hair clips. One day I gave her a bunch of little ponytails all over her head while Natalia was at the grocery store. Funniest. Thing. Ever.
Mama didn’t think so.
Oh, and the baby not only looked like a beast with her wild black hair, she acted like one too. Instead of crying when she was hungry, she growled. Cute and tiny baby growls, complete chubby little fingers pawing the air in search of Mama’s boobies.
Poor kid, I knew the feeling.
And that pretty much solidified the name for me. She was the Gummi Bear. Emma liked it, and the Bean always greeted the baby with a little growl and a kiss. Much to Natalia’s displeasure, I started doing it too.
That’s probably why, around six months, our youngest baby girl said her first word: Grrrr.
Now, Natalia says that grrrr is not a word.
“It’s a sound, Olivia. And what makes this grrrr any different from the other ones, hmmm?”
I’ll tell you exactly what I told her.
This grrrr was special. It had meaning other than MamaBoobyNow! and it came at a very precise, non-feeding related time. And a very good one at that.
We had just finished eating at Company, where we usually meet Frank and Blake to have some pseudo family time before giving up Francesca for a few days. So there I was, standing with the baby nestled comfortably against my chest. I dropped a kiss on her head, told her I loved her and gave her a little squeeze before turning towards Frank. He was ready and waiting, arms outstretched.
And that’s when it happened.
Franky reached for the baby and the baby growled at Franky.
Grrrr.
All five of us-Natalia, Emma, Blake, Frank and I-went silent.
Frank frowned briefly before readopting that sap-ass smile and reaching again.
Grrrrrrr.
I smiled. Natalia swatted my shoulder. Emma giggled, vanilla ice cream dribbling down her chin. Blake gaped. Frank pouted.
It was the perfect moment, and after a few more growl-filled attempts Francesca left with her daddy looking none too pleased.
So like I said, she’s the Bear. My sweet little Gummi Bear.
Natalia will just have to get used to it.
Speaking of, I think she’s home. Yep. That was definitely a car door shutting.
I hear the telltale crunch of snow at a rate that is way too fast to be considered safe, and before I can start yelling like a madwoman I hear my other half’s mothering tone.
“Slow down, Em, you’re going to fall.”
The crunching immediately slows and I sigh. Thank God for Natalia.
I finish up stirring the batter for my secret batch of cookies before checking on the ones I already put in the oven. Not done yet. I walk to the kitchen door and open it, just as Emma busts through the back door and into the mudroom.
“Wait a second there, Bean. Jacket and boots.” I’m blocking her from entering the kitchen. One of Natalia’s biggest pet peeves is dragging the outside into her kitchen. “That’s what the mudroom’s for. It’s not just there to be walked through. Use it.” Emma shucks the jacket and kicks of her boots, sniffing the air suspiciously as she does.
“Did you burn them, Mom?”
I sigh. I’m Mom now. Not Mommy. Apparently eleven is too old for your kid to call you Mommy. Damn double digits.
“No, Emma, I didn’t torch the cookies. Now scoot! Go wash you hands so we can decorate ‘em.”
She runs past me in a blur, socks squeaking against the hardwood floors of the kitchen. Once I hear her start to thud up the stairs I open the back door and head out.
Natalia’s getting Francesca out of the backseat. I’ll have to talk to Emma about helping her Ma out. Again.
“Hey there,” I say as come up next to her, putting a hand on the small of her back.
“Hey yourself.” She smiles and pulls our girl out of the car seat. It’s started to snow so I pull up the hood on her jacket. Of course her unruly hair pops out in random spots.
“Hi Grrrr,” she smiles brightly at me, complete with one dimple. She’s got the cutest little face. Perfectly chubby with brown eyes just like her Mama. And that little voice, too. Damn I got lucky.
“Hello Miss Bear!” Natalia snorts. “Did you miss me?”
“Ya I mi’d you, Grrr.” She reaches her little hands out to me, but Natalia starts walking towards the house.
“Baby, Mommy’s too old to pick you up. And you’re getting far too big.”
So not fair. It’s like Natalia still thinks I’m going to have a heart attack the second I pick up the kid, and she’s not even thirty pounds!
I run to catch back up to them, stepping in front of Natalia to stop her progress.
“Gimme.”
“Olivia, no.”
“Gimme…please?” I wiggle my fingers and pout. She’s thinking it over, I can tell. I think she’s about to say no again so I whip out the big guns. “Honey, it’s Christmas!”
She frowns as the Bear parrots, “Uh-nee, it kwitma!” She wiggles and tries to escape into my arms.
Kid’s got skills. And I take full credit for them.
“Fine,” Natalia huffs. She’s trying not to smile, something the half-dimple on her left cheek easily gives away.
I settle Francesca on my hip, giving her a big raspberry on her cheek that earns me a precious giggle. I grab Nat’s nearest hand with my free one and intertwine our fingers as we head for the house.
Finally inside-jackets and shoes left in the mudroom, mind you-I put the Bear on the floor and give her a little pat on the butt.
“Go on and wash your hands, Miss Bear. Then go find your big sis and bug her for a bit, will ya?”
“Okay, Grrrr.”
She waddles out of the kitchen excitedly, and I peek my head around the doorway to make sure she gets up the stairs safely. When I turn back Natalia has already retrieved the cookies from the oven, saving them I’m sure from a blackened doom.
I slide up behind her as she expertly transfers the cookies to a cooling rack, resting my chin on her shoulder and wrapping my arms tightly around her midsection. She relaxes a little and finally turns around in my arms after the cookie transport is complete.
“Hello dear.” I lean in for a quick kiss.
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Hi sweetie.” She hugs me closer and drops her head on her shoulder.
Huh.
That’s not a particularly happy gesture according to my index of Natalia Rivera’s body language.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
She shakes her head.
Score two for the negative body language.
Shit. What did I do wrong?
I baked the cookies.
Did she ask me to do anything else?
No, definitely not.
I turn my head a little to inspect the floor. No snow was dragged in.
Double huh.
That leaves me with nothing else besides something happening at Frank’s. I hope. ‘Cause if I did something to ruin her Christmas I’m going to be so pissed. Dammit, Spencer!
“Did something happen at Frank’s?”
Another shake.
“Are you sure?”
A nod.
Okay, I may be ten times more patient now than I was before Natalia, but I’m nearing my tolerance level fast.
“Baby,” I start rubbing circles on her back, “if you don't tell me what’s wrong I can’t fix it.” And I hate not being able to fix it.
I wait for about a minute and finally she mumbles something.
“What was that?”
She raises her head and looks at me with sad eyes. “They were all there.”
Uh. Okay. I have no fuckin clue what the fuck that means. Fuck me!
“Who was all there, baby?” I’m trying to remain patient, but apparently it’s not working because she leans back a little and her eyes start to water. I know she wants to walk away but lucky for me she’s pinned to the counter.
I move my hands from her back and bring them up between us to grab the sides of her face.
“I’m sorry.” I lean and kiss her forehead. She closes her eyes so I kiss them too, willing the tears not come. “I just want to help you and I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I kiss her lightly on the lips and rest my forehead against hers. “Please?”
She pulls back from me and an almost indecipherable “all-the-Coopers-were-at-Frank’s-and-Blake’s-family-too-and-it’s-Christmas!” explodes from her mouth before she buries her head into my neck sobbing uncontrollably.
What. The. Fuck.
Okay. Figure this out, Spencer.
I return to rubbing her back and turn us around so I can lean on the counter and she can lean more fully on me. She tightens her hold around my neck to the point that I’m almost choking. I can feel my shirt begin to soak up her tears.
So the Coopers were all al Frank’s house? I don't see how that could be upsetting. It would annoy the shit out of me but Natalia actually likes them. Well, except Marina. Oh shit.
“Was Marina there?”
She nods. It’s my turn to tighten my hold.
“Did she say something to you again, baby? I swear to God if that stupid oompa loompa so much as looked at you I’m going to rip her orange fu-” the rest gets mumbled into Natalia’s hand.
She hasn’t even moved from her resting place in the crook of my neck, but she waits until I nod submissively to return her hand to the back of my neck. Her crying is starting to slow a bit, or at least she trying to control it. I hear little sniffs and some muffled hiccups.
I still don't get what the problem is. It’s not Marina, much to my displeasure. I would love an excuse to punch that bitch in the face. She’s been nothing but a nuisance since the baby, making snide comments about Natalia and I every chance she gets. She made Nat cry once, so she’s currently sitting pretty at the top of my hit list. It’s hypothetical, of course.
Maybe.
“So all the Coopers were there when you picked up the Bear?”
She nods and starts crying harder again.
Good job, Spencer. Very smooth.
As a mull over the implication of the Cooper clan’s presence, two heads peek around the doorway of the living room. Both my girls are pouting, concerned at the sight of their Ma crying. And even though Francesca is practically Natalia’s clone she’s got the Spencer pout down. She’s definitely our kid.
I smile reassuringly at them, beckoning them quietly with two fingers. They sneak forward silently and I motion them to stop and stay quiet once they’re about a foot away. I’ve got the problem figured out now.
“Are you sad because all the Coopers are together but Rafe is still at school and not here with us?”
She nods.
I squeeze her a little harder and lean back.
“Well you know,” I say, wiping at her tears with my thumbs, “I may have something that’ll make you feel better.”
She frowns disbelievingly so I smile wide and yell, “NOW!”
Before she has any chance to process what is happening, I feel two thuds hit her one after the other. My back rams painfully into the counter, but Natalia is now laughing in delight so I forget about it quickly.
Emma wriggles her way in between us, hugging Natalia around the waist with one arm as she uses the other to hoist Francesca up and into our arms.
“Now didn’t I tell you I could make you feel better?”
“Yes.” She smiles and readjusts the baby so she’s bearing all the weight. I don't even think she realizes that she’s always trying to take care of me. “You were right.”
“Aren’t I always?” I smirk, wrapping my arms as well as I can around all of my girls. “I know you’re sad that Rafe’s not here, but we’re here and we love you very much. Don’t we, girls?”
“I love you, Ma.” “Ya, Mama!” Emma squeezes harder while Francesca’s gives her a big ole kiss on the cheek.
Damn, my girls are good.
“Okay girls, why don’t you go wait on the couch while your Ma and I get all the stuff ready for cookie decorating?”
The Bear squeals and wriggles down and out of Natalia’s grasp, quickly catching up to Emma as she leaves the kitchen.
I turn back to the abandoned bowl of cookie mix I was working on earlier and begin to plop little mounds onto a sheet. Natalia grabs sprinkles and icing out of the cupboard and starts loading them onto a tray.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, I had some dough left over.” I’m trying to be nonchalant. I don’t know if it worked or if Natalia is just too drained to notice how nervous I am. Either way, she doesn’t question me and I’m thankful.
I pop the cookie sheet into the oven and head to the living room. Natalia’s sitting on the floor with the baby in her lap and Em’s sitting next to her. They're all leaning over the coffee table, getting the cookies and toppings ready for our little Christmas tradition.
Emma sees me approach and smiles. “Can we start, Mom?”
“I don’t know, Bean.” Bending down, I drop a kiss atop her head. “Something’s missing.”
They’re all frowning at me now, and just when I’m about to come up with an excuse to postpone the cookie-fest there’s a knock at the door.
I glance down on my watch. Eight. Just on time.
Emma shoots up off the floor to answer it, ignoring my plea to stay put. Before I can even attempt to stop her she flings the door open and reveals the special delivery to the living room’s other occupants.
“Rafe!”
Holy shit I’m going to be deaf.
“AVA!”
Now I am deaf.
Natalia gets up in a hurry, carefully shoving the Gummi Bear into my arms before running to the door. Apparently in this case my health can take a back seat. I should do this more often.
“Ow. Ma! Lemme go!”
Natalia’s squealing in delight, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping almost maniacally. I briefly wonder if perhaps this is what she looked like as a kid, before she got pregnant. I’ve never seen her so happy. I wish I knew her back then too. Five years feels like a raw deal.
“Hello Miss Franny-Panny!” Rafe walks over to me and extends a hand. I shake it awkwardly. “Olivia,” he nods. This has become a ritual of ours, one he started back around the double-wedding. I know he still has problems with me and Natalia-more specifically the me part-so handshakes will do just fine. They are completely odd and unnecessarily formal, but they’re better than nothing and they’re ours. I like to think we share something, because as much as he may hate me I love him. He’s my only son.
Natalia walks over with an arm wrapped around Ava. I’ve always found their relationship rather amusing. When we first got back together Ava was pissed. Being my daughter she was quite vocal about her displeasure, calling up Natalia and giving her the Spencer version of the “If-you-hurt-her” speech. It must’ve been one hell of a talk, because Natalia didn't say a word the entire time and when she finally hung up she just walked over and said, “I’ll never leave you.” Something in the way she was looking at made me turn into a giant blubber ball and the waterworks didn’t stop for a good half hour. Not one of my proudest moments. But nowadays Natalia and Ava are like best buds, trading secrets on how to manage the difficult Olivia Spencer. Pffft.
“Rafe, please. Don’t call her that. It sounds so…”
“You named her Ma, not me. Deal with the consequences.” He takes the wriggling Bear out of my arms, ruffling her mess of hair playfully.
I can’t help but chuckle at that, and Natalia is quick to elbow my side. Ouchie.
“Oh, I wouldn’t be laughing,” Rafe continues with a smirk directed at me. Francesca is pulling at his ear with one hand and smacking his cheek with the other, desperately trying to get his attention while ignoring her big brother’s mini flinches at the barrage. “Ma told me the name was your idea. One too many martinis that day, Spencer?”
“Rafael!”
I’m laughing even harder now, partly because it was my idea and partly because the scandalized look on Natalia’s face is just priceless.
“Wafe!”
We are all interrupted by the topic of our conversation herself, who is now pulling relentlessly on Rafe’s favorite Cubs sweatshirt.
“Wafe, look me!”
“Yeah, Wh-Wh-Wafe, look at her!” Emma’s little impression earns another scandalized look from Natalia.
Rafe obliges, sitting on the couch and looking pointedly at his little sister.
“Yes, Franny-Panny-Lanny? What’s up?”
Natalia rolls her eyes and the rest of us laugh, waiting as Francesca looks intently back at him. She seems to be mulling something over, searching that little noodle to come up with the right combination of words to meet her needs.
“Grrrr.”
That’s my Bear!
“Olivia!”
Oops, I must have said that out loud.
Before Natalia can scold me too much I hear the oven timer beep and escape into the kitchen. A few minutes later I head back to the living room to find everyone settled on the floor around the table. Francesca, Natalia and Emma are leaning against the couch while the big kids sit opposite them nearest the tree.
I set the plate of new cookies on the table in front of Rafe.
“Sugar-free,” I explain.
Did he just smile at me?
I shake my head and take a place next to my now-dimply girlfriend, scooping the Gummi Bear into my lap. Natalia scoots closer to me and kisses my cheek, nuzzling closer to my ear.
“I don’t know how you did this, honey, but thank you.” She kisses me again right along my jaw line, causing me to shiver involuntarily at the simple gesture. All I can do is smile at her and nod weakly. Olivia Freakin’ Spencer, puddle of goo.
A few minutes pass and we’re all pretty engrossed in our task, cookies being purposefully covered in icing and sprinkles with care. It’s kind of ridiculous, decorating cookies just so you can eat them. The old me wouldn’t have seen the point. But I know that when we all wake up in the morning, long after Santa has come and gone, these cookies will be well worth the work. We’ll snuggle next to the fire in our PJ’s with some hot cocoa and open all the presents, and the cookies will meet their delicious end in our stomachs.
I’m working on a tree-shaped cookie with my Bear, half-listening to the conversation Natalia is having with my second daughter.
“What’re you making next, Ma?”
“Mmmm, I think I’ll decorate this heart.”
“A heart isn’t a Christmas shape.”
“It is.”
“Not-uh.”
“Yeah-huh. You spend Christmas with the people you love, so a heart is definitely a Christmas shape.”
I look up at this, not surprised to see Natalia already looking right at me.
“And I made this heart,” she continues, “just for you mom.”
Emma mutters a disgusted “yuck” and turns her attention back to her star.
Natalia winks playfully at me before focusing again on the heart. I watch her spread red icing precisely over it, making sure the covering is smooth and even. She then grabs a little squeeze tube of white icing, writing something on top.
I still haven’t stopped watching her when she looks back up at me, her bubbly smile making my heart skip a beat or two.
Doesn’t this woman know I’m a heart patient?
She slides the cookie over to me, raising an eyebrow at me in the process. I follow her silent order and look down.
FOREVER.
I must have been staring for a while because the next thing I know Natalia’s hand is worriedly feeling my face and I hear her saying my name frantically.
I look up and everyone is staring at me.
“Grrrr?”
Shit, Olivia, you’re scaring the two year old.
“Grrrr,” I say back, giving her a little tickle. She goes back to dipping her fingers in green icing and smearing it over her mouth like lipstick.
I turn back to Natalia, swatting away her probing hands. “I’m fine.”
“Is it your heart?”
“Yes,” I reply absentmindedly.
“Honey?” “Mom?" “Mommy?” “Olivia?”
All four voices sound at the same time, only Francesca remains oblivious.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I explain. I start digging through the massive pile of cookies in front of me, looking for one I had made for fun while Natalia was at Frank’s. Finding it, I clasp it tightly between my hands.
“Did you mean it?”
I’m staring directly at Natalia now, and her brow creases slightly in confusion. I keep staring, waiting for her to catch up like she always does. Suddenly her brow unfurrows and she’s giving me a small, shy smile.
“Of course.”
I knew she did, but I had to make sure.
“Will you marry me?”
Four gasps.
I smile, bringing my woeful attempt at a cookie diamond ring up within view.
It looks pretty pathetic; one side of the diamond baked bigger than the other and the actual ring looks more like an amoeba than a circle.
But I guess it’s good enough, because Natalia screams “YES!” and starts kissing me. Vaguely I register some clapping and hear Ava suggest we move upstairs.
When we part I realize that the Gummi Bear was in my lap the entire time. I look down to find green icing smeared all over my shirt. Lovely.
Before I can address the issue she grabs the cookie out of my hand and bites off the diamond, smiling contentedly up at me.
Natalia starts giggling and I frown.
“I guess I’ll have to get you a new ring,” I snort.
Getting up I set the cookie monster next to her Mama, heading towards the kitchen to work on my shirt.
I’ve only taken a few steps when I feel a strong hand on my shoulder.
Oh shit.
I cautiously turn around and suddenly Rafe is wrapping me up in a warm hug, ignoring the icing that will now cover his prized sweater too.
“Congratulations, Mom.”
This is not what I expected.
Not at all.