Chapter 4
The moment Peter learned Stephen was coming home with him, the boy was nothing but a stream of excited babbles.
“Stee-ben! ‘Es play ‘en t’ain! En bah! Dah-dee; Stee-ben nigh-nigh?”
Tony let the boy talk and talk and talk himself back into exhaustion. A plan that worked better than Stephen expected. By the time they returned to the Porsche, Peter was back to yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes.
“Okay, upsie-daisy,” Tony helped Peter into his car seat. “You want your Nuk? Here we go…want me to put on Bluey?”
“Yeah….Boo-ey…”
“Alright, that means Stephen’s going to sit up front with me.”
With a simple ‘Kay’, Stephen was released from his duties as Peter’s personal travel buddy. He was now free to sit in the front passenger seat beside Tony.
“Poor little guy is really tuckered out,” the doctor observed as he looked back at Peter. The boy was slouched down his car seat, pacifier languidly bobbing in his mouth.
“Oh, he’ll have a third wind once he gets his bath,” Tony chuckled. “I have every sleepy-time, lavender and eucalyptus Little bath wash under the sun – but Peter always manages to pull out one last burst of energy right after I get him toweled off.”
Stephen would have to wait and see if this was true. As it was, Peter could barely keep his eyes open. Not even his beloved ‘Boo-ey’ could keep his attention.
Tony spent the drive talking about all the various renovations he had done on his historic brownstone. Stephen was greatly impressed with the effort, as he himself had gone out of his way to make sure his penthouse was fully turn-key. Even the idea of having to change paint color caused him to bristle.
“I told myself I would contain Peter to the second floor,” Tony said with a sad shaking of his head, “his designated Little wing. I redid it with a full-size bathroom and a built-in changing table, a playroom, a nursery…”
“How long before he took over your whole house?” Stephen chuckled.
“A week, maybe,” Tony could not help but laugh as well. “At this point, there’s not a single room that doesn’t have a basket of pacifiers or a box of changing supplies.”
“Even yours?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tony rolled the Porsche out the busy traffic on 34th and down a side street, “everyone told me not to let him in my bed. No matter how bad the dream, no matter how much he begs…”
“So, does Peter sleep in your bed?”
“Sometimes. If he falls asleep in there, I’ll just let him stay. But Peter’s really good about going down in his crib. Naptime, bedtime; give him his Nuk and a stuffy and he’s out like a light. Honestly,” Tony sighed, “he’s a great kiddo. I know every caregiver thinks their Little is the best, but…I really won the lotto with this lil’ guy.”
“He’s certainly charmed me,” said Stephen.
“Want to see something really crazy?” Tony asked as he slowed the Porsche down in front of an unassuming brownstone. With a smug smile, he hit one of the many buttons on the screen inlaid on the car’s dashboard.
“Is that…? No!” Stephen’s eyes went wide. Where the step down to the bottom floor of the brownstone ought to be was a door, slowly rolling up. “Do you…do you have a garage?”
“The cost alone, without including all the permits my contractor had to pull, was well into six figures.”
“I don’t deny it,” Stephen whispered as they eased down into the modest space. As impressive as the idea of a garage in a brownstone was, in practice it was a bit lackluster. The garage was just big enough for one car and just enough wiggle room to get a Little in and out.
“But,” Tony continued, “after our first winter with trying to deal with a fussy Little, Christmas shopping and stroller – worth every penny!”
“Home…,” Peter made a happy chirrup as Tony and Stephen undid their seatbelts, “Dah-dee…Stee-ben, play?”
“The baby needs a bath first,” Tony said. He then came around the side of the SUV and once more began the laborious task of getting Peter out of his seat. “Come on, step down for me.” With clumsy motions, Peter got both his feet onto the running board.
“Bih-g jump!” He cried as he hopped down to the cement floor.
“Big jump,” Tony repeated in a sing-song voice.
“I got the diaper bag,” Stephen placed a quick peck on Tony’s cheek before reaching back into the car.
“Thanks! Hey baby,” Tony looked to Peter, who was now laying his head on his daddy’s shoulder, “can we tell Stephen thank you?”
“Thank-oo…”
“Happy to help,” Stephen smiled. “Though, as cute as the whales are, something a little more discreet might be nice. Maybe Italian leather; black…”
“Right…,” Tony rolled his eyes, “when Ferragamo drops their line of luxury diaper bags, I’ll be sure to pick one up for you.”
The door leading up to the main floor of the brownstone was secured with the most unusual glossy black lock. Before Stephen could ask about it, Tony lifted his watch to the lock face, which caused the screen to pulsate with a green light.
“Cool trick,” Stephen said as they entered, “Do all your doors have that?”
“Pretty much,” Said Tony, “I also have them on all the Little gates since this place is five floors tall. Well,” he hemmed, “I guess more like three floors; I don’t really count the garage and rooftop garden.”
Tony and Peter led the way up to the first landing, Stephen trailing behind with the bag. Just as he had with the garage door, Tony put his watch to the gate look and the door swung open. Both the gate and the railing surrounding the stairs stood at about three feet in height; well above what Peter would be able to crawl over.
“T’ains!” Peter cried as he broke with Tony’s side. “Stee-ben, t’ains!”
“Hey, cutie!” Tony laughed, “Don’t get too comfy. It’s bath time, remember?”
Stephen said nothing as the brownstone’s main floor had left him utterly speechless.
To know someone had altered their home for their Little and actually seeing it were two different things.
The house itself boasted classic crown molding and chandelier medallions; the sort of things that subtly invoked a different time and place. The walls beneath that molding though had been painted with an industrial grey and the decorative medallions stood in stark contrast to the hard-edged modern lighting that hung beneath them.
Layered over that was an incredible assortment of toys and games, play rugs and bean bag seats. On one wall was a flat screen television, the opposite had a sort of magnet board with a variety of letters and numbers. Every color of the rainbow was represented in some way.
“T’ains!” Peter was already on his knees beside what initially appeared to be a low, wooden table. When he began to reach inside, Stephen realized that it was actually hollow, and that Peter was able to maneuver something (something he assumed to be trains).
“I hate to ask again; but can you keep an eye on him while I unpack the bag and get his bath going?” Tony asked, already taking the diaper bag from Stephen’s shoulder.
“No, I don’t mind,” Stephen smiled with assurance.
“Thanks! I might actually manage to get Peter in, out, in his jammies and in bed in under an hour.”
“Stee-ben!” Peter shrieked with excitement, “Play!”
“Indoor voice, please,” Tony half-laughed, “Really? You can’t share? He’s technically my boyfriend, you know.”
Peter wordlessly held up one of his wooden trains, pacifier bobbing in his mouth.
“I have been summoned,” said Stephen, “go take care of what you need to take care of and then…yeah, I’ll just stay with him.”
“You’re the best,” Tony gave Stephen a tender kiss before heading up the next flight of stairs.
“So, what do we have here?” Stephen elegantly seated himself by Peter, crossing his long legs in front of him.
“T’ain!” Peter said proudly, “See?”
“I do see,” Stephen was quite impressed with the wood track. It was designed to be taken apart with pieces that featured interlocking keys and grooves. There was even a bridge that could be lifted with a small lever to let a handsome yellow tugboat pass under.
The train cars themselves had magnetic tips so that they too could be broken down and put back together. All around the track sat an assortment of hand-painted businesses like a post-office, farmer’s market and even a doctor’s office.
“Look, there I am,” Stephen pointed to the building, “did your daddy tell you I’m a doctor?”
Peter looked at the little building; all white with its red roof and red cross in the window. Then he looked back at Stephen.
“Owie?” He asked, seeming more concerned for Stephen than himself.
“No, no owie,” Stephen smiled, “I help people with owies. I do surgeries to help them feel better.”
“I help!” Peter leapt to his feet and toddled over to a substantial toy box. He then proceeded to toss out almost everything inside it, an act Stephen felt like he should try and stop. After all, he had been put in charge of Peter until Tony’s return. What would a good caregiver do?
“I help!” Peter cried out again as he pulled a blue cloth bag from the toy chest. “Stee-ben no owie!”
“What do you have there…?” Stephen asked warily as Peter toddled back to his side. Before seating himself, Peter unceremoniously dumped out everything inside the bag. “What is that? A stethoscope?”
It was indeed; a bright red and yellow stethoscope that Peter popped into his ears. He babbled something sweetly before placing the bell right in the middle of Stephen’s chest. Stephen, uncertain of what to do, sat perfectly still and waited for Dr. Peter’s diagnosis. His eyes roved around the assortment of ‘tools’ that also fell from the bag: an otoscope, tweezers, a thermometer and even a blood pressure cuff. All of it plastic, all of it ineffective.
“No owie!” Peter confirmed as he pulled the stethoscope away.
“Well, that’s good news!” Stephen smiled at him.
Speedy footsteps flew down the stairs and Tony, now without his jacket and shoes, came into the living room.
“How’s everyone doing down here?” He asked, rolling up his shirt sleeves.
“Dah-dee! Stee-ben no owie!”
“I just got a clean bill of health,” Stephen smiled.
“Congratulations,” Tony said with a teasing sort of enthusiasm before turning to Peter. “Ready for your bath, little man?”
“Stee-ben bah?”
“No, only the baby is going to have a bath,” Tony reached down to help Peter up. “And I bet he’s got another wet diaper for me, huh?”
“No,” Peter laughed and shook his head.
“Uh-huh, okay, whatever you say Doctor Peter.”
“Want me to just wait here?” Stephen asked.
“Well,” Tony began, “um, if you want, I have a wine chiller in the kitchen. There’s a gorgeous Riesling I’ve been wanting to uncork since I bought it forever ago in Temecula. Maybe grab that and a couple of glasses? It’s the twenty-fourteen Lila Sonne.”
“I can do that. And, so,” Stephen was sure he understood Tony’s instructions, but felt they were important enough to repeat. “You want me to come upstairs? To the nursery?”
“Yeah!” Peter chirped, “’N play!”
“What he said,” Tony smiled.
The kitchen was the definition of sophistication. White Carrera marble covered every surface, each slab sporting a winding grey vein or two. All the fixtures were gold, all the cabinets were black. The gas range had eight burners and a griddle.
It was also the area where the housekeeper’s absence was most notable. Despite the top-of-the-line dishwasher, the sink was filled with plates and sippy cups. Stephen could see out into the main level garden through the grand floor to ceiling windows. Plastic shovels and buckets and other toys made a crumb trail to a little sandbox set up by a bistro set. Inwardly, Stephen swooned at the idea of watching Little Peter in his shortalls building a sandcastle while he and Tony enjoyed a glass of…
Wine; he was there to get wine.
The chiller had been built into the island. Stephen sifted through a number of fine wines before pulling the Lila Sonne. He then grabbed two glasses by their stems and headed up the steps to the third floor. Or second floor…whatever it was.
The nursery was surprising less chaotic. It had all the proper trappings like a crib and a play tee-pee and big comfy chair tucked between two bookshelves. There was also a large sectional sofa that wrapped around a play rug stacked with even more toys. Stephen uncorked the wine and poured himself a glass before taking a seat in one of the corners of the sectional.
“Dah-dee, ‘es Stee-ben ‘n goh-nee dah?” He heard Peter’s voice echoing in the bathroom, which was apparently right behind a big white door beside the sectional.
“I don’t know, maybe you can ask him,” said Tony.
“Yeah! Stee-ben par’!”
“Maybe, we’ll see. Okay, arms up please. There we go, almost done…”
Stephen sipped and savored the flavors of jasmine, green apple and lime; a curious but distinctly west coast combination. He could almost see the winery in his mind, feel the cool mist rolling over the hills and down into the valley. Stephen had only been to the California wine region once before to attend the wedding of a college roommate. It had been an extravagant affair, complete with a dove releasing ceremony and a live band for the reception. The bride could barely emote due to the toxic level of Botox that had been injected into her face.
As he took another sip, Stephen wondered if he could truly see himself as a married man. Beholden to only one person. Well, two people…as the current case was.
Temecula would make for a fine destination. Stephen thought of the venue surrounded by manicured cypress trees, the vineyard gilded with twilight sunglow. He could see himself and Tony in their white tuxedos as a small audience of their closest friends watched them exchange their vows.
And their rings.
Stephen smiled into his glass as he took another sip, imaging Peter in a little suit of his own. He would be at Tony’s side, holding the pillow that cradled their rings. No doubt he would have a hard time focusing on the task at hand; thumb in his mouth as he swayed his hips from side to side.
After they kissed and everyone cheered, Tony and Stephen would each take one of Peter’s hands and walk back up the aisle. Just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Together at last, the most perfect found family…
“Stee-ben!”
Stephen sat up just in time to see Peter, dressed only in a diaper, come running out of the bathroom. Before he had a chance to react, a panicked Tony grabbed the boy from behind and pulled him close.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony laughed as he tickled Peter’s bare belly.
“No dah-dee! Play Stee-ben!”
“Not while you’re naked!” Tony managed to wrangle Peter back into the bathroom. “Come on, jammies first, then you can play.”
When Peter returned, he was fully dressed in a two-piece pajama set of cobalt blue with a pattern of stars and rockets. His toddle was more unsteady, most likely due to a post-bath energy crash and an overly padded nighttime diaper.
“’Tee-behn…,” Peter cooed around his pacifier, “’tory…” He climbed onto the couch and began to snuggle up to the doctor. Stephen could not help but think of the first hug he received from Peter, the one that only happened a few hours earlier. He had been so shocked, so uncertain of was to do. Now, Peter was lying in a sleepy little puddle against his chest, and, without any hesitation, Stephen wrapped his arms around him.
“Told you he got a third wind,” Tony said, coming out of the bathroom.
“Not a long lived one though,” Stephen did not even look up from the boy in his arms. Peter smelled like lavender and no tears shampoo. His hair was already starting to curl up. “I think he asked me for a story.”
“Yeah, he’s got to have his bedtime story.” Tony eased down on the other side of the sectional and helped himself to a glass of wine. After the first sip, he released a great gasp of relief, one equal to a starving man who had taken his first bite of food. “What a day…”
“Yeah…,” Stephen sighed, “what a day…”
“Do you need me to call you a cab?”
“No,” Stephen looked up, “I think I’ll stay and read him a story.”
Tony smiled.
“Well, let me finish this,” he held up his glass, “and then I’ll go down and make him a warm bottle; sound good?”
“Sounds perfect.”