Chapter 358: Baby Fever Is Contagious, Apparently

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that my friends just have no clue what moderation means, even when it comes to celebrating anything that doesn’t directly concern them.

Maya had given birth three days prior, and it seemed that as soon as she was strong enough to hold her phone without risking it falling on her newborn’s face, she transformed our group chat into the Baby Willow Appreciation Society.

My phone had been buzzing nonstop for the last twenty minutes, and with the growing number of unread messages, it was clear Maya wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon.

I shifted to get comfy on the couch, wrapped a cozy blanket around my legs, and opened the latest picture.

There, bundled in a soft pink blanket, was a tiny baby with a little pout that looked suspiciously like disappointment.

Maya??: Look at my baby! Isn’t she perfect?

Joey??: SHE’S HERE!!! WE NEED A PARTY!!!

Connor?: Only you would throw a party for a funeral.

Joey??: That’s just rude! I’d throw a party to celebrate someone’s life!

Connor?: While downing enough drinks to forget whose life it is you’re actually celebrating.

Joey??: You guys never appreciate my contributions to society.

I laughed so hard I almost dropped my phone.

I sent a quick congrats to Maya, saying how beautiful Willow was and wishing her a smooth recovery, just as another photo popped up.

This time, it showed Maya cradling her daughter, her tired yet genuinely happy smile warming something inside me.

I had seen Maya excited over many things before, from wedding plans to super pricey boots she swore were essentials, but this was different.

The way she looked at that little human was almost awe-inspiring; it was like the whole world had shifted just for Willow.

Maya??: Oliver, I’ve officially decided you’re going to be Willow’s godfather. The contracts you will sign will be sent to your email within six business days.

Joey??: COME ON! I THOUGHT WE TALKED ABOUT THIS

Maya??: I’m the mother. I make the decisions.

Joey??: ABSOLUTELY NOT. You know what??? When Natasha gets pregnant, Oliver’s going to be godfather to that baby too, and then he’ll be everyone’s godfather while the rest of us get left out!

Connor?: Maybe he just has one of those faces that inspires confidence.

Me: I have a face that inspires people to ask me for favors, it seems.

Maya??: You’re going to be a wonderful godfather.

I smiled at the screen, already picturing being handed that tiny baby and immediately panicking about whether I was supporting her head right.

I had spent a good chunk of my life caring for others, but being trusted with someone so tiny felt daunting. A sneeze could probably be a natural disaster.

But when Maya sent another photo of Willow peacefully snoozing with one tiny fist under her cheek, I found myself studying it more than I intended.

She was so small, with delicate features and a scrunched little nose.

I started to wonder what it would feel like to hold a child who relied on me not because I had to, but because I chose to be a parent.

That thought caught me off guard and left a strange warmth in my chest I couldn’t quite explain.

I was still staring at the picture when Damien walked out of the master bathroom a few minutes later still damp from the shower, a towel draped around his neck and another low around his hips, phone already in hand as he scrolled through the same group chat.

Water clung to the dark hair at the nape of his neck and traced slow paths down the planes of his chest, and for a moment I forgot about newborns entirely because the sight of him like that never stopped hitting me sideways.

"What’s got you looking so serious?" he asked, settling next to me.

"Just thinking about my new responsibilities as a godfather."

"Should I be worried?"

"Absolutely. Apparently, I’m about to become the most sought-after godfather in our social circle, and I haven’t even been given a certificate."

Damien glanced at his own phone, read through the messages, and quickly typed a reply.

Damien????: Congrats, Maya. She’s beautiful.

Maya shot back almost instantly.

Maya??: Of course she is. She takes after me ??

I snorted, leaning against Damien, who shook his head, amused.

"Modest woman," he remarked.

"She just brought a whole human into the world. I’d say she deserves to be a bit insufferable for at least six months."

"Only six?"

"Fine, a year. Don’t be unreasonable."

He smiled and kissed my temple, but when I went back to the photos, my expression must’ve changed because his fingers paused, tracing circles on my knee.

"What’s wrong, Sunshine?"

"Nothing."

"Oliver."

I sighed, fully aware that Damien had developed this annoying knack for picking up when I was dodging a conversation, a skill I wish he’d lost during our four years apart.

"I’m genuinely happy for Maya," I said. "I really am. It’s just that seeing the pictures made me think about stuff I haven’t spent much time contemplating before."

?Damien watched me for a long moment, the corner of his mouth slowly curving into that knowing smirk that always meant trouble of the most affectionate variety.

"Oh," he murmured. "Baby fever already, Sunshine?"

I felt my face heat up quickly. It was so sudden it could’ve been used to warm his coffee.

"The heck? Absolutely not."

"Of course not."

"I mean it, Asshole!"

"Naturally. You’re just staring at a newborn photo with the intensity of a man researching his future."

"I was admiring the baby, you arrogant jerk."

"Then maybe I should be worried about how much you admire babies."

I tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a ridiculously pleased grin before setting it aside and pulling me closer at the waist. He was relentless in the softest possible way.

He shifted closer, one hand settling on my thigh as he leaned in, voice dropping into that teasing register that always made my stomach flip

"Just imagine it," he murmured, brushing his nose against mine. "A little Oliver running around this penthouse or penthouse, arguing with everyone, stealing my stuff, and looking at me like I personally offended him just by existing."

"That sounds a lot like your current life."

"Except the little one would probably be even cuter."

I stared at him and flushed harder and tried to shove at his shoulder, which only resulted in him catching my wrist and tugging me closer.

"You are so full of yourself it’s almost concerning." I said.

He laughed, and before I could think of another insult, he kissed me, first gently, then again when I tried to pull away.

Sadly, Damien never really respected my pride. He led me toward the kitchen, his hands still on my waist, and when my back hit the cool countertop, he leaned down to kiss the sensitive spot below my ear.

"Damien," I warned, though my tone lacked the authority I meant to convey.

"Hmm?"

"We were talking about babies."

"I remember."

"You have a remarkable knack for losing focus."

"I disagree. I’m very focused on you."

His lips brushed my neck again, and I gripped his shoulders, struggling to remember what point I was trying to make through his teasing kisses.

"You’re impossible," I muttered.

"And you still haven’t answered my question."

"What question?"

"Do you want kids someday?"

The teasing in his voice had faded, and as I looked at him closely, I saw that his smile had turned less confident.

He tucked a damp strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering on my cheek as he awaited my response.

I paused, searching for the right words.

"I don’t want kids right now," I finally said. "I’ve spent so much of my life taking care of someone else that I’d like some time just for me. I want to enjoy living with you without stressing about medical bills, responsibilities, or wondering if the universe is cooking up another disaster for us."

His expression softened, and I rushed to clarify before he could misinterpret me.

"But someday? Yeah, I think I might want a family. Not because I feel like it’s expected of me or because everyone else is doing it, but because I genuinely want to experience what it’s like to build something meaningful with someone I love."

For a moment, Damien was silent, his thumb still moving softly across my cheek, but something vulnerable flickered in his eyes, something so fleeting that I might have missed it if I hadn’t spent so long learning the different sides of him.

"Without me?" he asked softly.

I just stared at him.