Chapter 86 The Nursery

Chapter 86 The Nursery


Sebastian stood in the doorway of what would become the nursery, paint swatches fanned in his hand like a deck of cards. Harper sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by furniture catalogs, one hand absently rubbing her twenty-two-week bump.

"Cloud White or Whisper?" he asked, holding up two nearly identical shades of cream.

Harper squinted at them. "They're the same."

"They're absolutely not the same. Cloud White has blue undertones. Whisper leans warm."

"Since when do you know about paint undertones?"

"Since I went down a YouTube rabbit hole at three AM." He sat beside her, careful not to disturb her catalog system. "I want this room to be perfect."

Harper looked at the earnestness in his face and felt her heart squeeze. "Sebastian, the baby won't care about paint undertones."

"But we will. Every time we walk in here to change a diaper or rock them to sleep or…" He stopped, emotion catching in his throat. "I want them to be surrounded by warmth. By love. By everything I didn't have growing up."

There it was. The real reason he'd been obsessing over this room for weeks.

"Your father," Harper said softly.

"My father never came to my room. Not once that I can remember. He'd summon me to his office if he wanted to see me. Like a business meeting." Sebastian stared at the paint swatches. "I don't want our kid to feel like that. I want them to know they're wanted. That their space matters. That they matter."

Harper took his hand. "They will. Because you're not your father. You're you. And you're going to be an amazing dad."

"How do you know?"

"Because you've been talking to my stomach for four months. Because you cry at ultrasound appointments. Because you're worried about paint undertones at three AM." She kissed him. "That's not obligation. That's love."

Sebastian pulled her close, carefully accommodating her bump. "What if I screw it up? What if I'm too controlling or too distant or…"

"Then we'll figure it out together. No one gets parenting perfect." Harper pulled back to look at him. "But Sebastian, wanting to be better than your father already makes you better. The awareness, the effort,that's everything."

He nodded, not quite convinced but trying to believe. "Whisper?"

"Whisper," Harper agreed.

They spent the afternoon painting. Well, Sebastian painted while Harper supervised from a chair, doctor's orders about fume exposure keeping her as artistic director rather than participant.

"Higher on the left," she instructed. "No, your other left. There. Perfect."

"You're enjoying this too much," Sebastian said, roller dripping cream paint.

"I'm creating core memories for our child. 'Remember when Daddy painted the nursery and got more paint on himself than the walls?'"

"I'm doing great, thank you very much." He gestured with the roller, sending a spray of Whisper across his already paint-speckled t-shirt.

Harper laughed, the sound echoing in the empty room. Sebastian grinned at her, paint in his hair, looking younger and lighter than she'd seen him in months.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just I love you like this. Happy. Not carrying the weight of the world."

"The world can carry itself for a while. I'm busy building a nursery." He went back to painting, then paused. "Harper? Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me this. A family. A chance to be better than I was raised to be." His voice went thick. "A reason to paint rooms at three AM because I'm so excited I can't sleep."

Harper felt tears,goddamn pregnancy hormones prick her eyes. "You're going to make me cry, and I specifically wore mascara today."

"Sorry. I'll stop being emotionally vulnerable immediately."

"Don't you dare."

They worked in comfortable silence for a while. Harper scrolled through crib options on her phone while Sebastian finished the second coat. The room was transforming, walls going from builder beige to something soft and welcoming.

Claire arrived at five with takeout and opinions. "Oh, Whisper. Good choice. Much better than Cloud White."

"See?" Sebastian gestured at his sister triumphantly. "They're different."

"They're barely different," Harper and Claire said in unison, then laughed.

They ate Chinese food sitting on the drop cloth, discussing furniture logistics and arguing about whether the crib should go under the window or against the north wall.

"Under the window is better for natural light," Claire argued.

"But the north wall is better for sound when we're trying to sleep," Sebastian countered.

"Have you considered," Harper said, "that we can try one and move it if we hate it? Furniture isn't permanent."

They both stared at her like she'd said something revolutionary.

"That's actually very practical," Sebastian admitted.

"I'm full of wisdom. It's the pregnancy glow."

"That's sweat from sitting in a paint-fumed room," Claire said. "Come on, let's get you some air."

They moved to the living room, windows open to the Seattle evening. Harper's feet were swelling again,a constant problem now,so Sebastian immediately put them in his lap for a massage.

"You two are disgustingly domestic," Claire observed.

"Jealous?" Sebastian asked.

"Deeply. Also, I have news." Claire pulled out her phone. "The permits came through for the Adriatic expansion. You can add the rooftop terrace."

Harper sat up too quickly, dizzy for a moment. "Really? The city approved it?"

"All of it. Rooftop bar, event space, the works. You could have weddings up there, Harper. Corporate events. It'll triple your revenue potential."

"Oh my god." Harper pressed her hands to her face. "Aunt Eleanor always wanted a rooftop space. She said the view would be worth millions."

"She was right." Claire showed them the architectural renderings. "This is going to be stunning."

Harper stared at the images, seeing her aunt's vision finally coming to life. The Adriatic wasn't just surviving,it was thriving. Becoming something new while honoring what it had always been.

"We need to celebrate," Sebastian said. "Properly."

"I can't drink," Harper reminded him.

"Then we'll celebrate with fancy virgin cocktails and an obscene amount of dessert." He was already ordering from his favorite bakery. "This is huge, Harper. Your family's legacy, secured for another generation."

"Our family's legacy," she corrected. "Ours and this little avocado's."

"Avocados are sixteen weeks. You're at twenty-two. That's a papaya."

Harper blinked at him. "How do you know that?"

"Pregnancy app. I have it on my phone too."

Claire looked between them. "You two are the weirdest couple I know. I love it."

They spent the evening planning the rooftop space, debating whether to do string lights or Edison bulbs, whether the bar should be marble or reclaimed wood. Harper felt the baby moving more now, frequent flutters that still amazed her.

At ten, Claire left. Harper and Sebastian returned to the nursery, now dry enough to see the final color.

"It's perfect," Harper said, standing in the middle of the room. "Warm but not overwhelming."

Sebastian wrapped his arms around her from behind, hands settling on her bump. "I can see it. The crib there, the rocking chair by the window. Us, at two AM, taking turns walking the floor with a crying baby."

"That's your fantasy? Sleep deprivation?"

"My fantasy is this. All of it. The exhaustion, the chaos, the beauty." He kissed her neck. "A life that's messy and real and ours."

Harper turned in his arms. "I'm scared sometimes. That I won't be good enough. That I'll mess them up."

"Then we'll mess them up together. But with love and therapy and the awareness to do better." Sebastian touched his forehead to hers. "We're going to be okay, Harper. Better than okay."

She wanted to believe him. Most days she did. But standing in this cream-painted room that would soon hold their child, the enormity of it hit her.

They were bringing a whole person into the world. A person who would depend on them for everything. Who would inherit not just their genetics but their damage, their fears, their unresolved issues.

"What if we pass down all the wrong things?" she whispered.

"Then we also pass down the right things. Your stubbornness. My determination. Your compassion. My…" He paused. "Okay, I'm still working on what positive traits I bring."

Harper laughed despite her anxiety. "Your loyalty. Your capacity for change. Your terrible paint jokes."

"My paint jokes are excellent."

"They're really not."

He kissed her, soft and sure. "We've got this. I don't know how I know, but I do. Maybe because we've survived everything else. Or maybe because I see how you fight for what you love, and I know that baby's going to be so fiercely loved they won't know what to do with it all."

"You really believe that?"

"I really do."

They stood in the empty nursery, imagining the life it would hold. The midnight feedings and first words and scraped knees and homework struggles and teenage drama and everything else that came with raising a human.

It was terrifying.

It was perfect.

Harper's phone buzzed. A photo from Jessie: her own positive pregnancy test.

Harper gasped. "Oh my god. Jessie's pregnant."

Sebastian read over her shoulder. "That's wow. When did she…"

"I don't know. She didn't say anything." Harper was already calling. Jessie answered on the first ring.

"Surprise?"

"Surprise?! When were you going to tell me?"

"I just found out yesterday. Eight weeks. I wanted to get past the scary early part before…" Jessie's voice caught. "Harper, I'm terrified."

"Me too. Every single day."

"But you seem so calm about it."

"I'm really not. I'm just good at pretending." Harper smiled. "Come over tomorrow. We can be terrified together."

After hanging up, Harper showed Sebastian the photo again. "Our kids are going to grow up together."

"That's" Sebastian's voice went soft. "That's really special."

"Yeah. It is."

They turned off the nursery light, leaving the room to cure overnight. But Harper paused in the doorway, looking back at the space they'd created.

In six months, there would be a crib here. A baby. Their baby.

The future was coming whether they were ready or not.

But standing next to Sebastian, his hand warm in hers, Harper thought maybe they'd be okay.

Maybe love and intention and effort were enough.

Maybe they could build something beautiful from the broken pieces they'd both started with.

"Whisper was definitely the right choice," Sebastian said, breaking the silence.

"You're still thinking about paint?"

"I'm thinking about everything. This room, our baby, the life we're building." He pulled her close. "And yeah, a little bit about paint."

Harper laughed against his chest, feeling the baby flutter in response to the vibration.

Their papaya-sized miracle.

Their second chance.

Their beautiful, terrifying future.

And she couldn't wait.