Spencer is practically vibrating by the time he gets into the passenger seat of the car, both knees rattling nervously as his heels alternate in a tapping pattern against the floor of the car. He has no idea what to do with his hands when he doesn't need to be doing anything with them all, can't decide whether he should leave them in his lap or cross them over his chest or just sit on them, all he can think of is the fact that this is happening. It's really happening, it's not going to turn out to be a false alarm or an overreaction on Erin's part; she's the experienced one, she knows exactly what the signs of going into labor are, and Spencer has asked her about several things he'd read about pregnancies--false contractions being one of them--and she'd only given him a quick, comforting hand squeeze and assured him that not once during the times she'd been pregnant with her sons had she had anything go wrong.
He's read too many horror stories, that's just what he does because he needs the full spectrum of possibilities, and the fact that the baby is three weeks early makes his anxiety over this spike up more than it might have if it'd been closer to the due date--and god, he wishes he'd thought to ask if she'd had her sons earlier than their due dates, he can't believe he hadn't asked that--but Spencer knows that the best thing he can do right now is take a deep breath and choose to believe that everything that could go wrong, won't go wrong.
A few minutes out of the driveway, he reaches out to squeeze Joel's thigh, his grip tighter than it maybe needs to be, and he bites down on his lip in an attempt to stop a smile that he thinks might just end up breaking his face with how big and bright it's threatening to become. The last time he'd smiled like this had been the day they'd gotten married, and Spencer anticipates that there will be just as many tears, likely even more, when they're finally holding their baby in their arms. He hadn't asked about the due dates for her sons, but Erin had told him that both the births had gone very smoothly, that labor hadn't lasted longer than eight hours in either case, and the thought that in another eight hours, they could have their baby is just... Spencer doesn't know what to do with that.
It hits him that he wishes his mother and brother were here. There'd been something in the back of his mind that'd switched on right now, that'd suggested that he needed to call them both right away to tell them the baby is coming, and Spencer hasn't really thought things like that for a long time now. For months after they'd died, Spencer would finish the day with stories of patrons that he'd save to tell to a brother who wasn't here anymore, or he'd walk through a shop and see something his mother would have liked, reaching for it until he remembered he wouldn't be able to give it to her.
It'd taken him nearly seven months to stop referring to them in the present tense, even longer to erase their phone numbers from his Contacts list. The last voicemail from Dane that he'd received had been just short of ridiculous--"Spence, it's your brother and you know it, you don't have to screen my calls. Just call me when you get this because I'm bringing home Thai, tell me what you want before I order something I know you'll hate. Just kidding, I'll get your default but it's your birthday tomorrow so if you wanna try something all new and exciting, y'know, give me a shout. Love you, bye."--and Spencer still has it saved, listens to it every once in awhile when he's really needing to hear Dane's voice, and he wishes so badly that he could tell his brother that he and Joel are naming their son after him.
Dane's ego would inflate, he'd be absolutely unbearable, but Spencer knows he would have made an incredible uncle. He and Charlotte would make a good team, spoiling their nephew at any given opportunity, and Spencer can imagine his mother and Ellie cooing over the baby and offering unsolicited advice about how to best hold her or how often they should be changing his diaper. That's not something he can have, Spencer knows that, and he still has an unsent letter to his grandfather sitting in the desk of the library that he should really throw in the mailbox one of these days, when he's feeling particularly brave about facing the near certainty of that rejection.
Nobody could ever replace his family, but he thinks his mother and brother would be pleased to know that the Bakers had so easily come to treat him as one of their own. He knows that he can be difficult to get to know, but he doesn't know how he could have possibly denied the kindness they've graciously given him. Every time he comes to the house, Brian sits down with him to discuss new book recommendations, reads him excerpts he's saved from some of his most recent favorites, and Spencer wonders if his own father would have joined them had he survived long enough. But, he reminds himself, it's something they can plan to do with their newest family member in the future. He can imagine it, sitting in the library with Joel and their child and Brian, Dane or Rose begging grandpa to tell them more stories, and Spencer has no idea how any expecting parent is expected not to be bawling during each moment leading up to birth because he's very close to doing just that.
"We have to call your parents," he says, fumbling with his phone, though he can't quite concentrate on the task he's just suggested. "Your mother will have our heads if we deliver the news via text."
no subject
He's read too many horror stories, that's just what he does because he needs the full spectrum of possibilities, and the fact that the baby is three weeks early makes his anxiety over this spike up more than it might have if it'd been closer to the due date--and god, he wishes he'd thought to ask if she'd had her sons earlier than their due dates, he can't believe he hadn't asked that--but Spencer knows that the best thing he can do right now is take a deep breath and choose to believe that everything that could go wrong, won't go wrong.
A few minutes out of the driveway, he reaches out to squeeze Joel's thigh, his grip tighter than it maybe needs to be, and he bites down on his lip in an attempt to stop a smile that he thinks might just end up breaking his face with how big and bright it's threatening to become. The last time he'd smiled like this had been the day they'd gotten married, and Spencer anticipates that there will be just as many tears, likely even more, when they're finally holding their baby in their arms. He hadn't asked about the due dates for her sons, but Erin had told him that both the births had gone very smoothly, that labor hadn't lasted longer than eight hours in either case, and the thought that in another eight hours, they could have their baby is just... Spencer doesn't know what to do with that.
It hits him that he wishes his mother and brother were here. There'd been something in the back of his mind that'd switched on right now, that'd suggested that he needed to call them both right away to tell them the baby is coming, and Spencer hasn't really thought things like that for a long time now. For months after they'd died, Spencer would finish the day with stories of patrons that he'd save to tell to a brother who wasn't here anymore, or he'd walk through a shop and see something his mother would have liked, reaching for it until he remembered he wouldn't be able to give it to her.
It'd taken him nearly seven months to stop referring to them in the present tense, even longer to erase their phone numbers from his Contacts list. The last voicemail from Dane that he'd received had been just short of ridiculous--"Spence, it's your brother and you know it, you don't have to screen my calls. Just call me when you get this because I'm bringing home Thai, tell me what you want before I order something I know you'll hate. Just kidding, I'll get your default but it's your birthday tomorrow so if you wanna try something all new and exciting, y'know, give me a shout. Love you, bye."--and Spencer still has it saved, listens to it every once in awhile when he's really needing to hear Dane's voice, and he wishes so badly that he could tell his brother that he and Joel are naming their son after him.
Dane's ego would inflate, he'd be absolutely unbearable, but Spencer knows he would have made an incredible uncle. He and Charlotte would make a good team, spoiling their nephew at any given opportunity, and Spencer can imagine his mother and Ellie cooing over the baby and offering unsolicited advice about how to best hold her or how often they should be changing his diaper. That's not something he can have, Spencer knows that, and he still has an unsent letter to his grandfather sitting in the desk of the library that he should really throw in the mailbox one of these days, when he's feeling particularly brave about facing the near certainty of that rejection.
Nobody could ever replace his family, but he thinks his mother and brother would be pleased to know that the Bakers had so easily come to treat him as one of their own. He knows that he can be difficult to get to know, but he doesn't know how he could have possibly denied the kindness they've graciously given him. Every time he comes to the house, Brian sits down with him to discuss new book recommendations, reads him excerpts he's saved from some of his most recent favorites, and Spencer wonders if his own father would have joined them had he survived long enough. But, he reminds himself, it's something they can plan to do with their newest family member in the future. He can imagine it, sitting in the library with Joel and their child and Brian, Dane or Rose begging grandpa to tell them more stories, and Spencer has no idea how any expecting parent is expected not to be bawling during each moment leading up to birth because he's very close to doing just that.
"We have to call your parents," he says, fumbling with his phone, though he can't quite concentrate on the task he's just suggested. "Your mother will have our heads if we deliver the news via text."