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There are exactly fourteen and a half tiles on the floor of the Salt Lake Slices bathroom.

Two lightbulbs overhead, one “Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work” sign, four decorative picture frames on the wall, eighteen disposable hand towels in the basket next to the sink, nine ingredients on the back label of the soap dispenser.

It takes six steps to get from one wall to the other, and then six steps to get back. 

Gina Porter-Bowen has paced all twelve of those steps at least twenty two times in the last seventeen minutes.

Maybe it’s time to count the tiles again.

you okay?

i hear this place has pepto bismol on tap :)

Gina watches the time change from 11:47 to 11:48 as the steady stream of smothering messages from a well-meaning Ashlyn Moon float up her screen and cover her absolute favorite picture of Ricky and their golden retriever. 

i also have advil

cough drops

tissues

a healing presence

anything you need

She swipes all seven messages away, clearing the screen to stare at that lockscreen picture—willing it to settle her nerves as she counts on to minute eighteen of waiting. 

It doesn’t work. 

Nineteen minutes. Four more messages.

do you want me to come check on you?

don’t answer that

i’m coming to check on you

final answer

“Shit,” Gina says to the fourteen tiles and two lightbulbs and four picture frames and eighteen hand towels.

Then she turns her head to the left to look at the door, then to her right, stares at the one red cup that’s sitting on top of the toilet waiting very patiently for one little plastic stick.

So no, Ashlyn cannot come in here. Final answer.

Slipping out of the Salt Lake Slices New Year’s Eve party exactly nineteen minutes ago without so much as a word to a single person in the room really did seem like the best option at the time. Having to come up with some convincing lie as to why she was disappearing was impossible with her improvisation skills and staying out in the party while she waited for Ricky to get back without him as buffer for those lies would be even worse so…counting tiles in the bathroom to avoid both her incredibly well-meaning friends and her own racing thoughts it was.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she tries to figure out how to answer Ash to keep her out, and fails. She settles for something that’s more parts deflection than improv, and avoids the topic entirely:

please enjoy the party

impossible to do when i’m worrying about you

then stop worrying about me

also impossible to do

God, she is so infuriatingly loved and cared about. 

Twenty minutes. 

The tiles get a break from being counted to instead be tapped on impatiently by the balls of Gina’s sparkly-toed shoes. Honestly, twenty minutes is an accomplishment of sorts. The first time they’d done this she got so nervous she flung Ricky’s poor phone into the toilet when his timer went off. Last month she burst into tears at the self check-out line and was never trusted to go alone again (hence, why she was stuck here, in the bathroom).

So yeah, twenty minutes alone in the Salt Lake Slices bathroom and all she had to show for it was knowing every minute detail of the little 4’ by 6’ box. She’ll consider it a win, at least for the thirty seconds she has left before Ashlyn barges in.

She paces three steps to the middle of the room. (She will pace the other three steps in a second.) Checks her phone one more time. (It will not be one more time.) Swears that 24-hour convenience store was only seven minutes away. (Google Maps, which she of course fact-checked with Apple Maps and Waze and freaking MapQuest for good measure, said ten, but they’ve never seen Ricky drive.)

Gina’s just about to say screw it, leave the bathroom and placate Ashlyn until Ricky gets back and can damage-control her terrible lying and they’ll deal with this all--

Her phone chimes. Seven more messages. 11:51. 

alright i was intercepted

by your husband

boooooo

personally if i’m throwing up from food poisoning from big red’s restaurant i’m requesting YOU to hold my hair back not my wife

that’s a Sister Thing

but he’s insisting

literally sprinting through the restaurant to you right now

God bless her perfect, perfect boy and his niche ability to save his very tiny capacity for good timing to use only on her.

Gina paces her six steps back toward the door, and creaks it open, squinting one eye to look for him. She spots him instantly, flinging himself around Ashlyn, probably yelling apologies she can’t hear over the loud music, pushing in three chairs that are in his way, getting a noisemaker in the ear from Maddox and dodging a drink Jet tries to pass to him, his scrunched brow visible to Gina likely asking where he disappeared to.

“ Richard! ”

She can, of course, make out Carlos’s piercing scream when Ricky’s trip over the cord for the karaoke microphone puts an abrupt end to whatever song he’s made it to on the Cats soundtrack by now. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you,” Ricky’s voice starts to retreat into the hallway, closer to her, as he continues to wave back towards the party apologetically, “Give me like, five minutes, and I’ll fix it, I swear.”

“ Five minutes ? What are you--”

Neither of them get to hear the end of their friend’s shriek, as Ricky slips through the crack in the door and then shuts it in one impressively fell swoop. 

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Ricky says, out of breath from his sprint, back against the door and Gina less than a hair's breadth away from him, “How are you feeling?”

“Like throwing up,” Gina nods, taking the plastic bag from his hands and turning back towards the toilet, “So a good sign, I guess.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go home? Because we can still go home,” Ricky seems to pick up on the cue that this bathroom is perfect for pacing, “You know what? Yeah , let’s go home.”

“No, no, no, I’m fine, I’m fine . I just wanna get this over with,” Gina sighs, dropping the bag on the sink to fidget with her hands while she looks at Ricky to continue, “It’s probably nothing, and it would be crazy to leave this party with all of our friends and miss more of it than we already have just to go home for nothing. So, let’s just do it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“ I’m sure that if I don’t get even a bad answer, I’m going to scream, so,” Gina nods, resolute, determined to be nonchalant about this as a sure fire coping mechanism. She turns back to the bag to pull out a box and get this over with , but instead finds three . Despite herself, and the last agonizing twenty-two minutes, she giggles, “Did you buy the place out?”

“I didn’t have time to look up reviews on which brand is best like last time, and I couldn’t remember anything, so,” Ricky shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest nervously, “I just got a safe three.”

Her nerves are still very on edge, but just Ricky being Ricky is enough to at least slow her heart rate to only a mildly concerning pace. She places the boxes in a row, one by one, glancing over the instructions briefly. 

“That one better like, shoot confetti or something at the end,” Ricky teases, as he watches her fiddle with the last box, “It was the most expensive, and I’ve been getting incredibly targeted social media ads for it for months.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised I don’t have ClearBlue in my inbox yet asking for a sponsored ad post,” Gina laughs, and goes to pull the last thing out of the store bag, and to her delight, finds it is not a fourth test kit, but instead, something much sweeter, “And what’s this going to do?” 

“Reinforcements,” Ricky gives a thumbs up as Gina places a shareable-sized bag of fun-sized Kit-Kats in the row with all the tests, “We can ring in the new year with your favorite candy instead of whatever news those things want to give us.”

Gina stops worrying for the briefest of seconds, lips pursed together as she looks up and across the six paces wide bathroom at the love of her life. 

The love of her life who does things like entertain her wild idea to take a pregnancy test (or three) in the bathroom of a pizza shop with all their loved ones outside singing drunk karaoke, who probably broke all the rules of the road to get to the store and back with said tests, who thought through every detail of the barely thought out plan so intricately that he brought back her favorite candy just to make sure they had something happy in here, no matter what.

The run across the bathroom is less than six steps, thank god, so she can jump into Ricky’s arms quicker. She holds him in an eager hug, delights in his standard little hum in her ear as he squeezes his arms around her waist, and takes a big deep breath with him. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I’m gonna pee now.”

“Alright, moment over,” Ricky sinks back, as Gina laughs, and runs back to her convenience store lineup with a little more excitement this time. “Do you want me to--should I leave?”

“You don’t have to,” Gina rips open the first box, “Unless you want to head back out there so Ashlyn can corner you with more questions on why I wouldn’t accept her healing hugs and cough drops.”

“You want me to just--stay here? In here? With you?” Ricky fidgets, covers both his eyes with one hand, thinks that’s maybe not enough, and turns to face the corner too, for good measure.

“You’re ridiculous,” Gina giggles. “You know we’ve lived together for eight years, right? You’ve seen me do worse than pee on a stick, Ricky.”

“I don’t know the etiquette for this kind of stuff!” he yelps, muffled when his words hit the walls first, hiding from her, “Was there a book I was supposed to read?”

“Yeah, I forgot it at home,” Gina deadpans, grabbing test #2, “ What To Do When Your Wife is Taking Three Pregnancy Tests Because I Didn’t Think One Was Enough , it’s a New York Times bestseller.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better!”

“You always make me feel better,” and she’s sort of glad he can’t see the shy smile that goes with it. Because if he shouldn’t be embarrassed to be in the room with her right now, she shouldn’t still be blushing over things like this. (She does, anyway.)

By the time she gets the third test for good measure done and settled onto one of the eighteen hand towels, she washes her hands and yells over one shoulder, “Alright, set a timer for five minutes for me?”

“They need to invent one of these that only takes like, thirty seconds,” Ricky says, but has his phone up within seconds (that has since been fixed since Gina flung it in the toilet out of nerves. Baby steps.)

“I’ll work on it in my spare time,” Gina says, using another hand towel. She crumples it up into a little ball and aims for the white wastebasket as she peeks over Ricky’s phone to look at the already ticking down timer.

Now, her math isn’t excellent, especially not math she does in her head in a split second when she’s in the middle of an emotionally taxing potentially life-altering moment. 

But if she looks at the 4 minutes and 23 seconds on the timer and the 11:56 on the clock and adds that up right…

“Oh perfect. Midnight!”

“You know us and timing,” Ricky tries to tease, nudging his shoulder into hers lightly, “You sure you’re okay?”

Gina nods before she can even register she’s doing it, but she knows it's true. She’s been more than okay since the second Ricky got back to her. She rests her head on his shoulder at his side, and watches the ticking down timer, “I’m sorry for making us do this here, like this. I should have thought of it sooner, but Maddox asked if I had a tampon on me and my brain involuntarily started doing the math and once I had the thought I couldn’t unthink it and--”

“Are you kidding? You know I’d do anything for you.”

“I know, it still means a lot.”

“Got me out of having to admit to Carlos I didn’t memorize my Phantom of the Opera lines like he told me to.”

“Like he’s not gonna make you do it the second these precious five minutes are up.”

“Then we’ll just stay in here the rest of the night!”

Gina giggles into one hand, stepping forward slightly to reach for the bag of candy, “Kit-Kat?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Ricky almost skips across the little space of the bathroom to lean back against the sink, one hand out, palm up. 

She hands him his little red-wrapped candy bar and kisses his nose, “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he echoes, clinking his candy to hers like a glass of champagne that neither of them have had tonight. “I’m honestly surprised that the door hasn’t been banged down by anyone out there yet.”

“We got very lucky that out of all holidays to do this on, it was one where literally everyone is getting way too drunk to realize we’re missing,” Gina says through an impolite mouthful of candy, but with Ricky as her only witness, she doesn’t care enough to stop herself, “Well, everyone except Ashlyn, I think, whose sisterly instincts seem to transcend the jell-o shots we’re probably too old to be taking.”

“Never too old for a jell-o shot, Gi,” Ricky shrugs, looks down at the pregnancy tests on the counter, and then, “Okay, maybe a little too old, but I think it’s okay. Yeah, it’s okay. Only the coolest parents turn down jell-o shots just before finding out if they’re becoming parents.”

“Hah!” Gina laughs, slinging her hands over her face with exasperated anticipation, “What time is it?”

“Time…” Ricky says, reaching to her left, “To eat another Kit-Kat.”

“Ricky…”

“C’mon, counting down the time isn’t gonna do us any good,” Ricky already had another two pieces of chocolate in her hand, and two more for his.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, we literally should be counting down,” she says smartly, even though she knows what he means.

“Two and a half minutes,” he answers her anyway, and polishes off his second and a half Kit-Kat.

“Thank you,” she says, for the time and the candy, “Remind me to compliment Big Red when we get out of here for his bathroom design choices. Much worse places to spend a half hour panicking.”

“I did not peg Salt Lake Slices of all places being a part of so many pivotal moments in our life,” Ricky says, tries to throw his candy wrappers in the garbage, but misses terribly.

“What other pivotal life moments have you experienced in the Slices bathroom, exactly?”

“Big Red and I started to teach ourselves how to skate in the parking lot,” Ricky recalls fondly, and then tilts his head with a wince, “And then basically wrapped ourselves in band-aids in here right after.”

“That does seem pretty pivotal, skater boy,” Gina smiles at the nickname she hasn’t used in years, “If one of those is positive, we might have to name them something in Slices honor.”

“Our little pizza pie.”

“I was kidding, but now I feel like you’re absolutely not .”

“Lactose has a nice ring to it,” Ricky continues, which makes Gina continue to giggle in place of wanting to stare at the timer, “Or maybe Parmesan.”

“I hate you, and I hate that I’m about to participate in this,” Gina shakes her head, trying to avoid his smug eye contact, “Margherita.”

“Your favorite!”

“You can’t hold me to any of this, it’s just, it’s helping me remain calm, but yes,” Gina stifles another laugh, “Little Marinara will be so loved.”

“How am I supposed to not take you seriously when you’re seriously coming up with the best names?” 

“Shut up,” she yelps, tries to push him away before he squirms out of her reach. She leans against the wall opposite him, and he gives her a lopsided grin.

“Look at that, 90 seconds left,” he smiles. When she doesn’t respond right away, he takes a breath, looks at her thoughtfully, “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?” he presses gently, and she watches one of his shoes trace the outline of a tile. She smiles remembering how she had done that a few minutes ago. It seems silly, to think this over a pizza place bathroom tile, but he really is her soulmate. 

“New Year’s Eve,” Gina whispers, eyes trained on the wall beside Ricky, “A little bit about how your stupid pizza names made my mind automatically go to Eve being a kinda cute name, and a little about the first New Year’s I knew you.”

Ricky smiles, dips his head to catch her eyes, and she smiles back.

“It just hits me in waves, sometimes, I guess, that my life turned out the way that it did,” she hums softly, “At that party, when I was sixteen, I literally didn’t think I could survive in a room with you for more than 90 seconds.”

Her fingers drum on the wall at her side, the band of the ring on her left hand making a little clink noise every time it hits the smooth surface.

“And now we’re here.”

“Now we’re here.”

“In the Salt Lake Slices bathroom.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Gi.”

She knows how deeply he means that, and no matter how many times he reminds her, it never fails to stun her into a little bout of silence.

Gina’s just thinking about how to thank him for that, pressing herself up off her lean against the wall, when the party outside starts chanting loud enough for them to hear.

“Ten!”

“Sounds like some people didn’t hear my rule against counting down,” Ricky says, also pacing his three steps across the bathroom to meet her in the middle as their friends get through “ Nine !” and “ Eight !”

“This is a good count down though,” Gina says, pressing down on her nerves, “At one I get to kiss you.”

“My phone’s gonna ring like twenty seconds after,” he says, a soft warning, and she nods in appreciation, even if she’s trying to project that she's not nervous at all.

“Then I’ll kiss you for twenty seconds.”

“So romantic,” Ricky gestures around at their scenery, and the excited cheers out in the dining room roar on.

“Three! Two! One!”

The clock on her phone changes to midnight, but Gina’s eyes are only on Ricky’s, and only for a split second at best, before they flutter shut and she falls into kissing him.

She wraps her arms around his neck and presses her chest against his, swears he can feel her heartbeat in her rib cage but is beyond really caring. She has spent almost more years kissing him at midnight now than she has not, and she will never, ever tire of the feeling. He is sweet and soft with her always, Kit-Kats notwithstanding, and works her bottom lip between his, smooths a hand over the small of her back, thumb and forefinger anchoring her chin, keeping her to him. 

Gina almost forgets where they are and why they’re kissing in the small quiet of the Salt Lake Slices bathroom. Keyword: almost , as her indulgent kissing is interrupted by the shrill chime of a phone timer.

She can feel Ricky sigh against her lips, it almost tickles, and she definitely giggles. 

“Twenty seconds,” she sighs back to him, “You wanna just look? I’m sick of countdowns.”

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up now,” Ricky bounces a little on the balls of his feet, “What are we looking for, again?”

“Well, that fancy one you complained about is expensive because it will actually say the word,” Gina explains, keeping her gaze laser-focused on Ricky’s and not anywhere else, which is requiring such an exorbitant amount of self-control. “The other ones, we want two lines.”

“Two lines, right, I remember now,” Ricky recalls, “Champagne or Kit-Kats.”

“Are you coming up with more dumb nicknames?” Gina says lightly, hand on his cheek.

“I wasn’t, but now that you mention it…” His teasing is a jittery hum, before he buckles under his own laughter, “Nah, I was just saying, if it’s one line we run outside and grab a glass of champagne, if it’s two we get to have a couple more Kit-Kats. Good things either way.”

“Good either way,” she repeats, to make the mantra stick. 

They’ll be good either way.

“I’m talking a big, cool calm and collected game right now but I don’t know if I have it in me,” Ricky buzzes.

“Alright, well, if I don't look, I’m going to have a heart attack and not see any of this new year we just rang in romantically in the Salt Lake Slices bathroom, so,” Gina lets out a long, shuddering breath between pursed lips, “I’m looking.”

“Perfect, cool, I’m right behind you!” There’s a transfer of nerves, and her husband squints his eyes shut, his chin on her shoulder, an arm wrapped around hers.

Twisting her torso just a smidge, keeping every point of contact she has available with Ricky, Gina moves just her right hand to pick up one of the tests. 

Gina knows that in here, the Salt Like Slices bathroom she has stood in for the past thirty one minutes, there are two lightbulbs overhead, one “Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work” sign, four decorative picture frames on the wall, sixteen disposable hand towels in the basket next to the sink, two used in the garbage, nine ingredients on the back label of the soap dispenser.

There are fourteen and a half tiles on the floor.

And there are two lines on the test she’s holding in her hands.

“Ricky?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab me a Kit-Kat?”

Gina gets no warning before she is scooped up off her feet and spun around in a hug. Ricky’s little grunt of effort dances over her delighted and non-stop giggling, her mind mush and her stomach fluttering and every nerve standing on edge but it’s different, now. 

She can count the wrinkles around Ricky's eyes in the brightest smile she’s ever seen from him, not the tiles.

“Happy New Year, Ricky,” She whispers, squeezing herself into the crook of his neck, finding her footing.

“Happy New Year, Gi,” Ricky holds Gina’s face in his hands, places a peck on her lips, before bending ever so slightly and tucking his head down, “And happy new year to you, pizza pie.”

“Oh my god,” Gina laughs, hand covering her mouth after wiping an involuntary tear on her cheek (which is quickly replaced by several others.)

“Did you like baby parm better?” Ricky says, looking back up at Gina, “Or Kit-Kat?”

“And you were worried you wouldn't be cut out for this,” Gina tsks teasingly, “Already making bad jokes.”

Ricky slips out of her grip just a bit to take a look at the tests himself, eyes wide and awed and beautiful as he takes it all in, and Gina feels like melting. She watches his fingers tap twice on the first one, like he’s checking that it’s real, two lines , and he does it again on the second, whispers to himself when he reads the third. 

Her heart triples in size as she watches, both her real one and her one reserved just for feeling loved by Ricky Bowen.

“You’re pregnant,” his voice sounds so amazed in a low whisper, looking up at her through the mirror above the sink.

“Stop crying,” she coos, surging foward instantly, trying to wipe away his tears and forgetting about her own.

“You’re crying too!”

“Yeah, well, I’m allowed ,” Gina shrugs, smiling so bright you’d never know it was the middle of the night, “I’m having a baby.”

Despite just hearing Ricky say it out loud, saying it herself for the first time feels surreal. They were good either way, but this is so, so good. This is a good they don’t have a good enough word for yet.

Ricky’s awed expression sticks when he hears her say it, and if possible, his smile intensifies.

“I love you so much,” Ricky shakes his head, squinting at the tests again as he hugs Gina into his side, “This is so freaking cool—shit, can I say that, anymore? No, fuck I just—actually, I’m gonna stop speaking now.”

Gina laughs delightedly loud at him as he bites his lips together to stop his word-vomiting.

“It’s okay, I don’t think baby kit-kat has ears yet.”

“I knew that would land.”

“Nope, just trying to get you to stop crying,” she wipes away another tear of his, “And look at that, it worked.”

“Oh, I’m gonna keep crying.”

“Yeah, I know, you sap,” she says, through tears of her own, “We both gotta pull it together for like, a smidge of a second so we can go back out there.”

“Right, right,” Ricky nods, “Pulling myself together super casually after the greatest news of my life, I can do that.” He pauses to kiss both her cheeks, hovers over her lips, “This is better than our first New Year’s, huh?”

“And every one after that,” she closes the distance between them. Then, “Will you do all the talking when we get out there?”

He laughs loudly.

“It’s not funny, they’re gonna read me immediately. Especially Ash. I’m half convinced she already got it from my horrible text messages.”

“I don’t even know if I have the improv skills to keep this secret in but yeah, I’ll talk to Ash,” Ricky says, lightly, “You gotta do something with those tests, though, we can’t throw them out in here.”

Gina makes quick work of trying to wrap the tests up in a hand towel and hide the evidence back in the plastic shopping bag, leaving just fifteen paper towels in the basket now, as Ricky uses another, (down to fourteen,) with some soap on it to haphazardly wipe off the sink. She’d laughed at it before, but there really should be a rule book for things like this. 

“What do we do with the kit-kats?”

“Save them forever, scrapbook the wrappers,” Ricky drawls, as Gina shoves the hidden plastic bag into her purse and reaches for the candy. “I’m only half kidding. Hand them out to anyone who tries to interrogate you out there. Drunk people love sweets. But we should keep one. For sentimental purposes.”

“You’re gonna hit dad jokes and scrapbooking all on the first baby?”

“I’m going to hit my head , actually, from fainting, if you don’t give me at least five minutes to breathe between every time you remind me we’re having a baby.”

“Nope, that five minutes was torturous, never again,” Gina shakes her head and heads for the door, bag high on her shoulder and set. She doesn’t even have to count how many steps it takes before her hand is on the cool knob, “C’mon, we can tell everyone I got food poisoning and leave.”

“We cannot tell everyone you have food poisoning.”

“Whatever you wanna go with, as long as we can leave soon,” Gina jitters, “Then you can faint in the comfort of our own home when we tell Romeo he’s getting a sibling.”

“See, that’s exactly the kind of thing you need to put buffer around,” Ricky yelps, hand to his heart, like he’s going to do his promised fainting.

Gina giggles and wipes his (probably far from) last tear off his cheek, as he makes his way over to her.

“He’s gonna be so excited, Gi. We can buy him a big brother bandana,” Ricky pouts happily.

“I’m sure you already have six options saved on Pinterest.”

“Seven,” he corrects, shutting the light and the door behind them, keeping one hand gently and comfortingly on Gina’s lower back, “And matching ones for baby kit-kat.”

She can’t even scold him as he tickles a hand around her waist, smitten with him and his excitement and awe and admittedly kind of adorable nicknames. They start slowly down the hallway and let the party noise filter back in.

“You okay?” he whispers, a last out before anyone sees them.

But Gina has truly never in her life felt better than she does at this moment.

“There you guys are!” 

Gina is tugged out of Ricky’s grasp and replaced by Carlos, the first to spot them, before she can answer Ricky (she silently squeezes his hand before she loses him fully and knows he gets her answer loud and clear.)

“What’s wrong? You guys were in there forever!” Maddox squeezes her way through the crowds of people. The party was conveniently doubling as a wrap on the latest season of Gina and Maddox’s show, and combined with all the Wildcats and Wildcat-adjacents that made the invite list, the small pizza shop is pretty packed. Gina was not going to lie and say the energy isn’t much more enjoyable now that she feels like celebrating too.

“Nothings wrong! Look at them,” Carlos boasts over the noise, gesturing absently between Ricky and Gina. “The only sick happening here is how sickeningly in love they are. You guys do know the honeymoon phase isn’t supposed to last two years after your wedding, right?”

“No, see, it does last that long for people who don’t marry farmers,” Ricky retorts.

“Can confirm,” Maddox raises her hands.

“Don’t make me tell Big Red you defiled his family-friendly restaurant,” Carlos warns.

“We didn’t—“

“Gross,” Maddox wrinkles her nose.

“I think everyone needs to drink more champagne and forget this awful conversation about Ricky and Gina taking the family part of that phrase literally in the bathroom,” Jet appears, balancing several long-stemmed plastic champagne flutes impressively in just his two hands and starts passing them out to the group.

Gina feels her cheeks go hot, and sees Ricky’s are pink to match.

“You just made it so much worse!” Maddox whines, and chugs the glass she’s handed. 

“Now we all match Gina and can go throw up in the bathroom for 20 minutes,” Carlos follows suit and chugs.

“Anyone want a Kit-Kat?” Ricky interjects before they can be mortified even more, and laughs loudly with Carlos and Jet as they drop teasing Ricky and Gina immediately to instead greedily accept the candy without a second thought.

“It looks like you need this more than me,” Gina giggles, handing her glass off to Maddox, who doesn’t miss a beat, “You seen Ash?”

“Last I saw her, she was talking Mack down from coming to check on you,” Maddox points vaguely in the direction to her left, “He was trying to convince us he was most qualified since he played a doctor for like four and a half episodes and starred in the never aired Grey’s reboot pilot.”

“Oof,” Gina laughs, hugging Maddox affectionately into her side, “You want me to get you Ricky’s glass too?”

“You guys not drinking?” Maddox raises one brow.

Shit. And she was doing so well.

“Oh, thank god you’re alive,” Ashlyn comes tumbling towards them, all but elbowing her wife to the side so she can death-grip hug a very much alive Gina.

(If anyone’s ever looking for proof as to why Ricky is Gina’s favorite person on the planet with Ashlyn a very close second, she has no problem pointing you to their impeccable timing with her tonight.)

“Hey, Ash.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Ashlyn places the back of her hand to Gina’s forehead, holds two fingers to her wrist looking for a pulse, impressively coherent for how wobbly she looks on her feet quite a few jell-o shots in, “I looked up your symptoms—“

“I didn’t tell you any symptoms.”

“You didn’t?” Ashlyn says, mid-hiccup, and Gina shakes her head through giggles.

“I heard the cure for mystery symptoms is another jell-o shot,” Maddox extracts herself from the girls’ embrace and walks backwards towards the counter with the drinks, “Anyone else think that’s the cure to mystery symptoms?”

“I think we’re gonna go the chocolate route,” Gina nods, stifling giggles yet again, as she waves Maddox off, and says to Ash, “Ricky has chocolate, you wanna go get some?”

“Are you sure Ricky has the chocolate and not your mom ?” Ashlyn yells.

Gina loops her arm through hers and guides them around the tables and towards where Ricky appears to be wildly over-explaining why he didn’t memorize the group karaoke routine to Carlos and Jet.

“Hey, you guys—“ Ricky starts when they arrive beside him, but is swiftly cut off.

“I promise I won’t tell anyone they’re from you,” Ashlyn whispers, or at least, she thinks she whispers, exaggeratedly winking and holding a hand out awaiting chocolate.

Gina shakes her head, as Ricky looks confused, but obliges, “I was worried for nothing, no one in here is questioning me.”

“Our little new years miracle is gonna love this story one day,” Ricky actually does whisper, just to Gina at his side. 

Big Red appears next, to squish into their circle, holding a slice of pizza on a flimsy paper plate. He worriedly locks his eyes on Gina, “I heard you weren’t feeling well. I brought pizza.” He deflates the second he appears, catching his breath, “Which I’m now realizing might have been what made you sick in the first place, so nevermind.”

“Well if Gina doesn’t want it, I call dibs, because that looks fucking delicious,” Jet reaches his hand out to grab for the pizza before Gina can claim she doesn’t want it (she does not.)

“ Language !”

“Did everyone hear that? Kourt says hi,” Jet smiles in answer to Kourtney’s yelp on the FaceTime call in his hand, waves her around to everyone in the circle. 

“Gina!” Mack is the last to screech his way in, filling out their small circle of people as he slides in between Maddox and Carlos, giving the latter a kiss on the forehead before rushing to pant apologetically to Gina, “For the record, I am ready and willing to perform any and all surgeries, though I’d prefer it be your gallbladder, but again, any of them, I’m prepared. The only thing in my way is your sister.”

“I’m not letting you cut into Gina’s gallbladder, Mack!”

“You don’t cut it, you remove it, god, did you even watch—“

“No! For the thousandth time, I didn’t watch the gallbladder surgery episode of Mark and Spark!”

“Oh my god, that is very, very kind of you, and very very unnecessary, I promise, I am totally fine, better than fine, really,” Gina laughs, running a hand soothingly over Ashlyn’s shoulders before a fight breaks out. “Wait a sec, did all of you know I was missing?”

“Yeah, but Ricky said only one of us was allowed to bother you about it,” Maddox says.

“And Ashlyn was ready and willing to cut all of our gallbladders out if any of us protested it being her, so,” Jet chimes in.

“We’ve been patiently waiting to smother you in worry.”

“We missed you, P-B.”

Gina feels like she has a few valid reasons to excuse the way tears prickle the back of her eyes, but she tries her best to blink them away as she turns to look up at Ricky.

“Did you really?” she asks simply.

“To be fair, I really didn’t think they’d listen to me,” Ricky replies softly, “Their love is kind of overwhelming.”

In the best way , Gina thinks, as she feels full to the brim with it, in the very best way .

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Gina leans up on her toes and into Ricky, her nose bumping his.

Ricky just nose-kisses her back, wraps an arm around her waist, tickles right above her belly button.

(Gina truly can’t believe, several jell-o shots in or not, that no one has called out how much she’s glowing.)

“Get a rooooom!”

“They already have, don’t encourage them to go back!”

“How about we all say happy new year and forget this happened, huh?” Ricky says, raising his kit-kat up into the middle of the circle, “None of you are remembering this in the morning.”

“Wait, wait, Mack and Biggie don’t have anything to toast with!” Ashlyn yelps.

Ricky reaches across the circle to hand Big Red a kit-kat, while Carlos insists he and Mack can just share a drink, and maybe Mack and Ashlyn are working through something because she very heatedly explains that’s not how a toast works and he needs his own thing. (He quickly accepts a kit-kat before Mark and Spark takes another verbal beating from the redhead.)

And while everyone’s yelling things to cheers to over top one another, giddy and familiar and joyful and bright, Gina counts one more time.

She can see two glasses of champagne, one slice of pizza, five kit-kats, one long-distance friend on facetime, seven of her favorite people, and one year that’s only been here fourteen and a half minutes, but Gina is sure, is going to be her favorite yet.

[JAN 27 05:55 PM] [REC 🔴]

“—like I’m supposed to know the size of a kidney bean! Do you know what a kidney bean looks like? Is it just a regular bean? No, because then the doctor would have just said ‘Gina, your baby is the size of a bean.’ She said kidney bean. Specifically. But it can’t be that different, right? Right.” 

The camera shakes with Ricky’s full-body laughter as he tries to capture Gina whirling around the corner from the hallway and into their kitchen, but if she asks about the unsteady frame, Ricky’s begging you to back up his lie on the camera just being old.

“I should look it up. I’m gonna look it up,” Gina hasn’t looked up from her phone at all, impressively navigating towards the kitchen counter and resting her elbows on it as she types on her phone, “How big is a kidney bean?” She dictates her typing out loud, before adding, face sternly serious, “Half an inch. Hm. That’s not any more helpful. God, do you know what a half inch is off the top of your head? Do I look like a ruler? Do we own a ruler?”

(You can’t see Ricky on screen, as he’s holding the camera, but if you try your hardest there’s a faint wheeze of holding back more laughter. Gina is the cutest when she rambles. It doesn’t happen often.)

“We do, I think, second drawer on the left behind you, if you’d like to be helpful, because you haven’t said anything since we’ve—” Gina continues, finally looks up at him, and her eyes lock directly on the lens as the rest of her sentence dies out abruptly. 

“Oh my god, Ricky, delete that,” Gina immediately flushes, and tries to swat the camera away with an incessant hand. 

“Never,” the camera catches his whisper off screen, shaking as it expertly dodges the flustered Gina, now crowding close-up into the space.

“How is that thing still even working?”

“The magic of documenting important life moments,” Ricky says, centering Gina and her pouty expression on the frame, “Last clip saved on here is our honeymoon.”

“This is not an important life moment,” Gina huffs, “I still haven’t cleaned the mascara off my face from my crying, I’m in your sweatshirt, and I’m yelling about not knowing the size of a bean.”

“Kidney bean, babe, there’s a difference.”

Gina groans loudly, thudding her head onto her forearms on the counter.

“Delete this, Ricky, please, our kid sees this one day and they’re gonna think they got their good looks, their fashion sense, and their brains from you , not me.”

“Heaven forbid.”

“Eh, actually, your good looks wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

Ricky whips the camera around for an off-kilter close-up on his own smirk and a wink, “You’ll have my eyes and your mothers distrust of legumes, Kit Kat.”

“I swear to god, Richard—”

“Let’s hope we come up with a better name for you than Richard—” Ricky says, still addressing the camera like he’s talking directly to the baby.

Gina tries to tackle the camera out of his hands again, but his infinitesimal bit of height he’s got on her is really doing wonders right now.

“—so she can’t throw it in your face when she’s angry!”

“I’m not even going to feel the slightest bit guilty when I delete this later, because you’re being snarky, and this is not an important life moment.” Romeo spins around at Gina’s feet, barking twice, “He agrees.”

Never one to let go of making a point with his wife that easily, Ricky finally flashes the little picture between them and into the frame, the whole reason he picked up the camera in the first place.

“This is our first family photo,” Ricky holds the black and white ultrasound out next to Gina, “So you’d be an asshole, deleting this, actually.”

“That’s a bad word, by the way, Kit Kat, or kidney bean, or Richard Jr.”

“Not Richard Jr.”

Gina still looks a little grumblingly displeased with the situation, but her eyes on Ricky’s, just above the camera lens, are full of a light mirth, “I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Tenfold, I’m sure,” Ricky’s sure his voice conveys just how bright he’s smiling behind the screen.

Gina rolls her eyes, and squats down to be level with the golden retriever, who noses her abdomen before licking her face incessantly.

Ricky adjusts the angle of the camera to capture them all, Gina smushed adorably in with their dog, half of Ricky’s head cut out of the small frame, and holding up their very first ultrasound right in the middle between them.

“Everyone say: Porter-Bowen’s!”

Gina laughs brightly, Romeo barks, and Ricky falls in love ten times over.

He tapes the ultrasound to the fridge while Gina goes back to grumbling, looking up takeout that has kidney beans on the menu, then clicks the recording off so he can kiss his wife silly.

[FEB 14 06:14 AM] [REC 🔴]

“This thing is archaic, how do you even know it’s on?”

“Blinking red light.”

“Where—” The camera whips around in a sudden blur, to catch Gina’s scrunched brow as she stares directly into the camera’s lens, eyes obviously searching for the— “Oh there, blinking red light. I see.”

“Flattering view of you, Gi,” Ricky tuts.

“Watch it, bedhead,” Gina rights the camera, gives it a second to focus on Ricky, who’s very concentrated on buckling his belt. “Where’d you get that shirt?”

Ricky cutely peeks down at his sweater, a snug cable knit thing with pink dots that maybe, if Gina’s eyes were awake enough, would register as hearts. He deadpans a simple, “Jenn.”

“I hope Mazzara also has a matching one,” Gina giggles behind the camera.

“Take that back right now, I want it out of the universe,” Ricky flattens out the ends of his sleeves, “It's bad enough she insists on music department matching outfits for every major and minor holiday.”

“I want pictures. You can take this camera if you’d like—”

“Did you wake up just to torture me at six in the morning while I get dressed for work or…?”

“I wanted to give you something,” Gina says, pushing a balled up sweatshirt of Ricky’s towards the opposite end of the bed, towards him, “Before work.”

Ricky takes a seat, half his hip on the far end of the bed, pulling the gift towards him, “Returning my sweatshirt to me might be the grandest gesture of your love ever, Gi.”

“Oh no, the gifts inside. Forgot to wrap it and didn’t feel like trekking through the house this early for a gift bag,” Gina explains, and the frame bounces with her shrug. “So no, the sweatshirt’s still mine. Putting it on as soon as you leave and I go back to sleep.”

“That makes more sense,” Ricky smiles, delicately unfolding the sleeves and the hood and the hems of the sweatshirt as if her shoddy wrapping job were actually a work of art. Softly, he peeks up at her under lashes, a gaze she knows well enough to map out in her mind even if the camera can’t catch it with the lights still dim for the morning, “Happy Valentine’s day.”

She blows him a kiss off camera, and he pantomimes catching it before his gift is fully revealed.

Gina’s surprised he doesn’t burst into tears on the spot. Just looking at him look at it makes her feel like she could, and she’s suddenly very glad the blinking red light is facing the other way.

“Gina…”

“It’s from Kit Kat,” Gina’s foot nudges his hip from under the covers, “Happy Valentine’s day, Dad .”

That does it. She was only like, thirty seconds off. He’s suddenly burying his tear-stricken face in the sleeves of the wrapping-sweatshirt, and Gina falls in love seven times over.

And though Ricky has to keep dabbing away his silent tears, he keeps profusely thanking Gina for his very first “I <3 DAD” mug. 

“Stop crying, it was supposed to be sweet,” Gina says, even though she knows they’re happy tears, “I have an actual gift for you later, but thought you should get this first. You always make coffee before work.”

“I’m calling out sick from work.”

“Ricky…”

“I can’t be expected to work in these conditions,” Ricky jumps up from the bed, mug hugged to his chest like he can’t let it out of his sight, and peers into the mirror, “Everyone’s going to either think I’m high, or you dumped me.”

“Both likely.”

The gift really must have been good, Gina thinks, because her husband doesn’t have a snarky comeback for her teasing.

“Yeah, I’m calling out,” is what he finally says, setting the mug on their bedside table before leaping back into bed, hovering his weight over Gina.

She and the camera are knocked back in surprise, capturing her steady stream of giggles and a blurry view of Ricky’s heart-sweater bicep.

“Richard.”

“Don’t Richard me, I’m sick.”

“Don’t do it.”

“ Love sick.”

“You did it.”

“It’s cupid’s fault.”

“Mhm.”

“And baby Kit Kat’s.”

“Right.”

“And my beautiful, thoughtful, perfect wife.”

“Flattery doesn’t pay the bills, Mr Porter-Bowen,” Gina smirks, letting the camera fall into the covers and record nothing but pitch blackness for the seven full minutes it takes Gina to get Ricky to stop kissing her and get out the door.

She’s not sure what time the red blinking light goes off, or when Ricky actually gets to work. 

But she finds it really difficult to care.

[FEB 28 01:32 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Most romantic date night in recorded history.”

If you squint, this is just like college. Like a really successful, awesome night at college.

Music is playing in the background, Ricky’s with her, the lights are off except a couple string lights, it’s the middle of the night, and she’s sitting on the bathroom floor with her face next to the toilet.

Ricky kisses behind her ear, because he’s gross and he loves her more than Gina hates everything that’s happening right now. 

“They should call it 24/7 sickness,” Gina feels another wave of nausea, but presses a finger to her temples like that can make it go away. They’ve been camped out in the bathroom for what feels like a lifetime, but is really just the length of the three High School Musical movies that Ricky’s played on his laptop, which is perched on the counter beside the recording camera.

(Gina had turned the camera on because she thinks they’re gonna laugh about this some day. Or use it as a nice visual aid for the repercussions of bad choices when they get to that part of parenting one day. Either or.)

“I’m gonna file a formal complaint,” Ricky says, rubbing circles into the small of her back from where he sits behind her on the cool tile floor, “Who’s in charge of this stuff?”

“The storks, I think.”

“I’ll call up the president of the storks first thing in the morning.”

Gina brushes a hand soothingly over Romeo’s head, who is scarily in tune with Gina’s feelings and refuses to move from where his head is perched on her thigh, not just tonight, but every time she’s ended up here since January. 

“Oh, wait,” Gina says steadily, “I don’t wanna jinx it, but I think it’s going away.”

“No way.”

“Yes,” Gina takes a deep breath, feeling the worst wave of nausea pass. “I don’t know how or why or what’s happening, but I’m not questioning it. This is good.”

“Well, I know exactly why,” Ricky says smugly. 

“Have you already been in conversation with the storks?” Gina finds herself uncharacteristically smiling, turning her chin sideways to see him.

“Even better,” Ricky laughs, reaching up for the camera, and turning it to blurrily focus on his laptop screen, “Someone is clearly a fan of mom’s singing.”

When Gina’s eyes follow his movements, she catches it—they’ve reached the High School Musical 4 part of their movie marathon.

“Oh my god,” Gina groans, flopping her head on the toilet seat for the first time all night for something other than nausea. She feels flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Baby’s first Gina Porter movie!” Ricky cheers quietly, loving this entirely too much. Gina can’t even look up, but knows her teenaged self is currently spinning around a stage in a cheerleading uniform.

“You need to turn that off before I start kissing Mack and the moment of nausea-free peace goes away.”

“You know, dad’s in this movie too!” Ricky addresses the camera as if he’s talking to the baby directly, which does things to Gina’s stomach that morning sickness can’t explain away. His finger hovers over the keypad as he skips the kissing in question and stops on a scene with the featured extras. “Crazy how our kid could end up either a Hollywood prodigy, or the worst extra to ever step foot on a set.”

Gina giggles as the camera gets spun back to her, “I tell everyone you’re a one hit wonder. Sounds better.”

“Thank you,” Ricky says, “We’re gonna ban the Frozen doc, right?”

“Oh, a million percent.”

“Great.”

Gina’s bright laughter bounces off the walls of the dimly lit bathroom, reveling in her new sweet and genuine smile. 

“They don’t need to see that until they’re, I don’t know, eighteen?”

“Too young, forty seven.”

“Or maybe just never.”

“Never sounds good.”

Ricky leans in close to the camera, just before turning the recording off, and stage whispers at a level Gina can still hear and giggle at, “Don’t worry. This doesn’t apply to all the pictures of your Uncle Carlos dressed as a snowman I have backlogged. You can see those whenever you want.”

[MAR 09 12:15 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Good news, Kit Kat, we’re on our way home from the doctors, and you are officially the size of an apple! Even better news: Gina knows how big that is this time.”

“I’m going to strangle you, Ricky Bowen.”

“Porter-Bowen, geez. On our two years and seven months anniversary.”

“That’s not a thing. God, you’re going to be one of those parents whose like, oh, my baby’s 22 months old , huh?”

“I guarantee the second they’re born you’re going to become one too.”

“I bet you a whole week of diaper duty that’s not happening.”

“You’re on, Porter.”

“Porter-Bowen, asshole. Happy two years and seven months anniversary.”

[MAR 15 05:59 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Tell the baby what we’re doing today.”

“Your mom is finally avenging herself, Kit Kat!”

“What she means is,” Ricky spins the camera to face himself, and he beams brightly into it, “You’re meeting your godmother today!”

“You’re leaving out a lot of important lore, Ricky,” Gina says from the kitchen island, where she’s putting the finishing touches on wrapping a small box. “So once upon a time, your father and I decided after years and years and years of putting it off—”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“To finally plan a wedding. And your idiot mom who hadn’t adopted your dad’s knack for grand gestures yet, did the worst maid of honor ask in history.”

“Again, it wasn’t that bad.”

“But today, I am avenging myself,” Gina smiles proudly when she goes off a perfect bow, “I’m asking my maid of honor, your Aunt Ashlyn, to be your godmother, and I got her the very cheesy cup and gift box to do it.”

“Heck yeah you did.”

“Oh look at you,” Gina grins, “Getting rid of curse words.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“Maddie just texted me,” Gina shrugs her coat over her shoulders as she types something on her phone, “They’ll be here in five.”

“Great.”

“Can we go wait on the steps?” Gina bounces on the balls of her feet, slinging the gift under one arm and not even waiting for an answer from Ricky before scurrying towards the door, Romeo on her heels in support.

“You’d think it was Christmas morning,” Ricky teases, but his heart constricts at the sight. He knows what this means to Gina, how it’s not really about the cup, or righting her wrongs, or even the nice restaurant they’re going to. 

He lets the camera linger on his wife, who lets their dog run outside with her into the cold to wait impatiently on the porch step, and he can’t quite hear what she’s talking to him about (one of his favorite habits Gina has is how she’s constantly talking to Romeo, so often Ricky’s sure one day the golden retriever is going to talk back. He can’t wait to see her do it with their babbling baby.) 

But he knows one thing for certain: “Kit Kat, you are about to become the most intensely loved baby in the whole wide world.”

Ricky grabs his own coat, and adds one final thought before stopping the recording for now, “Also very well hydrated. Now that your mother has discovered this website for personalized drinkware, I don’t think she’s ever going to stop.”

[MAR 15 06:11 PM] [REC 🔴]

“You couldn’t even wait for me to press record?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“It’s my fault, blame me,” Ashlyn has Gina hugged fiercely to her side, and is giving Ricky an insane bout of deja vu as happy tears stream down her face.

“Congratulations, you guys,” Maddox gushes, and she’s been doing better holding back her tears until the second she catches Ricky’s eye over the top of the camera. She wipes at the corner of her eye and curses, “Shit.”

“Mads, there’s a baby here, you can’t say stuff like that anymore!” Ashlyn yelps, and then like the statement has just caught up with her, gasps, “Oh my god, there’s a baby here !”

Gina giggles at her sister’s affectionate pout, “I was supposed to do better this time! I had a whole thing planned, when we got to the restaurant, and—I got you a cup!”

“I love cups!”

“Oh I knew we weren’t making it to the restaurant,” Ricky shakes his head off camera, moving the frame around to show their surroundings, not even two steps out their front door.

“That little faith in your wife, Richard?” Maddox eyes him.

“You should have seen her, Mads,” Ricky says, “She was jittery all day waiting for you guys to show up, and I know it wasn’t coffee.”

“God, I haven’t had coffee in so long,” Gina laments.

“How long? When did you find out? How are you feeling? Tell me everything,” Ashlyn looks as jittery as Ricky had just described Gina to be. Sisters .

“New Years.”

“No!”

“I knew something was up!” Maddox points, “You weren’t drinking!”

“I’m due in September,” Gina adds, “You’re the first people to know.”

Wrong thing to say, because Ashlyn starts crying again, instantly.

“Alright, well let’s get off this freezing cold porch and into the car. We’re celebrating!” Ashlyn tugs Gina down the small set of steps and imminently towards the car, where Gina is begging her to open her gift on the way there even though the element of surprise has been taken away, because she’s still properly proud of her cup.

Maddox loops her arm through Ricky’s as they trail a little more slowly behind them.

“I’m so happy for you,” she whispers, and Ricky hopes the camera catches it. He wants to bottle this moment and remember it, how soft and perfect and full of love it feels, forever and ever. Then she flashes a signature troublemaker grin at the lens and adds, “Please keep this camera alive long enough for us to document Jet changing his first diaper.”

Ricky’s laughter is far too loud, but Maddox joins him, before he clicks the recording off.

[APR 01 07:29 PM] [REC 🔴]

“We’re having a baby!”

“Funny,” Carlos rolls his eyes over FaceTime, “April Fools!”

“I’m being serious, Los,” Ricky says, hands shaking as he holds the camera up to try to catch his best friend's reaction, “Gina’s pregnant.”

“Right, and I’m getting a Hollywood Walk of Fame star next week for my 3 IMDB credit screen career,” Carlos gets back to applying a heavy hand of concealer, only half listening to Ricky, as he gets ready in his dressing room. Ricky faintly hears someone announce a 30 minutes to curtain in the background. “Are you done pranking me, Richard? I have to go get mic-ed.”

“Carlos—”

“Shit, where’s my—” Carlos’ brow furrows as he roots through some drawers. “I’m sorry, Ricky, I gotta go. Give Gina and Romeo kisses for me.”

He doesn’t even wait for an answer before he ends the call, and Ricky almost chucks the camcorder across the bedroom. 

He manages to just stop the recording instead.

[APR 02 07:34 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Richard Porter-Bowen, I swear to god—”

“I told you I wasn’t lying!”

“I’m calling out of the show tonight and hopping on the first flight to Utah so I can murder you.”

“I’m sorry!”

“You couldn’t have picked a day other than April Fools to drop the greatest news of my life?”

“I was gonna wait until you visited in 2 weeks, but last night I dropped Gina off at the airport to go do her annual Mark and Spark reboot guest star episode and realized there was no way she could keep it from Mack,” Ricky explains. “And then he wouldn’t keep it from you. But I wanted you to know first. From me. You can’t say I didn’t try.”

He almost guessed it down to the minute when Carlos would call him back, screeching about finally believing him, and is glad he can still catch his delayed but appropriately dramatic reaction. He multitasks the call with setting up his classroom for the day, and can’t believe how wonderful it is that this is his life.  

“I woke up my entire building screeching this morning when Mack texted me,” Carlos says, “I can’t believe you. I can’t believe you.”

“I swear, I had the best intentions.”

“Oh my god.”

“No, no, not you too, god, everyone starts crying when we tell them,” Ricky fusses, compulsively itching to need to comfort Carlos, which is impossible to do through a screen, “My dad almost caused Salt Lake’s first tsunami. Even my mom got all choked up. I need you to stay strong, bro.”

“You’re gonna be a dad !” Carlos ignores him completely, and continues to break down on the other side of the country, “ Look at you , already dressing the part! In your little dad shirt.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Ricky stops, checking his reflection in the phone screen, “I’ve been wearing this to work for years, it’s not a dad shirt.”

“Did you tell Miss Jenn yet?”

“God, no, but I feel like she’s going to figure it out on her own soon, with her weird seventh sense.”

“Sixth sense?”

“No, I meant seventh. It’s weirder than a sixth sense, whatever’s going on inside her head.”

“Fair,” Carlos says, “Okay, I wasn’t kidding, I’m booking the next flight out there. I need to hug you.”

“No, no, do not jeopardize your Broadway career.”

“Ugh,” Carlos tosses his head back in a groan, pulling his robe tight around his shoulders and leaning in closer to the camera, “I need to start thinking about what the baby should call me.”

“Is Uncle Carlos not good enough?”

“God no, that makes me sound like an old man.”

“We kinda are old men, Los.”

“Take that back,” he warns, “I’m a young and fun fairy godfather.”

“There you go.”

“I’m gonna spend the rest of the day buying the most fashionable gender-neutral little outfits, just so you know.”

“As expected.”

“Lord, I did a face mask last night and now I’m getting all puffy again,” Carlos dabs under his eyes, “I’m so happy for you. You know that right? Like I’m definitely not murdering you. I don’t know why I led with that.”

“I know, man.”

“I love you more than should physically be allowed.”

“I know that too.”

“God, are we old. Ricky Bowen who ate 3 whole pizzas in one sitting is having a baby with the girl he threw them up for.”

“You have such a way with words.”

“Alright, I’ll call you back when you’re home. I need to go yell at our better halves now,” Carlos blows a kiss to the screen.

“Don’t be mean to Mack, remember,” Ricky warns, moving his phone to be put away, the bell for first period about to ring, “I did technically tell you first.”

“Okay, Dad .”

[APR 17 03:23 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Just checking in to say hi, Kit Kat,” Gina waves at the camera, “You’re the size of a carrot now. And because your Uncle Carlos has a talent for making everything about himself, this obviously reminded him of his infamous rendition of ‘In Summer’. So we’re watching Frozen to celebrate.”

“I told you Gi, we’re workshopping names other than Uncle Carlos,” Uncle Carlos yells from the living room.

“Also, not watching his version,” Dad yells too, “Remember! Doc ban!”

Gina leans into the camera to whisper, “I can’t wait for you to get here for a lot of reasons, baby, but having someone on my side when Dad and Uncle Carlos are together is high on the list.”

“Hurry up, Gina, the popcorn’s getting cold!”

“Okay, I hope you like popcorn, Kit Kat,” Gina smacks a loud kiss to the camera, “Talk to you soon, I love you.”

[MAY 10 04:13 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Gi, I’m home, and I know I’m late, but when I was walking out of Target I saw the cutest onesie I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I couldn't not get—Gi?”

Ricky takes a slow and tentative step towards their bedroom, Romeo at his feet, when he hears what he’s sure are the muffled sounds of crying. The second he opens the door, Gina whiles on him, her bottom lip puckered into the most adorable little pout, hands swinging dejectedly at her side.

“Gi, what happened?”

“It doesn’t fit!”

“Hm?”

“My favorite sweatshirt,” she hangs her head in her hands as Ricky takes in the sight of a gray sweatshirt half squeezed onto the top part of her frame. It’s shoved snugly over one shoulder and pulled halfway down her torso, but doesn;t seem to wanna go any further. 

“You mean my sweatshirt?” He can;t help but giggle, taking another step inside.

“Shut up, I’m going through something.”

“Going through my closet.”

“Ricky…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he snakes his arms around her from behind, trying and failing to help her get the sweatshirt the rest of the way over her belly. He laughs a kiss onto her cheek in consolation, the camera catching them in the mirror. “Wanna hop back in the car with me and go buy a new one?”

“That’s silly,” Gina shakes her head, pressing her hands over his on her waist, but then smirks, “But kinda, yeah.”

“Gives me an excuse to buy more of these freaking adorable onesies, look at this Gi,” Ricky untangles his arms from her just a smidge, to show off his impulse purchase. Gina cranes her neck to get a look at the small hangers full of brightly colored onesies, “It was a whole farm animal set. This one has ducks, and there’s one with little chicks, and I really lost it on the cow print.”

“Those are ridiculous,” Gina pinches the soft fabric between two fingers, studying the clothes closely. Then nods sternly, “We need a hundred of them.”

“I love you,” he smooches every inch of skin on her he can see, while she starts to divest the no longer fitting sweatshirt.

“I promise I am really excited we can see you now, Kit Kat,” Gina pokes a finger at her showing stomach, “You just don't understand the power of stealing dad’s clothes yet.”

“I’m sure you’ll teach them very well, c’mon,” Ricky calls, holding the door open for her, and leaving the camera on the kitchen table on the way out. 

(The venture into the maternity section of clothing doesn’t end up making it on camera, but it doesn’t go so bad. Especially not when compared to how Gina cries through every aisle of the baby clothes, and buys more than is strictly necessary. Ricky’s not stopping her.)

[MAY 21 03:23 PM] [REC 🔴]

“There has to be an easier way.”

“Why are there no words in these instructions?”

“You think we can hire someone to sneak in and do it for us, then sneak out all before Gina gets home?”

(The answer is no, because Gina already is home, and is spying on her husband and her mom, who can barely put together sentences through their laughter, let alone a crib, and is catching it all on camera from the crack in the doorway.)

(They don’t need to know that though.)

“I can’t even remember what step we were on,” Ricky laughs, his head hanging in one hand and the other holding a useless screwdriver.

“I don’t wanna suggest we start over,” Gina watches her mom laugh so hard she has to wipe away a tear, “But—”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m not gonna.”

“We’re like, awful at this.”

“Horrendous,” her mom’s back is to the door, but when she turns to pat Ricky on the shoulder she catches a glimpse of her beaming smile, “Who the hell bought you this torture device?”

“Who do you think?”

“ Gina picked this crib out?” Gina’s mom puts her hands on her knees and nearly wheezes, “Of course.”

“It had a five star rating apparently, but god, at what cost?”

“Don’t you have that friend who built sets for you guys in high school?” Gina’s mom gestures a hand absently, “Eddie?”

“Red.”

“ Red ?” And her mom’s tone apparently is the funniest thing Ricky’s ever heard, because he collapses again and the two of them buckle under the weight of another lethal case of the giggles.

“I swear, you make up new people every time we talk, Ricky.”

“You know Big Red! He owns the pizza place!”

“Slices?” Gina’s mom sits back on her heels, jaw agape, “I love Slices!”

Ricky nods, his curls clipping cutely as he giggles.

“Oh no, Ricky, I think I’ve been calling him Ed for years.”

Her husband laughs so hard he needs to hide his face from her mom with three wooden crib slats.

“We need to get pizza tonight for dinner so I can go apologize.”

“You know, that’s actually a good point,” Ricky says, tentatively standing on wobbly legs, using a spare crib part for leverage, “Maybe we’re failing at this because we’re hungry.”

“Can’t work on an empty stomach,” she nods, feigning seriousness.

“Duh,” Ricky puts his useless tools and pieces of wood aside, “I’m gonna go call, order us some.”

“Problem solved.”

“Plain cheese pie and an order of garlic knots?” Ricky recites what Gina knows is her and her mom’s go-to order, from any pizza place, every time they moved. Ricky rattling it off like that does something ridiculous to her, and she’s glad the camera can’t catch her goofy grin and the way she’s sure her heart is about to rattle out of her rib cage.

Gina’s mom nods in thanks and agreement, before gesturing around to their haphazard mess, “I’ll maybe, I don’t know,” she shrugs. “Just move these around and pretend I’m being useful.”

“Exactly what I would do,” Ricky winks, turning to head out the door, “Be right back.”

His head is tucked down, pulling his phone out of his pocket to start typing in the Salt Lake Slices takeout number, so he doesn’t see Gina catching him and her mom red-handed until he basically plows her down in the doorway.

Ricky catches himself in surprise, one hand on the doorway, the other on Gina’s forearm, and his nose pressed up against the lens of the old video camera. His cheeks flush a bright pink as he bites his lips together, sheepishly, “How much of that did you get?”

“Enough,” Gina giggles behind the camera.

“Mrs Porter, we’ve been caught,” Ricky pushes the door open to reveal Gina more fully, who waves cheekily to her mom.

“Gina, honey,” she smiles, scooting the unused pieces around like she can hide the evidence of no work getting done, “You’re home early!”

“We wrapped quicker than planned,” Gina squishes past Ricky and into the room, “They don’t call me Perfect Take Porter for nothing.”

“Did you have to be perfect today though?” Ricky winces, “Couldn't do like, a few more takes so we could get at least one thing put together in this nursery.”

“Go get us some pizza.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Gina drops the camera on the unopened changing table box, and doesn’t even realize she forgets to stop the recording before she makes her way over to sit beside her mom (but later, when she watches it all back, is grateful for the slip up.)

“How was your day, baby?”

“Clearly not as entertaining as yours,” Gina snorts, tossing her mom a rogue screw playfully. “I think the wardrobe team is over me and all the baggy clothes they have to put me in.”

“How much more do you have to film?”

“Only two more episodes,” Gina shrugs, “Honestly the timing really worked out. Just gotta get through this last stretch.”

“Proud of you,” her mom smiles, and no matter how old Gina gets, or how much she adds to the list of things she’s done, that never feels any less good to hear. She tries to hide her pleased smile, but it’s really no use. “You and Maddox giving yourselves a nice break after you wrap?”

“A very nice break,” Gina sighs, leaning back into her palms, “Honestly, I don’t have a lot lined up for the rest of the year, and I don’t know if I’m looking.”

“Good,” her mom agrees with a nod, and then a sneaky grin, “It's clear we need you here.”

“I really don’t understand what happened! You and Ricky are two of the most resourceful people I know, I had so much faith,” Gina laughs, “Especially since you have literally done this before.”

“How many years ago was that?” her mom pushes her shoulder teasingly, “I do remember the day I set up your nursery, though. Clear as day.”

“Yeah?”

Her mom nods, the features of her face softening, as she pulls up the memory and starts to tell it with a smile, “We were placed in a little suburb in Virginia at the time. I bought a lot of used stuff that was already put together, and had some things in storage from your brother, but I splurged on getting you the cutest pink crib.

“Instructions were in another language, Swedish, maybe? But there were pictures, couldn’t be that hard, right?” her mom continues, “Only I didn’t account for Jamie deciding to be a little shit the entire time.”

“Mom!”

“Santa made the regrettable decision to buy him a drum set that year,” her mom winces at the memory, like she can still hear the cymbals banging “I don’t think he touched it a single time after then, but that day? Nonstop.”

“Of course.”

“So I had a splitting headache, these foreign instructions, raging pregnancy hormones, and not a single person to help me through it.” It sounds horrendous to Gina, who feels like committing several felonies for no reason every day just because of raging pregnancy hormones, and that's without factoring in all the other stuff.

But her mom’s smile is glowing .

“I cried the whole time I built it, and today, the only tears I had were from laughing too hard,” she says softly, “I know it looks like we didn’t get anything done, but your husband took out my difficult memory and rebuilt me a perfect, happy new one.”

“I keep him around for a reason,” Gina shrugs.

“I don’t even know why we were laughing half the time, the situation was just so ridiculous I think,” her mom devolved back into giggles the way Gina had found her when she arrived home.

“No, that's a real thing. Ricky says sometimes the kids at school do it, they call it the sillies.”

“Yes, yes, this was definitely the sillies,” her mom cackles. Silly, silly, silly. Gina’s pregnancy hormones are of the good variety at the moment, making her feel like floating and crying and giggling with her all at the same time.

“Alright team,” Ricky interrupts, jumping back into the doorway, smile plastered on his face. His phone is in one hand, and Romeo is sitting loyally at his feet,  like he’s just realized he would very much like to be included on the team too, now that sillies are involved. 

“Just got off the phone with Slices. Ed will be here in 20, bringing Utah’s greatest cheese pizza and garlic knots, as well as building expertise.”

[JUN 06 06:07 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Surprise! Happy first wrap, Kit Kat!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Gina pushes the door to her trailer open, and is immediately hit with loops of brightly colored streamers. “I don’t think you ever decorated this nice for me.”

“You know that’s not true,” Ricky peeks up at Gina from behind the camera, where he’s standing on the far end of her couch with her favorite lopsided grin.

She hums a non-committal noise, and pushes past swarms of balloons to get to him, and wonders how much of her bemused smile his recording captures. 

“C’mere, they wanna say thank you,” Gina nods him over.  She wishes, for a moment, that she had a camera of her own to catch the adorably quizzical look on his face. But she doesn’t think she’ll have a problem committing it to memory.

The camera shakes as Ricky hops off the couch and meets Gina in the middle of the trailer, and then without another word, Gina takes a gentle hold of his hand, and places it over her abdomen.

She adds his little gasp to her running tab of moments to remember forever.

“Oh my god.”

“I ruined a perfect take when I felt it,” Gina admits, “It was somewhere between a gasp and a scream.”

“Is that really—” Ricky is still gaping, in absolute awe, and Gina buckles under the perfectly emotional weight of the moment.

“Yeah,” she nods, “The baby’s kicking.”

“Oh wow,” he whispers, before looking up at Gina, “Does it feel weird?”

“A little. Not sure what I was expecting it to feel like, but not this,” Gina shrugs, her cheeks stuck in a permanent smile, even as Ricky places a soft kiss over one of them. “They won’t stop either, now that they’ve started.”

“Course not, our little dancer.”

The fluttery feeling in Gina’s stomach can be attributed to about a dozen different things right now, with everything that’s happening, but she will never tire of Ricky’s unbridled love for her being one of them. The way he looks at her, his fingers gently tickling her stomach in time with the fluttering kicks, would feel too good to be true if she hadn’t gotten to know the feeling so intimately. This is all hers.

“Damn, I really spent two hours decorating for nothing. You just had to outdo me, huh, Kit Kat? Had to one up my moment?” 

Gina laughs, grabbing Ricky’s cheeks with both hands and kissing him between every bout of giddy laughter, their teeth clinking because neither of them can stop grinning, but it’s too perfect of a moment to care.

[JUN 20 01:16 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Cameron’s kinda nice.”

“Avery, too.”

“Ooh, what about Rain?”

“As in the weather?”

“Yeah look, R-a-i-n.”

“What would their middle name be, Partly Cloudy?”

The last comment earns Carlos a swift whack in the head with the East High graduation program that’s currently not being used as a baby name book.

“I wish today was partly cloudy,” Maddox complains as she steadies the camera on the group, “I didn’t even enjoy sitting at our own graduation, so I don’t understand the fact that we’ve now been to more than I can count.”

“It’s not that bad,” Gina tries, but she’s opted to use her own program as an ineffective makeshift fan, which is not helping her case. 

“And how many of your premieres have we been to?” Ashlyn miffs at her wife from the far end of the bleacher they’ve commandeered.

“Those are indoors at least,” Gina defends her and her friend’s honor, while Ashlyn goes to bat for Ricky, who’s currently setting up microphones on the small graduation stage for his music students performance. As if he can hear them from all those yards away, he turns and squints, face shielding his eyes from the sun, and finds their group in the swarms of loved ones to wave.

Maddox turns the camera on him, “Look at those sweat stains. Love that we’re capturing these precious memories for your children, Gi.”

Gina laughs out loud at that, and her husband's unfortunate wardrobe choice for the weather, but simply waves back at him.

“Did you find any other good names in there, Los?” she re-routes the conversation.

“You really don’t have any ideas yet?” Ashlyn asks.

Gina shakes her head, “Nope. Completely blank canvas.”

“That’s not true,” Carlos points, even as his eyes go back to scanning through the list of graduates’ names for inspiration, “She has plenty of opinions on names she doesn’t like.”

“For the twenty-seventh time, Los, there will be no Carlos Jr under my roof. No juniors at all, actually.”

“Oh thank god, I was worried Richard was a family name,” Ashlyn clutches a hand to her heart like the thought was actually giving her chest pain. 

“Also, it’s not me, it’s Ricky,” Gina continues, “Every time I even start to like a name, he says he had a student with the same one, and it’s immediately off the table.”

“So like, every name ever, then?”

“Just about,” Gina laments with a small smile.

“He’s never had a student named Carlos.”

“Oh my god.”

“What about Lisa? That’s pretty, classic,” Ashlyn refocuses them, pointing to a name in the book, “Or Theresa? Has a nice ring to it with your last names.”

“Oh this is cool: Jupiter!”

“Maybe instead of picking through this random list, it should be sentimental.” 

“East?”

“Add Orange Car to the list while you’re at it, then.”

“Lola, short for Shallow Lake.”

“ How ?”

“I know Carlos is out, but is Maddox on the table?”

“You just said you don’t wanna be supportive of Ricky at this ceremony, but you want him to name his kid after you?”

“As much as I appreciate the suggestions,” Gina grins, nodding her head towards the field, “Looks like they’re about to start.”

“She didn’t say no to Maddox,” the girl in question whispers antagonizingly to Carlos on her right, and the camera surely catches his annoyance.

“Whatever you guys pick will be perfect,” Ashlyn placates, starting to fan herself with her program as well now, the graduates spilling into the open field. 

“I’m turning this off before it burns off my hand from overheating,” Maddox says, waving the camera in her hands, “Alright little Porter-Bowen, see you back here in 18 years.”

“Welcome to the family, Wildcat,” Carlos loops an arm around Gina and blows one final kiss to the camera, and Gina wonders if it catches how she has to sit up straighter to suck in her tears before it’s clicked off.

[JUN 29 10:44 PM] [REC 🔴]

“What happened to important life moments?”

“This is an important life moment,” Gina hums, “You look nice.”

“Sure I do, from this really great angle,” Ricky tucks his chin, practically hitting the front lens of the camera with his nose. Gina shifts slightly where her head is in his lap on the couch and she’s holding the camera just above her.

“Tell her what week we’re on,” she uses a hand to push his face back, twists her arm at a weird bend, intent on getting him in the frame.

“ Her ?”

“I have a gut feeling about it,” Gina shrugs.

Ricky’s hand traces idle shapes over her torso, and he hums in contentment, but answers her previous request. “I think it’s 28 weeks? No, 29.”

“29,” Gina nods, “She’s much bigger than a Kit Kat, now”

“How tall do you think she’ll be?” Ricky wonders aloud, softly.

“ She ,” Gina echoes his earlier tone of voice, “Do you have a gut feeling too?”

“No, I just know you’re right about everything.”

“Important life lesson there, baby,” she giggles, addressing the camera, “I know everything .”

“Everything,” Ricky smiles, “But seriously, what do you think?”

“They’ll tower over both of us.”

“Is that how genetics work?”

“No clue.”

“Right after I endorsed you knowing everything,” he shakes his head in mock disappointment. 

“Isn’t it crazy though,” Gina adds absently, “That when she gets here in a few months, she’ll be smaller than Romeo? But could really end up taller than us?”

“That’s how growing works, Gi. God, do I have to teach you everything ?”

“Teacher of the year, Mr Porter-Bowen,” she pokes at his cheek.

“I get it though. Everything about this is wild,” Ricky sighs, tossing his head over the back of the couch, “I’m so excited and terrified all at the same time for her to see her grow up. To be in charge of that.”

“Me too,” Gina whispers, “Although if she’d like to grow in a direction other than directly towards my bladder right now, that’d be appreciated.”

“Oh my god.”

“I started peeing when I sneeze, Ricky. It’s bad.”

“She’s going to love watching these back,” Ricky laughs, “Even more when we’re wrong and it’s a boy.”

“I’m never wrong,” Gina states plainly, twisting the camera to the very first Porter-Bowen they’d gotten to watch grow, and loved every second of it, “Isn’t that right, Romeo?”

The golden retriever licks the top of Ricky’s hand before flopping his head unceremoniously on top of it, still resting on Gina’s stomach.

[JUL 04 09:37 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Why is the camera on now?”

“First holiday!”

“That’s not even slightly true.”

“First fireworks, then,” Ricky catches Gina’s eye roll right before another red, white, and blue display lights up the sky behind her. “Happy first fourth of July, Kit Kat!”

“Ridiculous,” Gina crosses her arms over her chest, “Can we go home now, my Oscar winning cinematographer?”

“It’s not even funny when you do that because you actually do have an Oscar.”

“Kit Kat’s gonna think it’s funny,” Gina winks at the camera as she strides past it, heading for the car without even waiting for Ricky to agree on their departure, “Our little nepo baby.”

“Oh god, we have a nepo baby!”

“Get in the car, Richard.”

[JUL 04 09:56 PM] [REC 🔴]

“This is the Oscar, by the way, before I forget,” Ricky zooms the camera in on the little gold statue on the shelf, heading towards their bedroom. “Hey Gi? I just had a thought.”

From somewhere off in the distance, Gina’s yell can be faintly made out, “If the thought doesn’t have anything to do with you taking off your clothes and getting in here, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“We’re gonna need to delete this one,” he whispers into the camera, then yells again, not deterred by his wife’s exasperation, “I was thinking. If we name this baby Tony and the next one Grammy, you’ll have an EGOT!”

“If you don’t stop talking there will be no next one.”

[JUL 18 02:31 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Hey, Kit Kat, it’s dad. Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, but I didn’t wanna wake your mom up, so. Figured I’d come talk to you.”

Ricky’s voice is caught on camera, but none of him yet. Instead, the shaky angle follows out of the bedroom doorway and down the hallway.

“Do you wanna see your room? We finished it tonight,” Ricky says, pushing open a slightly ajar door. The light flicks on with a small click, and the room comes to life.

“It’s nice, right? We had a lot of help,” Ricky steps into the room, and slowly pans around it. “Your grandma and I finally got the crib together, long story. And your uncles Jet and Carlos—who are insisting I inform you any time they’re brought up that they are to be your favorite uncles, strictly—they did the rest of the furniture, because I’m telling you, the crib took years off my life.

“Aunt Kourt painted everything,” Ricky continues, showing off the pale yellow walls, and the one by the window that has brightly colored shapes drawn in paint all over it—flowers and stars and suns and music notes and smiley faces. “She got here last week, is staying in town until you’re born, but I’m gonna get her to cave and move back here, don’t worry. 

“I think when you get tall enough to stand, I’m gonna measure you in this corner here,” Ricky points to a blank wall. “Maybe before you get tall enough to stand too. I’ll have mom hold you up. I don’t know, we’re workshopping it.”

The camera moves to the left where there’s a big big chair, tons of unopened toys and clothes and books stacked around them. “You are gonna be so spoiled, kid. As you should be. But really, look at all this stuff.

“You’re gonna play an instrument before you walk. You’ve got an entire symphony orchestra in here waiting for you. All your relatives are scarily musically talented,” Ricky shows off a plastic little keyboard, and a baby drum set, then whispers, “Especially your mom, but don’t tell any of them I said that.”

He walks out of the room, adding a little, “I’m okay at some things, but if you’re good at anything, it’ll be Gina’s doing. Let’s see, what else can I show you? Oh, uh, here’s the bathroom, I guess?” The camera peeks into the dark bathroom, and catches a glimpse of Ricky’s disheveled appearance in the mirror as he waves, “You won’t be using this for a while, but just so you know, it’s here. 

“I have a feeling we’ll spend lots of mornings together when I have to get dressed for work and you have an insane sleep schedule,” Ricky says, backing out of the bathroom and walking down the hallway again. “Which also, I should say, I do usually sleep at two in the morning, so don’t get any ideas. This is not an invitation to wake me up at this time regularly.”

Romeo hears Ricky enter the main living space, and lifts his head in greeting.

“Hey buddy,” Ricky smiles, sitting down next to Romeo his back against the wall and his camera on the dog. “What else do you wanna know, Kit Kat?

“Gonna be weird not calling you Kit Kat anymore,” he continues, the camera lazily catching random views of the room, Ricky not bothering to really focus it on anything. “The thing is, we didn’t even really like Kit Kats that much. I mean, Gina did, but probably not this much.

“There’s so much I like more than I ever did before now that we have you. And you’re not even here yet.”

Ricky feels his eyelids start to droop, his bout of restlessness starting to seep out of him, his little pacing and talking out loud seeming to help loads.

“It’s gonna be good. I’m gonna do my best, I promise. I take back the 2AM thing. You can wake me up whenever you want. For whatever you want. I’ll be here.

“Isn’t that right, Ro?”

But the dog fell back asleep within seconds of Ricky placing a soothing hand over his fur.

He finally turns the camera to face him. His eyes are puffy and his hair disheveled, his t-shirt is stained and there’s drool on the corner of his mouth.

But it is the most genuine smile ever recorded.

“We’re going back to the doctors tomorrow so I’ll see you then. Night, Kit Kat.”

[AUG 09 06:21 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Hi! I’m your favorite uncle, and I think you’re gonna be a girl.”

“Wait, what?”

“Is this not that Tik Tok thing where you say your name and guess the gender?”

“No, Jet, this is the family video camera.”

“My bad.”

“Also, gender is a construct. Second also, they’re not finding out the sex until the baby’s born.”

“I already said my bad, Ash. What was I supposed to say?”

“Nothing, you just have strawberry frosting all over your face and look ridiculous.”

“I hate you.”

“Little Wildcat should have all the facts before picking a favorite!”

[AUG 09 07:17 PM] [REC 🔴]

“It’s a Kourtney original,” Gina twirls to show off her long and flowy white skirt, “Which your closet is already full of, by the way.”

“There is no better client in the world than a Porter-Bowen woman,” Kourtney has an arm looped around Gina’s waist and the other holding onto her drink.

“What’s wrong with the Porter-Bowen men?”

“How much tape you got on that thing, Richard?”

[AUG 09 08:59 PM] [REC 🔴]

“—get out of here,” Ricky pushes the camera Carlos is shoving within three inches of their faces away, but Gina just laughs.

“I’m busy showing your kids how gross and in love you are,” their friend replies, not getting out of there in the slightest.

The couple is dancing (or, slowly swaying side to side because Gina’s ankles hurt far too much for more than that) on the makeshift dance floor in the backyard, like they’ve done the past three years on this day since their wedding. All their favorite people together, every year, just like they promised.

“He’s just grumpy because he knows in a few weeks he has competition for my favorite person in the world,” Gina giggles into the camera, arms looped loosely around her husband (of three whole years! can you believe it!). 

“It’s not even gonna be a competition. Did you even like me that much to begin with?” Ricky teases, brows scrunched.

“You were like, the least bad option.”

“Fair.”

“Don’t listen to them, kid,” Carlos addresses the recording, “They’re disgustingly in love and you are the perfect little proof.”

Gina smiles as her head falls onto Ricky’s shoulder.

“If you fall even half as in love as your parents, you’ll still be better off than the rest of us,” Carlos continues, “And don’t even get me started on how much they already love you. I could vomit up all the Slices we ate today.”

“You have such a way with words, Los. I can’t believe we let you officiate the wedding all those years ago.”

“I killed it and you know it,” Carlos points, “If Mack ever proposes you can return the favor.”

“Mack!” Ricky yells, and this time Carlos seats a hand at him to shut him up. Ricky just takes it as an opportunity to pull his best friend into their dancing embrace.

“Oh, are we group hugging?” someone yells from somewhere off screen left.

And before you know it, their whole perfect little family has piled into the center of the grassy dance floor, lights twinkling above them, full of Salt Lake Slices and cake and champagne/sparkling cider. Everyone’s limbs are overlapping and clinging to each other, and everyone’s laughing, and everyone’s there .

There will be no shortage of love in this little one’s life, Gina is sure, as the camera catches her bubbling laughter once more, before it’s knocked out of someone’s hand and falls lens-first into the grass. 

They’ll find it later. For now, everything is perfect.

[AUG 09 11:58 PM] [REC 🔴]

It’s unclear who has picked up the camera and pressed record this time, it’s gone through so many different hands over the course of the party. But looking back at the footage, Gina is so glad someone decided to get this.

They’re all sitting around a little circular folding table, plates and cups half full, lights hanging low and the stars fully out. Music is at a low hum and everyone is chatting quietly, but about what, Gina has no clue.

Because she’s on Ricky’s lap, legs swung over the arm of one side of his chair, and her nose is pressed to his until he decides he’d rather be kissing her everywhere he can reach, and nothing else exists.

She’s eating her third slice of the greatest strawberry shortcake in the entire world around him, drops a bite before it gets to her lips on his ear, and tosses her head back in laughter with the motion. She kisses the frosting off his cheek and his temple and his ear, and he squirms, ticklish, and tries to get revenge by swiping one finger though the piece in her plate and painting her cheeks with it. 

She whispers something in his ear. Watching it back, she can’t remember what it was, but it paints his cheeks the color of the frosting she’s enjoying.

Even though the person catching the moment is far away, she can see Ricky’s smile clearly. Maybe she just knows him that well, after 3 years married and almost 10 together and loving him far longer than she can quantify at the moment. 

As if the moment could get any more perfect, Ricky pretends to offer a sliver of their favorite cake to Gina’s stomach directly. Which just throws Gina into another fit of giggles that she can hear over the din of all the other people around them.

He kisses over her belly button, and up her shoulder, under her jaw and finally on her lips. And then grossly remembers the frosting he left on her cheeks and goes back in for that too.

At the very last second, Gina turns, the side of her head pressed against the side of Ricky’s, and now they’re both looking at the camera.

They wave hello to their baby, giggling in sync, and it is all Gina has ever wanted.

[AUG 31 03:38 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Oh, that’s cute!”

“Right? I found the pattern on Pinterest, thought it would be cute in the winter.”

Gina’s legs are propped up on her coffee table, balancing her knitting needles on her stomach she can barely see over anymore, but enough to catch the very cute hat her knitting partner has just held up in completed triumph.

“I mean, I think I’m putting this baby in hats all seasons, Mack,” Gina says while she works on a hat of her own, “The mental image alone is enough to make me cry.”

“It doesn’t take much to make you cry these days.”

“True, but I resent you saying it out loud,” Gina laughs, “Speaking of other awful things I do because I’m pregnant—”

“Carlos texted me a little while ago. They’ll be home with dinner in like,” Mack looks at his watch, “5 minutes.”

“How’d you know I was gonna ask about food?”

“It was either that or you were gonna have me talk you out of adopting three more puppies.”

“But wouldn’t a puppy with a baby be so cute?” She gushes, ignoring how dead-on her friend read her.

“You’re hopeless, we need that baby out of you like, yesterday.”

“2 more weeks, give or take.”

“You pick a name yet?”

Gina smirks at him, “Maybe.”

“ Maybe ? And you’re not going to tell your dear old friend?” Mack scoffs, “After I’ve enabled and supported your knitting obsession for the past 9 months?” (Which Gina is thankful for, because instead of weird cravings for food, she has sent her poor husband on searches for very specific colors of yarn. Most mothers nest—Gina Porter-Bowen knits .)

Husband in question unlocks the door and saves her from having to dodge any more questions about the names they’ve narrowed it down to, Carlos and many bags of takeout in tow.

“Hi,” Gina cranes her neck to kiss Ricky from the other side of the couch, while Carlos drops their food on the coffee table. 

“Hey, how many hats did we accumulate in our absence?” Ricky teases, sliding around the couch and taking a seat beside Carlos on the floor.

“How do you know we made hats? And I don’t appreciate the tone—”

“Seven,” Mack supplies a cheeky answer, but shows off his blue and white Pinterest hat very proudly.

“Glad you recorded the process for proof,” Carlos laughs, gesturing to the camera which is propped on some books on the table, as he opens up dinner.

Ricky takes the camera and smiles into the small screen, before squinting at it, “Wait—how long have you been recording?”

“I didn’t put it on,” Gina shakes her head, shucking her knitting supplies to the cushion beside her.

“Oh, I did, when we started,” Mack says nonchalantly, reaching for a container, “Thought it would make a cute time lapse.”

“A time—Mack, what ?”

“We started three hours ago .”

“Mack, baby, this is a camcorder from the early 2000s, not your iPhone,” Carlos placates hands on his temples, “Please tell me you know you can’t time lapse it.”

“You can’t?”

“Oh boy.”

“Gonna run out of storage and miss the birth of our baby.”

[SEPT 07 09:57 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Hello, reporting live from baby-watch central—”

“Ricky, stop doing that with your voice, it’s scaring the baby.”

“How do you know?”

“I know everything,” Gina hums, stress baking her third batch of cookies at the kitchen island, “Also they’re kicking like crazy.”

“Lemme see,” Ricky jumps up, like he always does when Gina points out that the baby’s being an active little shit and kickboxing on the walls of her uterus. His hand gets in the way of her mixing, but with who knows how much time left to revel in this adorable reaction of his, she lets it be.

“You were saying, Mr Reporter?”

“Oh, right, right,” Ricky shakes his head, jumping to sit atop the counter, “We’ve hit Gina’s due date, so, any day now.”

“You’re taking your sweet time in there, Kit Kat.”

“We’re just very, very excited to meet you for real,” Ricky says over her grumbling, “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Soon, please!”

“But not before your mom stress bakes like, 12 more batches of red velvet cupcakes.”

Gina really can’t be blamed for sending her spatula flying at his head.

[SEPT 13 06:45 AM] [REC 🔴]

“First day of school!”

“This should be illegal,” Ricky grumbles, slinging his bag over one shoulder by their front door, “What if you have the baby and I’m in the middle of second period?”

“Eh, we won’t need you there,” Gina shrugs, pulling her sweater closely around her.

“Not funny.”

“Obviously I’ll call you. If there’s no traffic, you should make it to the hospital in time to cut the cord.”

“You’re really awful, you know that, right?”

“Ricky, at this rate, the baby’s never coming, so you really don’t need to worry.”

“You’re gonna jinx it.”

“Tell him to leave, Romeo,” Gina twists the camera down to their dog, waiting patiently because usually when Ricky stalls this much by the door, it means a walk is involved.

“I swear to god Gina, if you so much as blink abnormally, you call me immediately,” Ricky says, one hand tentatively on the door knob.

“Yes sir.”

“Text me every hour.”

“Aye aye.”

“I’m serious.”

“I will hold the baby in until at least 3:30.”

[SEPT 13 03:29 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Don’t kill me, I know we agreed on after 3:30.”

“Gina, what’s—”

“I think my water broke,” Gina tucks her phone to one ear, and focuses the camera on one very confused Romeo who is staring at the puddle on the floor in the living room. 

[SEPT 13 04:02 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Remember when you drove me home from homecoming?”

“Vaguely,” Ricky deadpans, his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as they pull up to a red light on the way to Salt Lake General.

“And now you’re driving me to the hospital, in the very same car, to have a baby. Our baby .”

She grins like her fifteen year old self, giddy with unparalleled emotion, as she fixes the camera on her husband’s unamused glare.

“Can you be a little less calm about this?” Ricky steps on the gas, and glares at her, practically shaking with nerves.

“Labor can take like, a full day, dude, we have plenty of time,” Gina says, her well-packed hospital bag at her feet, extra stuff in the back, and their triple-checked car seat. “And I already texted our parents, Ash, Kourt, and Los the update. So we’re good.”

“You just called me dude,” Ricky slams his head on the horn, an incredulous laugh finally bursting out of him, “We’re about to have a baby and you called me dude. ”

“Would you prefer bro ?”

“Holy shit, what even is happening right now?”

“You got it, bud,” Gina soothes a hand over his shoulder, “Make a right at the light.”

[SEPT 13 05:57 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Is this okay?”

“You’re perfect. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

“Sure,” Gina started to comply with the anesthesiologist’s instructions, her hands planted firmly on her knees where she sat, feet dangling over one side of the bed. 

“Oh no, you’re fine, Gina. I mean, breathe, obviously, but, I was talking to…”

…to her hyperventilating husband.

Gina giggles, watching Ricky pace the length of the room.

“Sorry, I just don’t like needles, no offense.”

“On behalf of needles everywhere, none taken,” the doctor laughs, epidural needle in hand.

“It’s not going in you , babe,” Gina tries to calm him, “It’s also not that big.”

“I’ve had patients tell me the flu shot is worse,” The nurse says, nodding sympathetically towards Ricky. She’s standing on Gina’s left, giving one of her hands an encouraging squeeze, and using the other to take over on camcorder duty. Gina is obsessed with how game she is to help her antagonize her husband during this ordeal. It’s actually doing more for her nerves than the impending epidural might. “She got some numbing medicine first, so she’ll only feel it a little. The needle gets removed pretty quickly too.”

“That’s good to know,” Ricky tries to nod, biting on his lower lip, and adds frantically, “Do you want me to just leave, am I making this worse for everyone?”

“No, no, stay,” Gina shakes her head, unable to stand the thought of him being even a few feet away from her, even like this.

“Okay,” he says, “Deep breaths. I got it.”

“Deep breaths,” the doctor repeats, before he starts counting down from three, informs Gina she’ll feel a slight pressure, and then, “Alright, we’re done.”

“That was it?” Ricky balks, his jaw practically on the floor.

“Told you it wasn’t bad,” the nurse snickers, zooming in on Ricky’s astonished expression. “Gina, you’re a champ.”

“Thank you,” she lets out a long exhale. “That’s really it?”

“You get to relax for a little, believe it or not,” her nurse squeezes her hand once more, before handing the camera back to Ricky, “That’s an order, dad.”

“Oh god,” Ricky pales, “ Dad .”

“Call me if you need anything, I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” the nurse heads for the door after helping Gina get comfortable on the bed again.

“This is going well,” Ricky says as the door shuts, leaving just the two of them again.

“I swear to god, if you pass out when I start pushing, Ricky—”

[SEPT 13 07:59 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Gi? Hey, if you’re seeing this, you probably found the camera pacing around the house, unable to sleep because we have a newborn. God, the next time you watch this back we’re gonna have a newborn,” Ricky says in a low voice to the camera, the lights are off, “Think that medicine I almost cried over you getting is doing it’s job, because you’re currently taking the last good, uninterrupted sleep of your life in the hospital bed.

“I am like a giant bundle of nerves and I’m never sleeping again. It’s fine, Kit Kat and I made our peace with it a few months ago. But anyway,  I’m trying not to wake you, so I started doing your favorite thing, looking through old videos on here, and I found one from our wedding.

“Shocking this thing has that kind of storage, really, but as I was watching it, I just—I don’t know. I said on there that marrying you was the coolest thing I’ve ever done, and that’s probably still true. Because this is cool, but it's also terrifying.”

Ricky pauses for a beat, his face illuminated just by the soft blue-ish glow of the monitor on Gina. But then his face lights up in a smile, and puts the screen to shame.

“I knew then, that it would be a good day, but every day after it would just get better and better. And now,” he takes a shaky breath, “Sorry, I’m on strict orders to keep taking deep breaths.

“I just—I love you so much, Gina. I know you know it, but I love saying it. I will never, ever get tired of it. 

“You are the most incredible person in the entire world. I can’t believe you choose, every day, to be the most incredible person in the entire world with me, of all people. Every day is good, and the next day is better.

“Today was good. Tomorrow, we’re gonna be parents. I can’t think of how much better it gets than that, but I know you’re good at everything, so you’ll find a way to prove it to me.”

Ricky wipes a tear off the corner of his eye, his voice still rumbling low and smile just as sweet.

“I love you, Gina Porter-Bowen. And I love you, Kit Kat. I can’t wait to see you.” 

He blows a kiss to the screen, and ends the recording.

[SEPT 14 12:03 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Okay, I think it’s officially safe to say, today is gonna be your birthday, baby Porter-Bowen,” Kourtney waves to the screen, Maddox slumped asleep on her shoulder, “We have commandeered the entire waiting room, as you can tell.”

The camera pans around the small waiting room, every single chair filled with Porter-Bowen visitors.

“I hope no one else is having a baby today,” Carlos says from the far end of the room, taking a long swig of coffee, “Partially because there’s nowhere for any other family to sit in here, but more importantly because you, baby P-B, are the single most important person in the universe and this day should belong to no one else.”

“It doesn’t work like that, babe.”

“Shut up.”

“How’s everyone feeling? Three words to describe tonight, go!”

“ Excited ! We can’t wait to meet you!” Lynne Bowen blows kisses at the camera from her seat.

“We’re ready,” Jet points to his homemade t-shirt with “favorite uncle” emblazoned across the chest.

“Over under on time she delivers? Loser buys the celebratory round of coffee?”

“20 minutes from now, I hope,” Big Red sits with his elbows on his knees, which are bouncing nervously, “I can’t tell if this feeling is from anticipation or lactose.”

“I say we’re here for another 12 hours,” Carlos wagers, “She’s Ricky Bowen’s kid, she’ll be late.”

“My money’s on 3 am,” Kourtney says, resolutely.

“6:53 AM,” Ricky’s dad chimes in.

“Specific.”

“Who hasn’t guessed? Mads?” 

Maddox groggily rubs at her eyes, looking down at her phone instead of up at Kourtney’s pointed camera, “Hm? Sorry, Ashlyn’s texting.”

“Updates?”

“She’s actively pushing, but probably still a few more hours, according to the nurses,” Maddox says, “And Ricky’s already crying.”

“Of course he is.”

“Terri’s got him under control in there, don’t worry.”

“I feel like crying and it’s not even my child, so I’m cutting him a little slack,” Carlos says, a bag full of knitted hats from Mack in his lap and a bundle of pink and blue balloons tied to his chair for safe-keeping.

“This is so exciting!” Kourtney all but wheezes into the camera again, “The first Wildcat baby, can you guys believe it?”

“No, not even a little.”

“It’s Ricky and Gina though, so I actually do believe it.”

“Our Troyella outdoing canon Troyella,” Carlos smiles.

“Okay wait, better bet,” Jet sits up, “Which High School Musical star is going to be the first to send them a baby gift?”

“We’re all HSM stars, Jet.”

“Not Big Red.”

“Corbin sent Anna and Elsa plushies to the baby shower,” Kourtney replies.

“Little on the nose.”

“What if they name the baby Anna?”

“ Incredibly on the nose.”

“Fingers still crossed for Carlos Jr.”

“Whatever your name is, and whenever you come, and however many celebrity gifts you get,” Kourtney turns the camera back on herself, “The point is: we love you . More than we know how to say, deliriously, in this waiting room. You will always, always have a family here, little Wildcat.”

“You guys wanna see pictures of Ricky crying?” Maddox holds up her phone, grinning wickedly.

“We promise we love your dad too, even if we have a funny way of showing it,” Kourtney whispers, just before she turns the camera off, “But we may just love you more.”

[SEPT 14 03:00 AM] [REC 🔴]

“One last push, Gina! You got this!” is the last thing you can hear before the strongest, most beautiful wailing cry erupts and doesn’t stop.

The whole world tilts on its axis, and Gina didn’t think anything was wrong before, but everything now feels so right that it must have been.

There’s a baby, who she swears was just the size of kidney bean, now a full 19 inches long and 8 pounds heavy, sitting on her chest.

No music she has or will ever make in her career will sound like this, like a perfect cry and her husband’s laughter and the beating of her own heart suddenly outside her chest.

“C’mere dad, you wanna cut the cord?”

Gina smiles at him, and they’re sixteen in a staircase again. 

He shuffles along the side of the bed, squeezing Gina’s hand like a lifeline, trying to follow the nurses instructions with just his left hand because he won’t let go of Gina, and she absently thinks she’s going to love watching this back later, because everything around them is new and unknown, but they have each other. 

And their little girl.

[SEPT 14 04:52 AM] [REC 🔴]

“You guys wanna come meet her?”

“Ricky!” Carlos is the first one out of his chair, launching himself at Ricky, making the camera shake in his hand.

“It’s a girl?”

The camera shakes again when Ricky nods to answer his mom, and it’s unclear who breaks the dam first, but everyone’s crying, and laughing, and yelling at the same time.

“Gina knew,” Ricky whispers, “She knows everything.”

“We can come back later, let you rest,“ Kourtney offers gently.

“No, no, Gina wants to see everyone,” Ricky says, as Terri and Ashlyn sneak back in behind him and find seats in the room after a few good hours of standing up beside Gina. “She’s insisting. We’re kind of wired. Adrenaline. We’re parents. Holy shit.”

“Holy shit, indeed,” Big Red takes the camera from Ricky’s shaking hands, “One at a time, and we’ll be quiet.”

Ricky pants a long deep breath, his hands on his knees, “She’s perfect, you guys.”

“Never doubted it,” Maddox presses a kiss to his forehead, “You need anything, Mr Dad?”

“Anyone got coffee?”

[SEPT 14 07:31 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Cheers.”

“We did it,” Gina smiles dopily, as she clinks the side of her tiny Kit Kat to the top of Ricky’s like a champagne glass, then attempts to open it with her one hand that’s not holding her human Kit Kat.

“ You did it,” Ricky presses, before taking her piece of candy wordlessly and opening the wrapper for her, “I just paced anxiously.”

“And let me break every bone in your hand,” Gina smiles, taking a small bite. “God, is this the greatest thing you’ve ever tasted in your life, or am I just delirious?”

“Little bit of both,” Ricky says through a gross mouthful, but Gina is adequately delirious as she mentioned, so she doesn’t care.

“I can’t believe she’s ours,” Gina soothes a gentle hand over the top of the swaddled blanket, having finished her candy, the first thing she’s eaten in over 20 hours, in one inhuman bite, and her hands now free. “She’s perfect.”

“Like her mom,” Ricky tucks his head onto her shoulder, Gina forcing him to squeeze into the bed with her, because she felt like she’d spontaneously combust if he and the baby were not physically attached to her right now.

“Like a Kit Kat,” Gina giggles, and feels like crying when the baby’s nose scrunches, like she recognizes her little nickname.

“We better be careful when they bring us the birth certificate later,” Ricky whispers, his pointer finger taking up her whole cheek when he nudges it gently, adoringly. 

“What do you think, baby?” Gina asks the perfect little thing in her arms, her eyes shut gently, comforted by the slight bounce of Gina’s arms, “Should we make you legally a piece of candy?”

As if she can understand, she lets out a teeny tiny little gurgle, and Gina melts into the mattress.

“No, I didn’t think so either,” Gina coos, “Though you do look as sweet as one.” And every syllable is punctuated with a great big yawn, the day catching up to her finally, now that everyone’s gone and she’s here .

“You feeling okay, Gi?” Ricky’s arm wrapped around her presses into her forehead, and he kisses her lightly, “You haven’t slept, I can take her.”

“Five more minutes,” she nods.

“Okay, five more minutes,” Ricky agrees, settling in closer to his girls, the camera falling into his lap, screen black and just getting sound until he finds the energy to pick it up and turn it off. He can’t find a reason to move at the moment, though.

“Who do you think she looks like?”

“She’s red and wrinkly, Ricky,” Gina rolls her eyes, but then, softly, “You.”

“Nah, that’s a Gina Porter nose. And Gina Porter cheeks.”

“Her cheeks can’t look like me.”

“Course they can,” Ricky nods, “Every perfect thing about her is you, which, is absolutely everything, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Twelve-ish years, give or take, I’ve been absolutely obsessively in love with you, and you still don’t believe I’m not the only perfect one in this relationship.”

“I’m okay.”

“I think she has your eyes,” Gina nudges him, “When they’re open again, you’ll see it.”

“Maybe,” Ricky hums, “I love you too. Absolutely obsessively.”

“Good,” Gina says, looking down at the sleepy girl in her arms, “One thing we can agree on, whatever’s Ricky or whatever’s Gina in her?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s definitely our Ella,” Gina whispers, and the baby coos like she’s listening again, “You like that, huh?”

Ricky’s gentle laugh makes her heart squeeze, and their daughter’s little breaths make it start beating again.

“That’s you,” she smiles, “I’m your mom, and this is your dad, and Romeo is waiting to meet you at home, and you , you are our perfect, sweet as a Kit Kat miracle, Ella.”

[SEPT 16 12:16 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Ricky, if you keep this up, she’ll be one by the time we get home.”

“I’m just trying to be careful, Gi.”

“She’s fine, I’m literally right here,” Gina waves at him in the rearview mirror from her spot in the backseat of the car, one hand firmly on the carrier, which was double and triple and quadruple checked before they pulled out of the hospital. 

“You are included in the being careful for,” Ricky wheezes, rolling them to the most painfully slow stop at a red light, “You just gave birth.”

“We are both fine. Ella, tell dad we’re fine.”

“If she can tell me you’re fine we are absolutely going right back to the hospital.”

“Just drive, please,” she shoos him along, “She’s gonna need to eat in like 5 minutes, I already need to pee again, and we all miss Romeo.”

He bumps it up to a cautious 30 instead of 25.

[SEPT 18 09:12 AM] [REC 🔴]

“You go first.”

“Okay, okay. Hi, my name is Gina Porter-Bowen. This is my daughter, Ella Porter-Bowen.”

“Holy shit.”

Gina squeals, hands excitedly fisted under her chin as she watches Ella kick her feet happily, laying on the floor of the living room, her own legs on either side trapping her in.

“You do it, you try now.”

“I’m Ricky Porter-Bowen. Have you met my daughter, Ella Porter-Bowen?” Ricky smiles so brightly, holding the camera up to his girls.

“That’s so freaking cool!” Gina could shatter glass. Neither of them care. “We’re parents.”

“We have a daughter!”

“Wait, wait, gimme, I want it on camera,” Gina reaches her hands out, grabbing the camera from him, as they enjoy the most perfect, mundane Sunday morning, their little family of three. Content to do nothing but this. “Go, do it again.”

“Okay, hi. I’m Ricky Bowen, and three years ago, I married Gina Porter,” he starts, smiling giddily at her, “We bought a house in the Salt Lake suburbs. We have the world’s cutest golden retriever. And on September 14th we had a little girl named Ella.”

“That’s never gonna get old.”

“Should we play a game of MASH to figure out how many more kids we’re gonna have?”

Gina falls over him to kiss him so quickly and intensely, she almost breaks the camera.

[SEPT 21 07:12 PM] [REC 🔴]

“And you thought I was gonna be bad.”

“That was before I realized every stupid milestone we celebrate is just another excuse to pick up a strawberry shortcake,” Gina leans on the kitchen island, smiling deliriously on 3 hours of sleep and her second piece of cake, “So happy one week birthday, Ella!”

Ricky paces in front of her, a bounce in his step to keep the baby in his arms asleep. He kisses her sleepy nose before peeking up and smiling at his wife and Gina feels boneless. He has never looked more attractive in his life.

“We’re kinda killing this,” Ricky says, “One whole week!”

“Mhm,” Gina takes another bite of celebratory cake, “I feel like I could run a marathon but also sleep for 40 days straight, you know?”

“Exactly,” Ricky leans towards her, dropping his jaw cutely to ask for a piece of cake. She obliges with hum and a flip of her stomach, reaching her fork over to him. “Proud of us.”

“Piece of cake. How hard could week 2 be?”

[OCT 02 02:47 AM] [REC 🔴]

“Turn that off.”

“Nope, Ricky, I’m getting it on the record that I’m getting up, so that next time she cries, I have proof it’s your turn.”

[OCT 02 05:23 AM] [REC 🔴]

“I’m literally going, turn it off , Gi.”

[OCT 31 5:23 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Who’s the prettiest girl in the whole wide world?”

“Look! Look at mommy, Ella!”

“This is fucking hopeless.”

“ Language .”

“Please do not call me when it comes time for the Christmas card.”

Ricky slumps, camcorder in hand, with 5 other grown adults at his side, making silly faces to get an almost 2 month old to smile for a picture in her Halloween costume.

“You know what? I’m sure between all of us, we got something,” Gina swoops forward and scoops Ella into her arms from the couch. 

She is, Ricky’s not even biased at all, the best baby ever. She didn’t cry when they slipped her into the oversized sleep sack that Gina DIY-ed to look like a kit kat wrapper, and has been so good about the doorbell constantly ringing. 

“Oh there’s the smile,” Ricky coos, when Ella blinks at him over her perch on Gina’s shoulder. See? Best baby ever.

He centers her perfect little face in the small recording square, and melts when Gina turns her chin and he catches her smile too.

“Who do you see? Do you see daddy?” Gina bounces, a hand gently patting her small back.

Ricky pops out from behind his hands with a little “Boo!” to make his daughter happy babble again.

“I can’t believe that is the scariest thing that has happened this Halloween,” Maddox sides up next to Ricky, “And I don’t even care. You’ve turned me into absolute smush , Elle-bell.”

“Our sincerest gratitude to Ella for letting us finally go one year without Maddox traumatizing us with a terrifyingly realistic fake death,” Carlos pipes up from where he’s sitting with a very content Romeo in his lap.

Before Maddox can retort, the doorbell rings with another trick-or-treater.

“I’ll get it,” Ricky announces, stopping first to plant six silly kisses all over Ella’s face, and one on Gina for good luck, then runs to the front door. He balances their steadily waning bowl of candy (heavy on the Kit Kats, for obvious reasons) in the crook of his elbow so he can swing the door open. He gets ready to cheer the obligatory “Happy Halloween!” to the kids on the other side, but is met with two very welcome familiar faces instead.

“Trick or treat!”

“Miss Donna!” Ricky all but squeals, tugging his favorite neighbor and coworker into a bear hug, her partner in crime Mrs Carter behind her, holding a baking dish.

“Look at you, did you grow?” Donna coos as Ricky squeezes her affectionately under his chin.

“How’s Gina, hon?” Mrs Carter smiles.

“See for yourself! Come in, come in!” Ricky steps to the side, tugging Donna still with him because he needs to catch up on all the weeks he’s missed her away from work, and kicks the door open wider, beckoning the neighbors in, “Gi, look who I found.”

“Ah! My girls!” Gina’s face lights up when she turns to Riclky’s voice, and immediately skips through the living room to the door.

“Gina, honey, you look beautiful.”

“I have spit up all over me,” Gina rolls her eyes.

“We didn’t wanna bother you, just make sure you were doing okay,” Donna untangles one arm from Ricky’s iron grip and squeezes Gina’s shoulder. Worry creases her brow, locked onto Gina, “Are you? Doing okay?”

“Good days and bad, we’re getting the hang of it,” Gina nods, a small bounce in her knees, “Hard to be mad at it though when she’s so cute.”

“Is this her?” 

“Ella, say hi,” Ricky sing-songs, picking up one of her little hands when Gina spins to show off their daughter, still clinging to her.

“Oh my goodness,” the women gasp, before Donna fixes her gaze on Ricky, “She looks like you, Ricky.”

“That’s what I keep saying, but he doesn’t believe me,” Gina chuckles.

“Precious doesn’t even begin to cover it, you two,” Mrs Carter hums, “But you poor things are probably exhausted, we made you something to eat.”

“I love you so much,” Ricky practically drools at the sight of the food Mrs Carter goes to hand him. He loves their neighbors, and he loves their cooking. “We’ll put it in the oven right now. Stay, please.”

“We wouldn’t—”

“Trade you,” Gina smiles, lifting Ella with a little grunt and holding her out for Donna, and makes the hand-off for their generous dinner offering. “There, now you have to stay. Give Ricky your coats, we have lots of candy.”

Ricky lets the camera linger on the scene for a second, as his arms get full again, their house a little fuller, and his heart most full yet. How the hell did he get so lucky?

[NOV 08 09:12 AM] [REC 🔴]

“ Happy birthday to you ,” Ricky pushes the bedroom door open with a shoulder, hands full. Romeo sneaks in around his feet, and he holds Ella in one hand, a cupcake with an unlit candle on top in the other as he walks slowly into the room, singing softly, “ Happy birthday to you. ”

He sits gingerly on one hip on the side of the bed, “ Happy birthday dear mom .”

Gina sits up, back against the headboard and head draped lazily to one side, beaming at them.

“ Happy birthday to you .”

Ricky deposits the cupcake in Gina’s lap while she applauds, “Thank you Ellie girl, did you bake this?”

“YouTube, gotta start ‘em young,” Ricky’s eyebrows bounce, “Also, you’re gonna have to light it yourself, I was not walking in here with our daughter and an open flame.”

“Dad of the year,” Gina giggles, “I don’t need it though.”

“Don’t do it—”

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“You cheesy dork,” Ricky says, leaning over, nose an inch from Gina’s, “I love you so much.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“Agree to disagree, Bowen,” she says, before sinking forward and finally bridging the infinitesimal gap between them, and kisses him senseless. 

[NOV 26 04:22 PM] [REC 🔴]

“ The wheels on the bus go round and round! Round and round! Round and —”

“Good god, I’m never having kids,” Carlos slams his head onto the dashboard of the car in the passenger seat during their third chorus of ‘Wheels on the Bus.’

“You could try helping,” Ricky grumbles as he drives, Ella’s wailing shriek for the past 20 minutes since they strapped her into her carseat setting everyone on edge. They’ve run through their entire nursery rhyme catalog, trying to sing her off the screaming ledge, but nothing is working.

“Maybe she’d like silence,” Carlos bites back, “She doesn't even know what a bus is or why its wheels should be going round and round.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Gina sighs, dejectedly, trying to calm Ella with a hand on her in the carrier.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Carlos apologizes, rubbing his temples, “I don’t know how you do this.”

“She’s really cute,” Gina smiles half-heartedly, “And usually quiet, right Kit Kat?”

“Maybe she’s hungry?”

“I cry like that when I’m hungry,” Carlos nods, “About to start, any minute, if we sit in this traffic any longer.” 

Gina had tossed the camera in the backseat with the rest of their things on the way to Maddox and Ash’s for Thanksgiving dinner, stopping to pick up Los on the way, and it must have accidentally turned the recording on. She has not an ounce of energy to notice or care, though, at the moment. 

Traffic doesn’t seem to care about them either, and they move slower than when Ricky had driven them home from the hospital.

“Text Ash, let them know we’ll be late,” Ricky nods towards his phone, which is sitting in the center console, alternating between navigation and another consecutive loop of ‘twinkle, twinkle, little star’ now. 

Carlos nods, and out of the corner of Gina’s eye, she sees him start typing.

“Should we do ‘happy and you know it?’”

“We shouldn’t lie to her. No one is happy.”

“Look, we’re only a few—”

And suddenly, her crying stops.

Not a single adult in the car moves. Ricky stops in the middle of the road. No one breathes, waiting for something to happen.

But Ella’s crying has dwindled out, and it’s blissfully quiet, save for--

“I’m sorry,” Carlos whispers sheepishly, over the fucking Phantom of the Opera soundtrack. “I swear I was looking for baby Mozart. My hand slipped”

The sharpest falsetto in the world plays over the car speaker, and Gina swears Ella smiles .

“No fucking way.”

“She likes it.”

“Are you a Broadway baby, Ella girl?” Carlos twists in his seat, smiling for the first time the entire ride, “I knew it. My girl has taste. I knew we just had to shut you guys up. I was sick of these two singing too, babe.”

“It could be a fluke.”

“I don’t think so, Ricky,” Gina hates to admit, wincing at the rearview mirror, “She’s never looked so relaxed.”

“What should we play her next? Cinder- ella ,” Carlos beams, scrolling through his phone, “Some Legally Blonde? Elle Woods?”

[NOV 26 06:36 PM] [REC 🔴]

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

“First thing she said when we told her Gina was pregnant, actually.”

“Could you all shut up,” Jet groans, diaper in hand, “If you’re not gonna be helpful, go away.”

“Never,” Maddox snickers, camera very focused.

[NOV 26 07:56 PM] [REC 🔴]

“They got so lame.”

“I think this is the first time they’ve slept since September, cut them some slack,” Ashlyn whispers, tossing a throw blanket over Ricky and Gina’s passed out forms on her couch, just minutes after Thanksgiving dinner was finished.

“It’s not even eight,” Jet huffs, “That’s lame, any way you look at it.”

“If they’re awake for too long, they'll start singing Old MacDonald or something. Trust me, this is better,” Carlos nods, bouncing a very happy Ella in his arms, “For all of us.”

“One show tune and suddenly you're a fan of babies?” Maddox raises a brow at him.

Mack yells from the kitchen where he’s elbow deep in dishwashing soap suds with Big Red, “First thing he said to me when he walked in was that he wants six.”

“Me and Ella can go hang out without you all,” he says in answer, as the baby swats her hands at his face. He is unperturbed. Smiles , actually. 

“No wait, you have to share the baby,” Jet says, arms outstretched, waiting for Carlos to hand her over.

“Let them sleep until dessert,” Ashlyn says, trying to dim the lights slightly. “Carlos is right. It’ll be nice. For all of us.”

“You told Gina her baby voice wasn’t annoying like, 10 minutes ago.”

“You lie for the people you love,” Ashlyn shrugs. “Just like you said this hideous turkey onesie was cute.”

“Ricky dressed her today and Gina said he was really proud, I wasn’t going to be an asshole,” Kourtney whispers from the kitchen table, peeking over at Ricky and Gina, “They’re really asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, we can pretend she threw up and we had to change her,” Kourtney already standing up to dig through the bag of Kourtney-approved baby clothes she had started collecting since the second Ella was born.

“Ella babe, we love your parents, and we promise between the six of us, we are super grown up and responsible.” Maddox says, moving the camera around to get all of them in the frame, squeezed together, as Ella drools on Jet’s still smiling cheek, and Carlos and Ashlyn look on with unbridled awe. Then she suddenly flips it back to the sleeping Porter-Bowens, “But now we’re gonna teach you how to work around them. Starting with getting you out of these ugly pajamas and then how to draw mustaches on your mom and dad’s faces while they’re asleep.”

[NOV 30 02:17 AM] [REC 🔴]

“That’s it. You’re okay, you’re okay, Kit Kat.”

Gina had crept quietly down the hallway the second she realized the spot next to her was not only empty, but cold. Ricky had been up for a while. She had grabbed a towel and a bottle, thinking she was going in for backup, but when she reached the end of the hallway, the sight she found was so much sweeter, she figured the camera was a better tool.

Ricky’s pacing idly around the living room, Ella in his arms, her little cries still going strong, but starting to lose their power, soothed by her dad’s voice. 

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, ‘til you feel better,” he says to her, “We tried a new diaper, we tried eating, you gave me a very good burp!” Ricky says, and Gina can see the stain on the back of his sweatshirt from here. “So all I can think is that you were lonely in there. Had to be it. But I’m here, I’m here.”

Romeo, ever the supporter, paces in time with Ricky, and it’s just about the greatest thing Gina’s ever seen. 

“Let’s think for a second, what do I do when mom cries?” Ricky continues to adorably think aloud to the infant, “You can’t have candy, and my clothes are still too big for you. Auntie Ash would probably let me wake her up to talk to you, but I’m gonna keep that as a last resort.

“I can sing? Would you like that?” Gina watches Ricky’s finger disappear as he tickles under Ella’s chin, one of his secret tricks, but even that doesn't work at the moment. “It’s one of the only things I’m good at, your mom likes it, I think. Should we try?”

Ella wails a little louder in protest.

“Okay, okay baby girl, lemme, uh,” Ricky shakes his head, “I think we’d all hate ‘Wheels on the Bus’ right about now. Should I do a grown up song?

“Alright, okay, I haven't done this one in a while, but it was a crowd favorite, so I think it might work,” he whispers over her incessant crying, “Cut me some slack if I forget a few of the words okay. And feel free to sing along.”

Ricky hugs Ella a little tighter to his chest, and then with a deep breath, he counts down from three, and sings so softly, if Gina didn’t know this song like it was part of her DNA, she might not even hear it.

“ I’ve been wishing on a fallin’ star for too long.”

And god. Oh god. She almost drops the camera.

“ You and I’ve become a sacred kind of home ,” he whispers through a disbelieving laugh, like he’s realizing they really did build a home, “ Never knew that I could feel so sure and so strong. How can three old words feel so brand new?

“Oh, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love and I know it. ”

Gina is very afraid she’s going to be caught, because that sends her over the edge, and she’s really crying now, wiping her snotty tears away with the oversized sleeve of Ricky’s sweatshirt that fits her again. 

“ I’ve never been more sure of what I got , and I’m starin’ at the only thing I want ,” he smiles, poking at Ella’s cheek, then sing-songs a few extra lyrics, “But that's sort of a lie because I also want you to sleep .”

He takes a really slow step and his eyes light up when he realizes it’s working, and continues to ad lib, “I’ll stay up until two am no matter what the cost .” It makes Gina giggle, thank god, because her lip is trembling so bad. Stupid postpartum hormones. “ Here I am full heart, full stop, I love you. ”

All the air whooshes out of Gina’s lungs. 

She has heard Ricky say those three words more times than she knows how to count, and she used to. Count, that is. She used to count how many times he would say it, and pack each one away in its own little spot in her chest, for safekeeping. Ricky Bowen loved her, and damn if she wasn’t going to treasure each time she was reminded. But he had loved her for so long and so fiercely that there wasn’t enough room in the spot in her ribcage after a certain point to keep it. How does anyone go on loving their person forever if they run out of room?

Looking at him now, she finally gets it. 

Now she knows where all those extra love yous went. They’re in Ricky’s arms.

Gina wonders if he knew how much those lyrics he wrote when he was eighteen would mean, because nothing has ever sounded truer. These words feel both old and new, and Gina is sure she can go on watching him hum them to their daughter forever.

He finally spots her, wiggling his fingers under Ella in a small wave.

“I’d join in, but your song actually had the opposite effect on me,” Gina says, pushing herself off her lean on the hallway wall and heading slowly towards him, where Ella has been lulled into sleep, “I’m crying more than the baby.”

“That’s okay,” Ricky smiles, his own eyes looking a little glassy, “You want me to do another?”

“No, I’ll be dehydrated,” Gina wipes her face one more time before resting her chin on his shoulder from behind.

“Why’d you wake up? It was my turn, go back to sleep,” Ricky kisses the side of Gina’s head.

“I missed you.”

“I was serious, you want another song? I can put you to sleep too.”

“No,” she shakes her head just a little, “I will pass out the second my head hits the pillow again, I just wanted you to come back with me.”

“Clingy.”

“Shut up,” she puffs a little air at his face in annoyance, “Comes with the territory of loving you forever, or whatever.”

“ Or whatever .”

“You lied to her though.”

“Hm?”

“You’re good at lots of things, lots more than singing.”

“I don’t know.”

“You are,” Gina nods, one hand on Ricky’s opposite shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze, and the other over his on Ella, “If you believe me about nothing else, believe that you’re good at this .”

The living room is quiet, save the gentle thud of Romeo’s happily wagging tail on the hardwood floor, and Ricky’s breathing, and Gina’s heart she’s sure everyone can hear in her chest. There’s a small lamp on at the side of the couch, which lights up the space just enough so Guna can see every perfect detail of Ella’s sleeping face, and how Ricky looks at her with such awe and wonder.

“Okay,” he finally agrees softly, “We’re good at this.”

[DEC 06 05:05 PM] [REC 🔴]

“Hold still!”

“Tell that to the baby, not me!”

Ricky is squirming wildly on the step of their front porch (likely because yes, it's the baby who will not sit still in his lap, but Ella has never done a single thing wrong in her life, and neither has Romeo, running circles at Ricky’s feet, so. Gina’s going to keep yelling at Ricky until something sticks, dammit!)

“You think we’d have figured this out by now,” Gina’s fidgeting with both the video camera and her iPhone, propped up on a dining room chair in the walkway as they attempt (emphasis on the attempt) to get a Christmas card picture. “Ella, look over here, pretty girl! Look, it’s Hans!”

Gina waves Ella’s favorite stuffed animal, which is of course, a plush Hans gifted to her by her favorite uncle (why they even made villain toys, is beyond Gina, but her daughter is very attached to this evil little thing.)

“I know in the past we’ve done this solo to kind of like, stick it to the man and just prove we could, without assistance,” Ricky grits, readjusting Ella’s eight layers of winter gear for their snowy picture, “But if we invited someone over to help now, we’d get free babysitting out of it. Maybe I could even take you on a date! We haven’t been on a date in months.”

“What makes you think I still don’t wanna stick it to the man?” Gina huffs, “We’re gonna get it this time, I can feel it.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Starting the timer, my handsome boys and most favorite girl in the world!” Gina shakes the toy over the camera one last time for effect before running and sliding over the icy walkway into her spot. She’s got ten seconds to hold one of Ella’s hands, and let Romeo nudge into her side, and Ricky to squeeze his cheek next to hers and--

Romeo barks, which delights Ella to no end, and she squirms into what is surely a complete blur as the flash goes off. (Though they don't like to admit it out loud, Ricky and Gina both know who Ella’s favorite Porter-Bowen is, and he has 4 legs.)

Ricky passes Ella off to Gina screaming in freezing cold frustration, and Romeo licks at Ella’s ticklish booties, which makes her erupt into another bout of baby laughter. 

“C’mon, stand up,” Ricky yells, “If this one doesn’t work, we’re just getting a grainy screenshot from the old video camera.”

“Aye, aye, captain Bowen,” Gina salutes, bouncing Ella onto her hip, snow sticking cutely to the top of her knitted hat that Gina sports a matching one of. “If you can get this shot successfully, we can circle back to the date night thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Ashlyn has been asking to babysit. She might even watch Elle at their house for us…”

“You’re kidding.”

“I don’t kid about alone time.”

“Romeo, I swear to god, dude, if you don’t sit still for this picture,” Ricky warns with a point, setting up the camera for one last attempt. “Let’s go, Perfect Take Porters! Shake it out!”

Gina holds up one of Ella’s little arms and shakes it out, which makes her world’s happiest baby even happier, and then she does the other, doing a little version of the adrenaline tactic she started doing before she’d go on stage years and years ago. Ricky bounces behind the camera, doing it too, and even Romeo wags his tail to join in. 

“You girls, ready?”

Gina presses her cheek to Ella’s with a bright smile, their noses and cheeks a rosy pink from the cold and lightly falling snow. 

Ricky runs back to them, shouting out the ten second countdown as he does. He tries to hold the Hans toy above Ella’s head so he can trick her into looking up at the camera, but she’s a coordinated little kid, and she grabs at it when they get down to three, and fuck it, Jet’s gonna love this card, she’s holding it while Gina’s head is tossed back in laughter so you can barely see her and Ricky is staring at them both like they are the sun that makes the snow melt, and Romeo has jumped up with his paws on Ricky, and the flash goes off.

It's perfect.

[DEC 24 09:47 PM] [REC 🔴]  

“Being parents is the best.”

“The absolute best, can’t believe our parents tried to tell us this was hard.”

Gina tries to stifle her giggle behind a hand, the baby sleeping in the room not far from them, but it's so hard to stay anything less than giddy while she and her husband stuff their faces with Santa’s cookies and milk. 

“She’s not gonna remember any of this, right?”

“Not a bit,” Gina takes another bite of a particularly delicious chocolate chip cookie she baked this morning just for this purpose. “But we will.”

“I am never forgetting this,” Ricky smiles, placing the glass of milk back down when it’s mostly empty, “Do we have to eat the reindeer food too?”

“That’s why we have Romeo.”

“Oh my god, Gi, do you see that?”

“What?” Gina looks up at him, brows worried.

“Mistletoe!”

“There’s no—” Gina cranes her neck up to the very empty ceiling above them on the couch. But it doesn't stop Ricky from lunging for her, and taking advantage of how her position exposes her neck, causing her to yelp in surprise, “Ah!”

“Just wanted to kiss you,” he admits, working his way from her collarbone to her ear, probably getting his own earful of her laughter in the process.

“When have you ever needed an excuse for that?” she balks, sinking her fingers into his curls, a deep, contented sigh escaping her when he gets to that one spot that drives her crazy.

She remembers to turn the camera off before her mind goes completely blank.

There are exactly fourteen and a half tiles on the floor of the Salt Lake Slices bathroom.

Two lightbulbs overhead, one “Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work” sign, four decorative picture frames on the wall, eighteen disposable hand towels in the basket next to the sink, nine ingredients on the back label of the soap dispenser.

It takes six steps to get from one wall to the other, and then six steps to get back. 

Gina Porter-Bowen has paced all twelve of those steps at least twenty two times in the last seventeen minutes.

With one Ella Porter-Bowen who thinks it’s hilarious.

you okay?

you don’t have to hide in there

we love you, smelly diapers and all!

Gina watches the time change from 11:47 to 11:48 as the steady stream of smothering messages from a well-meaning Ashlyn Moon float up her screen and cover her absolute favorite picture of Ricky and their golden retriever and baby girl. 

Slipping out of the Salt Lake Slices New Year’s Eve party exactly nineteen minutes ago was the best option, no matter how badly the seven other people out there insisted she did not need to hide. She’s grateful this year is more lowkey than the last, just their immediate friends having a quiet night at the pizza place, but still. Maybe she didn’t strictly need to--they’ve all dealt with Ella at her worst and her best. But Gina was so exhausted and wound so tightly and forgetting the entire baby bag at home was really the last straw. 

So counting tiles in the bathroom to avoid both her incredibly well-meaning friends and her own racing thoughts it was.

Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she tries to figure out how to answer Ash to keep her out, and fails. 

we’re fine i swear

just need a minute

please enjoy the party

do you want me to bring you pizza

you KNOW i already ate like a whole pie

just checking

i love you lots

God, she is so infuriatingly loved and cared about. 

“How soon can I start potty-training you, huh?” Gina says to her literal four-month old, who is sitting in a little portable sit-and-play thing Kourtney had got her that she’s obsessed with. She’s currently crinkling the reflective pieces and smiling at Gina, which makes her feel like a bitch for being so frustrated.

“Stop being so freaking cute,” Gina squeals, swooping in to kiss loud smooches all over Ella’s little face. “I’m trying to be mad at you for making me feel like a shell of a human being sometimes.”

With the most perfect timing in the universe Ricky slips through the crack in the door and then shuts it in one impressively fell swoop, right before Gina starts to cry in her agitation. 

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Ricky says, out of breath from his sprint, back against the door and Gina less than a hair's breadth away from him, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m so tired, I feel bad at everything, and I love her so much,” Gina nods, taking the plastic bag from his hands and gesturing towards their baby who has no clue what’s going on, “So fine, I guess.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go home? Because we can still go home.”

“No, no, no, I’m fine, I’m fine . Lemme just change her diaper, and we can go back out there, and be normal people who celebrate the new year,” Gina sighs while she looks at Ricky to continue, but stops when she reaches one hand into the bag, and finds both diapers, and a very special candy. 

“Reinforcements,” Ricky gives a thumbs up as Gina places a shareable-sized bag of fun-sized Kit-Kats on the edge of the sink.

Her nerves are still very on edge, but just Ricky being Ricky is enough to settle her. 

“Sorry,” Gina presses the heels of her palms into her eyes and groans, “Just a bad day.”

“We’re allowed to have bad days.”

“Feels wrong,” she hums, shaking her head, “Because I’m so happy.”

“So am I,” Ricky crosses the small room, and peels her hands off her face, “But I’m also tired, and think a lot of this is hard and confusing. And wonderful. And perfect. And I love the two of you, and sometimes I wanna strangle you when you make me wake up at 3 in the morning, and I usually hope you spot her dirty diapers before I do. We can have lots of feelings at once, Gi.”

“You’re such a teacher,” she miffs, pressing her head into his chest, “And such a dad. Gross.”

“It’s okay to feel overwhelmed, because we have lived like, eight lives in this one year. But I’ll be right by your side to live ten more in the next one.” 

“I love you, so much,” Gina whispers into his skin, like he can absorb it. 

“I’d do anything for you, Gina, and anything for Ella.”

“Really?”

He nods.

“So, like, for example,” Gina starts slowly, genuine grin stretching across her face, “You’d change her diaper right now so your sad wife didn’t have to?”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better!” Ricky laughs, but slips around Gina and pulls Ella out of her play set with a giggle.

“You always make me feel better,” and she’s sort of glad he can’t see the shy smile that goes with it. Ricky coos as he talks to Ella through changing her, and Gina looks down at her phone. 

“Oh perfect. 11:58.”

“You know us and timing,” Ricky tries to tease, “This is kinda our place now, huh?”

“Most romantic place in the world, the Salt Lake Slices bathroom.”

“We can make any place romantic, Gi, remember all those morning sickness dates?”

“Please do not remind me.”

“You loved the reunion movie, Kit Kat,” Ricky says, swinging a clean and still very happy (god, did she hit the jackpot with this kid) Ella into his side. “ This is our high! School! Reunion! ”

“Shut it, Richard,” Gina rolls her eyes at his singing.

Ricky’s singing ranks very high on things Ella loves though, so she babbles adorably into him as he bounces around the small bathroom, trying to keep her amused. 

She watches Ricky Bowen, the boy she thought literally ruined her life sophomore year by ripping her heart out and stomping all over it, dance in their local pizza place holding her daughter. 

Ella looks so much like Ricky, and loves him just like Gina. 

It shocks her, on good days and bad days too, how lucky she feels for it all. That so many New Years’ ago she could have never dreamt this up, that she couldn’t even do it the very last one. It’s a million times better. 

Their friends outside start counting down loud enough for them to hear just then, with a resounding “ Ten…nine… ”

“Well, here we are again,” she smiles, arms crossed over her chest.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be, Gi.”

If Gina doesn’t wait for midnight, she cannot be blamed. 

“Happy new year, my girls!” Ricky says, when Gina lets him come up for air after midnight. Her hands stay around his neck, but he twists to alternate big kisses on Gina’s and Ella’s cheeks. 

“A whole year of you,” Gina whispers, pressing her nose to Ella’s cheek when Ricky lets up for a second, then eyes Ricky, “You ready for another?”

“Year two, we got this,” Ricky smiles triumphantly, “You know what this calls for?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

That’s how Gina ends up ringing in her second new year in a row in the Salt Lake Slices bathroom with Ricky and some Kit Kats. It’s a lot of things--messy and confusing and difficult and rewarding and scary and joyful--but most of all, it is hers . 

They are good either way, whatever emotion they’re feeling out of the millions they wax and wane through in a day.

But this? Watching Ricky cuddle their daughter close to his chest and tell her the story of why they call her Kit Kat while he eats some?

This is a good they don’t have a good enough word for yet.

“You ready to head back out there?” Gina nods back towards the door, interrupting his babbling to Ella.

“Whenever you are, princess,” Ricky winks, unearthing a nickname that he 1. hasn’t used in ages and 2. makes Gina start thinking about having another baby.

“There you guys are!” 

They’re greeted immediately by their friends, sitting around a table with half eaten pizza, lots of champagne and strawberry shortcake, and Ella immediately reaches her hands out for Carlos when Gina sits beside him. Ricky arrives just behind them, settling Ella’s things at the far end of the table. 

“Did we miss the toast?” Ricky says, accepting a cold piece of pizza in lieu of a champagne flute.

“Waited for you,” Ashlyn smiles, lifting her glass, “Anyone have anything they’d like to cheers to?”

“To the very best friends I have ever had,” Kourtney says, finally not using FaceTime for a family event, “For not ditching each other a few years after high school like normal people.”

“To the first Wildcat baby,” Carlos says, tickling Ella in his lap, “And to maybe making Mack an official Wildcat in the new year.”

“ What ?”

“Carlos!”

“I may have bought a ring,” Carlos shrugs, “When will Ella know how to walk? I need a flower girl.”

“Holy shit! Shoot—shirt—whatever I’m supposed to say instead of shit.”

“Well that puts my toast to shame,” Maddox laughs, “I was just gonna say I’m thankful to have a job and for these jell-o shots.”

“No that’s good, thank you jell-o shots,” Jet agrees, “And thank you Ella, for being the smartest person at this table and picking me as your favorite.”

“Not this again.”

“I love you guys so much,” Gina says, unfairly emotional (do new mom hormones ever go away?) “Thank you for all your help this past year. God knows I needed it, and will probably need more in this next one.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Gi,” Ashlyn smiles.

“To us!” Ricky makes the final resounding cheer. And while everyone’s yelling over top of one another, giddy and familiar and joyful and bright, Gina counts one more time.

She can see two glasses of champagne, one slice of pizza, five kit-kats, eight of her favorite people, and one year that’s passed, but Gina is sure, the countless years in the future are going to be her favorites yet.

[JAN 01 12:34 AM] [REC 🔴]  

“Jet, I can’t see you behind Los.”

“It’s because his hair is gelled up too high, right?”

“And Ashlyn, move a little to your right.”

“Good?”

“Perfect, I think…yup, I see everyone. Nobody move!” 

Ricky places the camera on the high stack of pizza boxes, his whole family centered in the little recording window. He leans in and whispers, “I hope you like watching these one day, Ella. We’re a little crazy, but we’re your family. We love you. Forever and ever.”

“Ricky, c’mon!” Gina yells, sitting in the center of the set up, Ella in her lap, who is wide-awake because she has literally no sleep schedule. 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and scoots into the open seat for him on Gina’s left, Ella’s hand immediately going to grab for his, all her fingers fitting around just his one. 

“Alright, everyone,” Ricky grins, “ What team ?”