When It Happens

His lips are pressed against the back of my neck, his hair brushing softly against my shoulder when I wake up. I feel his arms wrapped around my waist and our legs entangled beneath the sheets. We fit so perfectly together. I almost want to pretend I’m still asleep, so I can just stay here a little while longer.

Instead, I turn myself around in his embrace, so that we’re facing each other. He smiles at me widely, even though his eyes still look puffy and swollen from sleep. Looking at his face is worth abandoning our comforting position.

“What are you doing?” I ask, chuckling.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls me in for a kiss. It’s been like this most mornings since we moved into our new apartment together. About a year ago now. I don’t know how I get out of bed every morning.

“Happy Birthday, kid” he says, pulling away from me.

I frown for a moment, confused, before lifting a hand to slap my forehead. “Oh my God. I totally forgot that that was today.”

Sam laughs. “I know. You always forget.”

“I have an excuse this year, though,” I say, holding up a finger. “I’ve been packing all week.”

“That’s true,” Sam says. “I’ll let it slide.”

He shifts slightly so that I can rest my head against his shoulder. Both of our bodies move up and down with every breath he takes. I’ve always loved this feeling.

I let out a breath, nuzzling my face into the side of his neck. “God, I can’t believe I’m twenty eight,” I grumble.

Sam scoffs. “Oh, yeah, you’re so old.”

“But you still look like you’re twenty five,” I say. “You don’t get to complain about aging when you’re immortal.”

“You’re still just as handsome as the day I met you,” Sam says, his fingers combing through my hair. “And even when you do get a bunch of gray hair and wrinkles, I’ll still love you just the same.”

“Gross,” I groan, my voice muffled against his skin. “Wrinkles.”

Sam leans down and plants a kiss on top of my head. “What do you want to do today?”

He always asks me this on my birthday, and I never know the answer. I guess I’ve just gotten used to not celebrating them over the years. And even though I try as hard as I can to convince him that I don’t need any sort of celebration, he always ends up taking the day off work and making some romantic gesture anyway. And I always end up loving it. Every year. But I know that’s not what I want this year.

“Nothing,” I answer, rolling over onto my back. “I just want to spend all day with you. This will be our last chance for a while, so...”

“Ok,” Sam says. “That sounds nice.”

I glance over at him and narrow my eyes. “You don’t have anything else planned?”

Sam shakes his head, staring pointedly at the ceiling. “Nope. Nothing special. A day together sounds nice.”

“Ok,” I say with a giddy smile that I can’t seem to stop from growing. “How about we start with this?”

I lean towards him, and capture him in a kiss. It’s not often that I’m not thinking about Sam’s lips. At least in the back of my mind. If I could spend my whole birthday kissing him, I would. Hell, it might be the best one I’ve ever had.

His hands caress my waist as I press myself against him, willing us to be as close as possible. I love him so much it hurts sometimes, especially when we’re doing stuff like this. It’s just so much to feel all at once. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to spend three months away from him.

Sam’s hands have just started lowering, traveling towards the band of my boxers, when the door opens.

“Happy Birth-...day,” Jo says as we jump apart from each other. Liam’s eyes widen beside her.

“What are you doing?!” I exclaim, pulling up the sheets so that they cover my body all the way up to my chin. “We’re indecent!”

“Sorry,” Jo says. “We should have knocked.”

I only notice now that she’s holding a plate piled high with a large serving of scrambled eggs, pancakes smothered in syrup, and bacon.

“Happy birthday?” she says, holding it out further.

Sam sits up and reaches over to take it from her. “Thank you very much.”

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“Um, we’ll let you two….yeah,” Liam says as they both back out of the room.

I groan and fall back in bed once the door clicks closed. “Ugh. Why must we have house guests?”

“Don’t be rude,” Sam says. “They said they’d only be here for a few more weeks tops, right?”

“That’s what they said a few weeks ago,” I protest. Though I have to admit, it’s been nice having them around. It reminds me of the old days, when it was just the three of us in their old apartment. Except now I have Sam, too. It’s all going to be really hard to leave behind tomorrow.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asks. He has a way of reading my emotions on the flip of a dime. It’s why I couldn’t hide the fact that I actually enjoyed The Notebook when we watched it together for the first time. And that was even before we got to the ending and I started crying an embarrassing amount.

I rub my eyes and sit up straighter. “Oh nothing. Just second-guessing this whole tour thing.”

I can see my luggage packed up in the periphery of my vision. It’s crammed into the corner of the room, right next to the closet Sam and I share. A large duffel bag, my guitar case, and an amplifier is all I decided I needed for my month on the road with Jimmy and Ryan, much to Sam’s chagrin (“it’s always better to over-pack than under-pack”). It’s not that I’m not excited for Dayzed’s first kind-of-big tour. I mean, I’m pretty sure I didn’t stop talking about it to everyone I know for about a week once we got the news from our agent that something like this would be possible. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not incredibly nervous about being in a bunch of completely new places with entirely new people for thirty days straight without being able to be with practically anyone I know other than my band mates.

“It’s gonna be great,” Sam assures me. “You’re going to be great. And I’ll have our three house guests to keep me company.”

“I know,” I say. “I know we’ll be fine. I’ve just never been this nervous about anything before.”

“Well, that’s just because you’re about to do the thing you’ve wanted to do for literally your entire life,” Sam responds. “And you’re going to kill it. Just like you kill every other performance you guys do.”

My face scrunches up in embarrassment. “You’re just saying that.”

Sam leans over to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “Just shut up and take the compliment,” he whispers, and I laugh as he ruffles my hair and pulls away.

He hands me the tray of breakfast he’s been balancing on his lap with finality. “Now, I’m going to get dressed, seeing as we still have house guests to entertain. I envy you your breakfast in bed.”

“Why do you speak like a British statesman in the morning?” I ask, spearing a few globs of scrambled egg on my fork while Sam pulls on a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He shrugs, shooting me an adorably innocent looking smile on his way out the door. “Don’t stay in bed too long!”

I try not to, but after I scarf down the rest of my breakfast, it’s still hard to pull myself out of bed. I don’t understand why more people don’t sleep in until noon on their birthdays. At least in my dreams I can pretend I’m not almost in my thirties.

But today is supposed to be about spending time with all of my friends before I’m whisked away to live in Ryan’s van and survive off of fast food for a month. And play for a bunch of people all across California. Jesus, sometimes it feels like all of this is just a dream. I don’t think I’m even going to believe it’s real until we’re on the road.

Until then, I’ll have to enjoy the fruits of living in an apartment, and not a sweaty, cramped van.

Forcing myself out of bed, I put on a bluish-green sweater that is definitely Sam’s - though our wardrobes have become interchangeable at this point because Sam is just way better at buying clothes than me - and stumble my way out of our bedroom and onto the living room couch, which is thankfully only a few feet away from the door. The couch is from Sam’s old apartment, much like most of the furniture in this place. This apartment has an open floor plan that’s similar to our old ones, but it’s a lot bigger, so when we first moved in everything looked too sparse and spread out. Having more people around has certainly helped on that front.

“He’s finally up!” I hear Sam call.

“Too bright,” I groan, closing my eyes and burrowing further into the couch cushions.

I can smell bacon and hear the sound of grease crackling on the stove top. Judging by how amazing everything smells, I know it’s Liam’s cooking. I can hear him padding around the kitchen like a madman, totally in his element, but I get so caught up in how good it all smells that I don’t notice the much lighter pair of footsteps approaching. It isn’t until I get a sharp poke on the nose that I startle to attention and allow one eye to open so that I can look at the chubby-cheeked, smiling face that has appeared before me.

Riley looks like such a perfect combination of her parents, it’s scary sometimes. Her coloring is all Liams. Blue-green eyes, copperish-brown hair that grows in all directions. But all her features are the exact same as Jo. The same rounded nose, the same pointed chin. Even their smiles are the same. I’ve never seen a kid who fits together with their parents so nicely.

“Hi,” she says in her bright, slightly scratchy voice while rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Hey,” I say uncertainly. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Is it your birthday today, Uncle Greg?”

I groan and shove my face back into the couch pillows. I still haven’t gotten used to being called Uncle. And it’s not like I don’t have enough reminders of how old I am today.

“When’s my birthday?” she continues, and I feel the cushions beneath me shift as she struggles to lift herself onto the couch as well. I sigh and sit up straight to make room for her. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gotten the couch to myself for more than a few minutes.

She settles into the couch, as close to me as possible and looks up with wide inquisitive eyes.

“You’ve celebrated three birthdays and you still don’t know what day it is?” I ask.

Riley shrugs, her eyes widening in that exasperated way they always do. I don’t know who she gets that from, but I have to admit, it’s kind of cute.

“Your birthday is April fourteenth,” Sam says, appearing from the kitchen and plopping down on the couch so that Riley is sandwiched between us. “You know, on the day you were born, so many people showed up to the hospital that we could hardly fit into the waiting room?”

“Really?” Riley giggles.

“Of course!” Sam says. “Me and Uncle Greg were there. Both of your grandmas, and Aunt Sophie and Auntie Dolce. Ryan and Jimmy and Jenna-”

“I told them they were gonna be kicked out,” I say. “But they insisted on being there.”

“They did get kicked out,” Sam says. “Actually, most of us got kicked out except for your grandmas and Aunt Sophie.”

“That was only because that one lady with the false alarm labor said we were being too loud, which we were totally not,” I add. “And she left after half an hour anyway.”

“Uncle Greg, Jimmy and Ryan were getting into a very heated betting war over what they were going to name you, so to be fair, we were being very loud,” Sam points out.

“Yeah, well, guess who won the bet,” I scoff.

“But we still got to meet you really soon after you were born,” Sam continues.

“What did I look like?” Riley asks.

“Really weird,” I chuckle. “Sort of like an alien.”

“Greg,” Sam reprimands.

“Cool,” Riley breathes.

“It was cool,” I say, leaning back on the couch and crossing my arms over my chest while shooting Sam an I-told-you-so grin. “You’re much cuter now. But a lot louder.”

Riley giggles at that and puffs her chest out like she’s proud.

“He’s right,” Sam admits.

“Are you serious?” Jo’s voice permeates through the living room as she appears from inside the guest bedroom. She’s pulling on a long, mustard colored cardigan while trying to hold her phone up to her ear. “So everything’s in order and everything?”

By now, Liam has rushed in from the kitchen. They’ve been having stressful phone calls about house loans and mortgage and paperwork ever since they decided to move out of their apartment and into somewhere both more family friendly and with less plumbing issues. “What is it?”

Jo looks up at him with wide eyes, her lips pursed with contained excitement as she listens to whoever’s on the other side of the phone. “When should I meet you? Yes, of course. Thank you so much. Yes. We’ll be down there as soon as possible.”

Both Liam and Jo are already bouncing on the balls of their feet. Liam is mouthing words to her, most of which I can’t even understand in his heightened state of joy. I can make out quite a few Oh my God!’s though.

Jo hangs up the phone with shaking hands before throwing her arms out widely in the air. “Our loan got approved!!”

“Our loan got approved!” Liam yells back before wrapping her tightly in his arms while still jumping around the room like children who’ve just been told they’re going to Disneyland.

“Their loan got approved!” Sam and I chime in, rising from the couch to join them. We’ve been just as invested in their journey to apartment ownership as they’ve been, so it feels like Disneyland for us too.

Riley joins us as well, though I’m not sure if she understands much of what’s going on. Jo leans down and takes her hands in hers.

“Are you excited for our new home, Riley-bug?” she asks.

“Will I have my own room?” she asks with rapt attention.

Jo pretends she’s pondering something. “You know what? I think I can arrange that.”

She gasps, jumping up and down just as her parents did moments before. “Can it be a pirate themed room?”

“Are you kidding?” Jo asks. “Of course it can be pirate themed!”

“Then yes!” Riley squeals, jumping into her mother’s arms. Jo holds her tight, picking her up and spinning her around, then bringing her to Liam so he can kiss her on the cheek.

I look away from their private moment and glance over at Sam, who looks at them with an adoration that I know goes beyond being happy about them finally having their own apartment. Ever since he landed his social work job, he’s spent most days with kids who need loving families. I know I’ll sound like an asshole if I say it out loud, but sometimes I’m worried he’ll bring one home someday. I try not to think about what that would mean for me.

“How long will it take to sign all the paperwork?” Liam asks Jo.

Jo pauses. “I…forgot to ask. Probably not longer than a few hours though, right?”

“Ok,” Liam says, running a hand through his hair, as is usual whenever he’s thinking about something. “When did she say we should meet her to sign it? I need to get to work by eleven at the latest.”

“She said she’s ready now if we are,” Jo responds.

“What about Riley’s dance class?” Liam asks. “And pre school?”

“We can take her,” Sam volunteers.

“We can?” I say, my heart jumping in my chest.

“Of course we can,” Sam says, shrugging. “We’re both off for the day, right?”

“Well, yeah, but-,” I stutter, my eyes flickering to land on each and everyone else in the room. Sam is looking at me expectantly, but also confused, like he can’t fathom why I would ever question our ability to take care of a fully formed toddler. Liam and Jo are looking at me like my decision will either make or break their entire day. Riley looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Yes,” I finally get out. “We are. So we can.”

“Thank you so much,” Jo says as she and Liam let out sighs of relief. “I don’t know how to repay you. Greg, I promise we’ll have a whole birthday celebration when we get home.”

She hands Riley to Liam and rushes across the room to grab a pen and a pad of paper from the kitchen counter.

“Ok,” she starts, bending over and scribbling in the quick, chicken scratch handwriting I’ve come to know through the numerous lists and schedules she leaves around the house. Having a three year old apparently makes it impossible to remember where you’re supposed to be and when without multiple scraps of paper posted everywhere to remind you. “On Fridays, Riley only has preschool in the afternoons, so we take her to dance at eleven. After that, you can take her home for lunch, and a nap right after. Then get to preschool by two. Now, she’ll only go to sleep if you tell her a story, but she’s very picky about what’s good and what’s not so just be prepared for that. Also, if she gets overwhelmed, she’ll do this thing where she just kinda curls up in a ball on the floor. It’s really cute, but it takes hours to get her out of it.”

As soon as she’s finished talking, Jo rips the piece of paper she’s been scribbling on off of the pad with a sharp tearing sound and turns to us. “Does that all make sense?”

“Nn-”

“Perfect,” Sam interrupts me, taking the paper from Jo. “She’ll be in good hands.”

“You still have that emergency bag I packed for you, right?” she asks.

Sam and I sneak a millisecond long glance at each other. We both remember the emergency bag well at this point, though I’m not even entirely sure what’s in it. When Jo was going over all the contents with us, just a few weeks after she moved in, I started spacing out because it all got too overwhelming to think about everything that could go wrong if Jo or Liam weren’t able to take care of Riley. The last thing I remember hearing was something about a book of emergency contacts.

“Yes,” Sam answers. “We still have it.”

“Great,” Jo says. “Make sure to pack her ballet shoes in there. Oh, and her stuffed wombat. That’s the only thing that will help get her out of those curled-up-ball scenarios.”

“His name is Mr. Willfordson,” Riley inputs, though the name comes out more like ‘Mr. Wifudson.’

“Got it,” Sam says. “Mr. Willfordson.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Jo says, both her and Liam scrambling to get their things ready to head out the door like it’s some kind of choreographed dance. “We should both be home from work around five or six.”

Five or six!?

But it’s too late to backtrack any of this, because Liam has set Riley down and they’re both saying their goodbyes while already halfway out the door.

Sam locks the door behind them, and turns back to me with a grin that makes my stomach sink strangely. “This should be fun.”