Husband Material (London Calling #2)(113)

Oh God. We were about to be told a fresh adventure. I was at a party, celebrating the end of my youthful bachelorhood while one of my married friends regaled us with stories about his baby.

“Of course,” James Royce-Royce went on, “we should probably be calling him Toddler J now.”

James Royce-Royce shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We’re using baby as an affectionate diminutive not as reference to a specific developmental stage.”

“There’s no need to be so literal, darling. I was just making a funny.” Letting me go, James Royce-Royce produced his phone and started scrolling. “Yesterday he made a tower of three blocks, using the blue, the red, and the purple, which I think shows a natural aesthetic sense, but apparently four blocks is what we’re shooting for.”

We were shown the tower. Then the tower with the blocks in a slightly different order. Then an earlier version of the tower which had only been two blocks. None of which distracted from the fact that Affectionate Diminutive J still looked like a goblin.

“Well,” I said, “isn’t he…clever.”

And, once again, I wished Oliver was with me. Because he could say things like that and he wouldn’t sound sarcastic.

“You may scoff, Luc O’Donnell,” declared James Royce-Royce.

“This will be you in a few years’ time.”

“Actually,” I said, “I don’t like to brag but I reckon I could stack three blocks on top of each other right now.”

Putting a hand on his hip, James Royce-Royce somehow managed to pout with his eyes. “You know perfectly well what I mean. You and Oliver must have talked about it.”

Shitting hell… “Must we?”

“You’re about to get married. Of course, you should have. What if one of you does and one of you doesn’t?”

Oh no. What if one of us did and one of us didn’t? What if I did?

What if I didn’t? We could barely agree on band versus DJ, let alone baby versus not baby. My options were to calmly reflect on the sensible advice my good friend was giving me or get incredibly fucking defensive. “Oh right,” I said. “Because I suppose you two knew everything about each other’s plans and goals and hopes and dreams before you even got engaged.”

“Obviously we did.” James Royce-Royce was trying really hard not to be aghast but was failing dismally. “Marriage is a serious commitment. It’s forever, Luc.”

I squirmed. “It’s not, though, is it? Divorce is a thing. And also, eventually one of you will die.”

“Tell you what,” said Tom. “If those are your vows, I will have so much respect.”

“They’re not my vows.” Now I thought about it, I probably needed to finish writing those. “I just mean you can work it out as you go and it’s possible to overplan.”

The other James Royce-Royce took his husband by the hand and pulled him gently away. “You’ll be fine,” he said. “Everyone’s got their own way of doing things.”

“But,” James Royce-Royce was protesting, “but…but…”

“Look at Baby J.” James Royce-Royce manoeuvred James Royce-Royce’s phone to James Royce-Royce’s eyeline.

James Royce-Royce visibly melted. “Look at his little face. His darling little face. I miss him so much. Do you not miss him, James?”

“Well”—James Royce-Royce was at his most impassive—“I was with him all day and we’ve been out for two hours. So. No.”

We were interrupted by the tip-tap of heels on the concrete floor and a cry of, “Luuuuuuuc. I’m so sorry I’m la— Oooh, are those new Baby J photos?”

“This is my non-gender-specific animal party, Bridge,” I wailed.

“We’re meant to be celebrating the end of my wild single youth. Not —”

It was too late. James Royce-Royce had his phone under Bridge’s nose and she was staring at it, entranced. “Look,” he was saying, “here’s Baby J—”

Bridge clapped her hands. “Oh my God. He’s grown. He’s grown so fast.”

“He has. He’s got so much bigger. I remember when he was only as big as a medium-sized turbot.”

“That’s very specific,” I put in.

But it was ignored. Because baby.

“This is him,” James Royce-Royce continued. “Well, actually. I’m not sure what he’s doing with those bits of plastic fruit, but it seems advanced. He might be grouping them by size and colour.”

James Royce-Royce squinted at the phone. “Honestly, I think he’s just licking them.”

“That’s advanced,” insisted James Royce-Royce. “That’s using all of his senses to make independent cognitive leaps.”

Moving to the baby huddle, Tom put his arms around Bridge.

“James, have you been at the parenting books again?”

“It’s important to be informed.”

Bridge gave another squeal. “What’s he doing here?”

“Sitting down,” explained James Royce-Royce.

“In a remarkable way,” added James Royce-Royce.

I was getting the feeling this would go on for a while. And I took it as a sign of my personal growth that I felt no compelling desire to compete for my friends’ attention with an absent two-year-old. Or maybe I just knew I’d lose.