His Perfect Little Heirs (Kids of The District)

by Nicci Harris

Clay Butcher: Number one. His heir: Number two. Family: Number three.

What if the ultrasound is bad? What if he’s wrong… again? What if he’s small or twisted? Is that a thing? What if I break him? What if he⁠—

Will I have time for him when we have children? Oh God, will he have time for me?

“You’re going to meet the next love of your life soon, sweet girl, and you’re going to do just fine. Everything will be perfect. The ultrasound will be fine. He will be strong. Resilient. Brave. How could he not be with a mother like my little deer,”

“Remember, little deer, that just because you have this very important responsibility, doesn’t mean I am not here to guide you. Just because I have more to care for now, doesn’t mean my priorities will change. Your wellbeing and safety will always be my number one focus. So, when you feel overwhelmed and you need reassurance, I am here. I will always put my little deer first. Will always choose you, so you can put my children first, so you can always choose them. Now, nod your head so I know you understand.”

We fix ourselves for company and head towards the room I was taken to on my first morning staying here. When I heard my baby’s heartbeat but didn’t see— I didn’t get to see him. It seems like such a long time ago. I was just a lost girl with no place in this world to call my own. I know my place now—beside the most powerful man in the city. His rose. My thorns.

It’s clearly a baby—a baby shape. I know why they call it the fetal position now. Will mine look like that?

Content, Shoshanna sighs. “The baby is perfect, Max.” Max can’t talk.

“I wanna wait, too. Old school style. Under the moon. In a pool. A doula. Clay pacing beside me.” “Do I look like the kind of man who paces?” I laugh because Sir is far too controlled to outwardly portray anxiety like that. “No.”

I’m worried I might do something wrong, that something might already be wrong, that I’ve failed. Would he forgive me if I lost another baby? His baby? I couldn’t bear it.

“Aren’t you going to look at the screen, Sir?” “After you do, little deer.” I didn’t get to see him last time. Thank you, Sir.

Wait… What is that? A little bit of air hitches as I inhale sharply at the lovely sight. Then… A heartbeat. No… That sounds different, looks different, God. Is everything okay? Is he broken? Did I break him already? Did I break him again! I cover my mouth as tears fall down my face, panic reaching up and grabbing me so fast I barely have time to breathe.

“Fawn,” Shoshanna says my name with amazement wrapped around each letter. “You’re having twins. There are two beautifully formed fetuses here.” What? “Christ.” I hear Sir mutter from beside me, and I glance at him quickly, then back at the monitor. “You’re perfect, sweet girl. Look what you’re making for me.”

Twins. Two. But—But good things come in three… Clay Butcher: Number one. His heir: Number two. Family: Number three. This is four… Two heirs. This means I need to start from one again… because— No. A smile hits my cheeks as the two embryos bounce around each other on the screen. And I decide right now, I can just keep counting to… to forever.

Good things don’t come in three. Good things have no limit. Baby number two: Number four.

If I didn’t know him so well, the smooth way he sits and his relaxed expression, would sell the idea. He hates this.

I smile at the shiny red bonnet. “What type of car is this? Is it fast? Is it a hybrid? We should consider the environment because we have enough money to be mindful, don’t you think? “Attention on the road.” “I’m a woman; I can do two things at once.” “Excellent. You are driving and growing my children inside you. Such a clever girl. Now, attention on the road.” “You’re so condescending, Sir.” “I will indulge this conversation another time. Your safety is more important to me than your sensitivities are,” he declares. I slowly sigh, so he adds, “Christ, fine, it’s a BMW.” Grinning, I focus on the road.

I arch an eyebrow at Sir. “That wasn’t fair.” Something carnal with warning moves through his clear blue gaze. “Did your eyebrow just give me attitude, little deer?” I relax my forehead. “Um..”

“Are you being facetious on purpose, sweet girl?” I bite my lip to hide my budding smile. “I don’t know what facetious means, Sir.” He ducks into the driver’s seat and with a roar of the engine—a noise I didn’t know this car could make. “Purposely difficult. Treating serious situations with mockery.” He pulls out onto the quiet suburban street. “Oh.” I smile harder. “Then yes. I am.”

Oh. My. God. It’s a jewellery store. Keep your cool, Fawn. I stop midstride. “A jewellery store?” I touch the diamond-encrusted butterfly pendant around my neck, the strategically set spotlights overhead dancing inside the facets. “I have this. I don’t need an—” Then it hits me, but I’m too dazed to speak. I find myself walking with his assistance to a private room behind the fireplace.

“Although I will kneel for you, sweet girl, and the children you make for me, should you ask me, I will endeavour to put you all on a pedestal, so I need not to.”

“You don’t thank me, little deer. Not for this. It would be an insult. This is not a favour or a gift. It is your right. It is my great privilege to touch you, to take you, taste you, have your trust in all things, your body beneath mine, your watery eyes looking up at me when you suck my cock. It is my greatest privilege to spoil you as you do me.”

“Choose, little deer.” I growl. The white. With the delicate clasp. White and blue. Like the moon in the sky. Like the stars reflected in the ocean. White and blue. “The white one,” I decide, and as I do, he presses the tip of his finger through the tight muscles, sucks my clit into his mouth, and rockets me over the edge of sanity, forcing a ripple of sensation to every inch of my body. I gyrate my pelvis upward while a cry tears from my mouth.

“Swollen lips. Just like your pussy. Like your little arsehole, like your stomach. All your pretty parts plump because of me, because of what I do to your body.” “Yes.”

Distracting me from the way his wet length slides from inside my arse, he leans down and gives me a searing kiss. Instantly, I release the pillow and grip his taut shoulders to accept his mouth and tongue. A simple thing. A kiss. It’s everything. And I get lost in it.

“If we have a girl,” I say to the garment before turning to face him. “Can we call her Ashlee? After my mother?” His perfectly masculine face softens on me. I amble towards him, saying, “And…” When I reach him, he cups both my cheeks in a way that suggests he wants to cradle every part of me. Hold me. Study me. I crane my neck to hold his attention. “You should name him if he’s a boy.” He drags his thumb across my lower lip, playing with the soft flesh. “If you give me a girl, we will name her Ashlee, and if you give me a boy, he will be Luca.” After his father. I like it. “And if I give you two girls?” “You won’t.” He watches his finger explore my lip. “Butcher’s very rarely have girls, little deer. Kelly is the first for three generations.” “You Butcher Boys are powerful swimmers.” A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “Indeed.”

Which is why, the Godfather, our Don in Sicily, Alceu, has rightly acknowledged her loyalty and abilities. “Were she born with a cock, se, you may be dead, my boy,” he had said to me on the phone several weeks ago. He’s probably right.

She’s just as ruthless as me. More so, perhaps.

And from afar, I will always be her ally. Her friend.

“You’re not going to miss me, are you, Clay?” A smile hits my lips. “Missing you will not change your mind. It is a brilliant waste of my time, but yes, I still will.”

Fawn looks at Aurora. “I don’t want you to go.”

Fawn tries to smile. “When will I see you again?” “Well, I know you want to wait until after the birth of your children to set a date for the wedding. I understand you want to be free of pregnancy to truly enjoy all aspects of your wedding and honeymoon. I will be back for that.” “I thought you could be my maid of honour.” “I would. It would be my privilege to do so; however, I thought, perhaps…” Aurora brushes a piece of blonde hair over Fawn’s shoulder, and Fawn sighs, clearly liking the affection. “I could give you away.” Fawn inhales with delight.

It occurs to me at this moment that Aurora has taken on a motherly figure to my little deer. The affection was misplaced before, when I thought she wanted a female lover, but was seemingly desperate for a mother. I suppose for a young girl who knew no love or stability from a woman, where to place affection might be confusing.

I look down at her. “I am proud of you.” She lifts to her toes and kisses both my cheeks. “I am proud of you.”

I turn to see my sweet girl with tears streaming down her cheeks and falling from an adorable wobbling chin. “I’m worried about her,” she says. “What if they are mean to her.” “I would be far more concerned about the men in Sicily that think her simply a woman.”

I look up to see the lower curve of her swollen stomach; the pretty sight rips another groan from me. I like her pregnant.

After I lay her down to sleep, I’m kept from slumber by our earlier conversation. Her dreamcatcher sways slightly by the bedpost, reminding me how these ideals are part of her passions. Of her humanity. But a doula is not a doctor. A home birth is archaic, impractical—Christ. I turn to watch her sleep, heavy blonde lashes lay over her flushed cheeks, and she stuns my heart to a stop. I love her. There has never been a more lovely sight. I do not believe in her spirituality, but I believe in her. Still… her safety must always come first.

The sheets are cold. A jarring sensation given my pregnant body is otherwise prickling with warmth and drenched in perspiration.

Peering wide-eyed down at the sheets, I feel my heart contract. I clutch at it. Rub it. Without even seeing the mess, I know my lower half is wet. “It’s okay, sweet girl.” I barely hear him. A whimper thrashing from inside me because I've lost them—again. Panicked, I touch the damp blanket around my waist, gasping for air through my rising pulse. I'm hollow. I feel hollow. Where are they? Where are my babies? I can't do this again. What is wrong with my body!

"Calm down, sweet girl.” His lips hover over mine. “Your water broke. The babies are fine." "What?" "You're in labour, little deer." He strokes my cheeks with his thumbs, gazing into my eyes dotingly. "Your water broke, Fawn. You’re fine.” "They’re,"—I clutch at our unborn children, covered in my skin and heavy against my uterus—"They’re okay?"

His tone is a deep, gravelly timbre as he says, "They are perfect. Are you able to stand, or shall I carry you?"

My throat clogs up with fear of the impending pain, fear I'll do something wrong—that my body will do something wrong… And everyone will see. A room full of strangers. A hospital. Hating the idea of leaving the house yet, I consider stalling.

"Are we going to the hospital soon? Or can we wait a bit?" "Not exactly." My breath catches. "What?" "Can you stand, or shall I carry you?" he repeats, dipping to kiss my nose, followed by my lips. It’s soft. I have a different Clay Butcher today. Leaning back, he pins me with a honed focus. "I'd very much like to carry you."

But the doctor isn’t here… Not that I can see. Just two nurses. On the alfresco, near the spot I first sat and looked out over the gardens, they prepare towels and equipment beside a small ceramic wading pool. My breath hitches. He… didn’t. He said no. The tears still hanging to the back of my eyes force their way out, rushing my face. God, what is this?

"It goes against everything I am to take unnecessary risks," he states, lowering me to the ground and holding me until I'm steady on my feet, the pressure inside me dropping even lower. "And to risk you, to risk them, the premise was damn unacceptable. The decision was a simple one." He releases a rough sigh, and I arch my neck to better gaze into his glistening blue eyes. Like the stars. Like my everything. "But you used your voice, sweet girl." He smiles softly. "You told me what you wanted, and I refused you. It has pained me for some time. When I saw your water had broken, I started organising the night meticulously. I called the doctor. The hospital. Organised our driver. "It was all very practical. I felt myself separating from the moment. Then you shuffled and caught my eye. In that second, my chest, little deer, it hurt so immensely to see you. Not from sadness, of course. And I found myself staring at you still sleeping, unaware. Peaceful. Your dreamcatcher hanging above your head." His voice tightens, his throat rolling over a lump. He’s emotional. He’s showing me… he’s letting me see him. God, it’s perfect. "Not everything is practical,” he states. “Love, quite frankly, is exceedingly impractical." He smiles smoothly, a real one, one that makes him look half his age. "But every damn thing that people say about being in love is true. It is the only reason we are here." He strokes my face. "You are the only reason I am here. I was wrong to deny you this, little de...

“You remember, Fawn,” Justine says as she steps into the pool to check how dilated I am. I spread my legs for her. “Focus on your toes. When you feel the contractions, think, ‘What are my toes doing?’ Touch them to the bottom of the pool. You’re safe. Grounded.”

The baby’s crying is lovely, high-pitched, delicate and ours. Our baby. I want… The tiny human is pink and bloody and has so much damn hair. Dark hair, like Daddy. The baby is placed in my arms, against my chest, pulling the cord up from between my legs; we are still joined there. Clay’s hands circle me to cover mine… His hands on mine. Mine on our baby. On our boy. Him… A boy… Luca.

I cry as I push and push, though I want to slow down, but baby number two is being pulled from me, the feel of his legs leaving my body strange and… and… It’s over. Now, Luca is placed with care on my left side and another… boy… on my right, tucked against my breasts, and they are both perfectly shaped little boys—little Butcher brothers with pouty lips and full heads of dark hair.

Two hands. Five fingers each.

Two feet. Five toes each.