CEO Art
873 Words
Week 26. Bed rest was making Damian feral.
“You’re staring at the wall again,” I said, shifting on the mattress. “That’s the 5th time in 10 minutes.”
Damian blinked. “Sorry. I was… designing.”
“Designing what? The next Black Tower?”
He pulled out a shoebox from under the bed. Scrap wood. String. Old buttons from his ruined suits. A broken watch. Foil from soup packets.
“A mobile,” he said. Like he was pitching to investors. “For the cribs. CEO art installation. Functional. Emotional. Zero budget.”
I sat up on my elbows. “Damian, you can’t even lift a gallon of milk.”
“I can sit,” he said. Already threading string through a button. “I can create. I used to create companies. Now I create wonder.”
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*3 Days Later*
The living room looked like a tornado hit a craft store.
Damian sat on the floor, back against the bed where I was propped up. Tongue sticking out in concentration. Hands careful despite his bandaged ribs.
He’d made three things:
1. A wooden star. Burned “Ava” into it with a heated nail. “For our girl. So she knows she’s named after the bravest person I know.”
2. A tiny briefcase from matchsticks and foil. “For our boy. So he knows his dad was a CEO once. And gave it up for him.”
3. A ring. Made from a soup can pull-tab, bent and smoothed. “For you. Because the $9 one is still in Chapter 14. This one is Chapter 26.”
He hung them all from the curtain rod over the empty cribs. Scrap wood mobile spinning slow in the breeze from the window.
“It’s crooked,” he muttered. “And the string is uneven. And the briefcase is ugly.”
I called him over. Made him sit by me. Handed him my phone. “Video call. Now.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Our babies,” I said. Put the camera on my stomach. “Show them.”
He hesitated. Then leaned close. Voice soft. “Hi, Team Black. Daddy made you something. It’s not marble. It’s not gold. It’s just… me. Broken pieces put together.”
He touched the star. It spun. “This is for you, little girl. You’ll be brave like Mama.”
Touched the briefcase. “This is for you, little man. You don’t have to be a CEO. Just be good.”
Then he looked at the pull-tab ring in his palm. Slid it onto my finger over the $9 one.
“Double rings,” he whispered. “Because once wasn’t enough to tell you’re mine. Twice still isn’t enough.”
I cried. Of course I did. Hormones + Damian being soft = disaster.
“Do you like it?” he asked my stomach. “Daddy’s not good at this. But Daddy’s trying.”
Both babies kicked. Right at the mobile. Like they were reaching for it.
Damian gasped. “They saw it. They like it.”
He turned to me, eyes bright. “Ava, I spent 10 million on office art. Never felt like this. This mobile… this is the first thing I ever made that mattered.”
I cupped his face. Flour and sawdust on his cheeks. “Because this time you weren’t building for profit. You were building for love.”
He nodded. Rested his forehead on my stomach, right under the spinning mobile.
Shadows danced over his face. Star. Briefcase. Ring.
“I’m sorry it’s not perfect,” he murmured to them. “Daddy’s hands shake. Daddy’s broke. But Daddy loves you so much the walls can’t hold it.”
The door knocked. Soft this time. Not Isabella’s pounding.
Marcus. Holding a delivery box. “Crib mattresses,” he said. “Donated. Anonymous. From ‘someone who watched a man build cribs from trash’.”
Damian stood. Slow. Painful. Hugged Marcus. One arm, careful of his ribs.
“Thank you,” he said. Voice rough. “For seeing me. Not the CEO. Just… the dad.”
Marcus set the mattresses down. Looked at the mobile. “That briefcase is crooked.”
“I know,” Damian said. “But it’s ours.”
After Marcus left, Damian laid back down next to me. Pulled the blanket over all three of us.
The mobile spun above us. Light catching the foil. Making stars on the ceiling.
“I used to own the skyline,” he whispered. “Now I own this. This light. This room. This moment.”
He took my hand. Kissed the double rings. $9 + soup can.
“Chapter 1 I gave you a contract,” he said. “Chapter 26 I give you art made from trash. Which one do you prefer?”
I intertwined our fingers. “Chapter 26. Because Chapter 1 you wanted my signature. Chapter 26 you just want me.”
He smiled against my stomach. Felt the babies kick against his lips.
“Best investment I ever made,” he said. “Was choosing you.”
And we fell asleep under CEO Art. Under stars made from soup cans.
Broke. Healing. Creating.
A family.
- Writer
