I was now a woman who got hysterical.
“Hey, hey. You’re not going to be a shitty mom,” he said, holding my face in his hands. “You’re nothing like Evelyn. Don’t think about the what-ifs, because there’s nothing you can do to stop any of it. Let’s just enjoy this. And if things don’t go the way we planned, we’ll deal with it. Always and no matter what. Together.”
I nodded, the shaking in my hands slowing the tighter he held me.
I closed my eyes and calmed my breathing, focusing on my husband’s hands on my face and his familiar presence. My rock. The calm in my storm. The whisper to my scream.
Then I looked up at him, the final reality coming into focus. “Josh. You’re going to be a daddy.”
He gave me a sideways grin, tears and joy twinkling in his eyes. “Kristen…you are going to be a mommy.”
JOSH – EPILOGUE
2 years later
Ileaned into the back of the SUV and unbuckled Oliver Brandon from his car seat. Kristen stood next to me, a diaper bag slung over her shoulder. “You’re sure you want to do this? What if she eats him?”
I smiled, lifting the baby into my arms and grabbing his sippy cup. “Evelyn’s trying. She deserves a chance.” I closed the door and turned to her.
My wife eyed me. “She called you a rapscallion.”
I laughed. “Yes—yes she did.”
Kristen and I had good fun with that one. It was Kristen’s favorite nickname for me.
I gave Oliver his sippy cup. “But in all fairness, you told her you were married and pregnant via Potatogram. She had a right to be upset. Give me this.” I took the diaper bag from her. “You shouldn’t be lifting more than you need to.”
She scowled at me. “It’s been four months since my surgery. I can carry a five-pound diaper bag.”
I kissed the side of her stubborn head.
After Oliver was born, we’d tried for over a year to get pregnant again. But lightning didn’t strike twice.
We’d gone to a fertility specialist and done three unsuccessful rounds of in vitro, but her fibroids kept the embryos from implanting.
Kristen had been miserable. Her periods were a nightmare. She was in pain and borderline anemic. That, coupled with the fertility treatments and caring for an infant, had been really hard on us both.
I’d hated to see her suffering.
She was reluctant to pull the trigger on the hysterectomy this time because we’d gotten lucky once. But after over a year of it, we saw Oliver for what he was—a miracle. And one that wouldn’t repeat itself.
So with lots of reassurance from me that it was okay and that I just wanted her to be healthy, she’d had the hysterectomy at twenty-six.
And she was a new person.
I don’t think I truly realized how strong my wife was. Kristen didn’t like to tell me when she wasn’t feeling well. She did a good job hiding it and putting on a happy face. But when the cramps and bleeding were no longer a daily part of her life, she bloomed. She slept better, she had more energy. It transformed her. Even her hangry was less terrifying.
Seeing her like this was a gift.
“You know, Mom will probably have him potty trained by tomorrow,” she said.
“Good.” I peered up at the front of Evelyn’s 1940s-era Simi Valley mansion. “I’m liking this better and better by the minute.”
We made our way up the steps, and Evelyn opened the door before we knocked.
I still couldn’t get used to seeing this lady smiling. But she did. Not at Kristen and me, of course, but she loved her grandson.
“There’s my grandbaby!” she said with a flourish.
She leaned in and gave Kristen and me an air-kiss and then took Oliver from me in a flurry of Chanel No. 5.
Maria, the night nurse Evelyn had on staff to get us to agree to a sleepover, took the diaper bag.
Oliver knew Maria. Evelyn had hired her for us to help out for the first few weeks after he was born and again when Kristen was recovering from her hysterectomy.
Evelyn had become very helpful as of late. She’d gone to being all carrot and no stick now that the stick had stopped working.
Sloan was doing as well as could be expected. I wouldn’t say she was thriving, but she was functional again. And some of that was Evelyn’s doing. In addition to helping us with our son, Evelyn had also stepped in to represent Sloan in probate court to help her keep her house. Not that it was much to hang on to. I was over there weekly trying to keep it standing. But the gesture had meant the world to all three of us. And after that, I found it very hard to rebuff her attempts at being in her grandson’s life.
Kristen was still leery. But I didn’t worry about it. Oliver was the first thing Evelyn ever acknowledged that Kristen had done right.
Kristen bit her lip nervously, and I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you sure you can handle this, Mom?” she asked.
Oliver had always been with at least one of us at any given time. It was his first sleepover. But today was a special occasion, and we needed the house empty.
Evelyn waved her off, a diamond tennis bracelet flashing on her wrist. “Yes, yes. You two go. Happy birthday. Enjoy your night, dear.”
Evelyn turned back into the house, whispering to Oliver that they were going to see his mommy’s piano. The plinking sound of baby hands on keys followed as we closed the door behind us.
We stood on the porch. “Free at last,” I said, slipping my hands around her waist.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. “We’re gonna do that thing we like, all night, right?”
I cupped my hands under her ass and nipped at her lip, smiling. “It’s been so long…”
“I know—can’t wait to get you in bed,” she whispered.
I grinned. “We’re talking about sleeping, aren’t we?”
We laughed against each other’s lips, and I kissed her deeply, right there on Evelyn’s porch.
Fuck, I never got enough of my wife. She was the sexiest woman alive. I loved every inch of her. I loved her stretch marks and her scars, the specks in her eyes and the birthmark on her neck. All her flawless imperfections.
I was grateful every moment of every single day that Brandon brought me to her. She was my everlasting gift from a man I’d never forget for the rest of my life.
I broke away and put my forehead to hers. “So you want In-N-Out for lunch and steaks for dinner, right?”
She nodded and put her hand over my heart where the tattoo of her name was. “Josh? I think I could be ready again to keep trying. Should we start talking about surrogacy? Carmen is still down for it, right?”
I knew why she was asking. She still wanted to give me my baseball team. But my dreams had changed.
Seeing the strain of the in vitro process and how much it took out of her emotionally and physically—I just wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to enjoy our son. She never complained, but I knew she was tired of the doctor’s visits and the hormone injections and the disappointment. If she was up for it in a few years, maybe we’d try again or look into the other options. We were young—we had time. But I didn’t want her to do it for me because she thought she owed it to me. She’d done enough.
I put my hands on her face. “Let’s take a break, Kristen. I’m happy where we are. And if this is our family, I’m good with that.”
The relief was visible in her eyes. “Are you sure?”
My mouth curved up into a smile. “I’m very sure. I have everything I need.”