by Eva Luxe
“James?” I raise my head to look up at him.
“Yeah. James Bradford,” he says. “After my dad. I think he’d love the honor of having his first grandchild named after him.”
“That’s perfect,” I tell him.
And it really is.
“So, you should pick his middle name,” he says. “I can’t hog all three names.”
I laugh.
“Do you want to do the modern mother’s-last- name-as-baby’s-middle- name thing, and go with James Carrington Bradford?” he asks.
I snort.
“That sounds a little too… official. He’ll think we wanted him to be a military general from birth.”
“Don’t we?” Ramsey asks, and we both laugh again.
“Well what about something kind of crazy, but meaningful?” I ask him, deciding to put it out there.
Why not? We’ve already gone and had a baby together. Might as well take a leap into crazy name territory.
“Such as…?” he prods.
“Bowie,” I say. “As in…”
“David Bowie,” he says. “As in, our song.”
“The guy who— although he may not have brought us together, since we have Uncle Sam to thank for that— certainly extended our stay together, and very likely brought little James here into existence.”
“I like it,” Ramsey says, decisively. “James Bowie Bradford. It suits him.”
We look down at Baby James, who stares back at us, sleepily.
“He’s nodding off,” I say. “I wanted him to just keep looking at us and listening to us.”
“It means he’s comfortable,” Ramsey says. “He knows it’s safe to go to sleep. Just like I always did when I was with you.”
“Awwww.”
I put my head on his shoulder.
“I guess we should give Susan a turn now,” I tell him. “I can bring her back here if you’re okay watching Becky.”
“If she’ll even let me,” he says. “She seems to be holding a grudge against me.”
“She’ll understand, once I talk to her,” I tell him. “Should we go to the lobby now?”
I blow a kiss to James, and Ramsey squeezes my hand.
“Sure,” he says. “But there’s something I think we need to do first.”
“What’s that?”
“Jensen and Riley want to meet their very first nephew,” he says. “And we’re long overdue for a Skype chat with them.”
I nearly squealed with glee as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me.
“You told them about me?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yes, and Whitney too,” he says. “I’m sure she’s filled Harlow in.”
I laugh.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make things serious a lot earlier,” Ramsey says. “I just didn’t know if you wanted to…”
“And I didn’t know if you wanted to…”
“And here we were wanting the same thing,” he says.
“And things we didn’t even know we wanted,” I add, looking down at a sleeping Baby James.
“Exactly.”
Then he looks at me and asks, “So, how are we going to do this long distance parenting thing?”
I say, “Well, I was already retiring from the Air Force…”
“Move with me,” he says, without hesitating. “Move in with me in Albuquerque, you and the baby. I’ll take care of you both. And Susan, Becky and little Mason too if you’d like. I’ll take care of everyone.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Ramsey,” I tell him. “Geez. I know you’re good at taking care of people. And I do want to move with you. Start a life with you for real. But not just because I want you to take care of me. Because I love you. And I want to take care of you too.”
“Awwww,” he says, holding me tight and kissing me. “I love you too. And I know for a fact that you’re good at taking care of me, in every possible way.”
He winks at me. I’m so excited to do this. For real. Ramsey and me. And little James. A family.
I think Susan can come, and with the lower cost of living in Albuquerque, she should be able to find a place for her and the kids just fine. If necessary, she can always stay with Ramsey and me for a while.
I still like the sound of that, even just in my thoughts. The sound of us. Taking care of each other— and other people, like we’re both good at— together, rather than stubbornly insisting on being on our own, just because we’re afraid to get hurt. I’m not afraid anymore. I’m excited.
Ramsey hugs me tight for a few seconds more and then says, “Well, let’s get on that Skype call. This proud Papa has some news he can’t wait to share with the world.”
Epilogue
Ramsey
One Year Later
Today is the day I used to swear would never come to be. My wedding day. And it’s Harlow’s wedding day, too.
Harlow and I have always been close, but I never imagined we’d be “double wedding” close. After we made it through James’ first few months as a newborn, I’d proposed to Monica, telling her there was nothing I would like more than to marry the love of my life, and the mother of my child.
The nurse in James’ NICU ward was mostly right. He only had to spend a couple weeks there, and got stronger day by day. Now he’s just over a year old, and we timed his first birthday party with our wedding so that out of town friends and family of Monica’s could attend both. It’s a small wedding, and reception, but it’s all we need.
I’ve been seeing the psychologist that Whitney referred me to, and he really helps me. Riley helped me navigate the military system so that I didn’t get discharged and put on long-term disability.
During the military’s investigation, they’d found no witnesses against me; everyone was on my side and testified that all I did was defend myself and Pipsqueak, who was being attacked by aggressors. Several witnesses even said that they were glad I stuck up for Pipsqueak, and that I had done the right thing.
I’m planning to exit the military anyway, but on my own timeline. I don’t want to have to worry about being deployed far away from Monica and James, or being killed in the line of duty. Now that we’ve been living in Albuquerque for a year, I love what we have together. Susan and Becky and Mason Jr. live just down the street, so that James can see his cousins often. Monica often goes to see Susan and helps her with the kids.
I’m ready to sign myself up for a more stable life, befitting the family man I’ve become. But I’ll still work at doing what I love, with Jensen in the private contractor job, training new recruits.
My “self-therapy” continues to help me just as much as the real therapy does. I’ve entered some amateur fight competitions and may work my way up to professional ones once I’m out of the military. My music is getting better and I’ve been offered a gig with a band I met at Louie’s, Jensen’s favorite dive bar, that I’m considering joining once I have more time.
When Whitney suggested to Monica that we combine weddings, I thought she was joking, or that Monica would be offended. But it ended up making a lot of sense. We’re on a budget, since Monica is in school and I’m planning to exit the military.
Whitney’s reasoning was so that both couples could save money, since we had quite the crossover in guest lists and since we could split expenses fifty-fifty. She’s always so practical and helpful.
And Monica’s the kind of girl you would expect to have been a well-renowned fighter pilot who grew up with older brothers, and that’s part of what I love about her. She’s more of a tomboy type than a girly-girl type, and she preferred a simple, down-to-earth wedding over a glitzy, glamorous one.
At first, we were just planning a courthouse wedding with a simple reception dinner afterwards. We knew that traditional weddings cost quite a bit of money and we would rather save that same amount of money for James’ college fund instead. But joining Whitney and Harlow began to seem like a good compromise— a way to have a nice wedding without spending a ton of money. Maybe
soon we’ll be able to have a bigger reception, just for us, but for now, this will more than do.
And as my brother and I stand waiting for our brides before our shared and separate guests— with a spot for Jensen at our side as joint best man, and Monica’s two living brothers lined up next to him— I realize that there’s a deeper meaning to our joint wedding. Harlow, and Jensen and I grew up together, survived everything that happened with our parents’ tumultuous marriage together, fought alongside each other, and survived Harlow’s helicopter crash together.
It’s only fitting that Harlow and I should get married together, with Jensen having led the way not too long ago. We’ve all fallen— but it’s a good thing—because we’ve only fallen into love.
I move off to the side so that I can play the guitar. Monica and I have added quite a few more songs to our soundtrack in the year since I’ve been back. Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine, Frankie Valli’s “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” and Joan Osborne’s “Righteous Love” top the list.
Jensen ushers our mother down the aisle, which is fitting, since she’s still living with him and Riley. I don’t know how they managed to handle her, but she’s doing quite well. She’s on medication for mild dementia and she has stopped drinking completely.
I think about what would have happened had I not listened to Monica, way back when I first met her, and started putting myself first. I would have insisted my mom move into a facility— which she claims she would have run away from, and I wouldn’t put it past her— and then taken her back to live with me when I got home.
We’d be stuck in a cycle of dysfunction and she’d likely never have made such a good recovery as she’s been able to have with Jensen— who has always been better at separating himself from her issues than I have been.
Monica’s brother ushers her mother, who has made the trip to Albuquerque and has flown without Monica’s father for the first time since he fell ill. I know she is so happy to be able to have her mom here, to see where we live and what our life is like.
When the groomsmen have returned to their spots next to Harlow, I switch songs so that that the bridesmaids can walk down the aisle. Riley, a joint bridesmaid for both brides, starts the procession. She winks at Harlow as she carries the blue and white flowers that Whitney and Monica decided on— in honor of both my father James, and our son James. Then she winks at Jensen, and me.
Trish is here from Monica’s hometown in Minnesota, as her bridesmaid. Whitney’s good friend and former boss, Lance, is serving as her man of honor. And then Susan, Monica’s matron of honor, walks down the aisle. Hanging from her bouquet is a framed photo of her deceased husband, Monica’s brother Mason.
Next come the flower girl and ring bearer— Becky and Mason Jr., of course. I’m about to become their uncle. And that’s great because I love spending time with them and playing games with them— “Hide and Seek” remains a favorite of both Becky’s and mine.
They’re each pulling a wagon that James is sitting in, in his handsome tuxedo, behind a sign that says, “Here come the brides!” Or at least they’re each supposed to have a hand on the wagon’s handle, while Becky is supposed to be carrying a basket of flower petals, but she lets go and throws them everywhere while dancing around and announcing, “This is for my Aunt Monica! And for Whitney!”
Little Mason does his best to tug James’ wagon on his own, while everyone in the audience laughs. “Daddy!” James cries out, with his arms up, when he sees me, but Becky holds his hand and says, “Your daddy’s busy getting married! You have to stay here with me.”
Everyone laughs again, and I have to admit it’s definitely one of the cutest sights I’ve ever seen.
It’s Whitney’s turn to walk down the aisle, so I wait respectfully after cuing Canon in D over the speaker system. Harlow starts to cry when he sees her, and she definitely looks stunning.
She joins him in front, and he takes her hand and mouths, “I love you.”
Then I move front and center and begin playing and singing my song for Monica as she walks down the aisle.
I… I am your king
And you… you are my queen
And nothing will drive us away
We can beat fate, day after day
I’ll be your hero
Just for one lifetime….
She smiles at the way I changed the lyrics to our song to match the occasion, but then tears spring to her eyes. I can’t help but start to cry myself, although I do my best to hold it back, so as to not mess up the song.
Monica is wearing a knee-length off-white dress and red heels. The frame dangling from her bouquet shows a photo of her father. Although he is still alive, he’s bedbound from his stroke and he suffers from a lot of cognitive problems. He’s here in spirit though, just like her brother Mason.
Monica’s face is radiant— she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. When she joins me in front of the arch, I pick up James from the wagon and hand him to her. As the officiant begins the ceremony, I’ve never been more certain of my lines.
I do, I do, I do.
A thousand times over, I do.
***
Mid-reception, my brothers and I step outside to smoke a cigar.
“Congratulations, my brothers,” Jensen says, as he hands them out. “And this one’s for Dad.”
He holds up a fourth cigar.
“We’ll pass it around among us so that he can share it.”
“I think old Dad would be pretty proud of us,” Harlow says.
“If he’d even believe it!” I agree. “Can you imagine how many times he would have heard us say we’re never getting married, never settling down.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if he really would have believed us,” Jensen says. “He knew that us Bradford boys put on a tough act, but once we each met the right woman, we’d turned into total softies.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself,” Harlow says. “I’m the only one of us still planning to stay in the military. That’s one area of my life that I’ve managed to keep for myself. And it’s funny, since that’s the one I thought I would have to be done with, after my accident.”
“You might not find civilian life too bad,” says Jensen. “Maybe you should think about joining us.”
“I have to admit I’ve thought about it,” Harlow says, with an unabashed shrug. “That card is probably in my future, but I’m just putting up a good fight for a while first.”
We all laugh.
“Seriously, though,” Harlow adds. “Dad would be proud, and as I’ve gotten older I’ve become more and more proud of Dad, and what he taught us. I know he’d love to be here today, to see all three of his sons married and happy, and his first grandson growing up right before his eyes.”
“On that note, there’s something I should tell you guys,” Jensen says, and Harlow and I look at each other in shock, and then at him. “Riley doesn’t want to take the limelight off of you guys and your wedding, so we were supposed to wait to announce this, but I want you two to be the first to know, and right now feels like the best time to tell you.”
“Oh my god,” says Harlow. “I’m going to be the last one. I guess that’s fitting, since I’m the youngest.”
“That’s right,” says Jensen. “Riley’s pregnant. James is going to have his first cousin on the Bradford side in about seven months.”
He looks so proud and happy that I have to hug him. Harlow does too.
“Congratulations! That’s awesome,” we say.
“Can you guys please let me out of this bear hug so I can light this other cigar?” Jensen complains. “The least you could do is not smother me so that we can have a celebratory cigar in honor of my baby-to-be, and in honor of both of your weddings.”
“To your baby-to-be,” I say, and step back to take a drag of my cigar.
I imagine James and Jensen’s child playing together. Family picnics. Birthday celebrations.
I can’t believe the life I never knew I wa
nted is turning out so wonderfully. All thanks to Monica, to my dad, and to these two guys right here.
“And to us,” Harlow adds, as if reading my mind. “Brothers through thick and thin.”
***
Later that night, it’s Monica’s and my first time alone together since James was born. Jensen and Riley are watching him so that Monica and I can enjoy our wedding night. We’ve rented a hotel room and I can’t wait to get her out of her dress.
“Be careful,” she whispers into my ear, “that thing cost a fortune.”
“I can’t think of anything but how I want to fuck you right now,” I tell her, as I spread her out on the bed.
I take my own clothes off. Then I kiss her, and she wraps her fingers around mine.
“I’m so glad you forgave me for not telling you I was pregnant with James,” she says, looking up into my eyes. “I don’t know what he or I would do without you. I have no idea what I was thinking.”
“Shhhhh,” I tell her, kissing her eyelashes, her eyelids, her nose. “This is our wedding night. I completely understand why you did what you did. We were only supposed to have one night together. Not a whole lifetime.”
“I’m so glad we have a whole lifetime together,” she says, sighing in relief. “I really thought I’d messed up everything. Don’t you have any regrets?”
I look down at her and smile.
“Only one.”
“What?”
I shake my head at how silly it is.
“Well, while you were in the first female fighter pilot to fly that beautiful beast, I really should have taken advantage of the opportunity to have sex in it.”
She begins laughing, and I laugh along with her. My lover. My wife. The woman with the most beautiful chuckle I’ve ever heard— the sound of which was one of the first reasons I fell in love with her.
“Out of all the possible regrets you could have, that’s what you’ve chosen?” she asks.
I shrug.
“I can’t help it,” I tell her. “What can I say? My mind is obviously only in one place right now.”