by Scott, S. L.
Austin’s eyes are on me as he answers him, “Very well indeed. How’s the gallery?”
“We’ve had an expansion of our own and decided to open another gallery in Tribeca. It should open by the fall of next year.”
“That’s great news. You always had an eye for talent. By the way, I thought about you the other day because I just bought a house in Los Angeles. The office is strong and growing fast out there, so I needed more than just a hotel room when I visit. I could really use your eye for some key pieces to add to my art collection. Some art that would complement the new house. Do you make house calls? Your expenses paid for, of course.”
Misty looks bored with us. “I’m getting a drink,” she states, turning abruptly and leaving.
Dylan’s hand is on my lower back, fingers gripping my waist, holding me close, silently claiming me as his. “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” Dylan replies, surprising me.
He’s right. It’s not considering our dating history, but I’m still surprised that Dylan made his feelings known like that.
Austin eyes him, annoyed as if intruded upon.
“I’d be happy to send you a list of colleagues in LA who could help you,” I interject to keep things civil.
Dylan’s name is called. We look to see his boss waving him over again. “Shit,” he mumbles.
“It’s fine. Go ahead,” I say, handing him his drink. “I’ll join you in a moment.”
“Not longer than a moment though.”
“No, not longer,” I smile, reassuring.
“Austin, it was good to see you again.”
“Likewise, Dylan.”
They sound bizarrely sincere.
When he leaves, Austin asks, “Are you happy, Jules?” His tone is somber.
I don’t have to think about it because the answer is easy, the answer is obvious. “I am. I hope you are too. Misty seems…you know.” I leave it at that, hoping he understands he’s worth so much more than arm candy.
“I take it you don’t approve?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Your opinion still matters to me, more than it should.”
“In that case, I think she’s an airhead who wants to marry money, party, and live the life that you can afford to provide her with.” That was probably a bit rough and rude. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t hav—”
Chuckling, he says, “Go ahead and tell me how you really feel. So you surmised all that in the few minutes she was here?”
I may not be in love with him, but I care and I don’t want him taken advantage of. “She’s not good enough for you.”
“I can say the same about Dylan.”
“I appreciate your concern, but we’re not together for superficial reasons. He values me and respects my career. I think you’ve underestimated him.”
“I most definitely did when we were together.” He shakes his head, reflecting. “Your birthday dinner… yeah, I feel really stupid that I didn’t pick up on any of that.”
Stepping forward, I place my hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry, Austin. I’m sorry for hurting you. You didn’t deserve it.”
I can tell he wants to argue that fact, but it’s fruitless and he knows it. Our eyes meet and an understanding seems to be silently reached. That’s my cue to leave on somewhat of a good note.
“I should get going.” I signal over my shoulder before sipping my champagne.
I start to turn, but he stops me by the elbow. “Please, don’t go. Stay.”
Looking down at his hand on me, the emotion he put into the gesture has my head spinning until… I’m not. Clarity.
“Austin, you can do better. Don’t settle for someone who is just a bed warmer. Stay single until you find that someone who warms your heart. Misty’s not that girl and I guess I wasn’t either.”
“He’s the one, isn’t he?”
“Dylan’s always been the one.”
He leans forward, kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, “Live a happy life. You deserve it.”
I stop him before he can leave and whisper, “Thank you. So do you. Don’t forget that.”
While returning to Dylan’s side, I glance over my shoulder and see Austin hold his drink in the air. I raise my glass to him, leaving him with a smile. When I face forward, my eyes meet Dylan’s.
He’s right. I realize that now. We’re ready. I want this. Dylan wants this. No holding back anymore. When I approach, he takes my free hand, brings it to his lips and kisses gently.
The others are too engrossed in themselves and their conversation to pay us any heed, so I lift up on my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips before whispering, “I love you.”
He kisses my temple and repeats, “I love you.”
I STROKE HIS cheek while he sleeps, remembering tomorrow is that dreaded date—March 14th. I haven’t brought it up, not wanting to bring any negativity to all the good we’ve shared.
“I’m giving you my heart, Dylan. I’m trusting you to take care of it.”
A kiss to his forehead and stroke across his cheek wakes him, and he replies, “I will. I promise.”
I’VE BEEN FEELING very at peace with us. We never did ‘slow’ very well, but even this might be too fast.
At dinner, Dylan mentions that he hopes to have the whole white picket fence, two kids, marriage package. That makes my heart soar. Looking over at me, he smiles and I can see the love in his eyes.
I think I’m coming around to the same idea of forever.
WE VISIT HIS family for a weekend in the Hamptons. It’s a casual, relaxing time. Renews the spirit to be away from the city. It seems our troubles are finally in the past.
One afternoon, he builds a sand castle with two little boys staying with their grandparents, friends of his parents visiting for the day. I spend the whole time watching him, wondering if he’s feeling the same ticking I’m feeling to have kids.
By the time we go to bed, back in the city, on Sunday night, I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to stop wondering and start planning.
“I WANT TO live together,” he states one Sunday afternoon. Football on the flat screen, him lying across the couch with his head in my lap, reading a book.
I look down. He looks up. “Really?” I ask.
His gaze goes back to the TV, attempting nonchalance like this isn’t a big deal, but we both know better.
This is a very big deal.
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “We’re together every night anyway. It gets tiring lugging stuff back and forth. I’m sure you’re tired of that too.”
“Where would you want to live? Here or at my place?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve thought about it and there are pros and cons to both. I wanted to talk to you first, not just have it all planned out already.” He sits up, dropping his feet to the ground and faces me. “You want to move in here?”
I look around the place and say, “I’m home wherever you are, but a new place might be nice. Someplace that’s between our two jobs to make the morning commute easier.”
“That would be good, but are you ready to move? You’ve lived there a long time.”
“Lived?” I ask, rhetorically. “Hm. I only lived there when you did. And Brandon only has two months left, then he’s moving uptown when he returns from his vacation with Cara. Nothing ties me to here anymore.”
He kisses me gently, and says, “You’re my home too.”
MY PLACE SOLD above asking price within two weeks of putting it on the market. We ended up having a bidding war between three offers and took the highest. Jules’ apartment, our old one, was left to the landlord to deal with after we paid to get out of her lease.
I was worried about her leaving it behind, leaving it for good. After all, she stayed even after I left, so I know she’s attached, but she’s reassured me. She told me she was ready and as I watch her direct the movers—so confident, so sure of herself—I let it go, trusting her words, trusting that she’s happy about starting our life together
somewhere new.
“MARRY ME. I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. I want to be married to you forever, always.”
She sits upright, grabbing her stomach, maybe I went about this the wrong way. I hope not. Her face is serious, mouth agape. Now she’s the one staring at me.
“Dylan?” she says, stunned as she swings her feet toward the floor and leans toward me.
“I haven’t done this right. I let my feelings get away from me.” Pulling the box from my back pocket, I get into a kneeling position, on one knee and hold her hand. I open the box, then ask, “Jules, I love you with my heart and soul. I will love you way beyond the years of this lifetime. Will you marry me and be my eternity?”
There’s no pause or hesitation. Just a flurry of arms wrapping around me, her body pressing against mine. “Oh Dylan, yes. I love you so much too. Yes.” Kiss. “Yes!” Kiss. “Yes!”
WE GOT MARRIED as soon as we could. We didn’t want to wait. “It’s raining,” I remark, pouting a bit.
“That’s good luck,” my mom says. “Stand up and let me get a picture of you. Say cheese.”
“Cheese.” Just as the camera snaps, my stomach growls. “Cheese sounds good. I’m hungry.”
“You think you can wait until after the ceremony? We’ve only got five minutes left.” My mom sees my frown, then goes to dig something out of her purse and says, “Eat this quickly. Hopefully it will tide you over for a bit.”
I happily take the granola bar.
“You look beautiful, Juliette,” Dylan’s mom says while fluffing my veil.
I’m a whole basket case of emotions today. “You have to say that, Carol, it’s my wedding day.”
“No, actually, I don’t have to say that. I once told Mary Stein that her newborn looked like Winston Churchill.”
“No you didn’t. You’re too nice to hurt someone’s feelings like that.”
She adjusts the pearl necklace around my neck, her gift to me. “You’re right, but I thought it. I’ve often wondered if Churchill’s mother thought him a cute baby.” I burst out laughing. She stands back with my mother at her side and says, “See, now you’re smiling. Everything is just as it should be on your wedding day.”
Two minutes later, I’m touching up my lipstick and my dad comes in. “I was threatened not to ruin your makeup. So, I’m not going to ooh and ahh like the women do.”
I smile.
But when I stand back up, I see his eyes begin to water. “You’ll always be my beautiful princess, Juliette.” He turns around to collect himself, which brings tears to my eyes.
I touch his arm and when he turns back, I hug him. “Thank you, Dad.”
“We need to get you to that altar before I become a blubbering mess.”
“Hey dad, can I ask you something before we go?”
“Sure.”
“Why do I feel a little shame, like I’m letting someone down because I took him back? What’s everyone gonna think about us, you know, because of the bad breakup and stuff?”
His expression softens. “You know, you shouldn’t feel anything but love and happiness on this special day. Dylan’s proven to us that he loves you. He made a big mistake, but as for being a couple, everyone has struggles and faces roadblocks in life. It’s how you handle them and come out the other side that matters. Anyway, the people who matter most are here to support you, not question your judgment. You know what’s best for you.”
“Thank you,” I say as we hug. He’s right. The people we hold most dear in our lives are here to support us, not judge us. “That’s just what I needed to hear.”
“You ready now?”
“Yes, very.”
I catch a glimpse of Dylan standing under the arbor as I pass through the glass conservatory of the botanical gardens. I stop, slightly breathless at the sight.
“You all right, Juliette?”
I look up to my dad and smile to reassure. “Yes, I’m fine.”
We continue on, rounding the patio, our eyes lock and the world seems to disappear. All I see is Dylan. Only him. Always him.
Twenty people. That’s all that’s in attendance.
All that truly matters—their support, love, and friendship keeping us afloat in times of need. I keep my emotions from overwhelming me by focusing on the happy of the moment.
The music begins and I take a deep breath, then we walk.
It’s surreal standing here after the journey we’ve taken to get to this point. I could have never predicted after our breakup that we’d get back together, much less get married one day. My heart knows he’s the one… maybe it always did. The best part is he knows as well now. We both had to find out the hard way, but looking back and feeling this happy, I realize there was never another option for us. Our lives were always going to be entangled. Even more so now.
Taking his hands, the minister says a few words, but I don’t hear any of them. Looking into Dylan’s eyes, I see my eternity in the depth of his brilliant blues and I smile.
“Juliette?”
I respond when I hear my name. “Yes?”
“Your vows,” the minister whispers.
I don’t need a script and I didn’t write anything down. I nod, ready for this. “You once told me you couldn’t stay away. I’m so glad you didn’t. There’s no glory in easy and we have definitely not taken the easy road to get here.” His hands tighten around mine as I smile up at him. “I thought I could disappear, move forward without my heart. I was fooling myself. Life began when you returned to me, returning my heart in the process. I love you, Dylan Somers, with all my soul and every fiber, muscle, and nerve of my being. I am forever yours and you mine. I’m honored to call you my husband and looking forward to our eternity together.”
Despite tradition, he leans down and kisses my cheek just as I look down, my sentimental side showing in my tear-filled eyes.
Glancing to the minister, he nods, then Dylan says, “You were always my fair Juliette. You gave me a reason to live, a purpose in life, when I was just trying to survive another day. You guided the way when I was lost. Like the North Star, you led this wayward soul home again. With you by my side, as my wife, I’ll never wander and I’ll never be lost again. I promise to love and cherish, to obey,” he adds with a smirk. “I will honor you every day of this life and forever more into the next. I love you, Juliette.”
After a pause, and I release a long held breath, the ministers says, “You may kiss your bride.”
Dylan, beaming with pride and love, leans down and kisses me. Like our very first kiss, my knees weaken, but his hands are strong, as he holds me. We’re announced as the married couple we are, and make our way up the aisle and out to a side yard. His mother set up a little bistro table for us with orange juice, two chairs, and a few moments of privacy.
Tilting his lips to my ear, Dylan whispers, “I will love you for lifetimes to come.” He kisses my cheek.
“I’ll love you more.”
SPEECHLESS.
Silent.
Two pink lines.
Three white sticks being waved in the air.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
“Pregnant?” I ask like I don’t know the meaning of the words.
She nods, confirming, “Yes. A baby, Dylan.”
I feel lightheaded.
I need to sit down.
But I need to know more. “How do you feel?”
“I feel good.”
Not what I’m looking for though I’m relieved she feels all right. Gauging, I ask, “I’m mean are you happy to be pregnant?”
Tears stream freely as a smile forms, her eyes alight, “I’m happy, babe. I’m really happy.”
I reach for her, holding her to me, needing to feel her against me. “You’re having a baby,” I whisper into her hair.
“We’re having a baby.”
Shit. I’m having a baby.
With Jules.
She’s having my baby.
So many questions race through my head. Too many. I need to sit.
“Come sit with me.” I take her hand and pull her with me.
We sit and look at each other. That glow people talk about is ever present. She’s already glowing from the inside out. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”
She does this bounce of excitement on the cushion, lifting my hand to her mouth and kissing it. “I’m so happy. I really am. I’m with you and I’m having your baby. How can I not be happy? How can I not be thrilled right now? Are you happy about this? About the baby?”
I take a second to try to comprehend the news, but my heart, fuck, even my head tells me I don’t need that second. “I’m happy. I’m shocked, surprised, but I’m really happy too.”
A gentle smile crosses her face as she scoots onto my lap. Her arms surround me and she kisses my temple. “I love you, Dylan.” Only a moment passes before she adds, “I want lots of kids with you.”
Tonight I kiss her until her lips are swollen, then I kiss her stomach and our baby goodnight. I lay there holding her and thanking God for this second life I’ve been given.
“STOP STARING AT me.”
“I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful.”
“I just threw up twice. I’m pale and pissy and you think I’m beautiful?” She shakes her head and scoffs. “You must really be in love, Mr. Somers.”
“I am.” I walk closer, sitting on the floor next to the couch where she’s lying. She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes and yes, pale, but never more beautiful. “So in love, Mrs. Somers.”
WE FINALLY SETTLE into our new home. It took forever to find and we were sick of living in a rental uptown. We move into a townhouse—four bedrooms, an office, a small backyard, exposed brick. She loves it. She loved it the minute she saw it and we bought it.
All the stuff is unpacked. All the stuff we decided to keep from our separate apartments and the storage unit doesn’t seem like much when sitting in this large place.