by Hart, Staci
It was too loud to carry on, so we took the opportunity to sing as they switched to “Don’t Stop Believin’.” There was some masterful air-guitaring by my grandmother, Nellie, a deep baritone belting of the second verse by Billy Backlash, and a hamstring-snapping half-split by one of West’s eight-year-old cousins in the aisle. Even the quartet joined in, playing along, and West pulled me close and sang to me, swaying me like we were in the kitchen, making pancakes. And he kissed me again like the rule-breaker he was.
The bagpipes faded away, and we settled down, our faces flushed and cheeks high. And Cooper carried us on.
We spoke the words of our promise, the vows of forever, of love and honor, of sickness and health as the first rain fell. I placed the ring on his finger, and he did the same with trembling hands and racing hearts as the drizzle turned into a stream. Staff of the venue rushed out with umbrellas for the wedding party, unfurling them as Cooper gave West permission to kiss his bride, not that he needed it as the sky opened up.
And he kissed me in the rain with his hands on my face and his lips against mine and our hearts thumping together and our breath mingling as one. We didn’t feel the rain as it drenched our fine clothes, didn’t sense the commotion around us. In that moment, with that kiss, his soul and mine stitched together that final inch.
I didn’t think I would feel that different, but I did. It was a wholeness I felt, the love I’d thought was bottomless stretching to every horizon.
He broke the kiss. When I opened my eyes, his were still closed, his dark lashes on his cheeks, his lids smooth. And when they opened, it was my future I saw.
We turned to the crowd, who was smiling and crying and holding programs uselessly over their heads. West stepped down the aisle, towing me as we practically ran for cover, laughing all the way. The moment we passed the threshold, he threaded his arm around my waist, spinning me as if we were dancing, pressing me against the wall, kissing me again, both of us breathless.
After a long moment, we were forehead to forehead, smiling our bliss.
“I love you,” I said.
“Forever,” he said back.
The rest of the wedding party ran in behind us, feet slapping and faces alight. And we all laughed at our state, which was properly drenched.
But we sobered when we really saw the photographer’s face.
She was worrying her lip between her teeth, her brows pinched together and hands fidgeting with her camera bag strap.
“What do you want to do?” she asked, the words foreboding.
I took a look at all of us, myself last. Outside, the sky was still falling, the rain thick and heavy as a fire hose. And just like that, the tears were back, stinging my eyes, squeezing my throat.
I looked up at West. “Everything’s ruined.”
The worry on his face smoothed as he caught hold of a thought that tilted his lips in a smile. “Oh no, it’s not,” he said as he moved for the door to the roof. “Take off your shoes.”
I glanced back at the photographer, who smiled, setting down her bag. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
And I found myself smiling as I kicked off my shoes and followed him out into the rain.
4
Magic
West
Lily’s head was tucked under my chin, our bodies swaying gently to “I Will Always Love You.”
It was the only song the DJ had in English.
Our DJ had gotten food poisoning and landed himself in the hospital, but he’d graciously sent a buddy of his to fill in. Thing was, he only spoke Portuguese.
The quartet had another gig that no amount of money could have convinced them to cancel, and Cam had tried to connect her phone to the PA system, but no one had the adapter her phone used to hook it in. As far as I knew, she was still working on it.
I couldn’t care less.
I didn’t care that the caterer had mixed up our meal with another wedding, one who had apparently been a big fan of fish with their heads still on and escargot. I didn’t care that the cake had teetered when Lily’s drunk aunt bumped the table and we’d lost the top tier that we were supposed to freeze and eat on our anniversary. I didn’t care that we’d been listening to Portuguese rap for the last forty-five minutes.
Lily was mine.
Her hair was still damp—it had been taken down, scrunched up to let it wave, and plaited into an elaborate braid. Her dress had been the subject of the hair dryer instead, and the French designer who had fixed the rip in her dress had gathered it up into some sort of bustle. She looked as beautiful as she ever had. More so.
She sighed against me and lifted her head, her face soft and dreamy. “How could everything be this wrong, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life?”
“Magic. You and me, we’re magic. This day, as unexpected as it was, has been magic. And it’s not over yet.”
A smile, a bright, beautiful smile I’d see every day until I died. “You know all this is your fault, right?”
“Who? Me?” I teased.
“You cursed us.”
“And how’d I do that?”
“With your sneaky sneaking and irresistible package.”
“What package?” I asked innocently. “I didn’t bring you a package.”
She made a face. “Please don’t make me say dick while we’re dancing at our wedding.”
A laugh climbed up my throat. I pulled her closer. “I love you, Lily Williams.”
“I love you, too,” she echoed with a smile as Whitney Houston belted out the chorus. “You make everything better. A hundred times, I thought I’d break today. But you laughed and told me to take off my shoes so we could dance in the rain. When I wanted to cry because we couldn’t dance to Etta James, you twerked to Portuguese hip-hop and made me laugh so hard, I cried anyway. You are the magic. How’d I ever get so lucky?”
“Oh, I don’t know about lucky. I’m the one swinging you around the dance floor to the greatest ballad known to man.” Whitney hit the high note in agreement. “Life can throw whatever it wants at us. A little rain and some fish heads won’t stop us. Because we have each other. Nothing else matters.”
Her eyes shone with tears, though she smiled. “Kiss me,” she commanded.
And I did. I kissed her with my heart and soul as the song wound down.
The sound cut out mid-note, and we turned to the DJ’s table, surprised.
Cam crowed, “Aha!” just before the monitors popped with the connection of her phone, and Etta James floated from the speakers.
And when we looked back at each other, Lily’s expression was as happily shocked as mine was smug.
“See?” I said, pulling her closer. “Magic.”
No Such Thing
5
Plan? What Plan?
Maggie
The little display screen said the same thing the others had said, but I still didn’t believe it. My eyes scanned the word, straining until the word didn’t even look like a word anymore.
Pregnant.
I took the deepest breath I could, which was pitiable at best. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room, maybe in the world, and I dropped onto the toilet lid with my eyes on the stick in my hand. I looked right through it.
My mind tripped over one thought after another. I’d been taking birth control religiously since I was sixteen. It was rare to miss one pill. Two was unheard of. I even took it at the same time every day, just in case.
Maldives.
It had to have been our trip to Maldives. We’d stopped in Sydney for a few days, which had been a haze of sleeping, sightseeing, and miscounting what day it was. I thought I’d only missed one day.
Clearly, my math was incorrect.
I thumbed the ring on my right ring finger, the one Cooper had given me years ago in Greece. He’d told me one day he’d give me a real ring, ask me for forever. When we were ready.
An odd, cynical laugh bubbled out of me at the word. Ready. Ready or not, here we were.
I
sat numbly on the toilet seat, my mind full of static, blank and white and buzzing.
My hand moved to rest on my stomach, and I felt it then, the heaviness, the shifting awareness beneath my palm where our baby was.
Our baby.
Tears pricked my eyes, panic rising in my chest as one hand pressed against the flat of my stomach and the other clutched that pregnancy test like Jack hanging on to that damnable door in Titanic with icy hands and hope for rescue and a heart full of love.
I had to call Cooper. It was the first real instinct I had—he was always the first person I called, the person who I told everything. Always.
But when I reached for my phone and pulled up his contact, I hesitated.
I had no idea how to tell him, but I knew I didn’t want to tell him over the phone when he was in his office or getting out of a board meeting. I had to tell him face-to-face. Which meant I had to keep it to myself for at least—I checked the clock—five hours. Maybe six or seven, if work ran late.
The thought of spending that time alone with that information made my stomach turn. Well, it was either that knowledge or—
Baby.
The word conjured a dozen images that sprang from one another—Cooper kissing my swollen belly, me changing diapers, the two of us buying tiny shoes and onesies and pajamas and pushing a stroller through Central Park.
The fluttering of excitement, the realization of hopes I’d had since I was a little girl with a man I loved so well took flight, burst into a raucous joy, then rose in a violent charge up my esophagus. I barely got off the toilet in time, flipping the lid with a millisecond to spare before my stomach emptied.
When it was over, I brushed the tears from my cheeks and reached for my phone again with hands trembling to fire a text off to Lily. She was the only friend I had who’d been through this—and my sister-in-law to boot. She’d know what to say. She’d know what to do.
You awake? I asked even though it was noon.
Their baby, Hazel, was only a few weeks old, and the chances that they were all asleep were high.
Yup. Baby just woke up. What’s up?
I nibbled my lip, not wanting to say too much. Mind if I swing by for a bit?
Not at all. Baby holders are always welcome.
I’ll be sure to prep.
No perfume! Don’t forget. Wear something soft. Oh! And no weird lotions or anything.
I laughed. You act like I haven’t been over there.
I know, I know. But she’s got baby acne, and I know it’s normal but I hate it, and I’m 110% sure it’s because Mrs. Munch came over to bring lasagna and insisted on holding her. I love that woman, but she had enough Chanel No. 5 on to take down a small village.
Hahaha. I’ll shower one more time just to be sure before I leave in a bit.
You’re a gem, Mags!
As I set down my phone, my smile faded. And as I showered and dressed, my mind chewed over my fate, vacillating between excitement and fear and worry and, most of all, hope.
An hour later, I was climbing the stairs to their apartment with my stomach rolling. Lily answered the door, hair piled in a bun on top of her head and a pretty patterned robe over stained pajamas. Dark smudges cradled her eyes, but she was smiling and glowing and absolutely lovely.
“Hey,” she said in greeting, stepping out of the way.
We hugged when I reached her.
“Hey. How you feelin’?” I asked.
She sighed, still smiling. “Oh, we’re good. I’m not sure what day it is, and I haven’t slept more than four hours in a row for weeks, but we’re good. So good. Come in.”
I did, and she shut the door. The house was a comfortable mess, littered with baby blankets and pacifiers, burp cloths and half-empty glasses of water. A baby monitor sat on the coffee table next to a nearly empty box of donuts.
She caught me looking. “Rose brought dinner last night.”
I laughed. “Well, that explains a lot.”
Lily swiped one and flopped onto the couch. “It’s actually really convenient. I’ve been eating on that box all night. Day. Whatever it is now.” She took a huge bite. “Help yourself,” she said around her food.
I moved to grab one, but my rolling stomach pitched in warning. “I’m good.” I sat sideways on the couch, putting my back to the arm.
I must have looked rough because when Lily actually saw me, and her good humor faded into concern. “Is everything okay?”
I sighed, deep and heavy from the bottom of my lungs, but my lips were smiling, just the smallest curve. “I …” I realized then that I hadn’t said the words aloud. I’m pregnant, I thought, testing the words in my mind first.
Her concern bloomed to full-blown worry. She sat up, tossed the donut in the box, and dusted off her hands before turning to face me. “What happened?”
Now came the tears, unabated by my flashing lashes, teeming relentlessly. “I just … I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
She took my hands. “What’s wrong, honey?” she soothed. “Did something happen with Cooper?”
I shook my head. “No. Well, yes, but … I …” With a deep breath, I met her eyes. “My period was late.”
Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing. “Did you … are you …”
I nodded.
Lily’s face burst open with elation. “Maggie! Oh my God, Maggie!” She launched herself at me, pulling me into a hug that had us both crying, smiling and crying and laughing. When she pulled back, she swiped at her cheeks. “This is amazing! Oh my gosh, I can’t … I don’t even know what to say! Have you told Coop? How are you feeling? How in the world did this happen?”
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had since I came to accept that fourth and final test. “Well, when a man and a woman really love each other—”
She rolled her eyes. “Mags—”
“I know.” Another sigh. “I think it was the Maldives. We flew for almost an entire day, and when we got to Sydney, we went straight to the hotel and slept for ten hours. Well, slept and … other stuff.”
“And you didn’t take your pills.”
“I didn’t even know what day or time it was or where on the planet we were. When I did the math, I thought I was just one day behind, but I must have been two.”
“Well, that’ll do it.” Her smile hadn’t quit. She shook her head at me in wonder. “What did Cooper say?”
My bottom lip found its way between my teeth. “I haven’t told him yet.” The admission was heavy with guilt. “I just … I don’t want to tell him over the phone, and I don’t want to scare him by asking him to come home. I thought … maybe I can tell him tonight, but I don’t know how.”
“Well, you could draw him a diagram or have a sign made, but I feel like talking to him would probably be the easiest way to let him know.”
I gave her a look.
“I know, I know. My sarcastic streak flares when I’m excitable and nervous.” Her eyes shifted to look at nothing in particular as she considered how to answer. “Well, West and I were trying, so it wasn’t a surprise. I mean, it was a surprise—I got pregnant fourteen seconds after quitting birth control—but we were on the same page, in the same place. Have you and Cooper talked about it?”
“Talked about what?” my brother asked sleepily as he walked into the room, shirtless.
My niece’s tiny bottom rested in the crook of his elbow, and her curled body lay tucked into his rolling, tattooed bicep. Her sweet little face rested against his broad chest. His hand was almost the size of her entire back.
Brother or not, anybody’s ovaries would have blown like Old Faithful at the sight. I turned into a pile of goop, seeing West with something so delicate and dear in his hands. Lily’s face was rapt as she followed them with her eyes, and I nudged her in the arm.
“Careful, you’re gonna get knocked up again just for looking.”
West shot her a smirk of affirmation. The baby mewled, shifting her head to root around his chest. “There’s only disap
pointment for you there, baby. Come on, here’s Mama,” he cooed as he passed her to Lily’s waiting arms.
Then it was West’s turn to watch his wife and baby with absolute adoration. Lily’s world shrank to the baby in her arms. She murmured to the baby in gentle, undulating tones as she unlatched her nursing tank top and latched the baby to her in a motion so smooth, I didn’t see a thing beyond a sliver of skin. And West watched on, his face just beaming and warm and handsome, like he was drinking in the sight, committing it to his memory as a flagstone of a time of wonder.
I tried to imagine Cooper looking at me like that, tried to imagine the two of us with a new baby, operating like a well-oiled machine a couple of weeks after our lives and priorities and wishes had been turned on their heads.
Triggered by a dozen contradicting emotions, an unbidden sob shuddered in my chest, bubbling up to catch in my throat.
Lily’s face held compassion and understanding, but my brother’s tightened in concern.
He turned the full power of his gaze on me, his brows knitting together and jaw hard. “What’s the matter, Mags?”
I shook my head. “I …”
Concern turned to anger. “What did Cooper do? I swear to God—”
“No,” I said, staying him with my hand. “No, he didn’t do anything wrong. I … I’m pregnant.”
He blinked, and I watched the cogs and wheels in his mind shift and click as he processed the information. “You’re … pregnant?”
I nodded, my chin quivering. I heard myself laugh, a puffing sound of surrender. “I haven’t told him yet. I came straight here.”
West’s face shifted again, this time lightening. “Oh, Mags. Coop’s gonna be thrilled, I promise. This weekend, he’s—”
“West,” Lily snapped, her eyes hard on him, “I need the baby’s burp cloth. The lavender one with the tiny blue flowers on it.”
“But there’s one right—”