by Hart, Staci
I stepped behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. My chin rested on her crown, my hands on the flat of her stomach. But I didn’t mention my hopes for the future.
First things first.
“You ready for this weekend?”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, leaning back against me. She didn’t say anything more.
I couldn’t help but frown at her lack of enthusiasm. “Weather’s supposed to be great. I thought we could stop and anchor before we get to the Hamptons.”
“Sounds good.” The knife clicked on the worn wood.
My frown deepened. “Everything okay?”
A sigh, a deep sound, heavy with something she wasn’t telling me. “Everything’s fine.” Her voice was happy but tight around the edges.
“That was convincing.”
She set down her knife and turned around in my arms. “Everything’s fine, I promise. I’m just tired.”
“Want me to cook dinner?” I asked.
Maggie smiled. Her arms wound around my neck as best they could, given her height. “If you want. I’m not really hungry.”
I hummed, leaning down for an easy kiss. “Well, I don’t want you to cook just for me.”
I bent down a little more and swept her up in my arms. She chirped in surprise, her arms squeezing my neck to hang on. She didn’t need to. I had her, and I wasn’t likely to let her go.
“My girl is tired and not hungry,” I said, moving toward our bedroom. “Sounds like we should spend the rest of the night in bed.”
She laughed. “What about you? Aren’t you hungry?”
I smirked. “Oh, I am. But not for anything in the kitchen.”
She would have laughed if I hadn’t kissed her first.
I laid her down in bed and climbed in after her, keeping my lips on hers where they wanted to be. I stretched out next to her with her small body tucked against mine, kissing her without demand, just absolute contentment in the feeling of her small face in my palm, the tip of her nose brushing against the side of mine, her soft, humid breath against my cheek. I could have kissed her like that forever. If tomorrow went well, I would.
She broke away, settling back into the bed. I propped my head on one hand, tracing the curve of her cheeks and the shape of her chin with the other. Our legs tangled together.
“You didn’t tell me how your day was,” she said.
“Tragically boring. The best part of my day was coming home to you. Always is.”
Her cheeks flushed prettily. I thumbed the heat of her freckled skin.
“I’ve been looking forward to this weekend forever,” I said softly, knowing she wouldn’t know what I really meant. I wished I could say more. I wished I could ask her the question right then, like I almost had a thousand times.
The perfect moment awaits. You’ve held off this long. Be patient for twenty-four more hours.
“It’ll be fun,” she said, this time meaning it. “It’s been too long since we’ve gone sailing. I hate being busy.”
“Me too.”
She reached for my tie, busying her hands and eyes. “Tell me the story again.”
“Which one?” I asked.
The whisper of silk filled the silence. “About our future.”
One side of my lips rose. My hand found her hip. “Well, one day, I’ll whisk you away to a beautiful place, the perfect place, and I’m going to get down on one knee and ask you to love me forever.”
“I’ll already love you forever,” she said, as she always did.
My smile widened. “Well, I’ll make you promise.” I said, as I always did.
She chuckled.
“And you’ll say yes—I hope, at least—with your face shining and surprise in your eyes even though I’ve told you this story a hundred times.”
“Two hundred at least.”
“And then you’ll kiss me, and I’ll put the ring on your finger where it’ll stay forever.” Forever. I went on, “We’ll get married wherever you want—New York, Jackson, Fiji. I don’t care where, so long as you’re there in a white dress with the words I do on your lips.”
That earned me a smile. Her eyes met mine like the brush of a feather before shifting back to her hands. Her fingers worked the top buttons of my shirt.
“Then, we’ll travel every chance we get. I want to see you in every hidden corner of the world. I figure, between your job and mine, it’ll take three or four years to hit all the places left on our list. And when we’re ready, we’ll settle down and start a family.”
Something passed across her face, gone before I could place it. “Why haven’t you asked me yet, Coop?” The question was gentle, quiet, without accusation.
I swallowed to force my tight throat open and said slowly, gently, “Because I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment.”
“But what if there is no perfect moment? What if there’s no right time or being ready?”
Something in her voice struck me. I reached for her face and tipped it so she’d meet my eyes. “What’s the matter, Mags?”
Her eyes shone with tears, and she shook her head. “I just love you.”
“I love you, too,” I said, the words drawn from deep in my chest. “Maggie, I—”
“Kiss me,” she said.
And I obliged. Soon, she wouldn’t have a single question, a single doubt in her mind. Tomorrow, she’d know.
8
Punsies
Maggie
“I have two whole hours and iron-on letters. Somebody, stop me,” Lily said with a wide smile on her face. She brushed past me and into the apartment with canvas shopping bags on each arm and Rose in her wake, saddled with a couple of her own.
Rose gave me a smile that could have been considered apologetic.
Lily headed into the kitchen and began unloading her haul. “How are you feeling, Mags?”
I grabbed a bag and began to unpack it. “Like I could sleep for a week and never eat again.”
“Ah, you need the beige diet,” she said with authority.
Rose and I exchanged a curious look.
“The what?” I asked.
“The best way to combat morning sickness—otherwise known as the longest six weeks of your life—is by strictly eating beige food. Pasta. Bread. French fries, hash browns, oatmeal, if you can handle the mush. Applesauce. Chicken nuggets are close enough, but don’t try dipping them in anything unless you want gastrointestinal pyrotechnics. And crackers. Put them everywhere. In every bag you own, in every room of the house.”
“I feel like I should be taking notes.”
She sighed, as if it had all happened to her in another lifetime. “There’s so much I wish I’d known. Like that nursing a baby meant my nipples couldn’t withstand the shower stream for weeks. Or that my vagina and asshole would become one.”
Rose snorted. “You’re disgusting.”
Lily shrugged. “Just wait until you poop a little while you’re pushing in front of a room full of people. People who happen to all be staring at a small human exiting your sacred valley.” She shook her head. “I had never known humility until becoming a parent. I have been covered in bodily fluids more times in the last two weeks than the sum of my entire life.”
Rose glanced at her and fingered the sleeve of her kimono. “Is this baby puke?”
She wrenched her neck around to see the offending stain. “Probably. But what do I care? I’m out of the house for two whole hours, and I’m wearing a real bra and pants with a zipper.”
Rose’s eyebrow climbed.
“Okay, I’m wearing maternity pants, but they’re denim, and that’s a big deal. Give me this one thing, Rose!”
She lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine.”
Lily turned back to me, and her bottom lip slipped between her teeth. “I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I? I am. I’m sorry.”
“No,” I assured her. “It’s really …” I sighed. “I mean, a little, but it’s okay.”
“Did you tell him yet?” Ro
se asked cautiously.
Another sigh, this one heavy. “No. Lily said to wait until this weekend. I’ve been racking my brain for a brilliant way to tell him, but I’ve got nothin’.”
“Well,” Lily started, assessing the pile of craft supplies on the table, “you’ll be on the boat and in the Hamptons. Something with the ocean?”
I laughed. “I thought about, Holy ship, we’re having a baby!”
Lily lit up. “Or a little onesie with picture of a lobster that says, Oh, snap!”
“I would have told you schooner, but I was turtley busy,” Rose said.
“Sorry if I’m crabby. It’s the seaman’s fault.”
Rose howled. “Oh my God. Seaman.”
“Nauti, nauti seaman.” Lily leered. “Dropping anchor in the lady cave.”
“Oh, the indecenSEA.”
Our laughter died down, and I sighed. “I don’t know. I think I’ve just got to come out with it. Everything pales next to what he’d do.”
“Well, it’s not like you have the connections to get the New York Symphony to parade through Central Park with a We’re Having a Baby banner,” Rose said.
I sighed. I’d done a lot of that the last twenty-four hours.
“No more of that,” Lily said. “I swear, you’ll feel so much better once you tell him. The worst part is not knowing what he thinks. All you can do is assume. And you know what they say; that makes an ass out of u and me.”
Rose rolled her eyes, chuckling again.
“What? Sun’s out, puns out.”
Rose turned to me. “I don’t know much about colorless diets or nipple cream, but I do know relationships. And here’s the truth—everything is going to be fine. Lily’s right. The waiting is the hardest part. As for how you’ll tell him … well, that’s what we’re here for.”
“I just hope I can pull it off. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that life never turns out according to plan. It’s the universe’s joke on us,” I said. “Cooper said last night he didn’t want to have kids for years after we get married, which he hasn’t even asked me to do. I just hope he’s ready.”
Something passed between them, but Rose spoke before I could comment on it.
“Well, do you feel ready?” Rose asked.
“Not at all,” I said on a laugh.
“But you want to do it anyway,” Lily added.
“I do. I really do.” The answer required no thought.
“Then it stands to reason that Cooper will feel the same way. When’s he home?”
I checked the clock. “In a couple of hours or so. I still need to pack. I was supposed to get up when he left this morning, but I slept for two full hours. I swear, I could curl up and sleep some more.”
“Who knew growing a person was so much work?” Rose said, smiling.
“Okay,” Lily said, sorting through Craft Mountain, “we’ve got some of the baby’s onesies she’s never worn, iron-on letters, fabric paint, and a load of puns. Are we ready?”
“Shell yeah,” Rose crowed.
“Yeah, bouy!” I cheered.
And we rolled up our proverbial sleeves and got to work.
An hour later, we had four punsies—as we’d come to call them—two iron burns, one pricked finger, and three sore throats from laughing to show for our hard work. We were packing Lily’s supplies up when she cringed, her face twisting up in pain.
She pressed a hand to one breast. “Ow, ooh, ah!” She hissed between her teeth. “Baby needs to eat. My milk just dropped like a sick-ass beat.”
“Sounds like a really bad rap song,” Rose said.
She leaned, folding her arms across her chest with all the attitude of Salt-N-Pepa. “Word to the motha. Who is me. And now you, homie.”
“Don’t quit your day job,” I said as I stepped into her for a hug.
She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so thoroughly, I was on the edge of tears again.
“Don’t worry, Mags,” she said gently, swaying me just a little. “We’re here for you. Go this weekend. Tell him about your zygote and spend the weekend in bed together eating toast. Just so you know, eggs are deceivingly not part of the beige diet.”
My laughter was muffled by my stuffy nose.
She leaned back to look at me. “We love you.”
“So much,” Rose added from my side.
“I love you, too. And it’s gonna be okay. Right?”
“Hundred percent,” Lily said without hesitation.
And I found myself smiling. “Then I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
I ushered them out with more hugs and calls for good luck and parting advice. Once the door was closed, the quiet was a comfort. I made my way to our bedroom, left alone with my thoughts,.
It was a huge room with windows that looked over the old building across 97th that sat along Fifth. Never had I gotten used to the wealth that Cooper’s inheritance and now job provided, but at least I didn’t mind it so much anymore.
I made my way to the closet, which was the size of my room when I’d stayed at Lily’s old apartment, and grabbed my duffel bag. One drawer at a time, I gathered up all the things I’d need for the weekend, including the clothes I’d wear to sail and a couple of cocktail dresses for dinners.
I slipped on the boatneck sweater, thinking about the salt on the ocean wind, imagining standing at the bow of the sailboat with the sunshine on my face. A vision struck me of us on a boat with a little boy who had Cooper’s tilted smile and bright, clever eyes, a shock of dark hair on his head, as he darted across the deck and into his daddy’s arms. I saw in my mind Cooper teaching him how to tie knots, showing him all the parts of the boat, explaining how to catch the wind, how to chart using maps instead of GPS.
And then I had an idea, one that outshone the punsies and speeches in my mind. When I reached into the shelf in my closet, I knew.
It’s gonna be all right.
And for the first time, I believed it with unfailing hope.
9
Pearls
Cooper
A salty breeze brushed across us, kissing our skin, kicking up the ends of Maggie’s hair as if it wanted to carry her away. The tendrils danced in the current, curling like smoke.
We sat in a cove just west of the Hamptons, enclosed by a curving rise of land, generous by Long Island standards though nowhere near what one might call a cliff. But it was enough to shelter us.
The sun chased the horizon, dipping closer to the sea with every minute. It had been cloudy all day, and as the light slanted through the atmosphere, it painted the sky in golds and pinks, blues and yellows, in a mix of color so saturated and luminous, it defied my senses.
My gaze shifted to Maggie. Her eyes were soft and heavy with wonder and contentment, her cheeks pink and sun-kissed and glowing.
All afternoon, we had sailed, moving like a single unit, tacking and jibing, adjusting the lines, taking turns at the helm. We’d also taken the time to just be, to stand on the bow, to sit on the deck, to feel the thrill. There was a moment where I’d stood at the helm, hands on the wheel, as she tightened the mainsail. Her hair had been in a braid down her back, but it never stayed put, the wild curls always working their way loose. When she’d turned to look back at me over her shoulder, her smile shining and eyes alight, those strands across her face like streamers, I’d felt the truth I’d always known, felt it so deeply, I’d braced myself and locked my knees against the force of emotion.
She was everything I’d ever wanted. She was the sum of my universe, my reason for everything.
Maggie turned to look at me, the pink that smudged her cheeks from the sun deepening with a flush. She smiled. “What?” she asked, though she knew the answer.
“You’re perfect,” was all I could say.
Her smile fell, though her face didn’t darken. Her brows tilted together. “There’s no such thing as perfect, Coop.” The words were quiet, touched with some meaning, some context I didn’t understand.
My heart lurch
ed in my chest. “But there is.”
She watched me with curiosity as I rose. Curiosity turned to surprise when I took a knee at her feet. Surprise turned to a deep, stunned gasp when I pulled the box out of my pocket and opened it in display. Her hand flew to her lips.
“I have been waiting for this moment since I first held you in my arms. I’ve known since the beginning that I loved you, and I only hoped that someday, you’d love me too. All I want is you, forever. Marry me, Maggie. Marry me and make my dreams come true. I’m yours. Say you’ll be mine.”
Her eyes were full of love and tears, but the color had seeped from her face, leaving her gray and waxen. She didn’t speak, just stared at the ring, her hand clamped over her mouth.
Three heartbeats, and the muscle clenched painfully. Five more had it throwing itself against my sternum.
“Mags,” I said gently, “please, say something.”
Her eyes flew to mine, wide with panic, before she shot out of her chair and bolted for the edge of the boat.
For a split second, I didn’t register her retching for what it was, but the moment I did, the ring box was back in my pocket, and I was at her side. I gathered her haphazard hair and took it from her hand, resting the other on her back.
My brow quirked as I soothed her. She’d been seasick all day, which wasn’t like her at all. We’d sailed a hundred times and in far worse conditions, and never had she gotten sick. Inexplicably, it had stopped her from the champagne at dinner and left her picking at the salmon I’d cooked us for dinner.
When she finally emptied her stomach, she straightened up. I pulled her into my chest, smoothing her hair. Her small hands clutched at my shirt under her palms as she tried to catch her breath.
“Water,” she croaked.
I guided her back to the chairs and handed her a glass.
“I think I saw a boot come outta you,” I said with a chuckle as she took a sip, swished it around and spit it over the side of the boat, then found her way back into my arms. “You all right?” I asked, trailing my hand up and down her back.
Her face shifted against my chest. “Coop, I …”