“Okay, fine,” I huff, giving in. “Will it be much longer?”
“Nope. Just another few turns and we’re there.” The excitement oozes from his voice and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it’s contagious. Wonderfully, organically, intoxicatingly contagious.
After half of an unfamiliar song from the radio, the car comes to a stop over a gravelly terrain and my mind snaps with the possibility of vivid images for our secret destination. It could be the beach where we spent many lazy days jumping waves and building sand castles, or the park where Tommy and I used to steal kisses behind the bocce ball court. Either would be nice to revisit. It’s been so long since we were innocent and worry-free, so I’m more anxious now to get this thing off my eyes and see where he’s taken me.
“Ready, baby?”
“Do I really have to answer that?” My fidgeting hands and my sledgehammer heartbeat should be enough to give me away.
The weight of the car shifts as Tommy exits, closes his door, and then makes his way around to open mine. When the warm air hits my face, I recognize the aroma of the sea and take in a deep breath, smiling. “The beach?” I ask, tilting my head for him to remove the blindfold.
“You’ll see,” he answers, bringing his hands up behind my head and untying the bandana.
When I think the soft material will fall freely and give my eyes access to everything I’m imagining, Tommy’s fingers tangle into my hair, pulling my face closer to his. Still unable to see, his lips caress mine with soft strokes until his tongue traces the seam of my mouth, bidding entrance. I don’t deny the man I love this tender moment. I trust him—blind or not. He would never lead me astray. I fall deeper into our kiss, wrapping my arms around his neck, almost forgetting that I’m still unaware of my surroundings. In his loving embrace, I couldn’t care less if we were in the dog food aisle of the supermarket.
“Want to see now?” he finally hums, breaking our lip contact and leaving me hungry for more.
I take in the moment—with one sense hindered the others are on high alert. Salt water and fresh summer air infiltrate my nose and lungs as I breathe them in with a deep, expanding sigh. City sounds of cars and sirens mixed with the natural beauty of birds chirping and waves lapping hypnotize me. Peace washes over me and tears brim my covered eyes. This moment is beautiful and I can’t even see it. It hasn’t even happened yet and I’m already in awe. “I’m ready now,” I finally whisper, prepared for Tommy’s surprise.
But when I open my eyes and Tommy steps back—nothing could have prepared me for this. “Oh my god, Tommy. Oh my god!”
There’s always been this tiny spot I loved—underneath the Verrazano Bridge in an open meadow. Close enough to the hustle and bustle of the world to remember you’re not alone, but secluded enough to enjoy the privacy of a picnic or a clandestine make-out session. Today—unlike all the other times we’ve come here—there’s a magical array of items decorating the open space. Tea light candles, flowers in varying colors and types, framed pictures from our past, and in the far right—on a cobblestone path—is a hopscotch board, drawn in chalk.
“How did you—What did you—?” I don’t even know where to start, but I run over to the hopscotch board first, needing to see it for myself. I look down at Tommy’s handwriting and bring my hands to my chest. Is it possible for your heart to smile with memories? I think so, because that has to be what mine is doing right now.
Each square is numbered from 1 to 12—two extra squares than a regular hopscotch board. I scratch my head in confusion before noticing that next to each number is a word or phrase. As I read Tommy’s writing, it comes to me that each saying accompanies a year—all the years we’ve known each other—and they are descriptions of what Tommy and I meant to each other in that particular year.
The first one is labeled “friend,” the second one, “brother,” the third one says, “tag-a-long” and that makes me giggle. Tears start to fall from my eyes as I continue our chalk journey, reading youthful descriptors like “tutor” and “man hunt buddy.” But bittersweet sobs wrack my body when I happen upon words like “hero,” “soul mate,” “heart,” “reason to get up in the morning,” “love of my life,” “reason I stay up worrying all night,” and finally on number twelve “fiancé.”
I stare at the last box, with my hands covering my mouth. The sun has started its slow descent in the sky, casting a gorgeous pinkish orange glow over the exquisite gift Tommy has prepared for me. My sniffles and sobs are far more prominent than the buzzing background noise of traffic, nature, and life. This is our moment. Nothing else matters. He created it this way for me.
“Say something, baby.” Tommy’s crying too, his arms reaching out for me.
I fall into his embrace and weep, still unable to speak. The tears start out as sad streams of loss—an emptiness only my parents can fill. But after the realization of what’s happening sinks in, the emotions pump new life into my veins and the tears become those of the joy I’ve pushed away for the past two years. “I love you so much. I cannot believe you did this all for me.”
“I love you too. You can’t even imagine how much.” He kisses the top of my head, hugging me closer to his strong, protective body. “I have something to ask you, baby,” he says, clearing his throat and becoming serious, rigid. The sudden shift in his demeanor cannot be attributed to nerves, because he’s so got this. He’s managed to give me all the feels with a heartfelt hopscotch board. I know what’s coming next and I cannot wait for the words to escape his lips.
Holding my hands in his, Tommy kneels down on one knee and gazes into my tear soaked eyes. The two of us are blubbering fools—all kinds of emotions are running rampant under the Verrazano Bridge tonight.
Swallowing back a lump, or nerves, or both, Tommy takes a second and tightens his grip on my shaking hands. “I have loved you for as long as I can remember. It started with a nickel and it’s going to end with so much more than that. We’ve been everything to each other even when we weren’t together, but now that we are, I can’t ever let you go again. Gabriella Rossi, I want to be your hero until the day I die, I want to make you smile even when you want to cry, I want to give you children that will share your beauty and drive us crazy, but most of all, I want to show you that life is good, even when it’s not. Please do me the honor of becoming my wife. Please fulfill my lifelong dream of being your one and only.”
I don’t know how my legs don’t give out. How have I not passed out? This moment—this amazing, spectacular moment—is the epitome of Tommy and me. I am his, he is mine, and together everything is right. Together we are whole, perfect, and empowering. I cannot and will not say no to this—never again. “Yes, baby. Yes, I’ll marry you. You’re the love of my life and I can’t imagine spending it with anyone other than the boy who became my hero over a rotten game of hopscotch.”
“Oh, Gabby. Thank you. I love you so much.” Standing, he pulls me against him again, rocking me from side to side. “This one’s a lot better than that one, huh?” he jokes, talking about the elaborate hopscotch game he invented.
“The best,” I admit, kissing him—hard, deep, long and with every atom and molecule of me that loves this man. “You don’t think we’re crazy for doing this so young, do you?” It’s sure to cross everyone’s mind that we’ve lost ours. “We’re both still in college. There’s plenty of time for this. We don’t have to rush, you know?” I’m not doubting the proposal, just putting it all out there as logically as I can while wrapped up in such irrational wonderment.
“Time is a fussy son of a bitch, Gabriella. We both know that. I don’t want to waste a single second waiting to do what’s been destined to happen, inevitable to be, from the start. You are it for me. It doesn’t have to be tomorrow, but I want you to be my wife soon. No rush, but no procrastination either, baby. There’s no time like the present, and I’m not taking it for granted.”
His wise declaration stings me with a harsh reality. Time is not on our side, no matter how old or young we are,
because it’s not reliable and it’s not guaranteed. The indefinite nature of the way the world turns or when it ceases to exist is freaking profound, and if I think long and hard about it, I can work myself right up into a full on mental breakdown.
So, I’m not thinking about it.
Tommy’s right—I trust him, he knows what he’s doing. He’s never steered me wrong, he’s always had my back, and by becoming his wife I’ll have the undeniable assurance that I will always be protected from the great unknown.
“I cannot wait to be Gabriella Edwards and I’m ready whenever you are.”
Three weeks LATER
“I’m late,” I whisper into the phone, not wanting Gina to hear.
“For what? You don’t have class today, it’s Saturday.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I know it’s Saturday. It’s also the 15th—five days after my period was due.”
“Oh! Oh!” Tommy bellows. “You mean . . . ?”
“Yes, I mean you better get your ass here on your lunch break and stop at the drugstore on the way. Get one of those Clear Blue thingies, and be discreet. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I don’t need anyone around the neighborhood thinking you proposed to me because you got me knocked up.”
The silence from the other end freaks me out. He’s freaking out. I’m freaking out, but freaking out isn’t going to get us anywhere. We need to get this scare over with and be more careful in the future. God already gave me all I can handle by taking my parents. Surely he wouldn’t throw a teenage pregnancy at me too.
“Okay. Sit tight. It’s probably nothing, like you said, so let’s not go getting all holy shit about this just yet.”
“Exactly. Calm and collected. Easy peasy. We got this.” I say all that shit but I certainly do not believe it.
Breaking the news to Gina about the engagement was one thing. She wasn’t too mother hen about it. In fact, after we told her we were taking a year to plan everything, she was happy for us. But this? What the hell am I going to do if I’m pregnant?
“Come on, come on! That was the longest two hours of my entire life.” I pull the brown paper bag—way more discreet than those flimsy plastic things—out of his hands, and then drag him into my house. “Bathroom. Now.”
“You’re going to make me watch?”
“Of course I’m going to make you watch. If I have to sit in agony for the next—” I examine the box for directions—“five minutes, then you’re gonna sweat it out with me. Besides, this is all your fault, anyway.” I rip open the cardboard box and pull out the plastic covered stick.
“My fault? How’s this only my fault?”
“Because you’re the one with the penis.” I point at his pants with one hand while holding the pregnancy test underneath my stream with the other.
He shakes his head, shrugging in suspicion.
“Penises have sperm, sperm makes babies. I had an innocent ol’ vagina and non-useful eggs until you came along.”
“Wow, how technical you make screwing you sound. Nice.”
“Oh, just shh! I can’t think right now. We’ve got another four minutes.”
We sit in silence, circling the tiny bathroom like sharks. The second hand on the wall clock in the hallway makes a deafening ticking as it marks an end to our two hundred and forty second wait.
I look at Tommy. He gawks at me. We’re motionless, ignoring the white stick waiting on the sink to be read.
It’s one of those moments.
Stuck in time, frozen in our history.
Like the time Seth shoved me, playing hopscotch. Like the ringing of that telephone when my parents died.
It’s fate making itself known.
Tommy bum rushes the sink and picks up the stick, staring at it. “Blue plus sign. What does that mean?”
“A plus sign is the same as positive. As in not negative. I’m pregnant, Tommy.”
Tommy blinks rapidly, color escapes his face. “Holy fucking shit. You’re pregnant!”
Behind his shocked expression I can almost make out a hopeful smile. If I wasn’t so freaked out, I’d think this was all part of the way things were destined to work out.
Nine months later
Ah, you thought you’d turn the page and hear about how Gina slugged me when she found out about the baby. Or how my parents ordered us to get an abortion and then disowned me for not agreeing with them.
Well, all that did happen. Tenfold, plus five hundred.
Gina was livid. I’ve never seen her so angry.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you FUCKING kidding me? Pregnant! Gabriella, you’re only eighteen! Oh my god, Mom would’ve . . . forget Mom, Dad would have killed you.” She points a sharp finger in my face, and then pushes me—hard!
“What the hell are we going to do now?” she asks with her hands on her head. “I don’t know how to raise a baby. This was not in the job description, guys.” The poor girl is frantic. First, she loses her parents, then Gabriella becomes her daughter, and now this.
“I’m sorry, Gina,” I hook an arm around her neck. “We can get through this. I promise. This isn’t on you. This is my responsibility. Gabby is mine too. We’ll push up the wedding and do this the right way.”
I promised her that night that I would do right by her sister. And I haven’t gone back on my word yet. Especially when I made Gabriella my wife.
“I will not have those babies come into this world until you have my last name, Gabriella.”
She flails her arms in the air, fighting me. “You only want to push up the wedding because we’re having kids. No one gets married at eighteen and twenty one anymore, Tommy. We don’t have to do this now, we can wait until after they’re born. I’m not going anywhere.” She tries her best to be convincing, but it doesn’t work.
“Nope. Now. We’re getting married tomorrow. I rushed the paperwork, arranged it all. Tomorrow, you will become my wife—what I’ve wanted since I was sixteen years old—and we will be the best mother and father to those lucky girls.”
She gave in and made me an honest man the next day. The same day my parents called my wife ‘the troubled, knocked up, neighborhood orphan who ruined their son’s future.’
People like that don’t deserve to be part of my happiness and there’s no reason to dwell on any of it because it doesn’t matter. None of it affects the way my life is about to change in this one split second before my babies let out their first cries.
Gabriella always talks about those key moments in her life; when she felt the earth turn on its axis to make room for what was destined to happen as it happened.
I’ve had those moments too.
My first was the same as Gabby’s first: when that little fuckface pushed her.
The second was watching Gabriella walk down her staircase in that blue dress; the night I admitted my feelings for the girl I’d loved since I was ten.
There’s one that I think about with pure rage: when my parents turned their back on me and their unborn grandchildren. Gabby had lost her parents to an accident—that changed her forever. Losing your parents because they don’t want anything to do with you—that scars you for good.
But I wear my battle wounds proudly. They make me who I am at this very moment; the moment when I become a Daddy.
“One more push, Mrs. Edwards. Push hard and long.” The nurse cradles my wife’s head, pushing it toward her bent knees.
“You can do it, baby. Come on, Gabby. I’m here for you.”
With a whimper and a painful wince, she looks at me for approval. “Promise me? Promise me, always.”
“Always.” I bring her knuckles to my lips.
After one more solid push, my first daughter—Nina, named after her deceased grandfather, Nino—graces the world with her beauty. With a hearty cry and thick black hair, my baby girl steals my heart.
“Okay, Mrs. Edwards, that’s one down, one to go. Let’s do this so you can hold your daughters.”
Without an argument in return to the nurse’s bluntn
ess, Gabriella lets out a loud moan as another baby’s cries fill the room. “That’s my Stella,” I cry, reaching for my second daughter—this one named after the woman her mom called mom. “Oh my god, Gabby. They’re so cute, so tiny. Baby, we have a family.” I cannot contain my joy. I must look like such a wuss all emotional and teary eyed like some schnook in the movies.
“Bring them here, please. I need to see them.” Gabriella adjusts her hospital gown and the nurse brings one bundled package over to me.
“Baby A,” she indicates. A is Nina.
“Baby B,” the other nurse says, handing Stella to her mother.
“Wow,” my wife cries. “This is life. This is what makes me believe in fate.”
Gabriella kisses her daughters, first Nina then Stella and then looks up at me adoringly. The mother of my children is beautiful, even after twenty seven hours of labor and birthing six pound twins naturally.
“I’m in love.” Gabby beams, smiling through tears. “They are the two most beautiful creatures on the planet.”
“I’m looking at the three most beautiful creatures on the planet,” I correct. This sight is one I have already committed to memory. God damn it, this is nothing short of amazing.
Interrupting my special moment, a nurse returns to my wife’s side, nodding and handing some unknown instruments to the doctor who delivered the twins. “Everything all right?” I ask, concerned. These girls are my life, I need to know they’re safe.
“Everything’s perfect. She just needs a couple of stitches, Mr. Edwards. Why don’t you bond with your daughters for a few minutes while we take care of their mommy?”
Nodding like an over enthused bobble head, I scoop up one, then two of my precious babies from their mother. “I got them, Gabby. They’re safe with me. Let the doctor tend to you.”
“Thanks, baby. Don’t go too far.”
It’s not like I can even if I wanted to. This place is like Fort Knox; all bracelets and security measures, and Nurse Ratched eye-balling me.
Cradling Nina and Stella in my arms, I stare into their puffy pink faces and tears threaten to escape. Anyone who knows me can tell you I’m a man’s man, but all that aside, I’m about to bawl like a baby. “You girls are so beautiful. Do you know that?” I ask as if they can answer me. Nina coos—do one-minute-olds coo? Wow, what a genius! And Stella keeps her eyes closed tight, lost somewhere in newborn dreamland.
First Came You (Fate #0.5) Page 9