Everything Unexpected

by Caroline Nolan

  We’re both going to be re-prioritizing.

  “I know it might sound like I’m telling you to give up on some of your goals. Believe me, I’m not. I’m just offering another way to achieve them.”

  Even though I know Cassandra is trying to be helpful, her words aren’t quieting my anxieties. My fear of putting everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve on hold. Being overlooked at work. I don’t want to be passed up for the big cases or left behind when promotion time comes up. I don’t know how to say all this without coming across as the most selfish soon-to-be mother on earth, but I am selfish with this. I’ve worked too hard to for it to be all forgotten.

  “My career is important to me. And it will be important to this baby too. It will show how I provide for this family. Show him or her what you can accomplish when you work hard for something. I want to show my child I can be great at my career and at being their mother. Both at the same time.”

  “Leah, all I’m saying is to take advantage of what the firm can offer you. It isn’t just men running things upstairs anymore. The firm offers a very attractive extended maternity leave. We have a great relationship with the daycare down the street from the office. And we are a big enough and successful enough firm that there will always be a big case. Perhaps for the first couple of years, you won’t be on them. The ones that get the most attention but eat up all your time. And most likely, the day you find out you weren’t put on it, you’ll be angry and upset. But that evening, you’ll get to go home and put your child to bed. And you’ll be thankful you got to do so. The big cases will always be there and you will get them. And not just when the firm is ready to give them to you, but when you’re ready to accept them.”

  She must still see some of my hesitation because she finishes with this.

  “You’re a great lawyer, Leah. It’s not overlooked by me or the other partners. The work you’ve put in on the Bakker case has been exceptional thus far. Even if you did miss the first few days of trial,” she notes with a smile.

  I’m about to apologize for that again but she waves her hand, stopping me.

  “We have high hopes and big plans for your future at this firm, Leah. Believe in that. In the meantime, enjoy this,” she says, glancing down at my stomach.

  Instinctively, I brush my hand over my large bump and as if on cue, the baby moves, as though he or she is agreeing with everything Cassandra just said.

  “Thank you, Cassandra,” I say.

  She gets up and starts to head to the door.

  “Now, I expect to see you back at work next week—within a limited capacity. We were granted the continuance based on the precedents you found. I’m sure that will give us all the time we need to have the case dismissed. With any luck, this will be all over before that baby arrives and you can put your first big case under your belt.”

  “That would be amazing. Thank you,” I say, following her to the door.

  Once she’s on the elevator, I close my door and lean back against it. I look around my apartment, wishing I wasn’t alone. My thoughts immediately are of Shane, as they most often are. The unfair expectations I may have placed on him, the sacrifices I selfishly needed to see but wasn’t ready or willing to do myself.

  I look around my tiny apartment, to the piles of baby things scattered everywhere and realize I’ve dealt with this no better than Shane has. I’ve been criticizing him for the exact same thing I’ve been doing.

  I promise myself to stop that immediately. It’s hypocritical and unfair and I’m better than that. Shane deserves better than that. Maybe not everything has to be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. I need to stop rebutting everything Shane tells me. He was right when he said I never doubted him before.

  For weeks, we’ve both been trying to get back to the place we were at before any of this happened. That was our first mistake. Because we can never go back to that place. Too much has happened. The biggest being I fell in love with my best friend. There’s no going back after that. Nor do I want to. So if I can’t go back and I don’t want to stay like this, then I need to move forward, stop doubting and start believing.

  WHEN IT COMES to weddings, most men couldn’t care less about the flowers, the candles, or the lighting. Color schemes and chair coverings are things we only hear about. We nod in agreement, pretending we care, but we don’t. Because for most men, weddings are about the party. The booze. The bridesmaids. Not once have I heard a group of guys walk into a room and comment on the décor. Nine times out of ten, it’s always the same—where’s the bar?

  But I am the one out of ten. I’m the guy that walks into a room and immediately takes note of the lighting, the coloring, the scenery. My first thought is always how it will transfer onto paper—into a picture.

  I don’t photograph weddings but it doesn’t stop me from considering how all of this will affect the outcome of images frozen in time. I consider everything from the lighting to the space and all its angles, where I would be to capture the best shots of the perfect moments. I calculate how long before we lose the sun’s natural light. I think about which lens and which flash settings would work best. I scan every part of the room, ensuring not to miss any picture worthy shot.

  I can appreciate the work and the planning Holly has put into this evening. The cream and gold marrying perfectly together in this early evening light. The sun’s rays bouncing off the chandeliers, casting a glow in the room. And just beyond the doors, outside where the ceremony will take place, white and cream flowers cover almost every inch of the large wooden deck that overlooks the water. Two hundred white chairs equally lined, waiting for guests to sit in them. A group of violinists waiting to play for them. I’m about to close an eye and internally frame a shot when I stop myself, remembering I’m not responsible for capturing the perfect moments. I’m especially not responsible for them today. Instead, today, I get to be a part of the moments.

  Bryan comes up beside me dressed in the same matching suit I’m wearing and looks out at the scene in front of us.

  “Another man down,” he says, rolling ice cubes around in his nearly empty glass.

  “I see you found the bar. Shouldn’t you at least wait until after the ceremony?”

  “This is the only thing that’s going to get me through the ceremony,” he says, lifting his glass his lips. “Kendall was invited.” He looking around the room.

  I nod. “I know. You were the one who told Holly to invite her.”

  He shakes his head. “Who knows what kind of thoughts are gonna go through her head at seeing all this.”

  “Worse yet, what kind of thoughts might go through yours?” I chuckle.

  “Fuck that.”

  But I see his eyes roam around the room, his brain working. I’d tease him more about it but right now, I have other things to think about.

  “Everything set?”

  Bryan smirks. “It is.”

  I turn to face him, ready to tell him how much I appreciate everything he’s done these last few weeks, what he’s given up to help me. But he cuts me off before I can say any of it.

  “Don’t get hormonal,” he starts. “All of this,” he motions his hand to our surroundings, “is already breaching the limit of how much emotional shit I can take in one day.”

  I let out a short laugh.

  “Besides,” he shrugs. “It’s how it’s supposed to be.”

  I smile and nod, knowing that’s all he’s willing to speak of it. But we’ve said it all already. A nod of the head, a shrug of a shoulder. That’s all Bryan and I need.

  Together we watch as the chairs begin to fill and the violinists begin to play the John Legend song played at every wedding.

  “God, I need another drink,” Bryan says walking back towards the bar.

  Usually I’d be right behind him, but today, I stay where I am. I listen to the violinists play that song from beginning to end. Because I get it now. I get what song is about. What it says, what it means. What it feels like to want to give someone—all of
me.

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER, standing in front of two hundred guests, in between Bryan and Eddy’s brother Marty, I hear him ask his brother if he’s ready for this. Eddy’s simple reply says it all.

  “And more.”

  I smile, genuinely thankful I get to be a part of this. Eddy is one of my closest friends and to watch him be this happy is…inspiring. We’re facing the French doors, waiting for them to open. Waiting for the big moment. My eyes follow the photographer around, unable to stop critiquing where he’s standing to take his shots, why he isn’t taking the shot from a different angle, why he’s using a flash with this natural light. I do this for a few shots before I remind myself once again that it’s not my responsibility. I don’t have to worry about being in the right spot to catch today’s perfect big moments. Today, I can sit back and catch the smaller beautiful ones. The ones that don’t necessarily get frozen in time on camera but the ones that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

  Moments like this one. The doors finally opening, the music beginning to play that familiar, recognizable tune. This moment is one I know I will remember forever. The moment I get to watch the most beautiful woman in the world start walking down the aisle. And while everyone else only gives her a quick appreciative glance before moving their eyes back behind her, my eyes stay glued. I watch Leah walk down the entire length of the aisle, not sparing anyone else even a glance. Everyone but her disappears.

  Her long, one shouldered dress shows off her gloriously full breasts. Her sexy curves are perfectly covered by a light flowing skirt and her long hair is swept to one side, exposing her long slender neck. She looks unbelievable.

  I find myself replaying this moment in my head, only it’s a little different. Leah isn’t wearing gold and I’m the one standing next to the minister.

  I swallow hard.

  Not because that image scares me—quite the opposite. My nervousness comes from how badly I want that image to come true. Because when I look at Leah, I see more than just her. I see my future. I see my world. I see one body but two lives that make up my life.

  My eyes follow her as she joins us up at the front, the other bridesmaids lining up alongside of her. But I don’t let anything or anyone obstruct her from my view. I stay focused only on her, unable to look away. She senses it too. I see her trying to hide her smile, biting the inside of her cheek, avoiding eye contact with me. She stubbornly looks down the aisle, at the flowers, the guests, everything and everyone before finally glancing my way.

  “Beautiful,” I mouth at her. She shakes her head but her smile remains for a few more beats. And it’s the best thing I’ve seen in weeks. It’s been so long since anything I’ve said or done has made her smile. I don’t even care it only lasted a few seconds. That smile, those few seconds, gave me the hope I need for tonight.

  The rumble of everyone sitting back down in their seats still doesn’t break me from my Leah tunnel vision. I didn’t even notice Holly make her way down the aisle. I don’t pay any attention to everyone turning to face the front, the minister’s speech about love and commitment falls on my deaf ears. I barely hear the words that Holly and Eddy say to each other. I absolutely missed the part with the rings. I do catch a brief glimpse of the kiss. And with the prompting of those around me, I’m at least able to applaud when they are pronounced as husband and wife. I missed the entire wedding, and it happened two feet in front of me all because I couldn’t look.

  The violinists start to play and I quickly switch places with Bryan, bringing me to the back of our little line, making me the one who gets to escort Leah back up the aisle.

  I wait as the group partners up, first Holly and Eddy, followed by Marty and Holly’s sister and the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen. As soon as Leah and I are face to face, I extend my elbow out, inviting her to loop her arm through mine.

  “Wasn’t Bryan my escort?” she asks, her arm wrapping around mine.

  “As long as I’m around, I will always be your escort,” I tell her.

  And there’s that smile again.

  We walk arm in arm behind the rest of the bridal party. There is a small hold up as the photographer stops Eddy and Holly to take some pictures. It gives me a moment to whisper a few of the things I’ve been thinking over the last twenty minutes.

  “You are so beautiful, it’s really not fair to Holly,” I say into her ear.

  Her chest rises, the way it does when holding your breath. I’m thankful for that reaction, thankful it’s not a laugh or giggle. Because as much as I love those sounds, I don’t want her to laugh off the comment. I want her to know I truly mean it. So when she looks up at me and meets my eyes, I’m thrilled when she lets out her held breath and says, “Thank you.”

  WE TAKE HUNDREDS of pictures. No, thousands. Even I’m sick of it and this is how I make my living. Group shots, family shots, groomsmen only, bridesmaids only. It never ends. When Bryan mumbles his distaste and his need for a drink, I couldn’t agree more. Thankfully, a few minutes later, we’re told we are done and can now rejoin the party while Eddy and Holly take off to take pictures alone.

  “Finally,” I mutter quietly.

  “Come on, fuck face,” Bryan says wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Kendall’s inside and I need a fucking drink before I come face to face. I saw her cry several times during the ceremony. I’m fucking screwed.”

  I turn and watch Leah walk away with the rest of the bridesmaids. “Yeah, okay.”

  As the night wears on, getting Leah alone is nowhere as easy as I thought it would be. Between dinner, speeches, parents crying, crowds laughing, I can hardly grab her attention. After Eddy and Holly have their first dance, the crowd starts to move around in different directions. Most dance, others make their way out back onto the deck, and some, like Bryan, head straight to the bar. Only this time Kendall is right behind him, their hands intertwined. After an hour of guest pleasantries, I excuse myself and make my way to the only person I really want to talk to. Coming up behind her, I gently tap her on the shoulder, pulling her attention away from Holly’s mother.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I say, not sorry at all, “but our song is playing.”

  She looks at me confused but smiles and excuses herself. I take her by the hand and walk her out to the dance floor, turning her around to face me.

  “We don’t have a song,” she says.

  “We don’t?” I question. “We should fix that. The next song that comes on is ours.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  And as though God was finally doing me a favor, “At Last” by Etta James starts to play.

  “Perfect,” I say, smiling.

  “Could this be any more cliché?” Leah says shaking her head, almost embarrassed.

  “Wow, you are a romantic,” I tease.

  She looks up at me. “Did you plan this?”

  I laugh. “I wish I could take credit, but no. This, Comb, was fate,” I tell her. I pull her close, wanting nothing more than to hold and breathe her in, but she just stands in place, uncooperative. “Come on,” I urge her. “Wrap your arms around me.”

  She looks down at her large bump for a second before bringing her face back up to mine. “It’s a little hard,” she says, matter-of-factly.

  I reach down for one of her arms and wrap it around my waist while I take her other hand and join it in one of mine. Our body’s touch and a wave of elation at being this close jump starts my heart. I dip my head to the side of her face. I can smell the sweet scent of her shampoo as my lips move against the soft skin of her temple. “No it’s not.”

  Her body eases into mine, her fingers gripping my hand harder. I feel the tip of her nose hit the side of my neck, followed by her chest rising with a deep inhale. She’s breathing me in, filling her lungs, her entire body, with me. It makes me weak in the knees. This woman can affect every part of me without even trying. I close my eyes, mentally tossing up a white flag, surrendering to her. Whatever she wants, whatever she needs, I will give her.


  “I love you,” I speak into her ear. “More in love than I ever thought I could be. With the both of you.”

  I feel her stiffen, only making me hold on her more tightly. I keep us swaying, turning in circles on the dance floor, refusing to allow more than an inch of space between us. I keep my lips to her ear and make her listen without interruption. “I don’t want to talk about this here. I know you don’t either. But I had to say it. Because I can’t not say it. I can’t not tell you every minute, every day. I love you, Comb.”

  This time when she backs away, I give her space. I need to see her reaction, what her eyes say even if her lips won’t. And when she brings those big brown eyes up to meet mine, I’m so glad I did. Because I don’t see resistance or doubt anymore. This time, I see her own surrender as well.

  “Come home with me tonight,” I nearly beg. “To talk. I have so many things I want to tell you. Show you. The right way this time. Please.”

  She blinks twice before the corners of her lips rise a touch. “Okay,” she agrees.

  I smile, relieved, and release her from the firm hold I have of her against my body. My fingers trace along her jaw, nearing her lips. I want to kiss her. Need to kiss her. It’s been weeks since I could and I can’t wait any longer. She knows it too. She knows it because she knows me, understands me better than anyone. Better than I know myself. I drop my lips down to meet hers and place the softest kiss on her mouth. I don’t push for more because the connection is enough. I kiss her with promise instead of lust. With truce instead of fight. I memorize everything about this moment before I pull away, using the pad of my thumb to fix the small smudge of lipstick from the bottom of her lip.

  “I should tell you,” she says breathless, “that my expiration date tends to be around nine o’clock every night. And it’s already past ten.”

  I look down at my watch, nodding. “We could leave now,” I offer.

  She looks around at the crowd dancing around us. “Holly and Eddy would be so mad.”