Love Rekindled (Love Surfaced)

by Michelle Lynn

  “I’m going to take these to the basement before she figures out we’re here.” He goes in the opposite direction from where Em would come from, and not be spotted with her Santa gifts.

  Maggie comes back from the laundry room and grabs Brad’s jacket from my hands. “Go, go. Spend time with her,” she urges, and I honestly couldn’t ask for better grandparents for Em. Maggie and Chris are caring, nurturing, and loving to her, but they never overstep when it comes to Brad and myself.

  I walk into the kitchen and Em’s on her knees on one of their breakfast stools picking cookies out of a tin and placing them on the counter. Chris spots me and smiles. Tiptoeing, I slowly walk over to her and tickle her sides.

  At first, she stills until I whisper, “Merry Christmas, Emelem.”

  She glances over her shoulder and smiles wide.

  “Mama.” She turns around and her small arms hold me tight around the neck.

  “Are you picking out cookies for Santa Claus?” I ask her and she pulls back, nodding her head.

  “With Pa.” I release her and she goes back to her task. She picks them up one at a time, examines each one, and then either places it on the plate or back in the tin.

  “Cookies. Did I miss cookie time?” Brad barrels in, bending over with his mouth open for a bite.

  “Dada, no.” She shakes her head. “Santa’s.”

  I suck my lips in, trying not to smile at how serious she is, but Chris is unable to hold back his own chuckle.

  “Me want cookie,” Brad mimics in his best Cookie Monster impression, which makes Em laugh like always.

  “Cookie?” she asks.

  “Me want,” he continues the act, and she’s loving every minute of it.

  Her small fingers pick up a sugar cookie covered in icing and lots of toppings. I’m thinking she had her hand in the cookie preparation as well. She shoves it in Brad’s mouth, and he shuts the tips of her fingers in.

  “Mmm mmm, good cookie,” he mumbles with crumbs falling from his mouth.

  Em’s hysterical laughter never ceases, her belly shaking uncontrollably. Brad grabs her hand, holding it to his mouth. “Cookie?” he asks.

  “No,” she answers like he really thinks her fingers could be a cookie.

  Brad swallows the remaining part of the sugar cookie and probably needs a gallon of water to get down all the sugar.

  “Dada funny,” she says, and he swoops her up into his arms to put her to bed.

  “Emerson sleepy,” he tells her.

  “No, not sleepy.” She fights, which I knew she would.

  “Just let her stay up a little longer.” I’m the one changing routines because I need a little more of her tonight.

  “But I had plans for us,” Brad whines. “Thought we’d go to Brecker’s. Tanner and Piper went over there.”

  “No, they’re at the McCain’s. The weather is horrible, so they didn’t go out.” Maggie moves to the family room and turns on the television.

  Brad lets go of Em and she runs into the room with Maggie, happy to be freed from her bedtime. “That sucks,” he says. “I thought it’d be good to get out.”

  “Actually, I’m super tired anyway. My feet are killing me.” I sit on the breakfast stool and bring my right foot up on the seat and massage it.

  “Looks like you have a job tonight.” Chris clasps Brad on the shoulder and joins his wife and Em in the family room.

  “You want me to draw you a bath?” He winks as though that’s code for something else. He’s insane, because we are not having sex in his parents’ house.

  “No, but thank you for the thought. I just want to cuddle up with you and Em and watch a Christmas movie.” I wind my neck around, cracking it.

  “Done. Let’s go.”

  We sit down on the loveseat with his parents on the couch and Em on the floor. Maggie turns on How the Grinch Stole Christmas and it keeps her interest pretty well.

  Halfway to Wooville, my eyes shut, and the next thing I know, it’s Christmas morning.

  “Wake her up, baby girl.” Brad’s voice urges our daughter.

  I pretend to sleep, so she smacks me across the face.

  “Ouch, okay. I’m up.” I grab her hand and shake my head. “No hitting.”

  “Oh, don’t yell at her on Christmas,” Brad, the softy, says. “Let’s go open presents.”

  “Presents? Santa?” Em’s little head volleys between the two of us. “Go!” she yells and slides off the bed onto the floor.

  “I think we better go before all the presents are unwrapped, including everyone else’s.” Brad jets out of the room as I put my hair into a ponytail.

  “I’m just brushing my teeth,” I scream out the door and run toward the bathroom. Brad will only be able to hold her back for so long.

  Five minutes is all it took for me to look halfway presentable for his family and she’s unwrapped one of her gifts already.

  “I tried, but she cried and we just couldn’t handle that,” Chris takes the fall.

  “She’s stubborn.” I raise my eyes at Brad, who laughs.

  “Come sit down.” He pats the spot next to him on the couch.

  The door opens and all the McCains and Piper file into the house. Maggie walks in with coffee cups lined up on a tray and a carafe in the middle. She places it on the table and Laney sets down a coffee cake.

  “We haven’t done this for a while, huh?” Laney says to Maggie and she laughs.

  “You all woke up early?” I glance at the clock. It’s only six o’clock.

  Dylan plops down in a chair and slides his baseball hat down his face to block out the light. Or go back to sleep. I don’t blame him.

  Piper hops on the floor next to Em, and the two of them scour the presents. “Grab one,” she eggs her on. “Do you want the one from me?” Em’s eyes open wide.

  “And me,” Tanner adds, and Piper laughs.

  “And Uncle Tanner.” She winks at him.

  Piper digs through the over-the-top pile of presents for one two-year-old and hands it to her. Piper is more excited than Em, quickly unwrapping it for her. It’s a Bitty Baby American girl.

  “Baby,” Em says.

  “Baby.” Piper sways it in her arms.

  Em’s eyes leave Piper and go back to the pile.

  “That’s my girl, see what’s next,” Brad encourages her and Em takes no time to open her next gift.

  While she’s busy and all the adults are pretending to be just as excited as she is, I notice Dylan texting on his phone. I nudge Brad in the ribs and eye Dylan.

  “Dyl, where’s your sidekick?”

  Dylan shrugs, never looking up from his phone.

  “She went to see her mom,” Piper informs us.

  “I didn’t think she had parents,” Brad says.

  “Her mom, but she lives in London.”

  “Actually, she’s in Italy now.” Dylan decides to chime in now.

  “I had no idea.” Brad looks down at me.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of a messed-up situation,” Piper begins talking again, but Dylan looks up from his phone and pins her with a look. “But it’s her story to tell.”

  She sinks back into Tanner’s arms and he kisses her temple. Whatever the situation, Dylan is more involved than Piper. If I had to bet money, it’s Bea on the other end of the phone he’s been on since he walked in the door.

  Finally, Em is finished and Chris is busy putting a toy together for her to play with.

  “Em, grab the one with the Candy Cane’s for Daddy.” I point to the gift and Maggie hands it to her to bring over.

  “Dada,” she says and plops it on his lap.

  “This is from me.” I pull out of his hold, so he has both hands to open it. Originally, I didn’t plan for this in front of everyone, but these people are all his family, and I think they’ll appreciate this as much as him.

  “I hope you didn’t pay a lot.” He unwraps the end.

  I grab Em on my lap because she should be here when he sees.


  “No worries there.”

  He looks at me from the corner of his eye, judging what on Earth it could be.

  My heart races as he lifts the box and moves the tissue paper out of the way. Adrenaline shoots through my veins, waiting for this moment.

  He stares down at it and says nothing. I want to urge him to respond and jump up and down in happiness with him. I watch his Adam’s apple move up and down, and when he finally looks up at me, there’s wetness glistening in his eyes.

  “Really?”

  I nod. “Always. From day one.”

  He picks up Em’s birth certificate and kisses the spot where his name is under father. “Emerson Ashby Delaney,” he whispers.

  “We just have to change her name to Ashby. They said it’s simple, but we need you to be there to sign the forms.”

  “Done.” He grabs Em and hugs her to his chest. “Not that I needed a piece of paper to say you’re mine.”

  Her hands land on his stubbled cheeks and she rubs back and forth, not understanding what all the commotion is about.

  “Thanks, Tay. This is the best gift ever.” He leans over and kisses me.

  “You’re welcome,” I murmur against his lips.

  “Well, that only leaves one more thing.” He claps his hands with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Although, in my opinion, paper means absolutely nothing, it’s nice for proof. So, we just need one more piece to make this all provable.”

  He digs into the couch, pulling out a small box. He slides off the couch and falls on bended knee in front of me. My hands fly to my mouth and Em instantly rushes back over from the sound of my gasp. She stands between me and Brad, her head ping-ponging between the two of us.

  “Taylor Delaney, I wasted too much of my time away from you. Be my wife and put me out of my misery, because a life without you is far worse than a life without competing.”

  Tears cascade down my cheeks and I nod. “Yes,” I answer, and Brad takes a hold of my left hand, slowly lowering it as he slides the ring onto my shaky finger. The round diamond sparkles under the lights of the family room.

  “We’re getting married,” Brad yells throughout the house and everyone throws a bunched up ball of wrapping paper at him.

  As the room empties, Brad and I find ourselves cuddled on the couch, watching our daughter play with her presents.

  “Never would I have guessed I’d be with you this Christmas, let alone be engaged,” I admit, holding my hand out in front of me, admiring the ring.

  “Stick with me, baby, and I’ll keep you on your toes.”

  “I have no doubt our life together will be fun and spontaneous.”

  “And filled with love.” Both our eyes shift to Em and back to one another, sharing a smile.

  “Definitely love.”

  Meanwhile in an upstairs bedroom . . .

  Piper

  “Come here,” Tanner sits on the edge of my childhood bed, his arms stretched out for me to come.

  I slide the box behind my back and saunter over to my fiancée. Once I’m within reach, he pulls me between his legs and his hands rub up and down my hips.

  “Pretty cool for Brad and Taylor,” he says, his head falls to my stomach and usually my hands would be weaving through his hair.

  My stomach is churning, turning, flipping, and fluttering, unable to stay calm because I’m nervous about how Tanner will respond to my gift. Knowing I can’t keep this secret much longer, I bring the small rectangle box out from behind my back and place it under his face.

  His head lifts, and his hands grab a hold of the box.

  “I thought we already exchanged?”

  He’s right. The evening before we flew home, we opened our gifts to each other, but this was unexpected. If I’d done the math at that point, I could have told him in the comfort of our apartment rather than in my childhood bedroom. Not to say this isn’t perfect in a way. The many hopes and dreams I had that Tanner and I would have a future were born in this room.

  “This is just a little something for both of us.” He raises one eyebrow and my hand grazes down his cheek. “Open it.”

  His fingers rip open one end and I fall to my knees in front of him. My heart pounds in my chest from the anticipation of this moment.

  His eyes flicker to mine with every inch further in the unveiling as though he’s worried about what could be resting in the box. He balls the wrapping paper into a ball and I roll my eyes. “Open it,” I urge, my hands itching to flip the cover off myself.

  “Patience,” he says with a smile.

  He lifts the top lid off the box and there, nestled inside, is the pregnancy test I took when we got here in all its plus-sign glory.

  “You’re, I mean we’re . . . pregnant?” His eyes shine with bliss and I exhale a relieved breath. I assumed he’d be happy, but we didn’t plan for this to happen until after the Olympics.

  I nod, tears brimming my eyelids. “Man, I don’t know what to say?”

  Wait, what?

  “We’ll be three then,” he continues.

  My lips transform into a pouty frown and I look up at him through my eyelashes. “Yeah.”

  He places the test on the bed and slides to the floor, taking my hands in his. “Three is my unlucky number.”

  I remember every time he competes in lane three he’s lost, deeming it his unlucky number.

  “That really doesn’t mean anything in regards to us.”

  He draws back, his eyes widen in shock. “Yes, it does, so unless you have more than one baby in that belly, we’re gonna get cracking on number two right away.” His lips curl into a devilish grin and I relax, moving into his arms.

  I lean back into my fiancée’s strong arms wrapped around me, his hands lovingly on my stomach. “You scared me for a second.”

  He kisses my shoulder. “How could you think I wouldn’t be happy? We’ve talked about it.”

  I link my fingers with his as they cover the spot our baby is growing. “We said we’d wait.”

  “No, you said we should wait. I was following your lead.”

  A memory of the times we talked about it proves he’s right. I was more sold on waiting until after the Olympics. Tanner’s so casual I’m not sure he would have cared.

  I shift in his hold, loving the feeling of safety he brings me. “We’re going to be a family,” I whisper and his arms tighten around me.

  “So, how long do you have to wait after the baby is born to try for another,” he says and I turn my head to see a dead serious expression on his face. “What? You thought I was joking? Nope, we’ll need to have that second right away. We can’t afford my luck to run out.”

  I laugh, not completely put off by the idea. “You’re crazy.”

  “About you,” he kisses my cheek.

  Thank you for reading Love Rekindled. If you’d like to get the latest information on Michelle Lynn’s releases, sales, and upcoming books, please join her newsletter.

  Keep scrolling to check out Michelle’s Don’t Let Go, first chapter attached.

  Michelle is a USA Today Bestselling Author. She moved around the Midwest most of her life, transferring from school to school before settling down in the outskirts of Chicago ten years ago, where she now resides with her husband and two kids. She developed a love of reading at a young age, which helped lay the foundation for her passion to write. With the encouragement of her family, she finally sat down and wrote one of the many stories that have been floating around in her head. When she isn’t reading or writing, she can be found playing with her kids, talking to her mom on the phone, or hanging out with her family and friends. But after chasing around twin preschoolers all day, she always cherishes her relaxation time after putting the kids to bed.

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  DON’T LET GO


  Four Months Ago Drayton University

  HE SLAMS ME against the door, his lips crashing to mine. His hands explore my body, and I wrap my right leg up around his, inching my already-too-short dress higher up my thighs.

  His lips linger along my tear-stricken cheeks, grazing the lines of stained mascara. Making his way to my neck and then traveling to my ear, he nibbles my earlobe. My head falls back with a small knock on the wooden door, basking in the feeling of his lips and hands.

  “Make me forget,” I whisper.

  “Oh believe me, when I’m done with you, you won’t even remember your name,” he says, grabbing my ass, forcing my legs to wrap around his torso.

  While I’m straddled around him, he carries me across the room, his lips on mine, thrusting his tongue deeper in my mouth with every step. My arms are tight around his neck, keeping him close. This feeling of safety is what I crave. It’s the reason I’m here right now.

  As he throws me on the bed, our eyes never leave one another. Pulling on my legs, he yanks me to the edge of the bed, grabbing my leg to carefully remove my shoe. His hands inch up my legs until his fingers are tucked around each side of my black thong. Sliding the strings of fabric down my legs, he tosses the tiny piece of silk onto the floor before returning to push my dress up, exposing me to him. His breath hitches in his throat when he caresses me with his eyes. He starts unzipping his dress slacks, and they disappear to the floor. After he shuffles to the nightstand, he’s on top of me, and all I care about is that for the next five minutes, if I’m lucky, all the pain will be gone.

  “I’ve been waiting so long to have you,” he whispers, entering me hard and rushed. Once he’s in, he stills. “Oh . . . so worth the wait.”