Forever & Ever

by Tere Michaels

  Griffin didn’t trust his voice, so he took another drink, blinking rapidly to keep his emotions at bay. He hadn’t slept in almost two days, running back and forth between the house and the hospital, soothing Caroline, who just wanted to know when Daddy was coming home.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said finally. Faintly. “We love each other.”

  “You called me a lot of names recently.” Sad yet sweet Jim was like fucking Kryptonite; Griffin girded his loins.

  Griffin put his soda down on the side table, then leaned his elbows on Jim’s bed. “Your stubbornness has been setting records, so I’m pretty sure you deserved at least forty percent of them.”

  Jim’s expression softened as he reached out to stroke his fingers against Griffin’s cheek. “I’m sorry about that. I can’t help myself sometimes.”

  “I’d apologize, but frankly if it took another hundred swear words to convince you to keep living, I’d do it.” Griffin’s glasses caught the few tears that escaped.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” Jim tugged Griffin’s wrist until he got out of the chair, and then pulled him closer. Griffin rested their foreheads together, breathing in the moment. “Promise.”

  “Let’s not tempt fate, okay? This decision is not entirely in your hands,” Griffin whispered, brushing their lips together. “Please.”

  “Promise,” Jim repeated, tipping his head just enough to kiss Griffin tenderly.

  Griffin didn’t realize he could cry and kiss at the same time. It wasn’t a skill he wanted to use on the regular. He had the urge to deepen the moment, to let the familiar rhythm take over, but his tongue remained dutifully in his mouth.

  The oxygen nodules were digging into his face, reminding Griffin where they were and why they were here.

  He pulled away, dredging up a smile as best he could. “Easy. If a nurse walks in on us, I might be permanently psychologically damaged.”

  “Too late,” Jim said, clutching Griffin’s hand so he couldn’t move too far away.

  “Sweet talker.” Griffin sat down again but kept his upper body close to Jim. “You should eat your soup.”

  “It got cold while you were pawing me.”

  Griffin rested his head against their joined hands. “You’re not going to wriggle out of this after you’re home, are you?”

  The quiet made him peek up.

  “I have never, nor will I ever, wriggle,” Jim said sternly.

  “Is that a challenge? Because you’re going to be in bed for a while, and I work from home….” Griffin felt his anxiety dissipating, melting a bit more with every twitch of Jim’s lips. They would be fine. Everything would be fine.

  Jim’s serious façade broke as he chuckled weakly. “Pretty sure that won’t be in the discharge orders.”

  They sat quietly for a moment—a comfortable silence that Griffin had been missing desperately.

  “I should probably call Matt, talk to him privately,” Jim mused, prompting Griffin to remember the thing he forgot to tell his husband.

  “Matt is currently occupied, waiting to become a grandfather.”

  “What?” Jim’s eyes went wide as he sat up. “Which one?”

  “Miranda went into labor. That’s why he isn’t glued to your side.” Griffin kissed Jim’s knuckles. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you.”

  “Did you send flowers?”

  “Not yet. She’s still laboring. Soon as Shelia is born, the order is ready to go.” While he wasn’t sleeping last night, Griffin had searched every flower delivery website in existence, looking for the most over-the-top pink bouquet he could find. The one he settled on would require Teamsters to get it through the door and included a four-foot pink floral-pattern stuffed giraffe. He loved it. “Matt’s going nuts.”

  “God, when it’s Katie’s turn….”

  They exchanged amused looks.

  “What’s wrong with them? We were so calm when Caroline was born,” Griffin deadpanned. The memories of them Keystone-copping it all over the maternity ward made him feel warm all over. And oddly sleepy.

  “Your father threatened to hit me with a chair if I didn’t calm down,” Jim said fondly.

  Griffin settled his forehead against Jim’s shoulder, still holding his hand tightly. “Remember when the nurse got mad because there were thirty-six people in Farrah’s room?”

  “Thankfully she didn’t pop in when there were forty-eight.”

  Jim rested his head atop Griffin’s, pushing him a little deeper into sleepiness. He’d wreck his back leaning this way, probably wake up with cramps—but for now, Griffin tolerated the discomfort to soak in the warmth of Jim’s body, the comfort of his breath against Griffin’s hair. His eyes fluttered closed as he drifted off.

  DAISY DROVE to the community pool and parked the Volvo under a tree to steal some shade. Beyond the bushes and Japanese cherry trees, a wrought iron fence separated the lot from the patio and, farther on, the pool. They also belonged to the local country club, but Sadie preferred the public pool, so they joined. Once a week, she played tennis among the Dutchess County elite—had a drink, ate a salad, and then escaped here, to watch Sadie and Caroline race each other from one end to the other, showing off their swimming skills.

  She sat for a moment, watching the comings and goings of the pool. Mothers and their damp children, faces pouty to have to leave so early (and it was always early, even five minutes before closing). A few nannies stewarding their charges to the concrete snack bar, waiting in long lines for churros and pizza and ice cream.

  If this were a movie set, Daisy would declare it wholesome and family-friendly.

  Her talk with Jim left Daisy distracted. She wanted to drive back to the hospital and clarify her own position. She loved her life. So much. She wouldn’t trade Sadie or Bennett or her freaking Volvo for anything. Hollywood could show up on her doorstep and she wouldn’t answer.

  “Gut check, Daisy Mae,” she whispered to her dashboard. “If Hollywood knocked, you wouldn’t at least listen?”

  The good parts—money and attention and people fussing over your every whim—whispered to her sometimes. The stage had never called to her like the lights of Los Angeles; she never expected to live in New York, doing a stage play a year. Teach little kids who wanted to pretend to be popcorn in the pot or animals in a zoo on the moon.

  In her lowest moments, she wondered about a comeback.

  They could all move to California. Bennett would do it—Bennett would do anything for her. Sadie was young enough; she might even think of it as an adventure.

  Daisy blinked as the pool took shape in front of her once again. And what if that adventure turned her back into the woman she once was? The drugs, the petty, ugly behavior. Treating other people like they were disposable.

  Griffin forgave her years ago. She would never forgive herself.

  “If it knocked, I would turn up the music and pretend I wasn’t home,” Daisy said out loud, feeling a little foolish. She probably needed a nap or a hug from her precious little girl.

  She got out of the car, bag and keys in hand. A few of the moms from the pickup line waved from across the lot as Daisy walked toward the entrance. Sadie’s soccer coach yelled hello as she showed her badge to the teenager at the gate.

  No one asked for her autograph.

  “Mommy!” Sadie shrieked. Daisy scanned the pool, spotting her daughter waving frantically from the deep end, Caroline bobbing behind her.

  “Hey, sweetheart!” Daisy located Georgia in her favorite chair, tucked under a large maple that leaned over the back fence. Her wide-brimmed hat and lightweight long-sleeve cover-up protected her pale skin from the sun. A magazine was spread across her lap, but Daisy could see her monitoring the girls.

  “Georgia, I am here to relieve you,” she said, reaching the housekeeper’s side.

  “How’s Jim doing?” Georgia smiled up at Daisy.

  “Grumpy, so he’s clearly feeling better.” Daisy settled down onto the lounge chair next to Georg
ia. The girls’ pool bags were piled up between the chairs, along with a soft-sided cooler. “Thanks for watching them this afternoon. They really appreciate it, and so do I.”

  Georgia began to gather her belongings, slipping her magazine into her straw bag. “Not to be crass, but you all pay me enough—more than enough—to take two sweet little girls to the pool.”

  Daisy laughed. “I appreciate the honesty.”

  “Taking my nieces on a Disney cruise for Christmas,” Georgia confided as she swung her legs over and stood up. “You need anything this weekend, I’ll be around.”

  “We should be okay, thanks.”

  Georgia patted Daisy’s shoulder and then hefted her bag up. “Fridge is full. They have plenty to get them until Monday.”

  “You’re a saint.” Daisy smiled up at her.

  “Eh, I’m a stress cooker. There, uh… might also be some stuff in your fridge,” she said sheepishly.

  “This is my mac and cheese pleading face.”

  Georgia gave her a wink. “Tell the boys to take it easy and I’ll see them Monday.”

  “Thanks, Georgia.”

  Daisy watched her leave, saw her pause at the water’s edge to say goodbye to the girls. They’d never gotten nannies, always preferring to share the load of taking care of Sadie and Caroline between them, but Georgia filled in more and more each year. Daisy and Bennett chipped in for her salary—and clearly it was time for a raise.

  She checked her phone: a series of reminders for various appointments, a list of dance camp supplies Sadie needed, emojis from Bennett intimating he’d be late but wanted to have sex with her. And then one message from Griffin: V is for victory.

  Relief washed over her. She hoped Jim could create a life post–everything else that filled him with as much joy as she had.

  “Mommyyyyyy!” Sadie said, sprinkling Daisy with water as she ran up.

  “No running, miss.” Daisy opened her arms, accepting a soaking-wet Sadie into her hug. “Did you have fun today?”

  “Yes.” She smacked a damp kiss to Daisy’s cheek. “Georgia made us lunch and we’ve been here for hours.”

  “Did you leave Caro in the deep end?”

  “Nope, I’m here.” Ever the quieter of the two, Caroline dutifully walked up, her hair tangled every which way.

  Sadie shifted without being asked; Daisy pulled Caroline into their pile, letting her clothes get wet.

  “How’s Daddy?” she whispered against Daisy’s ear.

  “Ooo, so much better! He was eating soup when I left.” She gave Caroline her biggest, brightest smile. “He might be home later today or tomorrow morning.”

  Caroline’s face broke into a happy grin. She wiggled closer to Daisy, letting her cuddle her a little tighter.

  “You guys want to swim some more? Or maybe we should go home, have some showers, and watch a movie.” Daisy inhaled their sweet suntan lotion and chlorine scent, comforted by their arms around her and each other.

  “Home,” Caroline said immediately, even as Sadie chimed in, “Let’s stay!”

  “Compromise? Another half hour, then we go home.” Daisy let the girls sit up, assessing their feelings about that. Sometimes Sadie got her way by default of being older and more aggressive, while Caroline tended to just agree.

  Sadie watched Caroline, while Daisy attempted to get the hair out of her eyes.

  “Actually,” she said, feigning a yawn—badly, in Daisy’s opinion—“I am a little tired. We should go home.”

  “Only if you want to.” Caroline shivered.

  In full caring mode, Sadie got out their towels, handing the first to Caroline before draping her sparkling unicorn one around her shoulders.

  “Oh, I do. I think it might even rain,” she said, peering up at the cloudless sky.

  Her daughter, Daisy concluded, was a truly terrible actress.

  CAROLINE FELL asleep during The Little Mermaid, not even twitching as Daisy and Sadie sang along to every song. In the nest of blankets and pillows on the family room floor, Daisy let her daughter’s weight ground her, contentment spreading over her like warm honey. Caroline curled up in a question mark, her head on Daisy’s hip. Sadie drifted off as the credits ran, allowing Daisy the chance to change the channel.

  Griffin texted her that Jim would be released in the morning sometime around ten. She happily spammed him with emojis while HGTV rumbled in the background—hearts mostly, and then a squirrel for no real reason. It made her smile.

  At nine she heard the key in the lock, the beeps and pops of the security system.

  “Quietly,” Daisy stage-whispered preemptively. “Sleeping children.”

  Bennett, still dashing in his suit after a full day at the office, appeared in the archway, a fond smile on his face. “Room for one more? I have some apricot brandy and a lascivious mind.” He held up a small brown bag.

  “Ooo, that sounds delightful. If you can help me get them upstairs, I might be able to fit you in.” She didn’t mean it dirty, but the second it left her mouth, she heard it. And the expression on Bennett’s face told her he heard it too.

  They broke into undignified laughter at the same time, with Bennett doing something stupid with his eyebrows that made her laugh harder.

  “Shhh,” she giggled, feeling both girls stir.

  Restraining himself, Bennett picked Sadie up; she sleepily wound her arms around his neck as he murmured to her. Daisy watched her husband and daughter, her heart full. Second chance at life, second chance at love, she thought. How fortunate they were to survive Bennett’s indiscretion.

  Caroline snored quietly as she was hefted into her godmother’s arms. Not everyone got to live next door to their best friend, but both she and Sadie got that pleasure.

  She followed Bennett up the stairs to Sadie’s room, whispering to Caroline. “Daddy’s coming home tomorrow. It’s all going to be fine.”

  10: Welcome, Shelia. And Mavan.

  EVAN MASKED every emotion—mostly fear—coursing through his veins as he sat in the waiting room, keeping his face neutral. Or so he hoped. They’d pretty much taken over the small space: Cornelia and Blake, Elizabeth, Danny, and Katie, who was updating Austin back at home. They cycled through everyone being loud and then shushing each other as they excitedly waited for Miranda to give birth.

  He held a cup of Starbucks Danny’d brought him almost forty-five minutes ago, presumably cold and disgusting at this point, but Evan held on to it like a lifeline.

  Matt was on the road, speeding back from Jim’s bedside. Evan’s phone buzzed repeatedly, as Helena wanted to know if there was any change to the situation as she packed to return to Florida with her mother. Evan just sat and held his coffee, hoping his smile conveyed polite anticipation.

  “You look like you’re going to explode like a piñata,” Cornelia whispered as she sat down next to him. She clasped his free hand in hers. “You okay?”

  “I, uh, hate hospitals,” he murmured. “Also, the control freak in me feels way, way too far from my kid right now.”

  She tightened her grip. “Miranda’s doing great. Kent said it shouldn’t be long now.” Cornelia sounded like a flight attendant giving crash directions, but her expression was basically the visual of Evan’s internal freak-out voice. “Shelia’s almost here, and you’ll have a better memory for a hospital from now on.”

  Evan started at that, the coffee cup wobbling in his hand. Oh.

  He offered Cornelia a smile, grateful his daughter had married into such a lovely family. “Thank you. That’s a really nice way of looking at it.”

  They sat quietly as the rest of the family took group selfies “for the baby.” A few minutes later the door to the waiting room flew open and Matt bounced into the room, trailed by a half-dozen balloons celebrating a new baby girl coming into the world.

  MATT BLEW through a hundred dollars at the hospital gift shop, purchasing all the giant pink balloons they had, a bag of assorted chocolate bars, and two sodas. That—along with the adrenaline
coursing through his body—would get him through to little Shelia’s birth.

  Given the past twenty-four hours, Matt did not imagine ending his day in the maternity ward waiting room, kissing his husband on the mouth, and waiting for his granddaughter to be born.

  “Did you save any balloons for other children?” Evan asked as they sat down on the creaky chairs, upholstered in nubby red fabric circa 1989.

  “Nope. Only Shelia deserves them.” He offered Evan one of his sodas. “How’s Miranda?”

  “Do you want dilation numbers or just general information?”

  Matt’s face did a grossed-out thing. “General information regarding the well-being of Miranda and our grandchild. Everything else I’ll take a pass on. I’d like to be able to look her in the eye.”

  “She’s getting close to pushing.” Evan smiled weakly. “Kent said he’d let us know when.”

  “And Miranda’s okay? No problems?” Matt asked.

  “Miranda is doing great.”

  Nodding, Matt settled back, opening his soda.

  “Jim?”

  He shrugged as he took a sip. “Better. He’s getting out of the hospital tomorrow. Griffin is making him retire, and I am now down a business partner.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it fell flat. “You need a job?”

  “I’m retiring so I can spoil grandchildren.” Evan rubbed Matt’s arm gently. “Maybe you can join me?”

  Matt considered this potential solution for about four seconds, but he was already shaking his head in response when he answered. “We need the money. Kids in college, still paying off the house. Plus—and I can’t stress this enough—retirement will make me loco.”

  “If I can manage it….”

  “Which you haven’t yet. So I’ll keep that job open just in case,” Matt deadpanned. He’d believe “relaxed, retired Evan” when he saw it in person for at least six consecutive weeks. “I can do it by myself, but it kind of sucks. I’ve gotten used to having someone to bounce ideas off of. Someone to do all the things I don’t want to.”