by Matayo, Amy
He clicks the phone off and speeds up a little, the swish-swish of wipers doing very little to clear our vision. I’m white-knuckling my own thigh before I realize it’s beginning to hurt.
“You probably shouldn’t be driving so fast. How do you think we’ll make it by tonight when it’s taken us so long just to get this far?”
“We have to. You heard me, I promised.”
At this, I sigh. “I heard you, but I’m not real convinced. Hopefully, the storm will let up soon.”
The truth is, this storm isn’t letting up at all. Watching snow fall at such a steady rate has left me with near-crippling anxiety, a fair amount of fear, and a strong desire to eat cake. You try traveling a solid day surrounded by sugar and see if you find yourself craving potato chips. Trust me, you won’t.
“It will. And I promise not to do anything stupid. We just need to get there. Why don’t you try and take a nap? I’ll wake you if I need any help.”
He’s right. Resting a bit might do me some good. I settle into my seat with a sigh. “Alright, but be careful. I’m really worried that—”
I don’t have a chance to finish that sentence.
Because the car starts sliding.
We veer to the right.
Spin backward until we’re facing the wrong way.
And come to a stop in a ditch.
But it’s the words that come out of Chad’s mouth next that really put everything in perspective.
“I swear on my life, this family is cursed.”
I say nothing. But yep, sure feels that way.
So much for a nap.
* * *
Chad
Trust Your Gut.
It’s a popular saying. They paint the words on two by four sheets of plywood and sell them for an ungodly amount of money at popular craft stores. You hear the words on well-known podcasts, usually more than once a week if listening to them is your thing. Trainers shout the words during workout sessions resulting in you stifling the desire to trust your gut and quit doing push-ups. You might even say them to yourself when faced with an usually uncomfortable situation. Like me yesterday, when I had the fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—we would have been better off flying to Nashville, even if it meant boxing the cake in four separate checked bags and trusting baggage handlers to get them there safely. An impossible idea, but I considered it for a second.
Turns out, the thought wasn’t as dumb as this decision to drive.
Beside me, Riley is quiet. We landed in this snowbank a good thirty seconds ago, but so far, there’s been no reaction from her. For a girl who normally has more opinions than the Op-Ed section of the New York Times, this has me slightly freaked out.
If freaked out means scared for your life.
I’m an insurance adjuster by trade. There’s no adjusting this situation.
I run my hands across the steering wheel and take a deep breath. “Can you say something, please?” We’re stuck in a pile of what looks like four feet of snow, and the only thing visible is a seven-inch strip of the windshield that reveals nothing but more snow. She’s bound to lay into me for this, because although the woman loves me, there’s only so much one person can put up with. Especially considering I’m marginally certain I heard boxes smashing together in the back seat when we jolted to a stop. I haven’t risked a backward glance yet. The word “coward” comes to mind, though I’m not about to verbalize it.
Still, despite everything, I don’t get the response I was prepared for.
Riley laughs. She throws her head back, and it might be verging on hysterical, but it’s still laughter. As long as it doesn’t devolve into tears, I’ll take it.
“What is so funny?” I ask, trying not to laugh myself. Everything is funny. Pathetically funny. If Ripley’s Believe It Or Not was still a television show, our situation would make the highlights for sure.
“Nothing is funny!” Riley gasps, wiping at tears, shoulders shaking next to me. “Not one single thing. But I can’t stop laughing.” She sniffs and keeps going. “I baked and decorated a four-layer wedding cake in seventeen hours with no sleep, and I’m still finding icing in my hair. There’s a snowstorm happening in Tennessee that people in Alaska probably couldn’t cope with. It’s taken us a full day to drive a route that would normally take three hours. We stayed in a pay-by-the-hour motel last night with a quarter machine by the bed. Your country-singing superstar roommate fell off a roof, we just got stuck in a snowbank, and I’m pretty sure the cake is now lying in a smashed heap in the back seat. That about covers it. Nothing is funny.”
Still, she laughs.
Now I’m laughing too. You can’t make this crap up.
“Well, what should we do?” I look at her, at the boxes in the back seat, and back at her because two boxes are clearly mangled with icing poking out of one box, and I just can’t handle thinking about them right now. All that work, gone. If Liam and Dillon even hint at marital problems at any point in the future, I will personally come at them with a knife and fork. They owe us a happily ever after until the end of time.
Riley follows my gaze and wipes her eyes. “I suppose we have two options. Stay here and freeze to death, though we do have cake, so it won’t be an entirely unpleasant experience. Or we can enlist a couple poor saps to help dig us out of this ditch. The shovel and tire chains I threw in last-minute might be put to good use. Who knew?”
My mouth falls open. “You packed a shovel and chains?”
Riley nods. “Yep. I figured we might need them to get out of the snow. Either that or I could use them to bury you if you made me mad enough.”
At this, I laugh again. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”
She gives me a slow smile. “I seem to recall hearing it a few times.” She leans for a quick kiss, then blinks innocently into my eyes. “I’m kidding, you know. I would never bury you with a shovel and chains. Besides,” she scoots back into her seat and picks at a piece of lint on her sweater, “I might need to use them on your brother.”
I smile. “If you need help with that, I’m your guy.”
Bracing myself for the icy blast to come, I open the door and step out of the car, shutting the door quickly to keep the chill away from Riley. Shovel and chains aside, there’s so much snow I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to dig ourselves out.
I open the trunk and reach for the shovel, then get to work anyway.
Chapter Nine
(Nashville)
Jane
It’s been years since I’ve set foot inside a hospital. They make me uncomfortable, bringing back so many unpleasant memories from a life that no longer seems to belong to me. But Teddy is resting, and his family has drifted to the cafeteria, so I began to drift as well.
I wandered all the way to the sixth floor.
My heart is somewhere near the base of my throat as I watch them. There are so many on display in front of me, tiny blue and pink burritos in a row of nine, maybe ten. One wiggling, one crying, the rest asleep. The nametag directly in front of me reads Carol—an old-fashioned name for someone so new, but I like it. A carol is a song, and for the first time in a long time, the sight of a newborn brings me more joy than pain. It’s a new feeling, a knowing, a settling deep in my spirit. A melody.
I want one. A baby. Rather than recalling old hurts that will probably never truly heal, suddenly, I’m thinking of a future I never considered before. Teddy has changed everything in only a few short months. He’s given me new hope, a fresh start. If he had gotten seriously hurt falling off that roof…
“I wondered where you had run off to,” Dillon says, suddenly next to me. I didn’t hear her approach, didn’t even hear the ding of the elevator. Sometimes your thoughts are focused so deeply inward, they drown out your ability to recognize the world around you.
Or to notice the fact that you’re crying.
I’m quickly wiping at tears, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable position.
“Aren’t they cut
e?” I whisper, unable to trust my voice to work.
“I want ten of them,” Dillon says.
I blink at her. “You want ten kids?”
She laughs. “Yes, if I can grab them and run. If I’m forced to give birth, I want two. Three if I wind up liking my kids enough.”
At this, I smile. “Apparently, not liking your kids all the time is a hazard of motherhood.” One I never had the opportunity to realize.
“So I’ve heard from my mother a few dozen times. I’m an only child.”
This makes me laugh, clearing away my somber mood almost instantly. “That’s harsh.”
“It’s nothing compared to the wrath she doled out when she heard Teddy fell off that roof. Haven’t you heard? His accident nearly ruined her wedding.”
“Give her my apologies. I’ll tell him not to be so thoughtless next time. Although if there is a next time, I’ll likely push him myself.”
“I’ll help you,” she says before growing quiet. We’re both standing still, staring at the babies, lost in our own thoughts. After a few minutes, Dillon clears her throat.
“You know, when I was lost on that island, I thought it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But then I got to know Liam, and I realized it only seemed like the worst thing. And let me tell you, being stranded on an island for four days with no communication from the outside world is no fun thing. Even when you’re stranded with a hot guy who’s walking around shirtless. It definitely wasn’t swoon-worthy like romance novels make you think. But I would do it all over again if it meant I would be here with him. Turns out the lowest point of my life led me to the highest point. Who would have thought?”
I pause, suspended somewhere between bothered and relieved and unable to decide on either emotion. When I was young, I had a baby. She was born too early and lived only a few hours. The baby’s father barely made an appearance, fleeing with his figurative tail between his legs the moment she arrived. Want to know who your real friends are? Mess up profoundly in a very public way. Up until a few months ago, I had never shared the story with anyone. It took the terror of being locked in a closet and thinking my life might end to even share it with Teddy.
I know the answer before I ask the question. “He told you, didn’t he?”
Dillon takes a breath. “Not the specifics, but he did tell me about your baby. Please don’t be angry with him. It was right after the shooting, and he was worried and distressed and questioning everything. He was also struggling with his feelings for you, not sure he would ever see you again.”
I nod. “I remember. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to sing in front of people again.” When a gunman holds your entire audience hostage and forces you into hiding, the fear of being onstage—in essence, a target—is real.
“But he did.” She sighs. “I am sorry that happened to you. No teenager should have to face something like that.”
“I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
“Just so you know, I’ll never tell anyone. Not even Liam.”
My feelings settle on relief. There’s a courage that comes from facing your biggest shame, owning it, and releasing it into the world. I’m finally unlocking the handcuffs I’ve worn for over a decade and watching them clatter to the floor. My wrists—my heart—feel lighter without the weight…so much weight I barely noticed it anymore. The irony that it’s happening outside a nursery filled with newborns isn’t lost on me.
I feel free.
“It’s okay, you can tell him. I’ll always be sad about it, but I’m no longer embarrassed.”
“Good, you shouldn’t be. We all mess up sometimes. Someday I’ll share my biggest mess-up with you. For now, a pretty big one is the fact that I chose to get married during the worst snowstorm in Tennessee history. How about the fact that my wedding venue is almost literally buried under an avalanche, and my maid of honor is now lying in a hospital bed?”
“There’s also the fact that your wedding cake is smashed in a heap in the back seat of Chad’s car.”
“There’s that too. Thanks for reminding me.” We both laugh. What else is there to do?
Neither of us hear Riley walk up—we didn’t even know they’d finally made it to Nashville. At last report, they were stuck in the snow on Interstate 40. That was three hours ago. I guess they were closer than anyone knew.
Nonetheless, we both squeal with surprise and throw our arms around Riley’s neck. The oddest thing—a few months ago, we’d never even met each other. Now she’s beginning to feel like a lot like a sister. They both are.
“You’re here!” Dillon and I exclaim at the same time.
“We’re here, but barely. Seems the entire world is falling apart today.” She pulls away to look at us. “At least Teddy didn’t break anything. Honestly, what was he thinking climbing on that roof? His manager is going to kill him.”
“Not if I kill him first,” I say.
“Get in line,” Dillon says. “How am I supposed to force him into a dress after this?”
“You’re not really going to make him wear a dress, are you?” I say.
She waves me off. “Of course not, though it’s been fun teasing him about it. I’m not sure he’s going to like the suit I chose, though…”
She laughs, then switches to a frown and turns to Riley.
“Is the cake really ruined?”
Riley sighs. “Not the bottom layer. And most of the second layer can probably be salvaged. But you might as well put the top tier in the freezer and save it for your first wedding anniversary because no one is allowed to see it. I’m not putting my name on that disaster of a cake.”
Dillon groans, then turns back toward the babies.
“I suppose nothing can be that bad when you’re looking at newborns. They have no worries at all. Look at that one over there. He’s wide awake and staring at the ceiling. I wonder what he’s thinking about.”
“He’s probably wondering why these three old ladies won’t leave him alone.”
We laugh, then Riley surprises me by saying, “You know, I’ve spent an awful lot of time staring at newborns lately.”
“Because you want one?” Dillon asks.
“No just…when my grandmother was in the hospital, it’s what I did to pass the time. I had my first pleasant conversation with Chad while standing outside a nursery, in fact.”
“Talk about an awkward first date,” Dillon quips.
Riley giggles. “It was better than our first meeting, at least. I could hardly stand the guy. Told him to get out of my bakery.” She shakes her head. “Speaking of Chad, he’s in Teddy’s room. I think they’re getting ready to discharge him.”
“We should probably go back downstairs then. I’m ready to get out of this place.”
Dillon gives me a look. “So am I. I’m not sure what to do next, though.”
I frown at her. “What do you mean, you’re not sure? Tomorrow is your wedding day. Cake or no cake, snow or no snow—though obviously, we’re stuck with lots of it—it’s time to have a wedding.”
“You really think we can pull it off? Everything’s been a disaster so far.”
I smile. “I know I only met you all a few months ago, but it seems like disaster has never stopped anyone in this family before.”
Riley laughs and looks at Dillon. “She’s right. Your family is a mess, but that never seems to bother any of you.”
Dillon looks at both of us, then squares her shoulder.
“You’re both right. If I can survive a deserted island, and you can survive a tornado, and you can survive a concert shooting, I think we can all handle a little snow.”
We stare at each other. I’m the first to give voice to what we’re all clearly thinking.
“I’m surprised we’re not all locked in padded cells by now. Seems we’re all a little crazy.”
“The day is young,” Dillon says.
“Yep. Now, are you ready to go get married?”
“I’m ready. Let’s go downstairs
and get Teddy out of this place.” She smiles to herself before turning a mischievous gaze on us. “Though when he sees his tux, it might send him right back in.”
“Oh Dillon, what have you done?”
She laughs at Riley’s question, and I join her.
Whatever she’s done, I’m going to enjoy watching it.
* * *
Teddy
I’ve always hated it when celebrities complain because it sounds so disingenuous. I can’t go anywhere without being recognized! Everyone wants my autograph! It’s awful having paparazzi follow you everywhere! It’s so hard being famous! These comments happen often and always elicit an eye roll from me. No one wants to hear how difficult your life is, douchebag. Most people are trying to scrape together enough money for groceries while you’re complaining that your Dom Perignon wasn’t cold enough. There’s just one catch to this observation on my part:
I hate making headlines for literally everything.
The number one topic trending on Twitter this morning is my fall from the roof. There are no pictures, thank God. There’s one good thing about this hellish snowstorm. But the stories are enough, and every single one of them—every one—also include a reference to last September’s concert shooting. How are the two even remotely related? The implication is as clear as the headlines are corny: Has Teddy Hayes fallen face-first into a string of bad luck?
Get it?
Ha freaking ha.
I’m not laughing, but I guess this makes me resident douchebag celebrity number one, reporting for duty.
I’d ask how anyone found out, but I’m not stupid. Someone from the hospital has a big mouth, as nearly everyone outside of family tends to do. The lure of fifteen minutes of fame is too enticing for some, especially when it comes with the benefit of a payout. The only consolation is that by this time next week, the story will be a distant memory. Either that or I’ll do something else to strengthen the theory that I’m in immediate need of a rabbit’s foot and a dozen lucky pennies. No one likes to associate with a jinx. I stare up at the ceiling and sigh.