From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) (34 page)

Despite tradition, he leans down and kisses my cheek just as I look down, my sentimental side showing in my tear-filled eyes.

Glancing to the minister, he nods, then Dylan says, “You were always my fair Juliette. You gave me a reason to live, a purpose in life, when I was just trying to survive another day. You guided the way when I was lost. Like the North Star, you led this wayward soul home again. With you by my side, as my wife, I’ll never wander and I’ll never be lost again. I promise to love and cherish, to obey,” he adds with a smirk. “I will honor you every day of this life and forever more into the next. I love you, Juliette.”

After a pause, and I release a long held breath, the ministers says, “You may kiss your bride.”

Dylan, beaming with pride and love, leans down and kisses me. Like our very first kiss, my knees weaken, but his hands are strong, as he holds me. We’re announced as the married couple we are, and make our way up the aisle and out to a side yard. His mother set up a little bistro table for us with orange juice, two chairs, and a few moments of privacy.

Tilting his lips to my ear, Dylan whispers, “I will love you for lifetimes to come.” He kisses my cheek.

“I’ll love you more.”

SPEECHLESS.

Silent.

Two pink lines.

Three white sticks being waved in the air.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

“Pregnant?” I ask like I don’t know the meaning of the words.

She nods, confirming, “Yes. A baby, Dylan.”

I feel lightheaded.

I need to sit down.

But I need to know more. “How do you feel?”

“I feel good.”

Not what I’m looking for though I’m relieved she feels all right. Gauging, I ask, “I’m mean are you happy to be pregnant?”

Tears stream freely as a smile forms, her eyes alight, “I’m happy, babe. I’m really happy.”

I reach for her, holding her to me, needing to feel her against me. “You’re having a baby,” I whisper into her hair.

“
We’re
having a baby.”

Shit.
I’m
having a baby.

With Jules.

She’s
having
my
baby.

So many questions race through my head. Too many. I need to sit.

“Come sit with me.” I take her hand and pull her with me.

We sit and look at each other. That glow people talk about is ever present. She’s already glowing from the inside out. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”

She does this bounce of excitement on the cushion, lifting my hand to her mouth and kissing it. “I’m so happy. I really am. I’m with you and I’m having your baby. How can I not be happy? How can I not be thrilled right now? Are you happy about this? About the baby?”

I take a second to try to comprehend the news, but my heart,
fuck
, even my head tells me I don’t need that second. “I’m happy. I’m shocked, surprised, but I’m really happy too.”

A gentle smile crosses her face as she scoots onto my lap. Her arms surround me and she kisses my temple. “I love you, Dylan.” Only a moment passes before she adds, “I want lots of kids with you.”

Tonight I kiss her until her lips are swollen, then I kiss her stomach and our baby goodnight. I lay there holding her and thanking God for this second life I’ve been given.

“STOP STARING AT
me.”

“I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful.”

“I just threw up twice. I’m pale and pissy and you think I’m beautiful?” She shakes her head and scoffs. “You must really be in love, Mr. Somers.”

“I am.” I walk closer, sitting on the floor next to the couch where she’s lying. She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes and yes, pale, but never more beautiful. “So in love, Mrs. Somers.”

WE FINALLY SETTLE
into our new home. It took forever to find and we were sick of living in a rental uptown. We move into a townhouse—four bedrooms, an office, a small backyard, exposed brick. She loves it. She loved it the minute she saw it and we bought it.

All the stuff is unpacked. All the stuff we decided to keep from our separate apartments and the storage unit doesn’t seem like much when sitting in this large place.

I just paid the movers and I need a beer after being coerced by her feminine wiles to help carry about ten boxes up from the truck. I grab a beer out of the fridge. While drinking, I notice she’s not around. I set the beer on the counter behind me and walk through the living room, my steps echoing across the wood floors. I don’t call because I think she’s upstairs.

I check our room and then the baby’s room… I had a feeling. Don’t know why I didn’t come in here first. There she is. Sitting in the rocker in the corner, arm draped over her stomach protectively, eyes closed, humming.

Content.

I quietly kneel in front of her, trying not to disturb, but wanting to be close. She continues to hum.
Contentment feels good.

“DYLAN!”

I run. I run so fast into the bedroom where she was napping when she calls for me. She’s sitting upright, hand over the small pooch that has formed in at her midsection. “Dylan! He moved. The baby moved.”

“What!
Really?”
I sigh, thankful she’s safe, that she’s all right.

“Yes, hurry. Come here and feel,” she replies, smiling and waving me closer. I rush, sitting down next to her. She places my hand on her stomach and shushes me. I smile but don’t laugh, waiting, anticipating, but nothing happens. After a minute or two, I’m a bit disappointed, but I don’t say so. I don’t want to ruin the moment for her though I can see she’s a little disappointed too. She starts talking to the baby, then humming, but still nothing. “Maybe he’s gone back to sleep.”

“You’re so sure it’s a boy, aren’t you?”

“I know it’s a boy.”

“How?”

“It’s just a feeling, but I know it.”

“So you’ll be happy with a boy?”

“I’m happy with whatever we get, but yes, a boy, someone like you.”

She’s all heart and soul. I can’t hold my smile. This feeling is bigger than that. As I gaze into her eyes, I see forgiveness and love. And I’m rendered speechless.

“Don’t cry, babe,” she says, wiping one of my tears away. Leaning forward she replaces the tear with a kiss. Lying back, she takes me with her, holding me close, my head on her chest and gently strokes my hair.

I hope one day I’ll deserve her, hoping I’m worthy of her kindness and love.

Everything
. I will be everything she dreams of, wants, and needs. The baby moves beneath my hand, under my chin. One solid kick that startles me and I lift quickly to watch.

Another good kick and I laugh. “Hello, baby. Hi in there.” A double kick and I lose it, laughing. Looking at her, I proclaim, “The baby knows me. He knows my voice, Jules.”

Her smile turns gentle. “Well, of course, he does. You’re his dad.”

“I’m his dad.”
Yes, I am his dad.

MY HANDS ARE
sweating. Jules is smiling, perfectly content, knowing she’s right.

The sonogram technician announces, “It’s a boy!”

“You knew!” I say, “You knew all along.” I kiss her forehead just as smugness takes over her expression. “Go ahead. I know you want to.”

“I told you so,” she sing-songs, then laughs, making the technician laugh as well.

A month later, my thoughts are on her as I paint the baby’s room the perfect shade of sky blue, the perfect shade according to Jules. She’s the artistic visionary, so I do as I’m told. It makes me happy to do these domestic things. Grounds me to our life, a daily reminder of how good I have it.

A muralist shows up a day later to paint a universe across the ceiling, not dark and scary but a lighter, quite impressive one. “A universe of opportunities,” Jules says proudly.

The crib, changing table, and rocking chair are in place. Most details yet to come except for two I wasn’t aware of. I find her in the chair, rocking slowly back and forth when I arrive home from work one evening. “Hi,” I greet, leaning against the doorframe.

She smiles softly in the dim light of the fading day. “I picked the paintings up from the framers today.”

“Paintings?”

Her eyes are bright, happy as she stands and picks up two framed pictures while turning them around. I thought these would be great in the baby’s room. I laugh aloud when I see them. Great memories come back from our third date so many years ago.

“You kept these?” I ask.

“Actually,
you
kept these. I found them in a box that was brought over from the storage room.”

I hold up the kitten paint-by-numbers and smile. “I did a damn fine job on this.”

“Yes, you did, but I’m partial to my puppy painting.”

I chuckle. “I think they’re both pretty fantastic, just like the artists.”

“Only you know how to work a compliment for yourself into the conversation while praising others.”

With a smirk, I say, “I call it talent.”

“Oh you’re talented all right.” She leans up and kisses me on the lips, lingering a moment to enjoy it. I know why she does this, because I do the same.

Come July, Jules is big. I don’t say that out loud, but she is. She’s basically waddling into the kitchen and sits down. But I love every pound she’s put on, every love pound she’s gained for our baby. Looking across the table at her, I ask, “You nervous about having the baby and how life will change?”