“I don’t give a fuck about tonight’s overwhelming success,” he spits out. “You come here to interview me after disappearing off the face of the earth and expect me to just talk to you? I’ve tried calling but your phone is out of service. I went by your place and your landlord said you moved but he wouldn’t tell me where to. Matt won’t answer my calls, your mom ignores me when I ask and they won’t even let me in the building at the paper because they say there have been threats on your life?” his voice is dangerously low as he leans his head back and closes his eyes.
“It wasn’t like they were serious threats. It was only a few crazies who didn’t like the article I wrote,” I explain and his eyes snap back open.
“I liked it,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”
His words surprise me and my jaw hangs open as I try to formulate a response but he continues on. “I could kill you for going to a dangerous country with your sleazy boss while pregnant with my child but I’m still proud of the work you did.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly even though it’s a strange, backhanded compliment. I rest a hand on my belly and his jaw clenches as his eyes follow the movement.
“And how is Donovan?” he says sarcastically and I flush and look away.
“Oh. It turns out you were right about him trying to get into my pants,” I answer. He doesn’t respond right away and the silence is deafening.
“Do you want me to beat the shit out of him?” he finally speaks, giving me a hard look when he does.
“Funny, but I set him straight in Venezuela. He barely talks to me now,” I say.
“What’s really funny is that you think I’m joking.” He stands and takes a step closer, forcing me to take a step back. “How are you feeling?” he asks more gently as his eyes drop again to my stomach.
“Good. Tired but otherwise everything has been great. I’m due in March.” I take a deep breath to prepare myself for what I have to say next. “I’m actually glad we have this chance to see each other because I wanted to tell you face to face that I don’t expect anything from you. Don’t get me wrong, you are more than welcome in this baby’s life but I don’t expect your money or your time. I know that you didn’t plan on this happening and now that you are with Allison…”
“Excuse me?” he interrupts, narrowing his eyes at me.
“I know that you and Allison are together,” I say, trying to shrug off the hurt that slices through my chest when I say her name out loud. “I came by your place before I left for Venezuela. I was going to tell you that you were right and I shouldn’t go but she was there and she explained everything,” I whisper.
“I don’t know what that crazy bitch said to you but I wasn’t even home. Allison sold my parents some bullshit story about her place being infested with silver-fish and my mom guilt-tripped me into letting her stay at my place while I was at an away game. She was there for like two days and I never even saw her,” he says slowly.
“Even if that’s true you didn’t reach out to me for close to a week after our fight,” I argue. “What was I supposed to think?”
“We had two back-to-back away games followed by an intense training camp. By the time I returned to Austin with my head clear you were gone and I haven’t been able to reach you since. I was starting to feel like a stalker with all the ways I was seeking you out. Even your friends told me to back off.”
“What friends?”
“Leigh, Matt…” he trails off then shouts, “this is why I don’t listen to fucking people!”
“Well I’m glad I know the truth now,” I say weakly. “You and her together never seemed right in my head but it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want this baby.”
“Who says I don’t? Yeah, I freaked out and acted like a massive dick when I walked out on you but I needed time to think. After I processed it and thought about you and my baby it all made perfect sense to me. And then, I repeat, you disappeared on me,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face. “I should tell you that my parents practically disowned me when I told them what happened. My mom has already knitted like thirty pairs of boots. Boots! Why would this kid need woolen boots when we live in Texas?” he yells, throwing his hands up in the air. I shake my head from side to side, not looking at him.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me out of some sense of responsibility. My father walked out on me after I’d taken my first breath and I won’t have that for this child. He and I will be fine on our own…” I start to explain.
“He?” he interrupts and I clamp my mouth shut when I realize my mistake. He takes another step toward me and crouches down so his dark brown eyes are level with mine.
“Fuck this noise,” he says in a husky voice before slamming his lips against mine. His tongue forces its way between my lips and his arms go around my waist as he kisses me until I feel lightheaded. I’m panting when he finally breaks away and levels me with his gaze.
“You’re mine. This baby is mine and you are abso-fucking-lutely crazy if you think I’m going to live without either one of you.”
He carries me over to the bank of lockers and reaches behind my head to unlock his. He sets me down then rummages around inside for a minute and when he finds what he’s looking for he pulls it out and places it in my palm. I look down at the black velvet box and my pulse picks up.
“I’d get down on to one knee but I’m afraid if I do I’ll lose the towel,” he gives me a naughty grin and I pop open the box and gasp. Resting inside on a black velvet cushion is the most beautiful diamond solitaire ring that I’ve ever seen. It’s a sparkly round stone with two delicate white gold bands weaved around it and it’s exactly my taste.
“You keep this here?” It’s the first thing my brain thinks to say but he just shrugs.
“It’s a guys’ locker room. It seemed as safe a place as any,” he says, grinning wide. “Marry me, Carmelina Dahl.”
“You’re proposing to me in a towel,” I say more as a statement than a question.
“I am,” he laughs before lifting me into his arms and walking me over to the counter.
“There’s no real point in fighting it, babe. You know I always get what I want and what I want is you forever so marry me,” he repeats, resting his forehead against mine. The tears fall easily now and I don’t even bother trying to wipe them away. Instead I wrap my arms around his neck and press my lips against his soft, full ones.
“Yes, definitely, yes,” I say, through the tears and he lifts me under my ass and kisses me hard. I pour into the kiss all the frustration, anger and longing that’s been building over the last four months and as my lips move frantically against his I can’t believe that I ever thought I could do this without him. Shane and I just balance each other out - we are so much better together.
“Let me get dressed,” he says gruffly, pulling back and swiping his thumb across my damp, swollen mouth. “I have something I want to show you.”
“Now?” I whine as he sets me back down on my feet. Though I’m curious about what he wants to show me my body is practically starving for Shane’s touch.
“Now,” he says firmly and I pout. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important,” he adds chuckling. “Trust me, Carmelina, can you do that?”
The way he asks tells me he doesn’t just mean right now. He’s asking is if I can trust him again after everything that’s happened since he knows trust isn’t something I’m used to giving people. But Shane has opened me up, driven me wild and freed me in ways that I never thought possible.
Do I trust him?
I ask myself as I stare into his beautiful eyes. More than anything.
“I can do that,” I answer and his eyes light with understanding.
He takes my hand and we walk to the front lot where his massive black truck is parked. He lifts me into the passenger seat and I’m about to protest that I’m too heavy but he anticipates my objection. “You’re still a tiny little thing, babe. A handful of baby isn’t going to change that so don’t hurt my manhood but suggesting that I can’t lift you,” he teases. Once we are both inside the truck he revs the engine and peels out with such urgency that I swear he must leave tire tracks in his wake.
“Oops,” he looks at me a little sheepishly and I laugh.
“Excited are we?” I tease.
“You have no idea.”
We drive to the west side of Texas to an area about fifteen minutes outside of downtown. I look out the window as we cruise along a tree-lined street of older well-established homes with nicely trimmed lawns. He stops the truck in front of a beautiful pale yellow two story house complete with a front porch and blue shuttered windows. There’s a patch of green grass out front, lush flower beds and a low white picket fence surrounding it.
“Where are we?” I ask, unclicking my seatbelt.
“We’re home,” he answers and I detect a note of smugness in his voice that I can’t quite decipher. He opens his door and comes around the truck to collect me. We link hands and he unlatches the gate and leads me along the path to the front door.
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that,” I say, thoroughly confused.
“The neighborhood is full of kids and we’re in one of the best school districts in Austin,” he adds.
“I don’t understand,” I say, shaking my head as I survey the house. Everything about it appeals to me and it’s like someone ripped the images out of my head and built my dream home in perfect detail right down to the tree out front.
My tree.
I instantly notice how the desert willow in the yard bears an uncanny resemblance to the one I grew up with. Shane must see me looking because he smiles and tugs me by the hand over to it.
“It’s yours. I had it uprooted and replanted here so you’ll always have a piece of where you came from with you,” he says proudly and my words catch in my throat. “It’ll also make a good tree house to hide out from me in when I piss you off - which is bound to happen a lot,” he adds on a grin.
“You moved my tree?” I hiccup out a sob before launching myself into his arms. “Other than the baby inside of me it is the most beautiful gift you ever could’ve given me. Thank you.” I sniff, squeezing my arms around him. “But the house? It’s too much.”
“Well too bad because it’s already paid for and I’ve been renovating it for months now. There’s even an office for you to write in,” he says, releasing me from his hold.
“What about your condo?” I say.
“It’s sold and currently in escrow. I’m tired of that life and I think it’s about time I had a new one.”
“So you bought me a house?” I say cautiously and he tightens his grip on my hand.
“I bought us a house. Look, I know this probably goes against all of your stubborn, independent instincts but the truth is I don’t really give a shit. I want you and my baby with me. I want to watch you chase him around this yard while I barbecue. I want to watch you drinking coffee on the front porch while I teach my son to play soccer. I want to fall asleep beside you every night. I will always want you. There is no doubt in my mind.”
“I will always want you too,” I whisper. “From the moment I met you I knew I was lost. Thank you, Shane Mitchell, for giving me all of this. But more importantly, thank you for giving me you.”
5 years later
I watch the two of them play out on the front lawn from the big picture window in my home office. My first born furrows his brows and bites his lower lip in that adorable way he does when he’s concentrating hard on something. He has a soccer ball balanced under one tiny cleat and he’s entirely focused on what his dad is saying. Shane has one of the little pug nets set up and he’s trying to get Connor to shoot the ball. He leans down and touches the inside of my son’s foot and though I can’t hear what he’s saying a wide smile spreads across his face when Connor makes contact and the ball goes sailing into the net.
Shane has a surprising amount of patience for someone who’s used to coaching premier level college students - a job he took on after retiring from the team last year. Witnessing the bond that the two of them share is unlike anything I ever could have imagined and it fills my heart to the point that sometimes I think it’s going to burst. I lose myself in watching them together and it is not until the baby monitor rouses me from my thoughts that I press save on the story I’m working on and get to my feet.
As I exit my office I pass by the Pulitzer trophy I won last year for Excellence in Investigative Journalism. The pride I felt was way more important than the $25,000 prize which we donated to Mental Health Awareness in Shane’s late brother’s name. The piece I did on the Petroleo Energy Corporation truly launched my career and now most of my pieces focus on political corruption and corporate wrongdoing — exactly what I always wanted to do.
I climb the stairs to Mason’s room where I find him standing up in his crib. He’s almost too big for it now at twenty months. Fresh tears stain his sleepy face and he raises his chubby arms in the air and waves when he sees me. I lift him out of the crib and burrow my face into his neck to inhale his scent. I remember before I had my own children thinking that people were nuts when they talked about how good babies smell but it is the kind of thing you have to experience to believe. When I pull back he blinks his ocean blue eyes at me and tugs on a strand of my hair. As I watch his little face come to life I count my blessings for this beautiful family of mine.
“Momma, happy?” He coos, pressing his fingers against my mouth.
“Momma very happy,” I laugh as I carry him over to the change table.
Once Mason is in a fresh diaper we head downstairs and out front to join the other two. The leaves have started to change color and even though the late afternoon sun is still low in the sky there’s briskness in the air that can’t be ignored.
“It’s getting cold, Shane. I think he needs a sweater,” I shout across the lawn while keeping my eyes trained on Connor. Shane lifts him high up in the air and swings him around in a circle before carrying him over to the porch.
“He has probably had enough of daddy’s training anyway,” Shane answers, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure he stopped listening to me about a half an hour ago.”