My sweet Lila Kate,
I’ve bought you more clothes than you’ll ever wear. I’ve folded them and refolded them a million times. I keep making sure your little dresses are hanging properly in your closet and that you have shoes to match every outfit. Silly things that a baby wouldn’t care about. But it gives me something to do while I wait for you.
I’m also making you a scrapbook with pictures of your daddy and me. There are even some with the three of us. I love the one where your daddy has his hand resting on my stomach. It’s like he’s holding you, too. Your daddy hired a photographer to come to the house and take photos of us yesterday—a surprise for me. We now have the most wonderful family photos in all my favorite parts of the house.
Actually, the swing under the tree is my favorite part of the house, and I can say I got to swing you on it first. I have photographic proof of that, too. It’s the picture on the cover of your scrapbook. You’ll recognize it right away.
One day, I imagine sitting outside with you on our porch and looking through this book. I expect it to be well worn with love over the years. You’ll get to see just how much love you were brought into this world with.
But if I’m not there with you and you’re looking through this scrapbook with your daddy or alone, know that I created each page with love. I was happier than I had ever been, and my life was complete.
Love you always,
Mommy
Harlow
I sealed the latest envelope and wrapped the thick stack of letters in a pink satin ribbon. I still had eight weeks of pregnancy left and would add more letters, but so far, I had written one to Lila Kate for each birthday and Christmas until she turned twenty-one, for her first day of kindergarten, her high school graduation, her wedding day, the birth of her first child, and her thirtieth birthday. Just in case I wasn’t there, I wanted to leave a part of me with her. If I’d only had a part of my own mother growing up . . . I would have traded anything for it. At least Lila Kate would have that if she didn’t have me.
I picked up the other stack of letters I had written. They were all to Grant: one for the day after my funeral, one for his first day alone with Lila Kate after everyone resumed normal life, one for her first day of kindergarten, and one in case he met a woman he could fall in love with. I wrapped those letters up with a red satin ribbon.
If I wasn’t here to be his partner and help raise our little girl, I at least wanted my words to be there for him. I wanted him to know I was watching from above, that I was proud of him, and that I thought he was doing a wonderful job. I also wanted him to feel free to move on when the time came. He was my one and only love. He was my fairy tale. But it was possible I wouldn’t be his. He had a long life ahead of him, and I didn’t want him to spend it without someone by his side.
I placed both stacks of letters in the bottom drawer of Lila Kate’s dresser. On top of both piles, I left one letter loose: the first one he would read. I would tell him that they were there when I felt it was time.
I left the scrapbook lying on the top of the dresser because Grant knew about it. He didn’t know the real reason I wanted all those photos; he just knew I was making a scrapbook of memories for Lila Kate. I had framed my favorite photo of us sitting on the steps of the front porch. My head rested on Grant’s shoulder, and his arm was wrapped around me, his hand splayed out over my stomach. It now hung over Lila Kate’s changing table; you could see it the moment you walked into her room.
“You refolding baby clothes again?” Grant asked as he stepped into the room.
I laughed. He had caught me more than once reorganizing her closet and drawers. He didn’t understand it, but he never teased me. He always smiled and told me Lila Kate was going to have the best mother in the world. I really hoped that was true.
Grant never spoke about what could happen. With each doctor’s visit that went well—we continued to get good reports—he seemed less worried. He didn’t stare at my stomach as if he was unsure about it anymore. As if it was the enemy. He touched it often, and he had even started talking to her.
“I want everything perfect for her,” I told him, closing the drawer with the letters.
“It will be, because you’ll be there,” he replied.
Before I could say anything, he took a step toward me. “The photographer is coming back this afternoon. I have a few more pictures I’d like him to take.”
He did? I had started to ask him about it when he stepped in front of me and took both of my hands. Then, as if in slow motion, he got down on one knee. All ability to speak or breathe left me. I wasn’t expecting this. I had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t ready for marriage after the ball. Grant had already taken a huge chance on me. He didn’t like taking chances. He was cautious.
“Harlow Manning,” he said as he pulled out a black satin box from his pocket. “I think it’s possible I fell in love with you the moment I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t forget you. I looked for reasons to be around you. I dreamed and fantasized about you. Then somehow, over Chinese takeout, I managed to get you to sit in the same room with me for longer than a minute. I knew that night when I kissed you that I’d never be the same. Nothing would. You had marked my life.”
He swallowed hard and gave me a shaky smile as he flipped open the box. A teardrop diamond was nestled in a small velvet cushion. It was simple and elegant. It was perfect. I didn’t wear jewelry often, but this . . . this I would wear forever. My eyes were filling with tears and blurring my vision. This was really happening. I reached up to wipe the tears that had escaped and let out a soft laugh at the emotional mess I had become.
“You terrify me. Nothing in this world has ever shone as brightly as you do or made me want to be a better person like you do. I’ll spend a lifetime trying to be worthy of you, but I won’t be. No one could ever be. You’re a rare and precious gift, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it, by my side. You’re my happiness. You’re my home. Will you make me the luckiest man alive and be my wife?”
Tears were freely streaming down my face now as I stood there with this beautiful man on his knees in front of me. A man who had just said such heartbreakingly sweet words to me. “Yes,” I said, unable to say anything else. I didn’t have to remind him of the chance he was taking. He knew. We both knew. He didn’t care. I was worth taking a chance for. That was what he was telling me.
“Yes?” he repeated, grinning up at me.
I nodded my head, and he let out a relieved laugh, then shot to his feet and grabbed my face with his hands. His lips covered mine, and I knew that if I died tomorrow, I had lived. I had lived big.
Grant picked me up and started carrying me out of the room.
“Put me down, I weigh a ton!” I said, worried he was going to hurt his back.
“You’ve gained eighteen pounds, baby. That’s not a ton.”
He was headed for our bedroom, and I decided that arguing with him might not be to my advantage. If this was going where I thought it was, I was completely on board. Grant laid me down carefully on the bed and bent down to slip my shoes off. He kissed the arches of both feet before standing up and taking my shirt off. I let him undress me like I was helpless, because he seemed to be enjoying himself. When he tugged on my leggings, I lifted my bottom so he could slip them off, leaving me completely naked and him fully clothed.
“This is slightly unfair,” I said, reaching for the button on his jeans. He chuckled and let me unsnap them. Then he discarded them, followed by his shirt. I took in his firm, sculpted body and lifted a hand to run it over his stomach. I loved the way it felt, and when he flexed, it was even better.
“Lie back and spread those legs open for me.” His voice dropped to a sexy, husky sound, and his eyelids dropped as his gaze traveled down my body. I scooted back and opened my legs as instructed. Watching Grant’s sexy smirk before he lowered his head between my legs made me shiver in anticipation. I loved the way he made me feel.
When his tongue took a swipe up through my slit, I reached up and grabbed the headboard in an attempt not to grab his hair and take or lose control. Whichever. I was more sensitive down there than I had ever been, but I had read that this was normal. I thought about sex a lot more than I used to. Although looking at Grant often made my mind go to sex. Sweaty, hot, wild sex. The kind we currently couldn’t have. I wanted it, though. I wanted it bad.
“Give me your hand,” he ordered, and I quickly obeyed. He moved it over my wetness. “Hold it open while I lick.”
Oh, my. This was new. I reached down and used both hands to hold open my folds while he licked from my tingling spot, which was so close to an orgasm, to my opening, which was contracting in anticipation of being filled. I started to cry out as the orgasm grew, but right before it flung me over the cliff, he stopped, and his body moved up over mine. He slid inside me, slow and easy, as a growl of approval tore from his chest.
“I swear, every time I’m inside you, I think it’s the absolutely best fucking feeling in the world, but each time, it’s even better.” I clawed at his back, and he began to move faster. “Never can get enough of you. I want to live inside this *,” he said as my orgasm once again reached its crest. Instead of pulling away this time, his mouth lowered and clamped down on one of my nipples as the waves broke free, sending me spiraling into wonderland.
“Fuck, yes, that’s sexy as hell,” he said as his hips jerked faster, and my name tore from his chest in a growl before he rolled over, carrying me with him so that he stayed inside me but I was on top.
“Can’t stop,” he said, gasping. “Coming now.” He jerked again, and his body shuddered.
When he was finished, I kissed a trail from his shoulder to his mouth.
“When it’s safe again, I’ve got plans for you, sweet girl. Dirty, naughty plans.”
“Is that a promise?” I asked, smiling down at him.
“Hell, yeah, it is,” he replied.
Late that night, after hours of Grant showing me just how much he loved me and feeling every pleasure he could provide, a sharp pain hit me. Soon I was curled up in a ball and screaming. The pain was too much, and I knew it couldn’t be right. I had read all about contractions. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Grant jumped out of bed, trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t make out the words or respond. I was doing all I could to keep from crying out in pain again. His voice didn’t soothe me. Nothing helped. The pain slowly started to fade and then hit again.
“Ambulance will be here in five minutes.” Grant’s voice was filled with pure terror. I wanted to comfort him, but this time, I couldn’t. I had to take care of me and our baby. A cool, damp cloth touched my forehead as he told me how much he loved me and how he was going to take care of me. Then he cursed and felt the warmth between my legs.
“God, no. Fuck!”
I glanced down, and all I saw was blood. And then it all went black.