We drove to her parents’ house, where it was my turn to hear stories about smart, bossy big sister Jillian, and page through albums of her as an adorable baby, a gap-toothed kid, and a pretty teenager with killer legs and a huge smile. The Nixons were warm and welcoming, asking lots of questions about my son, my business, and my family, and I could see where Jillian got her blue eyes, her brains, her curiosity, and her sense of humor.
Natalie and Miles took some shit for keeping their wedding a secret, but the teasing was good-natured and they just shrugged and explained they’d made the decision to get married before the baby was born and Christmas Eve seemed as good a night as any, since all the family would be gathered in one place.
Around ten o’clock, we pulled up at my house, where Jillian’s car was parked on the street.
“Meet me at my place?” she asked, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Would you like to come in? Stay at my house tonight?”
She looked over at me. “I’d love that.”
“Why do you look so surprised?”
“I don’t know.” She thought for a second. “I guess I think of this as your house with Scotty. It seems strange to stay the night.”
I took her hand again. “I love you, Jillian. And I want a life with you. I don’t mean that we have to rush anything, but I don’t like being apart from you so often. I don’t want you to be my Girl Friday anymore—I want something more.”
“Me too,” she whispered, her eyes shining in the dark.
I leaned toward her, kissed her lips. “So let’s go in and see how it feels.”
? ? ?
It felt fucking amazing, of course.
To be naked in my bed with her, where I’d thought of her, talked to her, dreamed about her so many nights. Where I’d chastised myself for being so stubborn and scared. Where I’d tortured myself, believing I could never have her.
To wrap myself around her and feel her wrapped around me, limbs twined around bodies like vines.
To feel free to love her and accept her love, without guilt, without reservation, without end.
To make promises.
“Spend forever with me,” I whispered, buried deep inside her. “I’ll make you happy.”
“Yes.” She held my head in her hands, her eyes shiny in the dark. “Yes.”
Looking down at her, our bodies joined, I felt a euphoria beyond measure, something so much more than merely physical—something boundless and timeless and fathomless, something that made the room spin and my eyes water and my heart pound. Something that made all the pieces of me come together in perfect, blissful harmony.
For the first time in my life, I felt complete.
“He’s so beautiful, you guys. Congratulations.” I leaned over to kiss Natalie on the cheek, and then hugged Miles, who stood by her side, dazed and beaming. At eight last night, right in the middle of my engagement dinner, Natalie had gone into labor. Twelve hours later, she’d delivered a healthy baby boy without any complications, despite being two weeks early.
“Thanks. You ever going to give him back, Mom?” Natalie called to our mother, who sat in the window seat cradling the baby, our dad right next to her.
“Never.” She didn’t even look up from the baby’s sweet little face. “Oh God, he just sighed and opened his eyes. He’s brilliant.”
Natalie and I exchanged a look, and then she grabbed my hand. “Jillian, I’m so sorry about the party. I feel like we stole your thunder.”
“Don’t be silly! You made it more memorable. Levi and I are thrilled.”
She looked like she didn’t believe me. “Are you sure?”
I squeezed her hand. “Positive. He’s downstairs right now getting some coffee.”
“Tell him to come up!” she said.
“Are you sure? We have Scotty with us, and Levi wasn’t sure if you’d want a bunch of people in here.”
She flapped her hands. “It’s all family. Plus I need to hear about how it went. Let me see your ring again.”
I laughed. “You’ve seen it,” I said, but I held my hand out for her anyway.
She sighed and fanned her face, tears welling. “Sorry. I’m emotional right now. But it’s so beautiful. I’m so happy for you guys.”
“Thanks. I’m happy too.” After I texted Levi the room number, I looked at the ring again too, dazzled by its sparkle and luster, but even more by what it represented—a future with Levi. He’d surprised me with the proposal last weekend, which he and I had spent curled up in a romantic cabin in the woods with every intention of skiing, but never quite making it outside our cozy little place (that was the point of the pinky swear anyway, right?).
On our first night there, in front of a roaring fire, between sips of whiskey, and after round one of hair-pulling, toe-tingling, cabin-shaking sex, Levi had knelt before me with the ring and asked me to be his wife.
He said he didn’t expect me to be Scotty’s mother, but would be honored and grateful to have my help in raising him alongside any children we had. I’d nodded and cried, my heart too full to speak as he slipped the ring on my finger.
Later, when we were lying in bed, gaining our strength back after round two, he showed me a letter that Scotty had written for me. It was printed in pencil on lined paper, and there were a few holes in it where he’d erased mistakes too vehemently. Dear Jillian, it read. I hope you say yes. You make Daddy smile. I like you. It was signed, Scotty Brooks.