But it ended up being so, so much better than that.
Because then I saw the ring.
A brilliant teardrop-cut carnation color with absolutely no diamonds–since he knew how I felt about diamonds–on a simple white gold band.
“Gemma,” he started, voice deep with feeling.
“Yes!”
“I didn’t even ask yet,” he told me, already beaming.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” I told him, forcing my finger into the ring, then cradling his face in my hands, leaning in to steal a long, deep kiss.
I was sure it couldn’t have possibly gotten any better.
But then the sound of applause and whistling broke through the silence of our little sanctuary, making me break apart.
I expected his family.
I got them, too.
But I also got my own.
My parents, sister, Kai.
I was smiling through my tears as I greeted them, as we all walked back toward the town for dinner, as they let me in on how hard Lincoln had been planning this.
My heart, already so full, overflowed entirely.
“Lincoln,” I said a long, long time later in our beautiful little hut over the water after celebrating in our own, private way.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I maybe have a little surprise for you too,” I told him, watching as his eyes went curious as I rolled onto my back, reaching for his hand, pulling it over, placing it on my belly.
There was a long second before recognition hit his eyes.
“Really?” he asked, smile hesitant, wanting confirmation.
“Really,” I agreed, beaming when a smile spread across his face.
“I love you,” he told me, rubbing his hand across my belly.
“I love you too.”
And now our love, when it overflowed, it had a place to go.
Lincoln – 9 years
“Daddy,” Bethy, our oldest, named after my mother, Elizabeth, called from the backyard.
“Yeah?” I asked, hiking our two-year-old son up on my hip, walking out to find Bethy and her five-year-old sister, Dawn, covered almost head-to-toe in dirt. As they almost always were. As Gemma preferred, claiming it would be amazing for their immune systems.
“Uncle Ry said that Mommy was a spy,” Bethy said, lifting her chin up in defiance.
My gaze slid over to Rylan, my brow lifting.
He hadn’t been an immediate part of our family. Let’s say that he didn’t take it well when we had informed him that he would not be responsible for taking down Blairtown Chem. Sure, the product never did see the time of day. And, yes, David did make the news for trying to defraud not only the public but his unassuming, innocent boss, Phillip. But that was where it ended. By the time he finished his documentary which was more a time lapse into his insanity than a nod to his father, no one cared anymore.
He’d gone off the deep end.
He’d needed to be talked off the bridge over the ocean a week after his big debut flopped.
And had been promptly–and necessarily–carted off for treatment.
Gemma had reconnected with him six months later, becoming his buddy who went with him to grief counseling sessions once every week, helping him work through his loss, learn that life was still worth living, that he still had people around who loved him and wanted him around.
He put on fifty needed pounds.
He continued his mission to document life in all its forms.
And he became a part of our family, in time.
“Well,” I started, then felt Gemma–about to pop once again, likely for the last time–bumped my hip with hers.
“We agreed to honesty,” she reminded me. We had built a relationship on that, after a slightly rocky start with it. And we decided it was going to be our parenting style as well. Santa and the Easter Bunny excluded.
“Mommy was kind of like a spy,” I told Bethy, whose eyes went round. She already thought her mother was born of sunbeams–which wasn’t exactly untrue–but now she was looking at her like she was the very thing the world revolved around, the source of everything.
“Only for a little while. And only because there was a bad man doing bad things and keeping it secret,” Gemma added.
“Did you stop him?”
That was a tough one.
“Well, sort of. Along with Uncle Ry and Daddy and Uncle Quin and Uncle Smith.”
“That’s so cool.”
“It kind of was,” Gemma agreed even though we both know she had absolutely no interest in doing anything quite so cool ever again. “Alright. Now you guys need to go get cleaned up and get ready for bed. We have to get up early tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow was my birthday.
And Gemma had pancake plans.
Ten years going strong.
Now she had our kids on it too.
I was one lucky man.
I had searched and searched for so long.
In all the wrong places.
And when I finally stopped searching, I realized that the one I had needed had been around all along.
A woman who still, after all these years, was the brightest part of my day, the best support system, the most amazing mother to our kids.