But I’m not angry. I stopped being angry at a very early stage, when I realized Mandy was bullshitting me as per usual. She didn’t sleep with Carter the night I was admitted to the hospital. He blew her off. I know that because he explained himself two days after the incident. After throwing so many truths my way, about his disastrous first time in bed with a girl, and how Mandy shattered his fucking confidence, he finally uttered the timeline of their fling aloud.
Now, he’s given me most of his truth. At least ninety-nine percent of it. He is allowed to keep one percent for himself. Every person has the right to keep a thing or two to themselves. I know that we’re nearing the end of his story because he’s started repeating himself. Telling me the same stories over and over again. He is running out of material about his life. But his life is just beginning. This is our rebirth.
I feel him watching me right now, as I make my way to the grocery store. I blame my newfound addiction to white chocolate and peach ice tea on baby Ivan. Carter chose his name, and I fell in love with it.
After I pick up my brown paper bags and lug myself back to the street, I spot him from my peripheral vision rushing to help me. He never lets me carry them myself.
“Here, allow me.” Carter snatches the brown bags from my hands, and I let him. He puts words between us, as a barrier to the distance that he feels we’ve created. I’ve created. A distance that doesn’t really exist in my heart.
“So, I’ve spoken to Graham about taking some time off when we have the baby. I want to be there every step of the way. I know it’s a long time from now, but…”
“Carter,” I say, coming to a halt in the middle of the busy street. People pass us by, grunting their frustration at our sudden halt in movement, shouldering past us. He blinks at me, as if he doesn’t trust his own ears.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.” I laugh, happy tears coating my eyeballs.
“Excuse me?” He looks at me as if I’ve gone mad.
“I love you,” I state simply.
“You…?” A look of relief and disbelief crosses his face before he drops to his knees, pressing his lips against my stomach and closing his eyes. It’s silent around us. Maybe the street is busy, but we’re in our own little bubble. It is bliss when I feel his first tear sliding down the fabric of my shirt on my big tummy. He mouths something in Gaelic to my belly, his hot mouth pressing against his child, and shakes his head, like he doesn’t believe that this is true. Then his eyes shoot up to mine, and he smiles.
“Please tell me this is real. Just put me out of my bloody misery, woman. I’ve been going crazy.”
“I’m sorry, Carter. This is so real.” I laugh wholeheartedly, finally accepting it myself.
Mandy didn’t win.
Murray didn’t win.
My dad didn’t win.
Evil, darkness, and despair lost, too.
But us? We won.
Sometimes the most beautiful things are born out of darkness.
Christmas 2017
Our house is a bloody disaster. There are crumbs everywhere, loud music, rowdy kids, and even rowdier adults. We’re having a Christmas party at our new place—Quinn’s idea, of course—and the whole damn crew is here. One of Graham’s spawns tugs on my hand, asking for the “potty” and leaves my hand feeling sticky. Why are little ones always so sticky? I’m feeling annoyed, overwhelmed, and just downright ornery. I’ve come a long way since I met Quinn, but some things never change.
I’m about to hide out in our bedroom w
hen my eyes catch Quinn’s as she looks up and gives me the best possible gift I could ask for—her smile—from her place on the sofa, where she bottle feeds baby Ivan. Instantly, I feel calmer. They have that effect on me. I walk up behind them and slide my hands onto her shoulders.
“How you doing, Daddy?” Quinn asks playfully.
“Daddy? That’s Graham’s kink, baby,” I say loud enough for him to hear.
“Damn straight. Want me to be your daddy, too, Carter?”
I flip him off, unable to control the chuckle that slips out. Dahlia shakes her head, embarrassed, and looks around to make sure no little ears overheard.
“Can you believe it, Carter?” Quinn asks out of nowhere.
“Believe what? That I’m allowing these assholes into my personal space? No. I cannot believe it.”