Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika 3)

The minute we began to walk, a soft guitar began to play, followed by Tristan’s voice, singing our song.  Incidentally, it’d been the biggest hit off their latest album.

I met him and his devastating smile at the altar, and we said our vows again.

I didn’t hope, but knew, that this time would be different from the first.

ONE YEAR LATER

It was the longest flight I’d ever taken.  Well, at least it felt that way.  I’d actually taken the exact same route twice before, but this time was different.

This time that flight felt like the longest thirteen hours of my life.

It didn’t help that it felt like Tristan wasn’t even sitting next to me.  When booking the flights, the idea of first class was all well and good.  A rip off money wise, but I’d been excited to experience it again, as we had on the first two trips.

At the moment, I’d rather have been in coach sitting next to him, instead of in an isolated pod, feet away.  We couldn’t even touch.  The best we could manage was to talk through a lowered partition.

Our pods were at least next to each other, and we were face to face.  Still, I felt restless and antsy, and I knew that if we’d been sitting together, if I could have just held his hand, it would have helped.

He was reclining, his eyes closed.  I didn’t understand how he could be sleeping at a time like this.

I wanted to shake him awake.  I needed company right now.

“Psst,” I called to him.

He smiled, eyes still closed.  He hadn’t been sleeping.

I looked around, grabbed a grape off my fruit plate, and threw it at him.

He laughed, opening his eyes.  He looked so relaxed and happy.  I had no idea how he could be so calm.

I reached for an almond, and beaned him in the forehead with it.  He just kept laughing.

“What if we can’t…?  What if they won’t…?”  I was speaking in a furious, agitated whisper, so stressed I couldn’t even get the full questions out.

He moved his chair until he was sitting up, giving me the Troublesome smile.  The one that had changed my life.

“Come over here,” he said softly.

I looked around.  “I can’t.  We have to stay in our assigned seats.  And besides, there’s no room over there.”

“Come over here,” he repeated softly, his smile even softer.

I glanced around, saw that the two flight attendants in our cabin were working in the galley, then moved quickly around until I was standing in the entrance to his pod.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling me down to sit on his lap.

“We can’t do that!”

He shifted until I was squeezed in next to him, his arm thrown over me.  It was a very tight fit, but I felt instantly better.

His free hand reached for mine, and he threaded our fingers together while I burrowed my cheek into his strong chest, breathing deep as I listened to the steady thud of his heart.

“Stephan told me the trick to ha**ng s*x in an airplane bathroom.  I think the flight attendants are too busy to notice us.  Whataya say?”

I elbowed him hard in the ribs.

He grunted then started laughing.  “Not the time, huh?”

He stroked my hair for a while before he spoke again, voice serious now.  “Everything is going to work out just how we want it to.”  He said it softly against the top of my head.  “In just a few days, we’ll be flying home as different people.  Everything is about to change.  It’s going to be everything we’ve talked about, all we’ve dreamed of.”

I squeezed his fingers until mine turned white.  “I’m just so afraid we won’t get to—”

“We will.  I promise you this: We’re not going home without her, not this time.”

“She won’t understand us.  What if she doesn’t like us?”

“Love has its own language, sweetheart, and of course she’ll like us.  We’re her parents.  It might take some time, but we’ll teach her what that means.  It’s going to be just perfect.  You’ll see.”

Her name was Ming, and I loved her before I ever met her.

I fell in love with a picture, and it was true love.  The unconditional kind.  I didn’t get to take her home with me until she was nine months old, but that didn’t make me any less her mother.

It wasn’t blood that created a mother.  It was love.  Ming taught me that.

Tristan and I clutched hands as we entered the orphanage.  I recognized her instantly.  They had her in an outfit I’d sent her, a little dress with strawberries all over it.  They’d even put her in the matching ruffled shorts and bonnet.

I started crying, but Tristan kept pulling me along.

“I’m a mess,” I told him, patting my cheeks.

“You’ll be fine.  And don’t cry.  I’m not even proposing to you today.”

It helped.  I laughed.

Ming looked right at me, blinking her big dark eyes.

Tristan got to her first.

I hung back, watching.

He crouched down in front of her.  She was being held by one of the ladies that worked there.  Ming seemed attached to the woman, clinging to her.

Tristan held out his arms to our daughter, his smile so tender it made my breath catch.

Ming touched his hand, studying him.  He had to be the biggest person she’d ever set eyes on, but she wasn’t scared.  She looked fascinated by him.