Yard Sale

“I got hurt.”

Not expecting that answer, I roll over to face him, our noses inches apart. “What happened?”

“It was right after I met you. Fucked up my knee on my skateboard. Kind of screwed any hope of having a career as a professional athlete.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, not knowing what to say. “Are you healed?” He must be somewhat healed if he’s a snowboarding instructor.

“Mostly,” he says, his hand sliding down to the curve in my hip, purposely not meeting my eyes. “I wallowed in my self-pity for a while. Drank too much. Slept too little. Partied too hard. But now, I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’ll never ride professionally again.”

I think back to the night we met, and how he was so stubborn and confident, even with me, a complete stranger, and how that Cam was so different than the one in front of me.

“That’s bullshit.”

Cam’s eyebrows jump up to his hairline. “Come again?”

“That’s bullshit,” I repeat, firmer this time. “If you want to ride professionally again, then you can. If you don’t want to, that’s another story…”

“It’s not that simple, Mollie.”

“I might not know anything about your world,” I admit, “but I can tell when a person is letting fear hold them back. That’s my job,” I try to joke. “Our kid needs one of us to have some balls.”

“As long as he or she gets your looks. And brains,” Cam says before kissing the tip of my nose.

“I’m serious. Don’t let fear keep you from being who you’re meant to be.”

We talk about everything. He tells me how he ended up teaching at the ski school. How he went off the rails for a bit. I tell him my fears about being a parent, and he responds by telling me that we simply need a plan. That he isn’t going anywhere, no matter what.

After we’re all talked out, Cam pushes my sleep shirt up, exposing my stomach. His hand ghosts across my bare belly in a rhythmic, soothing manner before sliding down to my thigh, hooking it over his hip. He rubs my clit and it only takes a few seconds before I’m panting and grinding against him. Wordlessly, he pulls himself out of his sweats, guiding his length to my entrance.

This time, his movements are slow and deep. Unhurried. We don’t speak, letting our bodies do the talking. Even my orgasm is quiet, a silent storm washing over me, but somehow more intense than before.

“Fuck, Mollie,” Cam whispers into my neck as he empties himself inside me. After a few minutes, he tries to detach himself from me to go clean up, but I tighten my arms around him, too tired to care about the mess.

Just as we’re drifting to sleep, I feel it. It starts with the familiar flutters, but then it turns into more of a roll followed by a sharp jab.

“Holy shit was that—”

“The baby kicked,” I say, exhausted but excited, and then I press his hand against the right spot.

“I think I already love this baby. Is that weird?” he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

“No. It makes you amazing.”

Aspen, one year and one month later…

“Dada!” River babbles from my arms. Cam picked her name, and when he suggested it, I instantly fell in love.

“Yes, I know, baby girl,” I say, bouncing in place, trying to keep her happy. “I want Dada, too.”

I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve seen Cam compete before, but this is his comeback. His chance to win back his King of the Mountain status and snag another medal. He’s going to attempt some trick—that I won’t even try to remember the name of—that’s never been landed in an event before.

“Craig!” I shout over the mass of spectators and family members watching next to us. “FaceTime Emersyn. She’ll kill me if I forget.”

He nods, taking my phone and letting her watch via video chat. Cam is still Emersyn’s coach, and someday soon, she’s going to be better than him. He knows it, and I know it.

Once I left River’s Edge, I realized I didn’t really have a good enough reason to stay in San Francisco. Cam kept his word, attending every doctor appointment and coming down almost every weekend, all the while I made plans to relocate to River’s Edge. I’m illustrating children’s books now, so I can pretty much work anywhere, plus I get to put my art degree to work—just not in the way I thought.

By the time I was nine months pregnant, we were living together. My parents still think we’re batshit, and maybe we are. But that’s what happens when you’re in love. Love doesn’t wait until you have your shit together. It just happens. It’s up to you to decide how badly you want it. I wouldn’t change one moment of the crazy road we took to get to this moment here and now.