Summer Romance Boxset - Weightless, Revelry, On the Way to You

by Steiner, Kandi

QUINTESSENTIAL

  kwin-tə-ˈsen(t)-shəl

  Adjective

  : representing the most perfect or typical example of a quality or class.

  “It’s okay. You’ve gotta push, girl.”

  Momma Von’s voice was meant to be kind in its firmness, to bring me comfort alongside command, but all it did was spike the panic in my heart even more.

  “I can’t,” I breathed through the pain of the contraction, body tensing instead of releasing the way I knew it needed to. It was time. My baby was ready to come. I was dilated, his head was showing, and I needed to push.

  But I couldn’t.

  “Yes, you can. Listen to me, Wren,” Momma Von said, eyes leveling with mine from where she was bent on the other side of my legs. “Anderson is okay. He will be here. But right now, you’re going to hurt Elijah if you don’t push and get him out of there. Do you hear me?”

  Tears fell from my eyes, hot on my cheeks as I nodded in understanding. I knew she was right, but everything about that moment was so far from what I’d imagined. We weren’t in a hospital. There was no team of trained doctors and nurses to talk me through it. And my husband was nowhere in sight.

  I wasn’t sure I could do it.

  I wasn’t sure I could have this baby without him.

  As if to prove me wrong, my entire body tensed, and without me even having to try, I pushed through the next contraction.

  “Good,” Momma Von encouraged me, rubbing my shin as she waited between my legs. “Atta girl. Okay, rest now, don’t push once that contraction ends.”

  I groaned, and the contraction stopped as if on her cue, everything releasing as I panted. Momma Von soothed me again, and before the next contraction rolled through, our cabin filled with flashing lights.

  “They’re here,” I groaned, sweat dripping from my hairline as I adjusted on the pillows.

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “The door is open, they’ll get in here and do what they need to do, but you just focus on getting this baby out. Okay?” She held my eyes. “Breathe. Push. Breathe. Push.”

  I nodded, doing as she said, and I screamed as another contraction ripped through me. I pushed, eyes squeezed tight, but when a familiar, rough and calloused hand swept my damp hair from my forehead, my eyes shot open.

  And I prayed what I saw wasn’t a hallucination.

  Tears bubbled out of me again. “Anderson,” I cried, shaking my head as if I didn’t believe it could be true. I touched his face, his arms covered by his heavy jacket, his hair, mussed as he ripped his beanie off his head and bent to lower his lips to mine.

  “I’m here,” he said, over and over again between kisses. “I’m right here, baby.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, relief flooding me as I cried harder. But I didn’t have time to truly feel that relief in my soul before another contraction ripped through me.

  “Push, girl!” Momma Von instructed, and with Anderson’s hand in mine, I did. I pushed, and cried, and felt the absolute worst pain in my life rip through me like the hottest fire. Everything burned, but it was as if someone or something was soothing me from the inside out.

  Maybe it was my baby boy.

  Time eluded me, and I had no way of telling how much of it passed with Anderson there beside me before that burning, ripping pain subsided, one final push delivering my baby’s head, shoulders, and the rest of his body before he was in Momma Von’s arms, two men I didn’t know calling out jargon to each other as they checked me and the baby, both.

  I looked at Anderson, his eyes wide and glossed with tears, nostrils flaring, mouth hanging open. He was looking at his baby.

  At our son.

  And then he looked at me.

  In that moment, I felt everything he didn’t say. I felt the strongest love of my entire life like a warm waterfall, soaking me, soaking him, leaving us in a new, unexplored and beautiful world together. He shook his head, as if I was the most incredible wonder he’d ever laid eyes on, and then Momma Von was behind him.

  She was crying, too — forcing a smile through the blubber as she rested Elijah on my chest. I cried harder once I held him, that love I felt in my chest expanding even more, like a balloon filled to the brim and yet somehow finding elasticity to take on even more air.

  He filled me, my life, our life — in a way I never knew was possible.

  “Congratulations, you two,” she said. “He’s beautiful.”

  And he was. Elijah’s face was screwed up and red, his body still slick from the mucus not completely wiped off with the towels. His black hair was slicked against his head. His little fingers were so tiny, I couldn’t believe they were fingers at all.

  “He’s just a little raisin of a thing,” Anderson spoke softly, his eyes wide in awe as he reached forward, brushing our son’s back softly.

  I smiled. “He’s our little raisin.”

  Anderson choked on a sob at that, nodding and bringing his lips to mine feverishly.

  Momma Von talked with the EMTs, encouraging me to go ahead and nurse Elijah at their request. I should have been embarrassed, my body exposed the way it was in front of all those people, but I didn’t give a single damn. I was a mother. My baby was here. He was alive.

  It was all so, so beautiful.

  But suddenly, the beauty of the moment faded as I realized what it all meant.

  Elijah was here. And he was two weeks early.

  “Is he okay?” I asked, panicked eyes searching Momma Von’s before I looked to the EMTs. “He’s early. Is he too small? Is he okay?”

  “He seems to be perfectly healthy,” one of the men said to me, lowering so he was crouching next to where Anderson was on the couch. “If you want, we can take you to the hospital so you can be with your physician and get a full examination. But, from what we can tell, Elijah is healthy as can be.”

  Momma Von went on about how we’d have to go in anyway, get the birth certificate and other necessities taken care of. But my focus had already drifted, my eyes cast downward at where my son latched to my breast, his eyes closed, little fingers curled as he held me.

  As we held each other.

  I looked at Anderson once everyone had quieted. “Do you think we could stay tonight? Go in tomorrow?”

  He looked at the EMTs, and when no one argued, he turned back to me with a smile. “Whatever you want, Momma.”

  My eyes welled again. “Momma. God, I love that.”

  “And I,” he said, kissing my forehead before he finished his sentence. “Love you, Wren Black.”

  I sighed, leaning my head against his as we both watched our son feed.

  I had so many questions to ask Anderson — about where he’d been, how he’d made it home, why he hadn’t been able to reach me. But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was that little boy in my arms.

  And that amazing man who I knew without a doubt would always be by my side.

  Later that night — or rather, sometime early in the morning — I woke to one of my favorite scents.

  Cinnamon rolls.

  I smiled, inhaling deep before I sat up in bed. Every muscle in my body ached as I slipped out from under the sheets. I limped a little as I walked down the hall to the kitchen, and when I saw my husband swaying in the soft light of our cabin, my heart melted.

  He held our son in his arms, skin to skin, already bonding with his son in a way that only a dad can.

  “And Momma Von is a little crazy, but she already loves you so much. And Davie and Yvette, they’re going to be like an aunt and uncle to you. And their son, Ben, will be like a big brother. Of course, one day, maybe we’ll make you a big brother. Think you could handle that?” He paused, chuckling a little as if Elijah had answered him. “Yeah, I think you could, too.”

  My heart swelled, and I leaned against the wall, trying to be invisible a while longer.

  “I promise to take care of you, Elijah,” he said after a moment, his voice less playful now. Even in the low light of the kitchen, I co
uld see the crease between his brows. “And I promise that I’ll always be here. I will be the best father I can be. Though, you can’t compare me to your mom, because she’s going to be so much better at all of this than I will be. You’ll find out quickly that she’s the most amazing woman on this planet. And God help you if you find a woman one day who you love as fiercely as I love her.”

  I couldn’t bear it any longer. I waddled into the kitchen, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He didn’t flinch, as if he already knew I was there, and I pressed my lips between his shoulder blades, kissing him before I rested my cheek there, instead.

  “This is the most wonderful moment.”

  “You’re just saying that because you can smell the cinnamon rolls.”

  I laughed, and Anderson turned, careful with Elijah in his arms as he kissed my lips. We both stared down at where he slept for what felt like hours before Anderson disappeared into our room, depositing him into his crib and returning just in time to take the rolls out of the oven.

  “Before we ice these, I have something to show you,” he said.

  I followed him into the living room, where all the bloody chaos of earlier had been cleaned up by Momma Von. It was as if nothing had ever happened, but I’d remember that room as the place our baby was born for as long as I lived. It would only make our cabin that much more in both of our minds.

  Still, there beside the couch where a pile of towels was hours before, there was a cradle.

  One that took my breath away.

  My hands flew to my mouth, and I glanced at Anderson’s knowing smile before I crossed the room to inspect it further. The design of the wood, the detail on the cushions — it was almost exactly like the one my grandfather and grandmother had made me.

  Except this one had our colors, our style.

  It was us.

  “Adrian made the cushions,” he explained from where he still stood behind me. “That’s what I really went to Seattle for today. I know it’s not exactly like yours, but…”

  “It’s amazing,” I said, standing with tears still brimming. I couldn’t believe I was still able to produce them after the day and night we’d had.

  Anderson opened his arms when I made it back to him, wrapping me up as he rested his chin on my head with a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “We made a human,” he said after a moment. “Can you believe that?”

  I nodded. “Are you scared?”

  “A little. You?”

  “Absolutely terrified.”

  He chuckled, kissing my forehead. “Well, come on. Let’s ice these cinnamon rolls so we can talk about all your fears and I can prove how silly they are. I already know you’ll be the most amazing mom.”

  I smiled, leaning into his arm as we walked to the kitchen. He was halfway through icing the batch when I fiddled with the dial on the wall, kicking the newly fixed speaker system to life. Anderson quirked a brow over his shoulder, and I just smiled mischievously, flicking through my playlist until I found the song I was looking for.

  When the first beats of “Ice, Ice, Baby” came on, a laugh so loud barreled out of Anderson, I was sure the entire town heard.

  He shook his head, abandoning the rolls and crossing the room to pull me into his arms. He kissed my lips as we swayed to quite possibly the worst rap song to ever exist.

  But in that moment, it was perfect.

  In that moment, everything was perfect.

  On the Way to You Extended Epilogue

  Every Day After Forever

  This was not what I expected for my bachelorette party.

  I never saw a group of close friends and family sitting around a bonfire as a bachelor or bachelorette party, but it was for Emery and me. We were camping — or rather “glamping” — right outside of Zion National Park in Utah. Technically, all our friends and family were put up in tents, but those “tents” were huge, and they housed fireplaces, full beds, showers, and more. I knew it would be hard enough to get Tammy in any kind of camping situation, let alone one where she was in a sleeping bag on the ground. So, Emery and I booked the glamping experience, and here we all were, the night before the wedding, gathered around a bonfire swapping stories.

  Emery and I had fallen in love with Zion during a trip the summer after we moved to Seattle, and we’d been dying to return ever since. So when we started talking about possible wedding venues, he’d suggested the most unconventional one — the top peak of one of the most popular hikes at the park — Angel’s Landing.

  I knew it would be perfect.

  I also knew it would be challenging, particularly for me. Hiking with a prosthetic leg wasn’t always the easiest, and Angel’s Landing was a hike that very fit people with both legs struggled with. Still, when I pictured it, Emery and I exchanging vows with the steep red cliffs in the background, the blooming greens of summer, the river trickling below, surrounded by our family and friends… it was us.

  It was just so perfectly us.

  The stars were bright above us as we sat around the fire at our makeshift “bachelor and bachelorette party,” so bright that it was hard to believe they were always there, and somehow we never saw them in Seattle. I couldn’t even remember them being that bright back in Mobile. It was a little cool, so we were all wrapped up in light sweaters, the fire providing enough warmth to keep us outside. Our entire wedding party was there, granted it was an unusually small group for a wedding — just Emery’s parents, a few of his students who’d been taking yoga with him the past year, Tammy, Lily, Glen and Nora, and, of course, Kalo, who was loving the attention from everyone as she pranced from person to person, getting rubbed behind her floppy ears.

  They were the people who meant the most to us, and I couldn’t imagine anyone else celebrating this milestone with us.

  Still, it was so far from what I expected most of my life.

  Lily and I used to dream about our weddings when we were younger. We’d curl up in her bed, our feet propped up on the wall and eyes on the poster of Leonardo DiCaprio that she had hung on her ceiling, and we’d talk and talk about when we’d get married, who we’d marry, what our wedding dress would be like, what our bachelorette party would be like.

  I always pictured a long, lacy, cream dress, where Lily saw herself in a short and spunky white one. I imagined a sunset wedding in the country, and she pictured a rooftop one in the city. For my bachelorette, I thought it would just be the two of us — since she was my only friend until I started working at the diner — and I saw us in fake, white wedding veils, teasing each other with phallic-shaped straws and hopping from bar to bar being silly.

  But I think, deep down inside, it was all make-believe to me. It was a game, one where we talked about things that would never actually happen. Because no one would ever actually date me, or fall in love with me, or ask me to marry them. I was the girl with glasses too big for her face and a prosthetic leg. I wasn’t beautiful, I was weird.

  That was before I met Emery.

  And now that I truly thought about it, that was probably why that bonfire with all our family and friends felt so out of place. I never thought I’d find Emery, never thought I’d truly find love. I never could have known that when I hopped in that stranger’s car to drive across the country that I’d be sliding into the passenger seat next to my future husband.

  It was one of the most surreal moments of my life, staring at him from across the fire as he told another story from the road trip that brought us together.

  I was marrying that man in less than twenty-four hours.

  And for some reason, there was an uneasiness resting in the pit of my gut.

  “I knew it back then, you know?” Nora said, shifting her weight in her chair and lowering her voice a bit so only I could hear. “I knew the moment I met you two that you’d tie the knot one day.”

  I smiled, shaking myself from my thoughts as I turned to her. “Technically, you thought we already were married.”

  “Pshh,” she waved me off. “Glen
and I saw right through that little lie you two were telling. We also thought it was too darn adorable to question. It was something he and I would have done when we were younger.”

  My heart warmed at the memory, at how hot my cheeks flushed when Nora first asked Emery and I if we were newlyweds when we’d met them at Seven Falls in Colorado. He’d said yes so quickly, like it wasn’t even a question at all.

  And that night, he’d given me my very first kiss.

  “You’re quiet tonight,” she observed after a moment.

  I nodded, crossing my prosthetic leg over the other with my eyes drifting to the fire. “Just reflecting, I think.”

  “Well, that’s normal,” she said. “I’m sure it’s hard to believe, thinking about where you started, how far you’ve come.”

  It was, and not just because we had fallen so madly in love. Emery had also changed his relationship with his depression, taking control of it rather than letting it take control of him. He still had bad days, and we knew they’d always be there, but he handled them with such grace now. Getting him on medication had been the first step, but honestly, it had been meditation and yoga that had helped him the most — so much so that he even had his own yoga class now. It was built around those anxious, depressed feelings, and he was helping others overcome their own battles.

  He wasn’t just my hero. He was the same in so many other lives.

  And while he was finding himself, chasing his dreams, I was slowly making my own come true.

  When I got in that car and made my way across the country to Seattle, Bastyr still seemed impossible. Even though I had the money saved, and the getaway car, and the grades, and the plan. It was my dream school, and much like my wedding, I might have always talked about it and dreamt of it, but it was just that — a dream. The fact that I was now in my second year, studying Naturopathic Medicine the way I always imagined I would… it was just as surreal as the engagement ring on my finger.

  My life had gone from absolutely miserable to everything I’d dreamed of, seemingly overnight.

  And maybe that was why in the deepest abyss of my subconscious, I didn’t trust it.