Dylan

by S. L. Scott

  I look around the place and say, “I’m home wherever you are, but a new place might be nice. Someplace that’s between our two jobs to make the morning commute easier.”

  “That would be good, but are you ready to move? You’ve lived there a long time.”

  “Lived?” I ask, rhetorically. “Hm. I only lived there when you did. And Brandon only has two months left, then he’s moving uptown when he returns from his vacation with Cara. Nothing ties me to here anymore.”

  He kisses me gently, and says, “You’re my home too.”

  MY PLACE SOLD above asking price within two weeks of putting it on the market. We ended up having a bidding war between three offers and took the highest. Jules’ apartment, our old one, was left to the landlord to deal with after we paid to get out of her lease.

  I was worried about her leaving it behind, leaving it for good. After all, she stayed even after I left, so I know she’s attached, but she’s reassured me. She told me she was ready and as I watch her direct the movers—so confident, so sure of herself—I let it go, trusting her words, trusting that she’s happy about starting our life together somewhere new.

  “MARRY ME. I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. I want to be married to you forever, always.”

  She sits upright, grabbing her stomach, maybe I went about this the wrong way. I hope not. Her face is serious, mouth agape. Now she’s the one staring at me.

  “Dylan?” she says, stunned as she swings her feet toward the floor and leans toward me.

  “I haven’t done this right. I let my feelings get away from me.” Pulling the box from my back pocket, I get into a kneeling position, on one knee and hold her hand. I open the box, then ask, “Jules, I love you with my heart and soul. I will love you way beyond the years of this lifetime. Will you marry me and be my eternity?”

  There’s no pause or hesitation. Just a flurry of arms wrapping around me, her body pressing against mine. “Oh Dylan, yes. I love you so much too. Yes.” Kiss. “Yes!” Kiss. “Yes!”

  WE GOT MARRIED as soon as we could. We didn’t want to wait. “It’s raining,” I remark, pouting a bit.

  “That’s good luck,” my mom says. “Stand up and let me get a picture of you. Say cheese.”

  “Cheese.” Just as the camera snaps, my stomach growls. “Cheese sounds good. I’m hungry.”

  “You think you can wait until after the ceremony? We’ve only got five minutes left.” My mom sees my frown, then goes to dig something out of her purse and says, “Eat this quickly. Hopefully it will tide you over for a bit.”

  I happily take the granola bar.

  “You look beautiful, Juliette,” Dylan’s mom says while fluffing my veil.

  I’m a whole basket case of emotions today. “You have to say that, Carol, it’s my wedding day.”

  “No, actually, I don’t have to say that. I once told Mary Stein that her newborn looked like Winston Churchill.”

  “No you didn’t. You’re too nice to hurt someone’s feelings like that.”

  She adjusts the pearl necklace around my neck, her gift to me. “You’re right, but I thought it. I’ve often wondered if Churchill’s mother thought him a cute baby.” I burst out laughing. She stands back with my mother at her side and says, “See, now you’re smiling. Everything is just as it should be on your wedding day.”

  Two minutes later, I’m touching up my lipstick and my dad comes in. “I was threatened not to ruin your makeup. So, I’m not going to ooh and ahh like the women do.”

  I smile.

  But when I stand back up, I see his eyes begin to water. “You’ll always be my beautiful princess, Juliette.” He turns around to collect himself, which brings tears to my eyes.

  I touch his arm and when he turns back, I hug him. “Thank you, Dad.”

  “We need to get you to that altar before I become a blubbering mess.”

  “Hey dad, can I ask you something before we go?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why do I feel a little shame, like I’m letting someone down because I took him back? What’s everyone gonna think about us, you know, because of the bad breakup and stuff?”

  His expression softens. “You know, you shouldn’t feel anything but love and happiness on this special day. Dylan’s proven to us that he loves you. He made a big mistake, but as for being a couple, everyone has struggles and faces roadblocks in life. It’s how you handle them and come out the other side that matters. Anyway, the people who matter most are here to support you, not question your judgment. You know what’s best for you.”

  “Thank you,” I say as we hug. He’s right. The people we hold most dear in our lives are here to support us, not judge us. “That’s just what I needed to hear.”

  “You ready now?”

  “Yes, very.”

  I catch a glimpse of Dylan standing under the arbor as I pass through the glass conservatory of the botanical gardens. I stop, slightly breathless at the sight.

  “You all right, Juliette?”

  I look up to my dad and smile to reassure. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  We continue on, rounding the patio, our eyes lock and the world seems to disappear. All I see is Dylan. Only him. Always him.

  Twenty people. That’s all that’s in attendance.

  All that truly matters—their support, love, and friendship keeping us afloat in times of need. I keep my emotions from overwhelming me by focusing on the happy of the moment.

  The music begins and I take a deep breath, then we walk.

  It’s surreal standing here after the journey we’ve taken to get to this point. I could have never predicted after our breakup that we’d get back together, much less get married one day. My heart knows he’s the one… maybe it always did. The best part is he knows as well now. We both had to find out the hard way, but looking back and feeling this happy, I realize there was never another option for us. Our lives were always going to be entangled. Even more so now.

  Taking his hands, the minister says a few words, but I don’t hear any of them. Looking into Dylan’s eyes, I see my eternity in the depth of his brilliant blues and I smile.

  “Juliette?”

  I respond when I hear my name. “Yes?”

  “Your vows,” the minister whispers.

  I don’t need a script and I didn’t write anything down. I nod, ready for this. “You once told me you couldn’t stay away. I’m so glad you didn’t. There’s no glory in easy and we have definitely not taken the easy road to get here.” His hands tighten around mine as I smile up at him. “I thought I could disappear, move forward without my heart. I was fooling myself. Life began when you returned to me, returning my heart in the process. I love you, Dylan Somers, with all my soul and every fiber, muscle, and nerve of my being. I am forever yours and you mine. I’m honored to call you my husband and looking forward to our eternity together.”

  Despite tradition, he leans down and kisses my cheek just as I look down, my sentimental side showing in my tear-filled eyes.

  Glancing to the minister, he nods, then Dylan says, “You were always my fair Juliette. You gave me a reason to live, a purpose in life, when I was just trying to survive another day. You guided the way when I was lost. Like the North Star, you led this wayward soul home again. With you by my side, as my wife, I’ll never wander and I’ll never be lost again. I promise to love and cherish, to obey,” he adds with a smirk. “I will honor you every day of this life and forever more into the next. I love you, Juliette.”

  After a pause, and I release a long held breath, the ministers says, “You may kiss your bride.”

  Dylan, beaming with pride and love, leans down and kisses me. Like our very first kiss, my knees weaken, but his hands are strong, as he holds me. We’re announced as the married couple we are, and make our way up the aisle and out to a side yard. His mother set up a little bistro table for us with orange juice, two chairs, and a few moments of privacy.

  Tilting his lips to my ear, Dylan whispers, “I will lo
ve you for lifetimes to come.” He kisses my cheek.

  “I’ll love you more.”

  SPEECHLESS.

  Silent.

  Two pink lines.

  Three white sticks being waved in the air.

  Pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  Pregnant.

  “Pregnant?” I ask like I don’t know the meaning of the words.

  She nods, confirming, “Yes. A baby, Dylan.”

  I feel lightheaded.

  I need to sit down.

  But I need to know more. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel good.”

  Not what I’m looking for though I’m relieved she feels all right. Gauging, I ask, “I’m mean are you happy to be pregnant?”

  Tears stream freely as a smile forms, her eyes alight, “I’m happy, babe. I’m really happy.”

  I reach for her, holding her to me, needing to feel her against me. “You’re having a baby,” I whisper into her hair.

  “We’re having a baby.”

  Shit. I’m having a baby.

  With Jules.

  She’s having my baby.

  So many questions race through my head. Too many. I need to sit.

  “Come sit with me.” I take her hand and pull her with me.

  We sit and look at each other. That glow people talk about is ever present. She’s already glowing from the inside out. “You’re really happy, aren’t you?”

  She does this bounce of excitement on the cushion, lifting my hand to her mouth and kissing it. “I’m so happy. I really am. I’m with you and I’m having your baby. How can I not be happy? How can I not be thrilled right now? Are you happy about this? About the baby?”

  I take a second to try to comprehend the news, but my heart, fuck, even my head tells me I don’t need that second. “I’m happy. I’m shocked, surprised, but I’m really happy too.”

  A gentle smile crosses her face as she scoots onto my lap. Her arms surround me and she kisses my temple. “I love you, Dylan.” Only a moment passes before she adds, “I want lots of kids with you.”

  Tonight I kiss her until her lips are swollen, then I kiss her stomach and our baby goodnight. I lay there holding her and thanking God for this second life I’ve been given.

  “STOP STARING AT me.”

  “I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful.”

  “I just threw up twice. I’m pale and pissy and you think I’m beautiful?” She shakes her head and scoffs. “You must really be in love, Mr. Somers.”

  “I am.” I walk closer, sitting on the floor next to the couch where she’s lying. She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes and yes, pale, but never more beautiful. “So in love, Mrs. Somers.”

  WE FINALLY SETTLE into our new home. It took forever to find and we were sick of living in a rental uptown. We move into a townhouse—four bedrooms, an office, a small backyard, exposed brick. She loves it. She loved it the minute she saw it and we bought it.

  All the stuff is unpacked. All the stuff we decided to keep from our separate apartments and the storage unit doesn’t seem like much when sitting in this large place.

  I just paid the movers and I need a beer after being coerced by her feminine wiles to help carry about ten boxes up from the truck. I grab a beer out of the fridge. While drinking, I notice she’s not around. I set the beer on the counter behind me and walk through the living room, my steps echoing across the wood floors. I don’t call because I think she’s upstairs.

  I check our room and then the baby’s room… I had a feeling. Don’t know why I didn’t come in here first. There she is. Sitting in the rocker in the corner, arm draped over her stomach protectively, eyes closed, humming.

  Content.

  I quietly kneel in front of her, trying not to disturb, but wanting to be close. She continues to hum. Contentment feels good.

  “DYLAN!”

  I run. I run so fast into the bedroom where she was napping when she calls for me. She’s sitting upright, hand over the small pooch that has formed in at her midsection. “Dylan! He moved. The baby moved.”

  “What! Really?” I sigh, thankful she’s safe, that she’s all right.

  “Yes, hurry. Come here and feel,” she replies, smiling and waving me closer. I rush, sitting down next to her. She places my hand on her stomach and shushes me. I smile but don’t laugh, waiting, anticipating, but nothing happens. After a minute or two, I’m a bit disappointed, but I don’t say so. I don’t want to ruin the moment for her though I can see she’s a little disappointed too. She starts talking to the baby, then humming, but still nothing. “Maybe he’s gone back to sleep.”

  “You’re so sure it’s a boy, aren’t you?”

  “I know it’s a boy.”

  “How?”

  “It’s just a feeling, but I know it.”

  “So you’ll be happy with a boy?”

  “I’m happy with whatever we get, but yes, a boy, someone like you.”

  She’s all heart and soul. I can’t hold my smile. This feeling is bigger than that. As I gaze into her eyes, I see forgiveness and love. And I’m rendered speechless.

  “Don’t cry, babe,” she says, wiping one of my tears away. Leaning forward she replaces the tear with a kiss. Lying back, she takes me with her, holding me close, my head on her chest and gently strokes my hair.

  I hope one day I’ll deserve her, hoping I’m worthy of her kindness and love.

  Everything. I will be everything she dreams of, wants, and needs. The baby moves beneath my hand, under my chin. One solid kick that startles me and I lift quickly to watch.

  Another good kick and I laugh. “Hello, baby. Hi in there.” A double kick and I lose it, laughing. Looking at her, I proclaim, “The baby knows me. He knows my voice, Jules.”

  Her smile turns gentle. “Well, of course, he does. You’re his dad.”

  “I’m his dad.” Yes, I am his dad.

  MY HANDS ARE sweating. Jules is smiling, perfectly content, knowing she’s right.

  The sonogram technician announces, “It’s a boy!”

  “You knew!” I say, “You knew all along.” I kiss her forehead just as smugness takes over her expression. “Go ahead. I know you want to.”

  “I told you so,” she sing-songs, then laughs, making the technician laugh as well.

  A month later, my thoughts are on her as I paint the baby’s room the perfect shade of sky blue, the perfect shade according to Jules. She’s the artistic visionary, so I do as I’m told. It makes me happy to do these domestic things. Grounds me to our life, a daily reminder of how good I have it.

  A muralist shows up a day later to paint a universe across the ceiling, not dark and scary but a lighter, quite impressive one. “A universe of opportunities,” Jules says proudly.

  The crib, changing table, and rocking chair are in place. Most details yet to come except for two I wasn’t aware of. I find her in the chair, rocking slowly back and forth when I arrive home from work one evening. “Hi,” I greet, leaning against the doorframe.

  She smiles softly in the dim light of the fading day. “I picked the paintings up from the framers today.”

  “Paintings?”

  Her eyes are bright, happy as she stands and picks up two framed pictures while turning them around. I thought these would be great in the baby’s room. I laugh aloud when I see them. Great memories come back from our third date so many years ago.

  “You kept these?” I ask.

  “Actually, you kept these. I found them in a box that was brought over from the storage room.”

  I hold up the kitten paint-by-numbers and smile. “I did a damn fine job on this.”

  “Yes, you did, but I’m partial to my puppy painting.”

  I chuckle. “I think they’re both pretty fantastic, just like the artists.”

  “Only you know how to work a compliment for yourself into the conversation while praising others.”

  With a smirk, I say, “I call it talent.”

  “Oh you’re ta
lented all right.” She leans up and kisses me on the lips, lingering a moment to enjoy it. I know why she does this, because I do the same.

  Come July, Jules is big. I don’t say that out loud, but she is. She’s basically waddling into the kitchen and sits down. But I love every pound she’s put on, every love pound she’s gained for our baby. Looking across the table at her, I ask, “You nervous about having the baby and how life will change?”

  “No. What reason would I have to be nervous? I know what I’m getting myself into.”

  Laughing, I flirt. “Oh baby, you haven’t seen anything yet”

  She rubs her belly and giggles. “You gonna give me rainbows and unicorns?”

  “Yes, and leprechauns too.”

  “Sounds magical.”

  “Magically delicious.”

  “Are you quoting cereal boxes now?” I ask.

  “Yep.”

  “So you are nervous?”

  She shrugs, “Kind of nervous and just a little afraid.”

  “So you’re nervous enough that you’re quoting cereal slogans, but just know,” I say, reaching across and taking her hand. “I’m here for you. You don’t ever have to be afraid.”

  She sits back in her chair and adds, “I miss my abs. Do you think I’ll ever get them back?”

  Laughing, I reply, “Not if I can get you knocked up a couple more times. But, no worries, baby, you’ll always be sexy to me.”

  “Charmer.”

  “I try.” I even wink for emphasis.

  EIGHT HOURS AFTER arriving at the hospital, our beautiful son, Maxwell Peter Somers, is welcomed into our world, forever changing our lives for the better.

  I was warned time would fly, told to embrace every day to its fullest and enjoy the little moments with the baby. Everyone was right. My little Max is growing so fast, already a toddler. I watch Max wobble to his dad, happy as can be. I can’t believe he’s already a year and a half old. I’m lost in thought, finding myself lost in thought a lot these days. I don’t reflect too much though. Life is too good in the here and now to dwell on the past.