by R. K. Lilley
He bent forward, plucking the black velvet pouch out of the briefcase and pulling it open until there was just enough room for my hand to fit in. “I think you should do the honors.”
I put my hand in, mostly because it was so surreal that I couldn’t quite believe what was going on. I pulled out a small piece of paper that only said China.
“China. Perfect. Now that that’s out of the way, Step three: Do a shit-ton of paperwork. I’ve heard that part is a headache, but it’ll be well worth it.”
“Tristan—”
“Oh, wait, I forgot something important. Reach into the bag again.”
I don’t know why, but I just did it, though I knew we needed to talk more than he needed to continue with this.
Whereas before my hands had skimmed over several small pieces of paper, now it held only one thing, at the very bottom. He hadn’t so much as twitched, that I could tell, since the last time I’d reached in.
I yanked my hand back like it had been burned the second I felt what was inside. I knew what it was instantly.
I started shaking my head as Tristan started nodding that yes, it was just what I thought it was.
He got down on one knee in front of me.
I covered my face with my hands.
He started laughing. “I learned my lesson the first time. Notice my clever location is very much private.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice muffled by my own hands.
“You know,” his deep voice was affectionately amused.
He moved my arm a bit, but not to take my hands from my face, as I originally thought.
Instead, he covered the spot on my chest just over my heart. He kept it there for a few beats, and then he was shifting, standing, then pulling me against him, pushing my face down on his chest with one hand, the other moving to cover my chest again.
“Do you hear that?” he uttered quietly.
“Hear what?” I whispered back.
“It never stopped, did it?” he asked softly. “All this time. Years. And my heart is still beating in time with yours, still working, above all else, to keep that even pace. Fight it all you want, but even our bodies betray our feelings.”
As though in direct contradiction, my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest at his words.
I clenched my eyes shut tight, clenched everything as I spoke. “I can’t have children.”
“Oh, sweetheart. You haven’t been paying attention. Did you think the way I felt about you would change because of that? I am not that guy. I am the guy who has been in love with you for over six fucking years. I am the guy that has thought about you every day. I miss you every day. What happened—what we lost together—breaks my heart, but it doesn’t change anything. I still want to marry you, and I still want you to be the mother of my children.”
“Tristan, I can’t—”
“It is a technicality. We can’t conceive, so we will adopt.”
I started sobbing.
“You know, if you get hysterical every time I propose to you, it’s going to start to hurt my feelings.”
I laughed, then sobbed harder.
“Give me my family back. Marry me. Be my wife again.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, taking the ring out of the bag and putting it on my finger.
“Yes,” I finally told him, holding on for dear life.
He stroked my hair, his eyes closing, a look of utter peace overtaking his face.
“I missed you so much,” I sobbed, then burrowed into his chest.
“Never again.”
I waited until I was calm. “I love you,” I said quietly and vehemently.
I heard the smile in his voice. “Love you more.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
DANIKA
To say that our wedding got the royal treatment was a huge compliment to all things royal. The moment James got wind that we were even considering using his resort to say our vows, the diamond encrusted red carpet was rolled out, and the rest was sort of history.
The ceremony itself was held in the Cavendish Hotel & Casino’s world-renowned atrium. The atrium was a huge draw for the casino, so the fact that they roped the entire thing off for three hours just for our vows, was huge. In fact, I’d never heard of such a thing. And what was even more extravagant, James had an entirely new all white garden arrangement put together just for us.
I confronted James directly when I heard a rumor about how much the new arrangement had cost.
He’d just smiled charmingly, and diffused the situation with ease. “We do these floral arrangements all the time, and they’re often expensive. We won’t take it all down right after the wedding. We’ll make full use of it.”
I was appeased, because, grand gesture though it was, at least I could be sure it wasn’t wasteful.
I told all of the bridesmaids that I wasn’t wearing a strapless gown when we went shopping for my dress, but by the end of the day I’d found my dream dress, and lo and behold, it was strapless, and it was just perfect.
It was ivory but the fitted, elongated bodice was so heavily beaded and exquisitely embroidered that the top looked silver. It had a curved neckline that made my curves apparent, but didn’t give too much of a show. It was undecided what was more of a showstopper, that beaded bodice or the tiered ruffle silk organza skirt with a chapel train.
It was the most elegant of princess gowns, and I adored it.
I’d tried on twenty dresses, and the instant I walked out in that one, everyone agreed that it was the one.
The bridesmaids wore white floor-length lace gowns with pale yellow sashes.
Tristan wore a classic crisp black tux, with a white shirt and tie. The groomsmen wore the same, but with yellow ties.
Frankie and Estella, arm in arm, were the first of the bridal party to walk down the aisle.
As the maid of honor, Frankie had tried hard to get me a female stripper for the bachelorette party. She’d only given up on the idea when I’d pointed out that it was clearly a Homer gift.
It hadn’t been a real bachelorette party, anyway. We’d combined with the guys and James had wound up throwing us a party at his house. I thought the guys had gotten the better deal, as there were two hot lesbians making out for half of it.
Bianca and James were next. They didn’t walk arm in arm, but with one of his hands at her hip, the other in the loop in her choker.
Next followed Lana and Akira. Lana had given birth just five weeks before, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her. She was one of those lucky bitches that bounced back right away.
Even as they walked, I saw them both steal a peek at the row where Tutu sat, holding their new son, Kaiko. I’d gotten to hold him earlier. He was calm and already clearly took after his father in looks, except for his blue eyes, though it was too soon to tell if those would change.
Dahlia and Adair were next. They’d eloped about a year prior, and seemed to be doing well. Stephan and Javier walked down together. Todd and Trinity, two of Tristan’s very close support group from rehab, walked next. Cory walked down alone, since the numbers were uneven, and Kenny paired up with Bev, since Jerry was walking me.
Bev gave Tristan her blessing after one tense lunch at her favorite Italian restaurant. The mob place. And while Jerry and me watched as Bev interrogated Tristan for a solid hour, a few tables away from the godfather, I’d of sworn she was the scariest person in the room.
But it had all turned out well, and she hadn’t hesitated to join the wedding party.
It was a very long aisle to walk and a beautiful one. Big heaping bouquets of every white flower imaginable lined the pathway, dwarfed by colossal white vases filled to brimming with even more painstakingly arranged bouquets.
I clutched Jerry’s arm hard, but that was for emotional support. I didn’t need to use him as a crutch. After having partial knee replacement surgery over five months ago, my gait was smoother than it had been since the accide
nt. I’d never be taking up ballroom again, but I could take a turn or two around the dance floor now, which would surely come in handy later.
It would never be perfect, but it was better and close enough for me.
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 having sex 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.
“Hi Ming,” he told her very softly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m your daddy. You have no idea how long your mommy and I have been waiting for you.”
She was too young to understand, and even if she’d been older, she had very little exposure to English. Still, some communication seemed to make it through to her, and she launched herself at him. He hugged her tight, straightening. Her little head looked so perfect, so trusting, laying on his strong shoulder.
Like they’d done it a thousand times. Like it was fate.
His tender eyes swung to me, and they were bright with tears. He smiled at me, biting his lip. “Come here, Mommy.”
I moved as if in a dream, touching her little back, stroking her short black hair.
She pulled away from his chest to look at me, her little face so solemn.
“Hello Ming,” I choked out. “I’m your mommy, and I’ve been waiting my whole life to meet you.”
She touched my face, running her tiny fingers over my brow, my nose, over my tear-streaked cheeks.
I held my arms out to her, holding my breath, and after one endless minute, she launched herself into my arms.
I held her tight and never let go.
We sat in economy class on the way home, as babies weren’t allowed in first class. We sat side by side, and Ming was our lap child. I couldn’t have been happier.
We took turns holding her. I couldn’t stop staring at her, even when she slept.
“Pinch me, Tristan,” I told him quietly, as we just stared at her in wonder. “I must be dreaming. This little angel can’t be ours.”
He actually pinched me.
“Ow!” I said, giving him a dirty look. I didn’t dare punch his arm with the baby.
His smiling lips moved close, kissing the corner of my mouth. “This is real, and you aren’t dreaming.”
TWO YEARS LATER
James let us borrow his private jet and crew for our trip to Sofia, Bulgaria. It was a Godsend, with Ming, now a precocious toddler, literally climbing the walls. The flight time was fifteen hours and counting, and it would have been miserable, if he hadn’t done us this huge favor.
“Nikowash,” she said, for maybe the hundredth time. She was practicing.
“That’s it. Very good,” I told her.
“My brover.” She jumped up and down, the yellow ruffles of her dress bouncing. Her hair had gotten quite long, and I’d smoothed it into two pigtails that bou
nced as much as her dress.
Of course, I was biased, but she was the most beautiful little girl in the world.
“Yes, yes he is,” I assured her.
Tristan plucked her from the aisle, settling her in his lap. “Your baby brother. Trust me, you’re going to appreciate the distinction as you two get older.”
“Baby brover,” she repeated dutifully. She was very much her daddy’s girl.
His name was Nikolaj. He had the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
He was born in Bulgaria and dropped off at an orphanage by his biological mother at two weeks old. We were extremely lucky to take him home at just ten months old. He wouldn’t let go of Tristan’s neck for the entire plane ride back to Vegas. Ming kept crawling onto her daddy’s lap and giving her new brother kisses on the cheek. She must have done it a hundred times. We couldn’t stop her.
He was ours.
Even our little Princess Ming knew it.
I was no more controlled, stroking his back, his little hands, bending to rub my lips on his slumbering, baby soft cheek.
Tristan held him without complaint, often shutting his eyes and pressing his cheek or lips to our baby boy’s head. It was official. We’d been through hell, but here we were, in our own little slice of heaven.
TWO YEARS LATER
I had the kids over at Bev’s house for some girl time. Nikolaj was climbing all over Bev, and Ming was getting her hair braided by Frankie. It was a pretty typical Thursday afternoon for us all.
Except that it suddenly wasn’t. Frankie had just asked me the strangest thing, and then Bev’s response had absolutely floored me. I just sat there in stunned silence for a while, trying to figure it all out.
Frankie and Estella wanted a baby, but they were missing one of the important ingredients to make one, so they were in need of a donor.
“Estella wants to breed a linebacker, I think,” Frankie joked, but she looked ill at ease. This couldn’t be an easy thing to ask somebody.
