by Ellie Wade
“I do, actually. I remember almost everything about that day. You made it so special for me.”
“Do you recall what you wished for?”
I nod. “Yeah, I wished to be happy, just like I was on that day, when I was grown.”
“And your wish came true?”
“Yes and no,” I say. “That wish was exceeded by a long shot. I’m exponentially happier than I was on that day. I didn’t know this level of joy existed.”
“I’m glad. I’m beyond happy, too.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Do you want to go upstairs?” he whispers, trailing kisses down my neck.
“No.” I run my palms up his bare chest, feeling his muscles between my touch. “I want to stay here by the light of the Christmas tree. It’s been the best Christmas ever. We should stay in theme.”
“Okay.” Amos chuckles. “Whatever you want, my beautiful girl.”
We explore every inch of each other’s bodies. We make love again by the light of the fire, and it’s incredible. Every moment with him always is.
I stare into the fire, my cheek against his chest as I draw lazy circles over his skin.
“Is it weird that you lost your virginity with one of my bridesmaids?” I ask, amused.
Amos pulls in a breath and throws his forearm over his eyes, and groans. “We’ve gone six months without bringing that up,” he says. “I was hoping it’d never come up.”
“It’s not a big deal. I mean, we weren’t together or anything then. Is it ever weird, though?”
“No, it’s really not. I don’t think about it, truthfully. It feels like a lifetime ago. I don’t see her in that way anymore. I haven’t since freshman year. Now, she’s just your bestie Quinn. Nothing more.”
“Well, she’s one of my besties. You’re my ultimate bestie.” I tilt my face up toward his.
“This is true.” He presses his lips to mine. “Besties for life.”
“For life.”
34
Alma
The airy hum of the waves sounds through the space as glowing rays of sunshine peek through the windows. With the windows open, I can feel the light breeze on my skin.
“It’s a perfect day,” I say, my face contorted into an awful expression as it always does when I apply mascara. I swipe the wand across my lashes.
“It really is. It’s beautiful.” Quinn stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the lake from the master bedroom suite. “Everything is stunning out there, magazine-worthy.”
“Yeah, Clare did it all,” I say of the wedding planner. “She made it so easy. I told her my vision, and she brought it to life.”
We found this stunning home on Lake Michigan. To give credit where credit is due, I suppose, Mrs. Harding found it. She got wind that Amos and I were looking for a large home on the lake to rent for our wedding, and she found us this one. Apparently, it belongs to some actor that Victor Harding has worked with in the past. One call from Victor and the house was gifted to us for the week. The actor is rarely in Michigan, and the house sits empty most of the year.
I was hesitant to take help from the Hardings, but Amos convinced me to rise above my pride by reminding me it’s the least they can do. Mrs. Harding is trying to do right by Love and me. I have to give her that.
The past several days have been one giant slumber party. Our closest friends and family have been staying with us at the house. Our days have been filled with delicious catered meals, games, and fun in the pool. We’ve played Euchre, our favorite card game, every night, and Amos and I are the reigning champions.
A spa company came in to pamper the girls with facials, manis, and pedis while the guys played a couple of rounds of golf at a nearby course. The past few days have been some of the best in my life, and today, on the white sand, I’m marrying my best friend. Our friends and family will head out tomorrow, and Amos and I will stay here—just the two of us, as a married couple the rest of the week. It’s surreal.
“Look, who’s hair is all finished?” Lee-Anne leads my little four-year-old into the room. Love smiles big, her hair curled into ringlets that bounce as she walks.
“Oh my goodness. Love Dove!” I shriek and walk over to her.
She wears a muted pink princess dress straight from a fairy tale. The bodice is a shimmery pink fabric with an adorable heart-shaped hole cut out in the back, and the skirt is the puffiest pink tulle.
I take her hand in mine and twirl her around. “You look like a princess.”
“I know.” She giggles. “I yuv it, Momma.”
“I love it, too.”
She runs her hand over the satin fabric of my dress. I went with a simple, elegant, formfitting dress. The skirt flows to my feet with a slit up one side. It’s soft and comfortable, and perfect for a beach wedding.
“You look like a pwincess, too.” she says.
I opted to wear my hair down in loose waves. The theme of the attire is classy and simple, save for Love, who gets to be the most beautiful princess there is. Cat and Quinn have pale sky blue dresses with plunging necklines and flowy simple full-length skirts. The flowers are every assortment of soft pink hues. The guys will be in light gray suits.
“And Mr. and Mrs. Davis just arrived,” Lee-Anne says. Amos’s parents weren’t part of the three-day slumber party but were invited to the wedding ceremony, same as a few close friends from the Lair.
“Oh, great. That means everyone’s here, and I think we’re pretty much ready. Are the guys ready?” I ask.
“They sure are.” Lee-Anne nods. “I’ll tell Clare.”
Grabbing some tinted lip gloss from the dresser, I lean toward the mirror and run it along my lips, finishing with a smack. “This is happening.” I blow out a breath.
The reflection staring back at me is one I know well. The truth is, I’ve had to figure myself out. My adult life has been one moment after the next of looking deep and discovering who I am and how I’ll carry myself in various situations, and there have been quite a few heavy ones.
I wouldn’t recognize that girl who stepped onto Eastern’s campus almost nine years ago. Though, at nineteen, I’d been through more than most that age, I’d never had to carry the weight on my own. I’d always had him.
I’m proud of the person I am today. The reality is I’ve been through hell and back. And, I’ve remained kind and caring. I love fiercely without reservations. I’m strong, and I can take on whatever life chooses to throw my way.
Except I don’t have to because I’m not walking through this life alone.
I still have him.
My constant, and now my forever.
“You’re perfect, absolutely stunning.” Cat stands at my side, a serene smile on her face.
“Thank you.”
She tilts her head, resting it atop mine as we stare in the mirror. “I’m so happy for you and grateful I get to celebrate this day with you. You know you’re like a sister to me.”
“I feel the same,” I tell her.
Quinn joins us on my other side. “You’re like a sister to me…well, except I enjoy your company more than I do some of my actual sisters.” She chuckles. “And I’m glad I get to be here for this one.”
She’s speaking of my Hawaiian elopement with Leo. She wasn’t happy not being a part of my first wedding, and I get it. Someday when Quinn settles down and finds the one, I hope I’m there to celebrate with her.
The mention of my first wedding is met with fondness, a nostalgia toward an incredible moment in my life. Thinking about my time with Leo no longer brings me crippling grief. Our life together was short, but it was wonderful, and I’m so grateful to have been loved by him. This past year with Amos has guided me toward a new level of healing. Not everyone finds their soul mate in this life, and I’ve found mine—twice.
My mother was right. We don’t all get just one.
Leo was, without a doubt, the love of my life. His soul was destined for mine, as mine was his. It was an epic love, and as the years pass, I wil
l always regard it as so.
Amos, too, is the love of my life. Our spirits danced when we were mere children, connecting our souls together for eternity. Our relationship is based on over two decades of astonishing moments, companionship, and unconditional love. He, and Love, and the family we’ve built are my happily ever after.
Maybe it was always destined to be this way.
I can’t pretend to understand why life happens how it does, but I know that we are capable of tremendous love. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly love another, my heart grew, allowing for another epic love to take hold.
“Gorgeous! Gorgeous! Gorgeous!” Clare scans the room, pointing at all the women in it with her perfectly manicured finger. “We look ready. Are we ready?”
“We are,” I say.
“Perfect. The violinists are playing, guests are seated, and Amos is waiting at the end of the aisle. I’d say, let’s get this party started.” She motions for my mother to join her. “Mother of the bride first, then we’ll have the models in blue, princess Lovebug, and then the stunning bride. Sound good?”
We line up, according to her direction, and follow her out of the house, and stand off to the side of the aisle behind a cover of trees as she sends us down one by one.
When it’s just Love and me, I crouch to her level. “Are you ready? You excited?”
She holds her baskets of petals and bobs her head.
“Thank you for being my princess today. You make this day perfect. I love you so much, baby girl.”
“I yuv you, Momma.” She kisses my lips.
Clare waves Love over, and my little miracle stands in the center of the sandy aisle, constructed with flowers on either side, and she looks so big and beautiful.
There’s an intense warmth in my chest as a gentle breeze hits my face, and I feel it. Just like in my darkest moments when I needed strength to continue and would look inside myself to be met with comfort. I press my palm to the skin above my beating heart, and a wave of happiness and love consumes me. An overwhelming sense of peace takes over as tears fill my eyes.
This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Love faces me and smiles. I wave proudly, and she turns toward the beach and takes a step. Her hand reaches into the flowers and tosses them to the ground at her feet.
I take her place in the floral flanked sandy walkway.
The sight before me is breathtaking. It’s everything I’ve been dreaming about, executed to perfection. The backdrop of Lake Michigan, in all its magnificence, is simply amazing. Amos waits, his hands crossed at his front, beneath the floral arch.
Handsome, strong, smart, brave, kind, and loving.
Amos is everything.
Most importantly, he’s mine.
And I’m his.
Forever.
Epilogue
Five Years Later
Amos
Love looks at me worried, as her mother, on the loveseat in our bedroom, groans in pain. I open the doors of the dresser quickly, tossing some essentials into a bag. This should’ve been done already, and I internally chastise myself that it’s not. Alma’s four weeks early, having just hit the thirty-six-week mark yesterday. We knew that twins usually come early, but neither of us thought they’d arrive a month early.
“Dad,” Love says, fear in her voice. “Is this normal? Is Mom going to be okay? Are the babies going to be okay?”
I close the dresser drawer and turn to her, pressing my palm to her cheek. “She’s going to be fine, Lovie. This is very normal.” I chuckle. “She was just as vocal when she was having you. And the babies will be in great hands. Please, don’t worry.”
I remember the day that Alma gave birth to our daughter in vivid detail, like it was yesterday. I was in awe of her that day, as I am every day. My wife is a force to be reckoned with, always has been. She’s a fighter, a champion with a heart of gold.
I fling the strap of the bag over my shoulder and take Alma’s hand, pulling her from the sofa. Alma’s free hand presses against her huge belly as she focuses on her breathing methods.
“Gigi and Luca will be here any minute, and I’ll text you with updates. Okay?” I say to Love.
Love nods. “Okay.”
“I’ll feel much better when I get an epidural,” Alma says through labored breaths. She turns to me, her eyes wide with fear. “Do you think it’s going to be too late for an epidural? The contractions aren’t far apart.”
“I’m not sure. We’ll have to see when we get there.” I lead her down the steps.
Lee-Anne and Luca come in through the front door just as we reach the main level.
“Oh my goodness. Can’t believe it’s time!” Lee-Anne rushes over to Alma and pulls a brown bag from her purse. “Here, honey. I got you some skullcap and catnip, which will help relieve pain naturally. There’s also some chamomile to help with pain during labor. I’ve included some dry chamomile that you can mix in food, like oatmeal, or there’s tea in case that’s easier.”
“Mom.” Alma groans, swatting at the brown bag as another contraction comes on.
I take the natural remedies from Lee-Anne and shove them in the duffel bag at my side. “Thank you, Lee-Anne. We appreciate it. We’ll be in touch.”
“Wait.” Alma stops in the threshold of the front door. “Love.” She beckons.
Love runs over to Alma. “I love you so much.” Alma kisses Love’s cheek. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay, and you’re going to be the best big sister. Take care of Gigi while we’re gone. Okay?”
“Okay, Mom. I love you,” Love says as we exit the house.
The ride to the University of Michigan hospital is a short one, just a few minutes. Alma is immediately wheeled into a room and checked.
“Can I get my epidural now?” she asks after a particularly rough contraction.
“Yes, and we have to hurry. You’re almost ready to push,” the doctor says. “The epidural is crucial in case we have to move to the operating room. We’ll try for a natural birth, but twins often end up needing to be delivered in the OR through a C-section.”
“No,” Alma protests and then looks at me.
“It will be okay.” I rub her sweaty hair away from her face and kiss her forehead. “Do you want some catnip?” I raise a brow, and Alma throws me a death glare. “Sorry. No more jokes.” I kiss her again. “You’re going to do great. I know it. You’re strong, and you can do this.”
“I know.” She pulls in a breath
She bares down, her eyes scrunch tight as she whimpers in agony through another contraction.
“It’s not too early, is it? Our babies will be okay?” Tears roll down her face.
“They’re going to be just fine,” I say to reassure us both.
The anesthesiologist enters the room, and I stand back as he inserts a giant needle into her spine for the epidural.
After years of making love without protection that resulted in no pregnancies we decided to see a fertility specialist last year. It turns out, Love was, indeed, a miracle. After the doctor told Alma that chances were very low she’d ever conceive again naturally, we opted to move ahead with IVF. Eight months ago, they implanted two tiny frozen embryos—part Alma and part me—into Alma, and both babies made it all the way here on their own little miracle journey.
We didn’t find out the gender of the babies, opting to wait until the birth to see. Life has so few opportunities for true surprises anymore, so we thought, why not?
It’s surreal to think that Alma and I are going to be parents to three kids. Three beautiful blessings.
The room is a whirlwind of activity as nurses enter and prep the space for the arrival of the twins. The bottom portion of the bed is removed, and Alma’s legs are put into stirrups. Our doctor, masked and gloved up, sits at the foot of the bed, a bright light propped up behind him.
A nurse lifts Alma’s gown and squirts some gel on her round belly. “We need to see what position the babies are in.” She holds the ultrasoun
d probe against Alma’s skin, and we all look toward the machine’s screen. The nurse smiles. “Both babies are vertex, heads down, so that’s great, Alma. That gives you a high chance for a natural delivery.”
“Yes, very good news,” the doctor states at the end of the table. “Everything is in line for a seamless delivery. You ready to start pushing?”
“Yeah.” Alma’s voice quivers.
“It’s time.” I circle my arm around Alma, and she leans her forehead against my chest. I kiss her head over and over. “You’re going to be great. I’m so proud of you.”
She nods against me, crying as another contraction hits.
Time passes slowly. Seconds feel like minutes as the nurse instructs Alma to hold each push for a count of ten. Through it all, Alma is amazing, and eventually, they’re here.
A boy and a girl.
A perfect little set.
The doctor places the babies on Alma’s chest, and we cry, overjoyed and humbled by their presence and health. The sight of them takes my breath away. These tiny humans are a part of me. The love of my life and myself—with help from science—made them, and they’re perfect.
“I love you so much,” Alma says to the babies, running a finger across their cheeks. “Your daddy loves you so much.”
The babies cast their eyes toward Alma’s face, the sound of her voice luring them in. “Did you see that?” she asks. “They’re looking at me. They’re already so smart.”
“They’re perfect.” I kiss her temple.
The babies had to stay at the hospital for a week until their oxygen levels were stable and they could maintain their temperatures outside of the incubator. After seven long days, the doctor was confident that they were ready to be discharged.
Friends and family were able to visit sporadically while we were in the hospital, but I love having our family home, all under one roof.
Our son is named Asher, which means happy and blessed. Our daughter is Alana, meaning valuable and precious. And they are all those things. We now have our own little A squared team.
