by C. M. Albert
I was disappointed when her legs slowly slid down my side, regaining their balance on the floor of the elevator. She gently pushed against my chest to gain some distance between us. Her heated blue eyes met mine as she leaned in past me and clicked the sixth floor button once more to resume service. I’d never felt more off balance—though it wasn’t from the elevator chugging to life, but from a sexy brunette who was busy smoothing down the evidence of her messy hair.
She grinned at me and lifted one eyebrow when she felt my gaze on her. “I told you when I decided to go all in, you’d know.”
Despite her snarky response, her chest was heaving from her accelerated heart rate, and her lips were still wet and swollen from my kiss. She looked positively fuckable.
The doors opened on the sixth floor and an elderly couple was waiting to get on. She smiled at them briefly as she slid past, looking over her shoulder at me with all the intensity from just a moment ago when she was on me, her mouth matching the pace of my own.
The woman looked down at my pants as I stepped off, and I heard her say to her husband, “My, that must have been some elevator ride.”
I COULDN’T BELIEVE how little she was. My heart constricted as I held a miniature version of Celeste in my arms. She was so damn beautiful. “I hate the reason why we got to come see you, but I’m glad we’re here. I don’t know if I could have waited much longer to meet this little angel. Have you decided on a name?” I asked, looking over at Egan, who was helping Celeste resettle after a lap around the nurse’s station.
Mitch looked out of place, but curious, as he peeked over at the little bundle in my arms. “Want to hold her?” I asked.
The look of terror that scrunched his brows was reward enough. I held her out. “Here, I need to go pee.”
“Uh, no . . . I’m so not qualified to hold her,” he muttered, backing up as far as he could into the soft cushions of the couch. “If I start to drop her, I can’t catch her, Dez. Seriously, no.”
I gave him a look that said, just stop. I whispered, “You got this, trust me.” I settled her into the crook of his arm, which I cushioned with pillows underneath to support the baby’s weight and make him feel more comfortable. “Moms hold them this way all the time,” I reassured him.
A look of wonder passed over his face as he looked down into the baby’s big blue eyes. She opened them for just a moment as if to acknowledge him, then settled in comfortably and closed her eyes. Yeah, I know the feeling.
I didn’t really have to go pee, but I went anyway, just to give Mitch some time to bond with the baby. Since he lived here, it would be good to get to know her right away. He’d probably be a big presence in her life over the years. It made me sad as I sat in the cold bathroom, thinking about him spending time with the baby as she grew up, and me only getting to come for random visits from time to time. I suddenly felt as if there was a whole life here in Arden’s Glen that I would be missing out on.
I sat down next to Mitch and asked if he wanted me to take her back, but he looked quite comfortable now. He smiled sweetly at the baby, then his eyes swung up and met mine, sending goose bumps across my skin. I longed to reach out and run my hand over the two-day scruff rimming his jaw. It had tickled when he kissed me on the elevator. And—Oh. My. God.—that kiss on the elevator. I’d never jumped into someone’s arms before and tried to kiss their face off. But sweet baby Jesus. The man could kiss.
“So . . . back to baby names. What have you decided?” I asked, watching as Celeste and Egan looked back and forth between one another, a new level of intimacy passing between them. “Her name is Dylan Saige MacGuire,” Egan answered proudly, the arm around Celeste tightening as they looked across the room at their new daughter.
“Dylan,” Mitch whispered. “‘Dark is a way, and light is a place, heaven that never was, nor will be ever will always be true.’”
“He was a favorite of my brother’s,” Egan said. “For someone so young and troubled, he certainly understood the way of things.”
“That’s beautiful, Egan,” I said, my heart getting just a little gooeyer the longer I sat and watched Mitch bonding with baby Dylan, not to mention listening to him recite poetry. “It’s a beautiful namesake.”
“Thanks, Dez. Hey, how is everything going? How are the cats?” Celeste asked.
“You have cats?” I asked. When her face paled, I burst out laughing. “Sorry. I was just kidding. Of course we’ve fed Henry and Anaïs. They kept us company while we made merry last night.”
Celeste and Egan glanced at each other, their eyes wide.
Egan cleared his throat, then nodded. “High fives, Mitch,” he said.
“Okay, first of all, why not high fives, Dez?” I said, crossing my arms as I glared at Egan in mock dismay. “Second of all, I didn’t mean like that. I meant literally, we were making merry, as in Christmas merry. As in, doing your bidding and wrapping gifts?” Egan just looked at me straight-faced, as if he wasn’t buying my version of how we’d “made merry.”
Celeste burst out laughing at the mistaken context. All it did was put that elevator kiss back into my mind, causing me to think of how quickly we could get out of the hospital and actually go make a little merry before the Christmas party at the youth center tonight.
“Sorry we can’t stay longer,” I said, suddenly ready to leave. “But Mitch has a Christmas party at the youth center tonight, in”—I looked down at my watch—“well, crap. It started thirty minutes ago.”
“Can you come take Dylan?” he whispered, looking down affectionately at the sleeping beauty. He lifted his arm and kissed her on the forehead before handing her to me. My ovaries wept just a little as I took Dylan from him. I’d never wanted a baby and counted myself too old to worry about one now; but seeing Mitch holding her stirred something deep inside of me.
Mitch stood, straightening his arm out to stretch it after holding Dylan for so long. He clasped hands with Egan and leaned over to kiss Celeste on the cheek. “It was great seeing you guys, but we should probably go. Now that I know Ti is safe—well, safely in surgery—I should probably head over to the party. We also need to see if we can find Frank. He’ll be a wreck when he finds out what’s happened, and I don’t want him hearing it from anyone else.”
“We’ll keep him in our prayers tonight,” Celeste reassured us. “I’ve already reached out to my Reiki circle. They’ll be sending distance healing to Christiano after he’s safely out of surgery. It will help speed his recovery along.”
“When are you coming home?” I asked. “You look like you’re doing great.”
Celeste brightened. “I am. I’m not nearly as tired as I thought I would be. I actually enjoy waking in the night to feed Dylan. But I want to get home to our own bed and start our new routine. I think the doctor said we should be able to go home late tomorrow afternoon if the baby and I meet all our milestones.”
I nodded, thinking of everything we still needed to do before then. “Sounds great,” I said. “Oh, here.” I handed the truck keys to Egan. “Your truck’s out back in the visitor’s lot, behind the emergency entrance. I can move it closer if you need. We already installed Dylan’s car seat this afternoon when we got back from the city. We had no idea what we were doing, but thank goodness Bridgette was home. It helps to have a volunteer firefighter in your back pocket.”
“And let us know if there’s anything else you need before you come home tomorrow,” Mitch said. “We’re happy to help.”
I handed Dylan over to Celeste’s waiting arms and we headed into the cold night air. I’d wanted to get home and change before the party, but we were already running late. At least I had my camera in my backpack. I didn’t have all my equipment or extra lighting, but I had enough to get a few good shots of Mitch and the kids. And if we needed to, we could arrange a more formal session after Christmas.
I drove Mitch’s Jeep over to the youth center so that he could make a few phone calls on the way. When he hung up, he looked a little ashen. “You okay
?” I asked.
He stared out the front window with a heavy look creasing his brow. His mouth was set in a firm line, and I could see his jaw clenching and releasing as his mind raced. “Yeah, just scared for Ti,” he admitted.
It had grown dark out while we were in the hospital, and neither of us had eaten. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d skipped out on lunch too. He looked over at me, the loud noise of my tummy rumbling alleviating the dark mood that hung over the car.
He grinned. “Damn, girl. You have a small army of hungry hippos in there?”
I laughed. “Something like that. I didn’t eat lunch today and I guess I’m hungrier than I thought.”
“What do you mean you didn’t eat lunch? I saw you at LettuceWrap. Make a left here,” he said, ensuring I knew how to get back to the Vega Farm.
“Yeah, well, I kind of lost my appetite and left without eating,” I admitted, now wishing I’d just gotten a damn sandwich.
“Lost your appetite, huh? Any particular reason?” he asked, smirking. I could just make out a glint in his eyes through the darkness.
I rolled my eyes at him. “Nothing worth worrying about, that’s for sure.”
“No, you’re right. There’s nothing there to worry about,” he said, squeezing my leg with his hand. I loved the feel of his warm hand as it cupped my thigh, and the fact that he left it there as we finished our ride to the youth center.
“I got a guy who’s heading over to the hospital first thing in the morning to wash the back of Egan’s truck out, so we’re all set there.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Egan wouldn’t have cared, and the baby certainly wouldn’t know the difference, but I would. “Thank you, Mitch. That was really kind of you.”
“I’d want the same done for me,” he said, trying to brush it off. “And I reached out to my buddy, Stoltz, on the police force. He—”
Mitch stopped talking as he looked at me. I could only assume my face had now paled and he’d caught sight of it as we passed under the lit arches to the farm. He’d just said an innocent enough term—buddy—but it sucker-punched me right in the gut to hear it come from Mitch. He didn’t know my fiancé’s name, or that everyone had called him Buddy to differentiate him from his father, who was also named William. I mostly called him Will, but to his guy friends, he was always Buddy.
I took a deep breath as I parked, then turned to face him. “Remember yesterday how I flew off the handle a bit and showed you my ring?” I lifted my necklace again, holding it up under the twinkling Christmas lights that lined the trees along the walkway from the parking lot to the youth center. They were casting a nice, ambient glow into the Jeep.
“I wouldn’t say you flew off the handle, exactly,” he hedged.
I laughed. “It’s okay. I’m not used to talking about it to people who don’t already know my story. I overreacted a bit. I do that sometimes,” I admitted.
The exaggerated look of horror on his face let me know he was aware of this. “Stop,” I said, punching his arm lightly. The laughter fell from his eyes and they grew edgy, dangerous. He leaned over and kissed me softly in the darkness, surprising me with his softness.
It felt right and I was finally ready to share my story with him. “I know we need to get in there, so I’ll make this quick—”
“Dez,” he interrupted, “I’m not worried about it, okay? I know Inez and Bridgette have everything under control. What I need to make sure of is you, and that you’re okay.”
“To be honest, I haven’t been okay for the past five years. This time of year is hard for me,” I admitted. I took a deep, ragged breath. “I was engaged . . . to my high-school sweetheart. We kept dating after school and even went to college in the same city. Will was the person I did everything with, but his friends called him Buddy,” I said. A look of understanding flashed across Mitch’s face as he cringed. I pushed on. “We were both daredevils, really loved to live on the wild side—extreme sports of all kind. Exotic trips. Fast cars. Motorcycles.” I barely rasped the last word out.
Mitch didn’t say anything; he just squeezed my leg to let me know he was there for me. I looked out the window, lost in the memories that seemed to constantly suffocate me. “I loved him, Mitch. I wanted to marry him. We—I got pregnant, the summer after college. We were already planning to get married, but that clinched the decision and moved the date up for us. We were actually coming home from our engagement party one night, it was the week before Christmas—” I had to stop. I took a deep breath in, willing myself to count through my anxiety and stay present. One, two, three, four. . . By the time I got to thirty, I felt like I could keep talking.
“Sorry. It’s just been a long time since I’ve told someone new this story.”
“You don’t have to, if you’re not ready,” he said, offering me an easy way out. I could simply shake off what I’d told him already, go inside, and get lost in the busyness of the party, forgetting the pain that was lodged in my heart. But suddenly, I knew as sure as day that if I didn’t talk about it, if I kept stuffing it back down, I’d never move on.
For the first time in five years, I actually felt a glimmer of hope that maybe now was the time. Maybe now I could let go just enough to not be strangled by my grief. Maybe—just maybe—I could think about a real relationship again and not just the series of one-night stands I’d been collecting over the past five years.
“I lost him that night. He was going too fast around a corner. He’d only had two beers, and we’d eaten plenty of food at the party. But he couldn’t right himself in time, pull us back into our lane. We lost control, slammed into an oncoming car. I was lucky to survive, but I lost our baby,” I whispered. “I lost Buddy.”
My whole body shook with tears as I went back in time to the day they’d broken the news to me in the hospital. It had been two days after the accident when I learned the whole truth.
“By the grace of God, I’d been knocked unconscious on impact, but I was thrown from the motorcycle. Tore the ligaments in both my knees and fractured one of my kneecaps beyond repair. Needed a full patellectomy to remove it. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to walk normally again after all that. But my parents urged me to stay active. I moved in with them to rehab over the next year and a half. They kept me active, reminded me that I needed to keep moving if I didn’t want to become crippled by the accident. Though, inside, I already was.”
I wiped at my tears, not really caring what a hot mess I was. “I lost my will to live after the accident. I could march through my rehab appointments and follow the doctor’s orders like a good little girl. But I couldn’t function normally around other people. I hated being in groups or going to parties. My mother drove me everywhere and kept a constant eye on me—made sure I was staying on schedule, taking my pain meds as needed, but not too many. She counted them. Every time she gave me one, she counted them again. Can’t say I blamed her. I’d thought about ending it and going to be with Will and our baby many times.
“One day I was at the park, walking, trying to stretch my knee and not let it get too tight. I was helping my dad in his office at that point because I no longer knew what I wanted to do with my life. That’s when I saw this little girl. She came waddling up to me, these soft black curls framing her chubby little face. She had the bluest eyes, Mitch. Like the sea. She was the spitting image of Will. I asked the little girl’s mother if I could take some pictures of her and send them to her and she agreed. I spent thirty minutes capturing the joy, determination, frustration, and inquisitiveness that changed that little girl’s expressions in the blink of an eye. I was mesmerized by how lost I got in the process, by how much I loved capturing her moods.
“Long story short, it’s what led me back to photography, back to get my masters at SVA. Then I buried myself in my work. It was easier to capture someone else’s expressions from behind the camera than it was experiencing them firsthand. It felt like a nice compromise.”
Mitch scootched as close as he could to me, wrappi
ng his arm around my shoulder and leaning in, bringing our foreheads together. “Dez, I am so sorry. I know there’s nothing I can say that will change what happened, or change how much it hurt you. I’m just sorry you experienced all that at such a young age. It doesn’t seem fair.”
I scoffed at his extreme understatement. “No, it doesn’t. I was mad at God for an awfully long time,” I admitted.
He was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “Yet you still pray without hesitation. What turned that around?” he asked.
“Life. Just choosing to live, I guess. I don’t know, honestly. I pray for other people all the time because there’s nothing I want that God can give back to me. But I’ve seen the miracles others have experienced in their lives. I’ve watched as people like Celeste and the women we teach are transformed by their faith. I guess that’s all the proof I’ve needed.”
“I’m still searching for mine,” he whispered.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, wrapping my hands around the back of his head and letting them drift into his hair. “Thank you for letting me share this with you tonight, Mitch. It wasn’t easy.”
“No, I don’t imagine it was,” he said quietly, his lips just inches from mine.
I wasted no time bridging the distance between us, my tongue tracing the outline of his lips before sliding in, feeling as if I’d found my way back home for the first time in years. The comfort and familiarity of his mouth—even after just that one real kiss in the elevator—shook me to my core. It was familiar, but unpredictable. His kiss deepened and he wrapped his hand around my hair, angling my head how he wanted it. This small act of confidence sent heat straight between my legs, and I wanted nothing more than to climb across the Jeep, straddle his lap, and have him sink deep inside of me.
But this time, I wanted more than that, and that’s what frightened me even more than the intimacy of sleeping with him. Sex I could handle. The butterflies that had full on revolted and were now cycloning around inside my belly were a whole other story.
