All the Love in the World: A Holiday Anthology

by Halle, Karina

  I can’t say the rest of the night was any clearer. I remember thinking I had to hold it together, that I kept doing the damn breathing exercises that had been prescribed to Steph. Not out of solidarity as she started to breathe through her painful contractions, but because if I didn’t breathe properly, I was going to pass the fuck out.

  Nicola drove us to the hospital because Bram was too intoxicated and after they dropped us off, she went back to our apartment to get the bag we’d packed for the birth.

  We were eventually brought into a delivery room – after I yelled at a bunch of nurses for being too slow, I mean my bloody wife is having a baby! – and then when the doctors were able to see her and asses her progress (everything that should be dilated is dilated and things are moving fast), it was time for her to get the epidural.

  And this is where, I’m not proud to say, things got really bad.

  For me.

  For some reason there were a few doctors in the room, maybe some being trained, I don’t know, and one of them took my chair. Which meant I had to stand there and hold her hand and try to be strong but then the epidural team of three comes in with a cart, glasses and shower caps on their heads and looking like the real fucking deal.

  I get really dizzy.

  Have to step back, walk around the room until a nurse tells me to sit the fuck down.

  So I do. On the floor.

  And then I get up and the nurse puts a chair for me in front of Steph as the epidural team comes in and helps her onto her side, so she’s curled up into a C, her spine to them.

  I see the needles. One to numb the area, the other hollow tube to go into her spine.

  Into. Her. Spine.

  And I nearly faint.

  Stay strong, be strong for her.

  Those words repeat over and over in my head.

  Steph squeezes my hand and stares so intently at me and I can only stare back in horror as the needle goes in and she yelps, her breath this metallic, chemical smell. When the medicine goes in, threaded into her spine, her legs jolt like they’re hit with electricity.

  And that’s when it happens.

  The moment she starts to relax is the moment I let go.

  “He’s about to faint,” the nurse says dryly and before I can even fathom they’re talking about me, I’m letting go of Steph’s hand and tilting off the chair.

  I don’t even feel the floor hit.

  Next thing I know I’m out in the hallway and slumped over a chair. Bram is giving me orange juice and Nicola is pressing a cold cloth to my head.

  “What happened?” I ask groggy, blinking at the fluorescent lights and feeling like I’m coming out of an epically long nap.

  “Well, you have a baby girl,” Nicola says with a big grin. “So that’s something. Also, you peed yourself.”

  “What?!”

  It turns out that I was out for a while, coming in and out of consciousness, while Steph gave birth. Luckily, Steph’s mother and father were in there at the time and were able to provide the support she needed. Also I pissed my pants when I fainted, but we don’t need to talk about that.

  I feel like a total wanker for feeling so weak and fucking fainting while my wife was in bloody agony, but at the same time…

  I’m a fucking dad!

  And the moment I step into that delivery room and see the tiny pink baby, so impossibly beautiful, snuggled in her exhausted but deliriously happy mum’s arms, I know that everything in my life was leading up to this moment. This right here, all of this, is what life is all about, what it’s always been about. And I never knew it until now.

  I want to say I’m sorry for bloody fainting, for not being there, for pissing myself, but the words don’t come out. I don’t want to be sorry for anything regarding this. So I coo, “Hiiiiii,” to the baby as I come over to Steph’s side and I am utterly in love.

  I don’t really have any other words than that. For the next ten minutes, I’m just operating on pure joy, pure feeling. No thoughts, no worries, nothing but feeling incomparable love, the kind that you know will consume you until your dying day. I feel it both for Steph and for the baby.

  “True,” I whisper, my lips pressed against Steph’s forehead, my eyes glued to our daughter.

  “What?” Steph asks softly.

  “True,” I say. “True McGregor. That should be her name. You’d said we would know the name the minute we met her. I think she’s True.”

  “True,” Steph repeats slowly, smiling broadly. “I like that. She’s True.”

  True like my love for both of them.

  And it rhymes with my Baby Blue.

  “Welcome to the family, True McGregor,” I whisper to her, knowing I’ll never stop feeling this enchanted. “I’m your dad. This is your mum. You’re our wee daughter. We’re going to have a life of adventures together, the three of us. Does that sound good to you?”

  True makes a little sound in response and I know she’s signed on for the adventure.

  THE END

  A Wedding Set in the Stars—A Mateo & Vera Story

  “On the scale of one to ten, how much do you need to puke?”

  I give my brother Josh the side-eye while his girlfriend Gemma takes a break from fiddling with my hair to punch him on the shoulder. She gives one hell of a punch, too.

  “Josh,” Gemma chides him. “Does she look nervous to you?”

  I give Josh my biggest smile, hoping I’m not getting raspberry lipstick across my teeth. “I’m not nervous. I’m not going to puke. Everything’s fine.”

  And it’s mostly true. Today is the happiest day of my life – at least it’s supposed to be. I’m marrying the love of my life, Mateo Casalles, and will be Mrs. Casalles in about an hour, something I’ve dreamed of for a long time.

  But despite the fact that I’m marrying the man of my dreams and, so far, everything is going pretty smoothly considering our wedding is on location in the middle of nowhere, I do have sharp anxiety shredding through me.

  It’s not that I have any doubts about Mateo. Not in the slightest. We’ve been through so much together that I know deep within me that he is the man for me. My person. My tribe. My soulmate.

  I do have doubts about the media circus that this wedding is causing, as well as the fact that my mother and sister are here, two thorns in my side who have never approved of Mateo. I know it’s because of how we met (he was married at the time), I know it’s because I’m twenty-five and he’s forty. It just doesn’t seem to matter how good of a man he is and how well he treats me, that we’re both madly in love with each other, they still can’t seem to accept him.

  To be honest, I’m surprised that they’re even here. Mercedes, my sister, brought her dipshit husband with her, while mom came by herself. My father was supposed to come (they divorced a long time ago) but work came up. I have a feeling that the only reason my mother is even here is to spite him and throw it in his face at some point as the “only parent who cares.”

  Frankly, I’d rather they all stay at home instead of paying lip service to a ceremony between Mateo and I, but it is what it is and I have to deal with it. Luckily, Josh has been a great barrier between us, as he always has been, heading off my mom’s nit-picking and my sister’s criticisms before they can really get to me.

  Then there’s the whole media circus, something most ordinary people don’t have to deal with at their fucking wedding. But Mateo isn’t exactly ordinary. Even though he’s the coach for Madrid’s football (soccer) team, Atletico Madrid, he used to be their star player and the media still treats him as such. Doesn’t help that his ex-wife is related to Spanish royalty.

  That’s the one good thing about this whole set-up so far. Even though his ex, Isabel, was invited, she declined to come. I know the cameras waiting outside were hoping she would be here and cause some drama, as her appearance often does, but at least we have that going for us.

  “You might need a touch up,” Gemma says, leaning across the vanity table and handing me my lipsti
ck and some blotting paper. The hair and makeup person had left twenty-minutes ago and my hair is already dropping and I think my makeup is sweating off. It’s July and hot as hell here. Gemma has been doing her best to help revive the curls of my half up, half down hairdo, but she’s not exactly a girly girl and I can tell she can only do her best. At least my dress is holding together and I haven’t spilled anything on it.

  Yet.

  My wedding dress is pretty much an exact copy of Gwen Stefani’s back when she married Gavin Rosdale, right down to the bright magenta hem and ombre look. I tried hard for a few months trying to lose weight before the wedding but my body just wasn’t having it. I prefer to leisurely stroll through the chaotic streets of Madrid instead of jogging through them, I prefer to eat heaps of paella and patatas bravas and drink garnacha instead of salads and sparkling water.

  And it doesn’t help to have a man who loves you exactly the way you are. I mean it does, but it’s not like he’s telling me to lose weight and so it’s easier to just stay as I am since he loves me as I am. Yeah, maybe my boobs are more on display in this dress than skinny minnie Gwen and maybe my tattoos stand out in stark contrast to the lovely layers of bright white silk, but Mateo doesn’t care.

  At least I know he won’t. He hasn’t seen me in the dress yet, let alone seen the dress at all, but he’s always been a fan of my curves and I know he’s going to love this look. That’s what it’s all about anyway, me for him and him for me.

  A squeal breaks through my thoughts as I pat the blotting paper on my forehead and my friend Claudia enters the room. Just like Gemma, she’s dressed in her magenta satin bridesmaid dress, strapless and simple (and matching the hem of my dress).

  “You look so beautiful,” Claudia says in her heavily accented voice, standing behind me and gazing at my reflection in the mirror in such a sappy way that I’m afraid she’s going to start crying, which would be totally unlike her.

  “Hold it together,” I warn her. “The last thing I need to do is cry and ruin my makeup even further.”

  She nods quickly, blinking fast and sniffing. “Si, si,” she says. “I’m okay.” She pauses, looking wistful. “It’s just so…emotional. Being here of all places. Where it started.”

  For a long time I thought the wedding was going to be held in Madrid. We certainly weren’t going to get married in Vancouver. Spain is my real home now, where my friends live. Even Josh and Gemma have temporarily moved to Madrid for three months where I’ve been given a chance to get to know Gemma better (and completely fall in love with her ballsy attitude).

  But even though we love the city, it just didn’t feel right for our wedding. The two of us had overcome so much in our relationship, from ex-wives and messy divorces to dealing with his young daughter Chloe Ann, to long-distance relationships, to me nearly getting deported, to the media’s obsession with us, that we felt we needed a space that was truly special.

  We found it. We didn’t have to look far.

  We’re having the wedding at Las Palabras, the English-immersion program that we first met at nearly three years ago. This is where I realized Mateo was my sun, moon and stars, this is where we fought against the odds and fell in love, having a siesta underneath a tree.

  Luckily the company – which I briefly worked for – let us take over for the weekend at a discount. The actual ceremony is set-up on the grassy area along a stone wall, while the reception and dinner is in the main hall. Because Las Palabras is located in Acantilado, a tiny village with barely any places to stay, most of the guests are staying here in one of the many rooms of Las Palabras. I stayed here last night, sharing a room with Claudia, and it brought me back to our days in the program.

  After the reception though, Mateo and I are heading to the nearby city of Salamanca for the night before flying to the Canary Islands for some much needed R and R. I never thought I would be one to care much about my own wedding but with it being here at Las Palabras and having so many different friends and family from all over visiting, I’ve really become invested in it, from the smallest details of what tapas to serve to the flowers bordering the aisle I’m to walk down (lilies). Needless to say, today couldn’t have come any sooner. I just want to relax on a beach with my love and enjoying being Mrs. Mateo Casalles.

  “Is everything all set?” I ask.

  “It’s getting close to that time,” Claudia says.

  Josh leans over so he can see himself in the mirror and starts adjusting his bowtie. “All right, I guess we should get ready to do this.” He places his hand out for me and when I place mine in his, he raises me up. He grins at me like a fool.

  “I hate to admit this Vera, but you look absolutely beautiful and I’m honored to walk you down the aisle in dad’s place.”

  Okay. Now I’m close to tears. I remedy that by punching him in the shoulder.

  “Ow,” he cries out, rubbing it while giving me a dirty look. “That’s twice already. What’s with the women I love wanting to give me pain?”

  Gemma rolls her eyes and then shoots me a smile. “You’ll be fine. We’ll see you out there.”

  She and Claudia go out the door and disappear, probably to go stand with my friend Jocelyn up along the altar. The altar where Mateo is already standing.

  Suddenly I’m hit with a wave of nerves and my hands go behind me, propped against the back of the chair.

  “Are you okay?” Josh asks, grabbing my arm and pulling me upright again.

  I blink a few times, the nerves turning into shivers.

  “Yeah, yeah I just…it finally hit me. What’s happening.”

  “And you’re sure you’re not going to puke?”

  I make a noise that’s both a growl and an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine!” I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, filling my lungs. “It’s just that…this is it.”

  “Second thoughts?” he asks warily.

  “No,” I tell him, looking him dead in the eye. “No second thoughts whatsoever. I’m just…excited. And scared that somehow I’ll mess it up.”

  He cocks his head, his brows furrowing in that Josh way that let’s you know he’s really listening. “What would you mess up?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Everything. I mean, I’m only twenty-five and I still don’t know how the world works. I feel like I’m barely an adult sometimes. And then there’s Mateo who already has all this experience being married and…I don’t know, I realize it sounds stupid. I just…I want to be a good wife. And I want to be a good mother to Chloe Ann. I don’t ever want to replace Isabel but I want her to know that she’s my family, too.”

  He gives me a soft smile and runs his hand through his dark hair. “Vera, that little girl is outside right now ready to walk down the aisle first as your flower girl. She’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen you together. This doesn’t change anything. You’ll only get closer.” He pauses. “But fuck if I know anything about marriage. I just know that you’re going to be fine.”

  I raise my brow. “You’re not planning on proposing to Gemma yet?”

  “When the time is right,” he says, cheeks going red.

  “The time is always right when you love someone,” I remind him. “The heart has no regard for time.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Okay, when I can afford a ring I think is worthy of her, then yes. Happy?”

  I nod. “Very.” I take in another deep breath and exhale loudly. “Okay. Okay, I think I’m ready. At least, I’m going to try and be ready.”

  He takes my hand and slips it into the hook of his arm. “You’re ready. I feel like you have been since the moment you both first laid eyes on each other. You know that’s true.”

  He’s right. The moment Mateo sat beside me on the bus was the moment my entire life changed.

  “I’m not sure I can get used to you being so sappy,” I tell him.

  He grins. “You don’t have to. It’s your wedding day. I’ll be back to being an obnoxious asshole tomorrow. Now, let’s not keep Mateo wait
ing.”

  Just as he says that, soft notes of music start to play, signaling the bridesmaids and groomsmen are starting to walk down the aisle.

  Oh fucking shit. This is it!

  Breathe, I remind myself, tightening my grip on Josh. Once you see Mateo, all your fears will fall away.

  We walk to the door and Josh gives my hand a squeeze before he opens it and we step out into the blinding sunshine.

  The room we were in is beside the reception and just around the corner from where the ceremony is taking place, so I have a few moments to walk with Josh unseen. I can hear the hush of the crowd, the click of cameras, the stirring music. In the distance the birds sing above a green and rocky pasture where pigs get fat on acorns. The air smells both fresh and sweet, like hay heating under the sun.

  I feel like I’m moving in slow motion or maybe it’s that I have to hold up the edge of my dress as we walk over the dusty path. It’s then that Josh laughs, noticing that I’m wearing white Converse high-tops underneath the dress.

  And then the edge of the building comes and I know the minute we turn it, all eyes are on me. I only want one pair of eyes to be on me.

  Another deep breath and we turn the corner.

  I gasp.

  I’d seen it while they were setting it up but now that I’m here, that this is happening, it’s the most beautiful wedding sight I’ve ever seen. So incredibly perfect.

  So real.

  This. Is. Happening.

  Everyone is sitting in white chairs adorned with white and yellow roses, slowly turning around to face me. Cameras start flashing.

  But I don’t stare at the guests, I can’t. I don’t want to see their expressions or hear their murmurs. They aren’t why I’m here.

  I walk down the aisle with my brother, the lilies and sparkling cut outs of stars and planets bordering the edges like I’m walking down the center of a flowering universe, and I keep my eyes dead ahead.

  Mateo.

  He’s standing beside the officiant, back straight, hands clasped in front of him, head held high, in a gorgeous tuxedo. And he’s grinning, bright white teeth against golden skin, grinning like I’ve never seen him.