by Ella James
Gabe pulls me up, and we stand, hugging, in the corner of the glass case.
“Is this real life?” I giggle.
“I think so.” He kisses my temple. “I’m pretty fucking sure this is real life. You like it here?”
I nod.
Not long after, we walk back onto the street. I’ve got Gabe’s necklace under my jacket and his ring on my finger. Just when I think the night can’t get more perfect, I look up and almost gasp as something floats above us.
“Oh my God, that’s…a hot air balloon. A bug one…and a star back there?” I point, and Gabe says, gently, “Marley. Do you remember what tomorrow is?”
I cover my mouth. “They’re setting up for the parade. Because it’s Thanksgiving.”
5
Gabe
“I booked the room a while back.”
Marley shoots me daggers with her eyes as we sit on the bed, our curtains open, peering at the neon city. “I guess you decided to just sit things out until it was time to use it?”
I shake my head, and she laughs. “I’m just kidding. Mostly.”
“Nahh, you’re right. I was stupid. Victor had me thinking you might want a lot of space. Like it would be some fucking crime to interrupt you.”
“Tell him that I’m coming for him,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“Why do you think his mom was roped into making two dozen pies?”
“Not really two-dozen, was it…” She looks down at her lap.
I chuckle. “Not two-dozen.”
Marley stretches out on the bed, pulling me down with her. “I am so tired.” She yawns. “I feel like I took a sleeping pill.”
I kiss her hair. “You did. Vitamin D.”
She chortles at that, like I thought she would. “That’s why I love you,” she yawns.
“Why?” I peel the covers back, and Marley slips into bed.
“Because you’re punny. It’s endearing,” she says, reaching for me as I climb in, too.
“Is it?” I smile.
“Sometimes.”
She holds up her hand, catching the diamond in the lights that stream in through the windows of our eighteenth-story room. “I’m never taking this off.”
I kiss the ring and pull her close. “You don’t regret committing to this asshole ex who almost chased you off the lawn when you pulled up that day?”
“Oh, I regret it,” she says, nuzzling me. “I feel like I’m wearing a big, sparkly…chain.” She smiles, and I can tell she’s teasing.
“We should sleep. You’re tired.”
She shuts her eyes. Sighs. “I miss my mom. And I want her to meet the baby. But you know what?” She yawns again.
“What?”
Marley shakes her head, smiling a funny little smile. “I’m kinda glad I don’t have to explain this crazy plan of ours to her. Mom thought you were so attractive, I think it made her think you were arrogant, too. I think she was always a little worried about me. In the face of your huge ego.”
“What do you think?” I kiss her head.
“That was never your problem.” She hugs me. “And now we have no problems…”
Marley
It’s a squeal that wakes me up. The sound of children’s voices. I roll over, smiling at my dream, and reach for Gabe—but I don’t feel him. I open my eyes. Sit up. I look around, but I see nothing: just our posh, all-white hotel room, and the city sprawled out like a blanket of jewels below.
I hear another peal of laughter, followed by a low voice. And I know. I know as I run to the bathroom to get sick…I just know that it’s Geneva. That she’s here. That Madeline is here. I know that it’s going to be bad…even as I wash my face and brush my teeth and pull the bathroom door open again with utmost caution.
I step into the bedroom, and I don’t hear anything. I walk to the door and peer out the peephole, and I nearly have a heart attack when I see pale blonde hair. When I see Gabe holding Geneva.
The little girl is pretending to fly, her arms and legs stretched out as Gabe holds her above his shoulder. I can’t see his face, but I catch a glimpse of Madeline’s and am relieved to find she looks unhappy.
God. Stinging saliva fills my mouth, and for a long, miserable second, I think I’m going to be sick again.
I think of opening the door. I want to pull it open. “Hi—I’m Gabe’s fiancé…”
But I can’t, of course. I couldn’t do that to his daughter. So I stand there at the peephole, while Gabe keeps his back to me and talks to her. While Geneva bounces around both of them, and Madeline talks with elaborate hand gestures. While she starts to sob.
Gabe glances back at the door. I can see his worried eyes, for half a second. Then his shoulders slump. He pats Madeline on the shoulder, and he takes Geneva’s hand. And then, without another glance at me, he disappears with them.
In my defense, it’s 12:30 a.m. when he takes off. I text him twice and wait until 7:30 to get moving.
Why would he fail to text me when he left, unless he meant to leave me?
I cry the entire time I pack my tiny overnight bag. I cry when I book my ticket home—with Delta. I cry as a hail a taxi. I cry at the airport. I want to call Kat so badly, but I can’t, because I’m also just not ready to tell her about this.
I look down at my gorgeous ring, and my heart sings with pain. I still don’t have a text. No phone call, either.
As I sit waiting for my flight, I press my hand over my lower belly. It’s too early for me to show, but I can feel her in there. Her or him. My baby bean. I feel all the more hurt knowing that he left our baby, too.
I cry some more. Were we not worth it? All my old ghosts rattle their chains. No one loves you. No one wants you. You’re not good enough. Too fat, too plain, not clever, serious, uptight, greedy, stupid.
Maybe I really am. Why can’t I get this right—love? Why did I get back involved with Gabe?
I really am stupid. I just…I do what I feel. I don’t use my brain, I follow my heart. I turn my ring around, so that the diamond’s pointed toward my palm, and fold my arms around myself.
After a few minutes, I check my phone again. I can’t believe he hasn’t even texted me. He must be getting back together with her. Maybe he somehow is Geneva’s father. Wouldn’t that beat all? Gabe has a family, doesn’t need one.
Early boarding starts. I take a look around—a desperate look, for him—and when I don’t see him, I ask if I can get on early. “I’m pregnant, and I’m not feeling great.”
“Of course,” the attendant says. “And congratulations!”
I smile my thanks and find my seat: A21. I prop my head in my hand, wiping discreetly at my eyes. And there I stay, in my pose of shame and disappointment, until a low voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Is this seat taken?”
I look up and do a double-take.
Gabe.
He looks tired and rumpled, but as he sits, he gives me a sad, tired smile.
“What are you doing here?” I ask through tears.
He reaches for me. There’s nowhere for me to move, so I just shut my eyes and keep my hands folded around myself. “I’m so fucking sorry, Marley. I can explain everything, and more…”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to hear it.” I’m too scared to hear it.
“Well, I want to tell it. And not here. C’mon with me, Marley. I’ve got our plane ready, if you want to go home. Don’t go yet, though… I want to show you all around. I want to introduce you to my agent and my publisher.”
“As what?” I whisper, wiping my damn stupid eyes.
“Marley…for a trusting, self-professed romantic, you’re not very trusting.” To my shock and horror, Gabe scoops me up and starts to carry me down the aisle.
I start to squeal until I see all the eyes on us. Then I just hang onto him and duck my head. As we step off the plane, I hear someone say, “Gabriel McKellan,” and “…that ring!”
I realize it must have gotten twisted, pointed outward. Oops.
When Gabe sets me on my feet in the jet bridge, I shove his arm. “I can’t believe you just did that.”
“Marley, you’re still crying.”
“Yes—I’m pregnant. Did you know that? Okay. Pregnant Marley.” I sigh. “So, what is it? Where the fuck were you?”
I can see the shock on his face, and somewhere distant, I feel sorry for cursing at him out in public. But the rest of me is furious.
“You disappeared with your ex-wife—ex-partner, whatever she is—and your daughter? And you just thought that would be fine,” I fume.
“Oh, fuck.” His eyes widen. “You knew that?”
“Yes, I knew that! I heard you guys. And then I watched you through the peep-hole. I wanted to come outside, of course, and ask what the hell was going on, but I didn’t want to scare Geneva or upset her.”
Gabe squeezes his eyes shut. “Jesus, Marley. I’m not sure you should get married to me. Maybe I don’t deserve the second chance.”
That makes me laugh. “My thinking, too…Gabe, not really. What the hell went on, and where were you?”
He takes my hand…kisses my hand. “It’s kind of long and winding.”
“Give me the short version so I don’t get sick again. This is too much stress for a pregnant lady.”
“Is it really? Do you feel sick?” He looks worried.
“If I tell you yes, will you swear never to disappear in the middle of the night again?”
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
“So…” We’re walking through the airport, headed who knows where; I hope he knows.
Gabe exhales sharply. “Madeline came—she got my hotel info from fucking Roy, my agent—and she tried to tell me Gen was really mine, by blood. That she had falsified the genetic testing.” Gabe laughs dryly. “As if that would help her cause. I called her bluff pretty damn early. After that, she started saying she wanted me back. That was when I suggested we go downstairs to the hotel restaurant. Gen was right there with us. She was happy to see me, but she could tell what we were talking about. I wasn’t thinking when I started hurrying Maddy down the hall. I didn’t have my phone. I figured we’d be gone for maybe an hour, most. You wouldn’t notice. You had been asleep when I stepped out. I figured with this going on—” he touches my belly— “you’d be sleeping like the dead. So anyway, we get downstairs and she just falls apart. In front of Gen. And that’s when I realized she was drinking…or on something. Turns out, Gen’s biological father broke things off with her. He doesn’t want any more to do with them than he ever did.” Gabe looks pained as he says that. “She’s on her own now, and she knows it. Maddy doesn’t like that kind of life.”
“So what happened?”
“I went to the front desk and called her sister, Adi. Maddy has a twin. And Adi is the one who’s got her head on straight. Aunt Adi came to get Gen.” He frowns, and I squeeze his hand. “While Maddy and I talked. And you know what?”
I shake my head.
“She wants me to take half custody.”
My stomach twists, and he lets go of me so he can wrap an arm around me. “None of this means you should worry, Marley. I told Maddy no—unless she wanted to pay a visit to her lawyer’s office and amend the custody agreement so it’s only about Geneva, and not the two of us. Basically it had said that later, after one whole year of Gen adjusting to me not being her dad, I could see her again every other month or so.”
“And now?” I want to scream out all the anxious pressure in my chest.
“She did it,” he says—and for the first time, I can see the fear on his face. “She took me right then and there and went to her lawyer, woke them up early, and she asked that they amend the papers…giving me more custody.”
“What is it?” I manage to choke out.
“Well, it depends. If I’m living in New York it would be three days of the week. And if I’m not, it would be every six to eight weeks. For four days. I hope you’re not upset. I just—”
I’m shaking my head. “No. Hell no. I’m not upset at all.” I laugh. “I’m happy for you. So happy!”
“You being serious?”
“Of fucking course I am!”
“You’re not pissed that I just got custody of someone else’s—biologically, someone else’s—child?”
“No. I’m not. At all. Because she’s yours. Gabe…c’mon. I can see that. Gen is yours.”
Gabe stops in the middle of the corridor and hugs me tightly. I can hear his heartbeat underneath my ear, can feel his chest pump with his too-fast breaths.
“Thank you. Fuck.” He blows a rough breath out. “That had me worried.”
“What’s yours is mine.” I smile up at him. “Especially at the jewelry store.” I rise on my tip-toes, and Gabe leans down. I kiss him gently. “Kidding, of course. Mostly.”
We stand there kissing for so long, someone snaps a picture. Which gets sold to Page Six, where we see it two days later on Gabe’s iPad back in Fate.
“My woman’s looking good,” he says. I ruffle his hair. “Sexist pig. I’m not your trophy.”
“Okay…” He grins. “I’ll be yours.”
I kiss his head and then his temple, and I don’t say it aloud, because sometimes some things need to be just yours. But I think, That was it. That picture on Page Six should probably be framed. That was the moment we became a family: Gabe and Gen and little bean and me.
“I guess they’re good for something,” Gabe mutters.
“Who is?” I ask.
“Page Six.” He gives me a funny little smile. “Would it be weird if we framed this?”
“It would totally not be weird.” But it might make me cry as I go back into the kitchen for our coffee.
In private, of course. I wouldn’t want to worry baby daddy.
6
Gabe
Nine Months Later
Marley in labor is a sight to behold. When she told me a few months ago she wanted to have the baby naturally, I told her my vote was “against,” but I’d support her if she wanted to. And, crazy as it seems to me, she did.
She went into labor on a Friday afternoon, but it took the two of us till Saturday to notice her contractions getting regular. Geneva wasn’t due back to her mother in New York until Sunday, but it seemed better to just go ahead and take her, so Mar’s friend Lainey kindly flew with her.
I suggested calling Kat—or anyone with a vagina, really—to assist in Marley’s labor, but she vetoed that idea. Said she only wanted me around while she bounced on her birthing ball and did her mindful breathing and soaked in the tub.
I try to take it all in stride: her groans and winces, her pained sounds. When she’s between contractions, she insists she’s okay, but I still sweat when she seems hurt.
“It’s getting later,” I say now, as she splashes cool bath water on her forehead. “Don’t you think we should start driving?”
“I don’t think so.” She blinks a few times, like she’s dizzy, and I notice her cheeks are pinker. “I was thinking maybe we should stay here. You could cut the cord?”
I feel the blood drain from my face as Marley starts to cackle.
“You’re a wicked one, woman.”
She giggles. “Yes, in seriousness. It’s probably near time.”
I help her out, and help her dress between contractions. She wears a black, stretchy kind of dress with tiny, white polka dots, and smiles more than a woman who’s in labor should.
“I made it,” she keeps saying. As I grab our bags and load the car. “I made it all the way to here, and pretty soon, we’ll have our baby bean!”
Even as she grits her teeth and I back out of the driveway in the dark, she seems to be smiling.
“You okay?” I can’t help petting her—her arm, her hand—as I drive, maybe just a little too fast, toward Montgomery.
My heart is beating fast and hard. What if somehow she doesn’t last the drive? The trip is more than an hour. Could I really cut the cord? I’ve read about it on the internet,
but what if something went wrong?
“Stop worrying,” she grits. The contraction passes, and she looks at me and laughs. “You’re sweating more than I am, daddy-o.”
“Just the humidity.” It’s almost August, after all. We could be in New York City right now, with Marley giving birth at one of the best hospitals in the nation, but she insisted we stay here in Fate another year. “Because the clinic needs me, and Kat wants to be an aunt. But after that—a year—I kind of want to move. So we can be closer to Gen.”
So that’s the plan.
We pass under a street light on the wooden bridge on our way north, and Marley’s ring glints.
“Soon now,” she pants—and I know she doesn’t mean the baby’s birth. Marley wants us to get married soon after our son or daughter gets here.
“The four of us,” she keeps saying. “The whole family.”
Marley plugs her iPhone in, and we listen to her meditation music. Fuck, I’m nervous for her. So far, she seems okay, though. My mind wanders a little as she does her rhythmic breathing like a fucking pro. How proud I am that this woman is mine. What an amazing stepmother she’s been to Gen.
I never thought I’d be so fucking happy. Before Marley, having a little family unit was okay, but it didn’t make me feel complete. Now—with Marley, Gen, and little bean—I feel happier than I realized was possible.
The more we drive, the paler Marley looks. The more she pants, the more she seems to slump in her seat.
“You okay? We’re almost there…”
She nods, and I clench the wheel, pressing the pedal harder. I look at my phone GPS.
“Three more miles, baby…”
“Gabe—I don’t know if I can wait!”
“What?”
She sucks a huge breath in and holds it; then she blows it out. “I don’t know if little bean can wait!”
“Oh fuck, you have to!”
“Be calm, Gabe! You have to be calm!”
“It’s okay,” I hear myself say. “Everything’s okay. I’m going faster…”
