by S. Moose
I watch her place her hand on her flat stomach.
“Mommy,” she whispers. “I just found out. When I passed out, the doctor was worried and ran tests. I saw my baby, and I’m about four weeks pregnant.”
“Is the baby…”
She nods. “Remy’s the father.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“I was.” She pauses. “Then, Zoey showed up, so I didn’t. Please don’t tell him.”
“I won’t,” I honestly tell her.
“Thanks, Drew.”
I place a comforting kiss on the side of her head, and we stay quiet until my phone beeps once again and I get up to wake Reagan and listen to her smart-ass answers.
The next morning, I get Reagan and Aimee something to eat from a bakery down the street and text Zoey to see how Remy’s doing.
Zoey: I left a while ago. After Aimee left, he was quiet, and when I asked what was wrong, he said he wanted to be alone.
Me: Do you like him?
Zoey: I do…
Me: Let’s meet for lunch soon and we’ll talk.
Zoey: I’d like that. Thanks, Drew.
I don’t respond and put my phone away to head back to the hospital.
After being discharged, I tell Remy I’ll talk to him later, and we leave the hospital. Aimee left shortly before we did. She wanted to be alone, so I got her a cab.
“Is she okay?” Reagan asks.
I hate lying to her. It’s not my place to tell her someone’s secret. “I’m not sure.” That is the truth.
“I’ll call her later.” Reagan looks outside the window and back toward me. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
When Sander drops us off at an apartment complex, I lead Reagan inside and into an awaiting elevator. As soon as the door opens, I lead her down a hall. Before I can knock on the door, it opens, and an older woman with auburn hair and green eyes, like my Reagan, smiles and pulls her in for a hug.
“Mom?”
“Hi, honey.”
“What? How? When?”
She lets her go and says, “Your very sweet and handsome fiancé arranged my travels and set me up in this apartment. We’ve been apart for too long. I’ve missed you so much, honey.”
Reagan throws her arms around Denise’s neck, and they both cry.
I place my hand on Reagan’s lower back, pressing my lips against the back of her head, and whisper, “Spend time with your mom, and I’ll be back later.”
“Thank you,” she softly mutters.
“Anything for you.”
Once I’m outside, Sander opens the door for me, and I let him know where I need him to go. The drive takes about twenty minutes before I’m standing in front of the house I’m going to be purchasing for my family.
“Well, what do you think?”
I look around again and turn to face my realtor. “Brian, it’s exactly what I was hoping for.”
“I’m glad. I knew you’d like the house. It’s perfect for you and your family.”
“It is,” I agree.
What catches my eye is the wraparound porch where two wooden rocking chairs and a smaller chair sit. I imagine sitting on the porch with Reagan and Dawson at night, watching the sun fall with my hand on Reagan’s growing belly. Experiencing a love like hers is something I never thought I’d get to feel. Not only does she love me, but she also loves my son.
Taking one last look at the six-thousand-five-hundred-square-foot home—which holds four bedrooms, three bathrooms, a newly remodeled kitchen, and massive living room and dining room—I walk through the house, down the marble floor, and outside on the deck. It overlooks the in-ground pool I know Dawson will love. The waterfall splashes against the pool, and the decorative rocks make it look like a resort. The land is large, and there’s room for a tree house I’d like to build for Dawson, so he can have one like I did when I was a boy.
It feels right. Being here, in our future home, imagining the rest of my life, feels perfect. Reagan and I have had our ups and downs. All I see now is us growing together. We’re perfect for each other. My love for her is strong and will only grow. Once she’s my wife, I’ll get to show her every single day what love truly is, and she’ll never be alone. The next step we’re going to take next year is the ultimate seal of our love.
I take in a deep breath and tell Brian to fax over the paperwork to my office, and I’ll have it ready for him the next day.
42
Reagan
I’m still amazed that my mother is here. We may have grown distant due to the miles between us, but my love for my mother has never faltered. I’ve missed her, and having her here only makes the void I’ve lived with seem stronger. I wanted this, her here to share my life with me. I want to have her be a part of everything I experience from this point forward.
“I don’t want to bring up the past,” my mother says as she reaches out to take my hand in hers. “I just want to tell you that I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to face on your own.”
“I chose that,” I say, stopping her from further blaming herself. “I know, had I come to you, you would have been there. But, just like I told Aimee, it was my choice to face it as I did. Please don’t allow guilt to overtake you. You’ve always been there. It was my fault for not coming to you and accepting that fact,” I tell her, “but that’s all going to change now.”
“I’ve always wanted the best for you, honey,” she says, reaching out to pull me in closer for a hug.
When we part, she is smiling, and I wait for her to explain the instant shift in her mood.
“That man of yours is a good one,” she says.
A giddy feeling rocks my stomach.
“Easy on the eyes, loves you with an irreplaceable kind of love. Makes me happy you’ve found him.”
“He is amazing,” I confess. “I know I’m safe with him, in more ways than just one. He keeps me grounded. He protects my heart. I’ve never imagined a love like his. It’s consuming.”
“Seeing you happy is all I’ve wished for,” she says, tears pooling in her eyes.
“I am happy,” I assure her.
She takes in a deep breath, as if to calm her emotions, and squares her shoulders. “So, when do I get to meet this sweet little boy and the rest of the Powers clan?”
“Soon,” I say, feeling the lighter conversation soothe the ache within me from only moments ago. “We should plan a lunch or maybe a dinner.”
“And Aimee,” she says.
Suddenly, I feel horrible all over again. I know something is going on with her, yet she assures me everything is okay.
“What is it?” she asks, noticing my look of concern.
“I’m not sure, but I know that she’s not the same,” I confess, “she’s so closed off. She won’t share anything, only hides away, as if she can handle it.”
“Sounds like someone I know.”
I look toward her and am unable to hold back my smile. She’s right; it was me. The difference is, Aimee hasn’t run away—at least, not yet. The thought makes my stomach tense. Not having her here with me is something I never want to face.
“I’m so happy to finally meet you,” Miranda says as she instantly pulls my mother in for a hug. “You’ve raised an amazing woman, and I feel blessed to have her and now you in our lives.”
Call me emotional, but seeing how Drew’s family immediately welcomes my mother is beautiful. Drew stands back, smiling wide, as he witnesses the exchange between our mothers. Something tells me these women are going to be close.
Dawson watches my mother with curiosity, and when she notices him, she kneels down, giving him a bright smile in return.
“This handsome guy must be Dawson.”
He nods, and she laughs.
“I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really?” he asks as he looks back at Drew and then toward me.
“Reagan talks about you all the time,” my mother continues. “The sweetest little guy she
has ever met and how much she adores you, too.”
Dawson glows with joy.
“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she adds as she leans forward and gives him a gentle hug.
Dawson reciprocates and happily wraps his arms around her neck.
“Can I call you Grandma, too?” he asks.
It makes me laugh.
“If that’s what you’d like to call me, then I’m okay with that,” she says.
In that instant, I can no any longer hide the tears that have been threatening to spill.
When I look up, I see Drew looking back at me, his face etched with worry.
I’m okay, I mouth, assuring him the tears are those of joy and not sadness.
In fact, I couldn’t be happier. I have everyone, I love all in one place, in one city. The man who hurt me will pay for his sins in one way or another. I know he will.
Life’s good.
No, life’s amazing.
43
Drew
Brett’s voice comes through on the intercom in my office. “Sir? Do you have a moment?”
“What’s going on?”
“Um, there’s a Mr. Hogue on line two, and he says it’s urgent.”
I pause a moment before letting Brett know what I want him to do. I’m not sure why Fin’s lawyer’s contacting me. At the advice of his family, he pleaded guilty to all charges. He’ll be in jail for twenty-five years, if not longer, but there’s a chance for parole.
“I’ll take care of it, Brett. Thank you.”
“You got it, sir.”
I let out a breath and pick up the phone, placing it against my ear. “Mr. Hogue, to what do I owe this unexpected surprise?”
“Mr. Powers, I have a message from my client, Finley Vanderbilt. Do you have a moment?” he asks.
“Yes. What is it?”
“He’d like a visit from you today, if possible.”
My immediate answer is no, but when my father comes into my office and sits down, I tell Mr. Hogue I’ll call him back in a few minutes with an answer.
“What is it?”
I sigh. “Fin wants me to see him today. There’s no fucking way I’m going. I’ll end up murdering the bastard.”
“Now, son, calm down, and take a moment to figure out why he’d like to see you. At this point, there’s nothing you or I can do. The sentence has been placed, and it’s been well over a month. I’m sure you need some sort of closure to move on.”
“I have.”
“Are you sure?”
I turn my attention to my father, shake my head, and walk over to the bar to pour a glass of whiskey.
“It’s only when we get the answers we’re seeking when we’re truly able to let go and move on.”
“What makes you think he’ll tell me anything I want to know?”
“Even people who’ve done horrible things need some sort of forgiveness.”
I scoff. “I’ll never forgive him.” I bring the glass to my lips and finish my drink before pouring another. “What he did to Reagan is unforgivable. He deserves the sentence he received. All I wanted was for her to get justice, and she has, so we can all move the hell on.” I slam the glass on the counter, and anger fuels my actions once again.
“Drew—”
“No!” I shout. “Dad, if I go see him, then I’m not leaving that prison.” I point out toward downtown Chicago. “There’s nothing that asshole can say that’ll make me forget the hurt Reagan endured.”
“Think about it, is all I ask.” He gets up and pats my shoulder before leaving my office never mentioning what he’d come for in the first place.
I quickly walk over to my desk, pick up the phone, and dial Mr. Hogue. He answers on the second ring.
“I’m leaving now.”
Sander drops me off at the prison, and it takes me a moment to gather myself before I walk in and go through the process of visiting an inmate. I’m shown where to sit and see Fin staring at me through the Plexiglas. I thought anger would rush through me. Instead, I sit there, satisfied. The dark bruises on his cheek are apparent that prison life hasn’t been easy on him. There are a few cuts on his lip and brow. He looks anxious and worried.
I pick up the phone and wait for him to say something.
“Drew, I’m so fucking glad to see you.” His voice shakes on the line, and I stare back without giving him a response. “Listen, man, since I’ve been here, all I’ve been doing is thinking, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did. That night”—he blows out a sigh—“I was fucked up, and I thought she wanted it.”
“Fin,” I bite out, “you should watch your words.”
He holds up his hand in defense and lets out another sigh. “Okay. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I deserve being locked up, but, man, please, you gotta help me.”
“Help you?” I question. “Why the hell would I help you?”
“Man, we’ve known each other for years, and I know I hurt her. It kills me. These guys…” He pauses and lowers his voice. “I’m their bitch.” The look of fear is in his eyes. He quickly looks around and brings his body lower to the desk, near the glass. “Please help me.”
I keep my voice calm, and without hesitation, I let him know how I feel. “You deserve everything you get inside these walls. No, I take that back. You deserve worse, but knowing you’re going through hell, well, it’ll help me sleep better at night. There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll make me want to help you. You’re despicable. Enjoy prison and being someone’s bitch.”
“No! Drew,” he cries, “please. Man, please, help me.”
I don’t look back as I exit the prison, knowing I’m able to forget about Fin and move on to give my future wife and son the life they deserve.
Sander’s driving Reagan, Dawson, and me to our new house. They think we’re going for a drive and on a picnic. Little do they know, I’ve signed all the paperwork, and I have the keys burning a hole in my pocket. The house has some furniture, but I’m going to leave all the design to Reagan.
I’m watching them talk to one another, and my nerves get the best of me. I know there’s no reason to be nervous, but I can’t help it. I’m scared she won’t like the house, or she’ll be upset I went to see Fin last week. I have yet to tell her, and I hate doing it today. It’s eating away at me. I don’t want any secrets between us. All the what-ifs run through my mind.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing,” I quickly answer. “I’m fine.” I bring her hand to my lips and watch as she goes back to her conversation with Dawson.
“Dad, why are we here?” Dawson asks when Sander comes to a stop.
I feel the car jerk a little. He opens the door for us, helping Dawson and Reagan out first.
“Thank you, Sander.”
“You’re welcome, sir. And good luck.”
I smile and wrap my arm around Reagan’s waist. I watch as she eyes the house in front of us.
Our house.
“Wow. This house is beautiful. Oh, what I would do to live here and get out of the city. Can you imagine, babe?”
I take her hand, and we walk on the lawn, toward the back. I hear Dawson’s gasp when the pool comes to view.
“Please tell me we’re buying this house!”
“Drew?”
I hold back a smile and turn to face Reagan. “This place is ours.” I slide my hand into my pocket, grab the keys, and place them in her hands. “My apartment holds memories but very little with you. This is my gift to you, Reagan.” I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat and keeping my anxiety away. “I’m thankful you’ll be my wife next year, and I can’t thank you enough for giving me you. My heart was cold and bitter. Then, you came along and showed me what I had been missing. You and Dawson are my life. My world.”
She stands there and listens to me, tightly holding my hands, and I wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“With you, I can conquer the storms and push away the clouds to find there�
��s beauty on the other side. And that beauty is your heart. Your soul. Your whole being. This is why I’m yours.”
“Drew,” she cries as she brings her lips to mine. “I love you so much.”
“I love you.”
Our foreheads lean against one another, and I can hear the softness of her breaths.
“I need to tell you something, and I hate to ruin this moment.”
She leans back and looks at me with worry. “What is it?”
“I saw Fin last week.”
“I’m glad you did,” she tells me. She takes my hand, so we can walk further into the backyard. “He was your best friend, and you needed closure. I hope you got what you were looking for.”
I don’t tell her about the bruises or him asking me for help. “It was what I needed.”
“Can I give you something?”
We stop talking and turn toward one another again.
“Of course.”
She pulls out a box from her purse and hands it to me. Without a word, I take the box and open it. Inside holds the key to locking us together forever.
“Pregnant?” I shake my head. “But you’re on the shot. We were careful. Do you want a baby now?”
“We were careful. The shot isn’t always one hundred percent effective, and, yes, I want a baby. I want your baby. I’m carrying our son or daughter, and I want us to be married as soon as possible. I don’t need a fancy wedding. All I need is you, Dawson, and our baby.” She places her hand on her stomach and lets out a light sigh.
“Whatever you want.” I laugh and pull her into my arms, lifting her up and spinning her around.
“What’s going on?” Dawson asks as he runs over.
The both of us kneel down, and Reagan shows him the pregnancy test.
“Holy moly! I’m gonna be a brother! Thank you so much. Wow, this is awesome!”
I watch as Dawson throws his arms around Reagan’s waist, and they stand in a loving embrace.
“Unlock the door to our new home, and I’ll take you on a tour.”
“This is so cool,” Dawson says. He grabs our hands, so we can go inside and see the house.
