THE BEST KIND OF SURPRISE

by Miller, Jasmin

  “You’re asking me if I’m okay after what I just did?”

  A whole new round of tears emerges from her eyes, and the instinct to lean in and wipe them away is too strong to resist. What can I say? I’m a sucker for this woman. The contact seems to do the opposite though, and she cries even harder. Pulling back, I reach behind me for the tissue box that’s sitting on the nightstand.

  Stella grabs it with a mumbled, “Thanks,” and I give her some time to collect herself.

  After a few minutes of sniffling and wiping, she looks at me with red, puffy eyes, and her lip starts trembling again. This time, she bites down on it, and takes a few steadying breaths instead.

  “Baby, what’s going on? You’re killing me here. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Her leg is close to me, and I rub her knee for a moment, hoping it reassures her.

  “I’m so sorry about what just happened.” Her voice is weak and trembling. “I didn’t expect you to ask me so soon, and then I panicked. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I should’ve explained things instead of running away. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Well, aren’t we quite the pair.

  “Explain what?” I realize we’ve never talked about marriage before, so we might not even be on the same page about it. “Do you not want to get married?”

  She shakes her head. “No, no, that’s not it. I do, I really do. Just not to you right now.”

  There’s no way to hold back my flinch because ouch.

  “Oh my gosh.” Stella’s hands fly to her mouth. “I seriously am the worst. I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. I’m nervous and can’t think straight.”

  She does get like that when she’s nervous. All scatterbrained, saying the opposite of what she actually means, not to mention putting the occasional foot in her mouth. You could call it one of Stella’s special talents.

  “So, you do want to get married to me?” I say the words slowly, hoping like hell I won’t get my ass handed to me again.

  Her eyes go wide. “Oh goodness, yes. You’re everything I want and need, and I’d be the happiest woman alive to have you by my side for the rest of my life.”

  Okay, even though that was a nice boost for my ego, I’m more confused than before. “It’s about the timing then? Too fast?”

  “Yes.”

  Ahh. Now we’re getting somewhere. “You want to wait until we’ve been together for a while longer?”

  She’s playing with the tissues in her hands, ripping little pieces off the edges and forming a small pile on the bed between us. “My dad proposed to my mom when they found out she was pregnant, and they got married a few weeks later, so they wouldn’t have me out of wedlock. After I was born and things got more stressful with a baby around, he started to accuse my mom of trapping him, that he never would’ve proposed if it wasn’t for the pregnancy.”

  Well, shit.

  Her eyes finally meet mine. “My mom always says she wishes they didn’t get married. Maybe my dad wouldn’t have felt so trapped in the end and stayed. Who knows? I think it had less to do with the marriage and more with my dad not wanting to be in our lives.”

  She takes a deep breath, looking at me with pleading eyes. “But do you understand? I still can’t take the risk. I want you more than anything, but I could never forgive myself if you felt trapped and left us when I needed you more than ever before. I want you to take your time, and wait until the boys are born and are maybe a little older to see if you still want it. I love you so much, and I want you all in, but not until you’re fully aware of what exactly that means.”

  What am I supposed to say to that? I think we both know I’m nothing like her dad, but I can see the fear in her eyes of history repeating itself, and nothing I say will ease that.

  Only time will be able to get us through this, and let’s just say, I can be stubborn as hell.

  I know what I want, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.

  I’m sad to not be able to call her my wife anytime soon, but if waiting gets us there, waiting it is.

  “Sorry I just sprung that question on you like that. I understand why that had you so freaked out. I can’t promise I won’t ask you again before you’re ready, but just know that’s my way of telling you that I’m still in—all in—and that I’m not planning on ever leaving you and the boys.”

  “How did I get so lucky? Sometimes I’m not sure I deserve you.” Stella looks down at her lap, the corner of her lip back in her mouth.

  “You? The way I see it, I’m the lucky one. You’re everything I never knew I wanted, and to top it off, you’re busy baking two wonderful boys for us right now. I love you so much it hurts sometimes.” I lift her chin up with my finger, needing to see her beautiful eyes. “Don’t you ever tell anyone I said all this gooey stuff though, or I’ll deny it.”

  My words have the desired effect, and she laughs. I finally pull her in my lap where I’ve wanted her this whole time. She immediately snuggles closer, her head resting on my shoulder, and we fit together like two puzzle pieces.

  I know with absolute certainty I’ll do everything in my power to keep our pieces together. I’m more than up for the challenge—bring on the staples, glue, hammer, and whatever else I’ll need.

  Without a doubt, this is a forever thing.

  “We might need to do the shopping another day. I’m sure I’d scare people with my raccoon look right now.” Stella’s words are muffled into my neck as she leans in to press a kiss to my skin.

  “You look beautiful, but I don’t mind staying in if you’d rather do that. We can always do some online shopping too. How does that sound?”

  Another kiss from her, this time to my throat. “Sounds perfect.”

  Her stomach lets out a loud grumble, and we both laugh. I gently set her on the mattress and jump off the bed myself. “But let’s feed you first.”

  “I love you.”

  The words stop me in my tracks, and I circle back around for a soul-wrenching kiss.

  We both let go of our emotions and reservations that have caused such havoc this morning, pouring it into a kiss so passionate that I have no doubt in my mind she will say yes to me one day, and I can’t wait for that day to happen.

  Epilogue

  Stella

  TEN MONTHS LATER

  “Baby, where are you?” Aiden’s voice comes from the living room, his footsteps fast approaching before he even knows where we are.

  I open our bedroom door a little, and poke out my head. “Bedroom.”

  He appears in the doorway a moment later, a big smile on his face. “There are my favorite people.”

  Walking over to us, he gives each of us a kiss—the boys on their foreheads and me on the mouth. I cherish the contact, even if it only lasts for about two seconds. Both Ethan and Lucas squirm in my arms at the sight of their dad, the same way they always do when he’s working and they haven’t seen him in a while.

  “Sorry I wasn’t here to help get them ready for bed. The new restaurant was especially crazy today.” Holding out his arms, he takes Ethan from me.

  “No worries, babe. I know you’re busy at work.” We walk over to the changing tables that are lined up along the wall between two dark brown cribs.

  Thankfully, our bedroom is big, with a built-in alcove on one side. It used to be Aiden’s office, but after I moved into his apartment and we were planning the boys’ arrival, we realized it was the perfect spot to set up for the boys. It allowed us to have them in the room with us without putting them right next to our bed.

  We’ve casually started looking at bigger places, but I don’t feel any rush yet. The setup we have right now is perfect for the time being.

  After putting both babies in their sleepsacks, we walk to the two rockers by the window to read. It took us a while to get our bedtime routine down, but life has definitely gotten easier since then.

  Letting out a long sigh, I settle into my chair with Lucas leaning against my chest. These last six months since the boys
were born have been a crazy roller-coaster ride. I’ve never been this exhausted and happy at the same time. Even now, I still have moments where I can’t believe our babies are really here.

  I’m also still frequently reliving their births, the memory of it so vividly burned into my brain that I can’t help myself.

  Thankfully, the odds were in my favor, and I was able to deliver the boys at almost thirty-seven weeks, which was a small miracle in itself that they stayed put that long. They both came out crying like sirens, but neither one of them needed to stay at the hospital for longer than normal, which we were incredibly grateful for.

  “Wanna go to Daddy?” Handing Lucas over to Aiden, I silently watch them read their book. This mostly consists of four tiny hands hitting the book as much as they can, but Aiden takes it in stride since he’s used to it. He’s been the best dad to our babies, always right in the middle of the chaos whenever he’s around.

  Even when he’s working, he’s trying to help me from afar by sending over a friend or family member. Sometimes, it can be a bit overwhelming, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  Raising children is definitely no walk in the park—I learned that pretty quickly—and I’d be a fool to decline any help I can get. People just had to get used to seeing me look like a zombie because getting pretty has been one of the last things on my mind.

  Most of the time, I’m happy if I can manage to take a shower a few times a week. That’s a success for me right there.

  “Night night, big boy. Time to go to Mama.” Aiden gives Ethan a kiss before handing him to me. There’s definitely a lot of back and forth going on when you have twins. After dimming the lights, we get settled in—me nursing Ethan while Lucas gets a bottle from Aiden. It’s a nice way for the boys to bond with their daddy, and I’ll gladly pump some milk if that allows them to have these moments.

  They’re both milk-drunk when we finish, making it easy to put them in their cribs before slowly and quietly backing out of the room.

  The living room suddenly seems bright and overly quiet as I walk over to the couch and sink into the cushions. After placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, I close my eyes while Aiden rummages around in the kitchen.

  He joins me after a few minutes, handing me a mug filled with hot chocolate and whipped cream. My nightly treat. Yum. As if that wasn’t good enough, he also places a small plate on the coffee table.

  I stare at it in awe. “Is that…?”

  “Yup, tiramisu.” He chuckles when he sees my expression, knowing full well he just earned about a million bonus points—not that he needs them.

  “You’re the best, thank you.” I pucker my lips, and he gets the message.

  Leaning down, he steadies himself with his hands on either side of my head, giving me one long and thorough kiss, and getting me all worked up despite the fact that I’m dead tired.

  But, first things first. My tiramisu.

  Aiden knows me well enough to understand what I’m after right now. He takes my mug and hands me the plate. With an amused expression on his face, he sits down on the couch next to me and pulls my legs into his lap.

  Without missing a beat, he starts massaging my feet. In less than a minute, I moan and groan, not sure if it’s the foot massage or the dessert.

  Probably a combination of both.

  He waits patiently while I finish up before pulling me onto his lap. Since we’re sharing our bedroom with the boys, we’ve been spending a lot of quality time on the couch instead. “Feeling better now?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I lean in to give him another kiss, as always cherishing the contact like nothing else.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” His gaze sweeps over my face, lingering on my lips for a moment before settling on my eyes. “Baby?”

  “Hm?” I know what’s coming by the way he looks at me and the way he said “baby.” For some reason, today, my hands are getting sweaty at the prospect.

  “Will you marry me?” He’s asked me the same question several dozen times over the last few months. We’ve both come to love those little moments, especially since Aiden keeps asking me at the most random times, catching me off guard more than once.

  He doesn’t care if we’re in the middle of changing poopy diapers, I’m nursing or pumping, or in the middle of a grocery store. Aiden asks me whenever he feels like it, making me smile pretty much every time because I love what the question means.

  It’s like he said before, he’s still all in, and boy, is he ever. I know half of my hair has escaped my bun and I’m not wearing a drop of makeup. I’m still wearing maternity clothes and I’m pretty sure I have both food and spit-up stains on my shirt. Yet, this man still treats me like I look and smell like a million bucks.

  I’ve never had a specific time frame in mind when I’d finally give him the answer he wants. Maybe I was waiting for some wedding bells to ring in my head at the question or something equally momentous. Turns out all I needed was a human moment between us, a moment that is more real than anything else could ever be.

  “Yes.” The word slips out of my mouth a lot easier than I thought, and I watch the expression on Aiden’s face change from humorous to utter disbelief.

  His mouth hangs open as he stares at me. “Excuse me? Did you just say—”

  “Yes, yes. Hell, all the yesses.”

  “Shit. You really said yes.” He pulls me toward him, peppering my face with kisses. “We’re really getting married?”

  I manage to nod under the tight hold I’m in, and we both have to laugh. It’s an exuberant laugh, and that’s exactly what I need in my life. I need someone by my side who knows me as well as I do or sometimes even better, someone who steps in whenever he can.

  A person who’s walked in on me having a major emotional meltdown from motherhood more than once and doesn’t care, and someone who’s enjoying this crazy thing called parenthood right alongside me. “It’s time.”

  “I love you.” Pulling me into him again, our chaste kiss quickly turns into more.

  Nothing else has ever felt this right before than my life with Aiden and the boys, and I’m finally ready to make it official. “I love you too.”

  Our bodies are trying to catch up with our love-fest, wanting to celebrate too. And who would I be to say no to sex with Aiden?

  That’s how our story started, after all.

  * * *

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  Excerpt of Baking With A Rockstar

  Book One in the Brooksville series

  For the next few minutes, I’m completely focused on my baking. It’s something that centers me, no matter what mood I’m in. Once I’m happy with the dough, I cut it into equal pieces. The brown hazelnut spread is next, and I smear it on generously with a knife, because there’s no such thing as too much Nutella.

  After folding each piece to form an open tube, I place them neatly next to each other on a baking sheet. Since the oven is still occupied, I put the baking sheet on the counter and move on to the next bowl of ingredients that’s already waiting for me. I love days like today, where I can just bake one thing after the other. It calms me down while also allowing me to think clearly about what the week ahead will bring.

  Since I’ve decided not to rush things with the bakery, I still have a few months until I’m going to open it here in this small California town. Not only is there a lot of preparation that needs to be done, but I’ve quickly figured out that trying to raise an infant at the same time isn’t the easiest thing—even with all the help I’ve been getting.

  The song on the radio ends, and the host interrupts my thoughts. “Sources claim that our very own Brooksville citizen, rockstar Hudson Mitchell, was spotted at the airport this early morning. If it’s true, and he’s really back in town, please
be kind, folks. Remember he’s one of us.”

  “Rockstar?” I snort to myself. “I’ve been here for several weeks now, and no one has mentioned anything about a rockstar living here—not that I’ve been out much. And here I thought we could have a quiet life in this place. Thank goodness Monica didn’t move with us, she’d be all over this.” My best friend is the worst celebrity gossip, even though she knows to keep it to the bare minimum with me.

  I shake my head, as I realize I’m talking to myself, a habit I don’t think I’ll ever stop—something Sebastian wasn’t very fond of.

  Stop it! No thinking about him, he’s not worth the time.

  The oven timer beeps, successfully distracting me from my thoughts. I take out the baking sheet with the Danish bread, and after carefully placing it on the stove, I put the next sheet in. The sweet smell of baked goods drifts into my nose, and I let out a loud sigh just as my stomach lets out a growl. I put my hand on my belly absentmindedly, immediately noticing Hannah might have been right about us having to up our workout routine.

  Focusing back on my work, I lose myself in the bread dough once more. Swaying gently to the music coming from the radio, I startle when the front door shuts with a loud bang.

  “Weird.” I stop, my hands still deep in the soft dough, and listen. “Maybe Hannah forgot something.”

  “Gosh, what smells so good in here? I would’ve come back earlier if I’d known this was waiting for me.” The voice—male, and definitely not Hannah—gets louder with every spoken word, indicating the person is coming closer to the kitchen. A man is coming closer to me. A stranger.

  I’m frozen in my spot—certain I look like a deer caught in the headlights—and I’m afraid my heart will burst out of my chest in a second if it keeps beating this wildly.