He set down plates and glasses, a salad and some wine. What a waste! When he popped the lid off of a large, steaming container, I threw my head back, laughing at the contents inside.
“Veal saltimbocca? I thought you said Grace wasn’t cooking for us tonight!”
“She didn’t,” he said, proudly. “She gave me the recipe.”
“You made this?” I asked, fighting back tears because of the damn hormones. “When?”
“At the restaurant. Go ahead. Try it.”
I settled down on the blanket, drawing my legs up underneath me. He watched anxiously as I grabbed a fork and knife and dove in. It was so rich and sweet that I moaned as soon as it hit my tongue.
“Luke, this is amazing. What did you do? It’s better than Grace’s,” I whispered, feeling like it was wrong to admit that out loud.
“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, dropping down onto the blanket next to me. “I was thinking about the night you invited yourself over to my going away dinner. I didn’t eat very much. You were too distracting.”
“I was invited by your gracious uncle, and you and your strawberries were far more distracting than I could ever be.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he countered. “It’s never been easy for me to focus when you’re around. But I like that you distract me.”
“And I like when we distract each other. Especially when we’re distracting each other multiple times in the same day.”
“See what I mean? It’s always about sex with you.”
“Oh, and that’s not why we’re here, Luke?”
“No, Jillian, that’s not why we’re here,” he mimicked, sighing dramatically. “If I were recreating our last trip here, you’d be making smartass comments to a flask.”
“Joan was epic but I didn’t have her with me then,” I countered.
“I like how you argue that it wasn’t with you, not that you wouldn’t have been talking to it. Embracing the crazy, I see.”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a talking flask anymore,” I said, pulling myself up onto my knees, scooting closer and wrapping my arms around his neck. “Just you. You’re all the crazy I need.”
“I just need you, too,” he replied, dragging me onto his lap. “And I love you and your crazy. It almost seems worth all the bullshit we’ve been through to be here. It’s been the best year of my life.”
If I didn’t love my husband enough already, his words shot right through me, confirming what I knew all along. He was it for me, and luckily, I was it for him.
“And there’s so much to look forward to. Next year on our anniversary, we’ll be in the new house, looking out at the ocean—maybe getting ready to start a family.”
My eyes had already begun to water listening to him talk so openly about how he felt. It was still overwhelming to hear him talk this way—to hear him mention kids and our future. I had only gone off birth control the prior month. For some people, it took years. For others, it didn’t.
“Maybe I should tell you about your present. Well, it’s not really a present for you. It’s more of a present for us.”
“What did you do?” he asked, and I laughed because I had definitely not done anything alone.
“Well, we won’t have to wait until next year,” I began, the tears in my eyes spilling over.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
“We have an appointment on Monday with Dr. Simonsen,” I said slowly, making sure he was taking in everything I was saying. “I took a test this afternoon—”
Before I could finish the sentence, he was on me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest and pressing his lips against my face.
“Oh my God. How? But it’s only been…are you sure?”
“The nurse I spoke to said that it’s easy to get a false negative, not a false positive. It’s…yeah…I am.”
“Oh God, what do we…should you be sitting on the ground? And Jesus, it’s cold out and you’re in a skirt. Let’s get home and you can—”
“Luke,” I yelled, interrupted his manic raving. “I’m fine. We’re all fine. I want to be here. With you. Alone under the stars,” I explained. “Because next year, Baby Chambers will be joining us.”
“Baby Chambers,” he said, echoing my words. “I don’t believe it. I wonder what he’ll look like.”
“He? It’s a he? You know this already?”
“It takes a man to make a man, Jillian.”
“Oh, God. Is this what it’s going to be like?”
“No,” he said, pulling me into his side, curling up next to me. “It’s going to be so much better.”
We stared up at the sky watching the late summer meteor shower, as stars traveled from one end of the night to the other, wishing upon each of them.
“I wish for him to be smart.”
“I wish for her to be a good person. And funny, I think she’ll be funny.”
“I wish for him or her to have a house full of brothers and sisters.”
“I wish her him or her to have one. My uterus finds fault with your wish.”
“I wish you weren’t such a pain in the ass.”
“I wish you’d kiss me.”
And when we were wished out and almost ready to leave, Luke rolled over, staring, smiling, bursting with happiness.
“Do you ever wish that you could go back in time? Fix the crap we messed up?” he asked, so sweet, so innocent, so unaware of what he was asking. I loved him with every fiber of my being.
I stared back at him, eyes brimming and wide and full of so much love for me and the baby we hadn’t met yet. I knew my answer.
“No,” I replied. “Never.”
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
EPILOGUE
Living Backwards Page 42
