Perfectly Broken

by Prescott Lane

  Dr. Lorraine looked at Reed. “So you came home with two boxes?” He nodded, and she turned back to Peyton. “OK, keep going. Tell me how he proposed.”

  Peyton smiled. “It’s been a month, but I remember what he said like it was yesterday. I’ll always remember it.” She turned to Reed. “He was nervous – I could tell.”

  “I wasn’t nervous,” Reed said. “I was in complete control.”

  “Be quiet,” Dr. Lorraine instructed him. “Just sit there, look good, and let her talk.” Reed sat back with a laugh.

  “He cleared his throat before starting,” Peyton continued. “He said, ‘Peyton, I love you. The rest of my life depends on the answers in each of these boxes.’ He held up one box. ‘This one,’ he said, ‘will tell me if I’m going to have a child, and while that’s important and scary as hell, this other box is more important.’ Then he held up another box and suddenly got down on one knee. ‘This one will tell me if the only woman I will ever love is willing to spend the rest of her life with me.’ My hands flew over my mouth. I was in complete shock. You’ve got to remember that I’d been pissed at him for not staying in touch with me. I even thought he might be dead. And on top of that, I’m thinking I’m carrying his child who might never see his father – either because he’s dead or ran off. That’s where my mind was at.” She looked at Reed and smiled. “But all that changed. I fell to my knees in front him. I said, ‘Reed, you don’t....’ But he kissed my lips hard to shut me up then showed me the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen. He said, ‘The diamond is flawless, perfect, like the woman I want to wear it.’ He took my hand in his and asked, ‘Will you marry me?’” Peyton sighed.

  “What did you say at that time, child?” Dr. Lorraine asked. “You didn’t even know if you were pregnant?”

  “I told him even if I was, we didn’t have to get married. But he told me he wanted to marry me with or without a baby. He said it didn’t matter to him as long as I was his wife. He said, ‘I promise I’ll love you my entire life. Please make me your family.’ When he said that, I just couldn’t hold back any longer. I jumped into his arms and told him ‘yes’ about a hundred times, maybe a thousand.” Dr. Lorraine clapped her hands, quickly, excitedly. “After all that, we’d almost forgotten about the other box. It was an afterthought at that point. But of course, I went and took the test. Turned out I wasn’t pregnant. Just a little side effect from the shot.”

  Dr. Lorraine sat back in her chair, elated and exhausted, like a proud mother. Then her face changed, and she stroked a pencil through her curls. She sat up quickly, looking at Reed. “What time did you come back to the house that morning?”

  “I don’t know, 10 or so. Why?”

  “There’s no jeweler open before 10 in the morning.”

  Reed smiled. “I had the ring for weeks. I wanted to take her back to the beach to ask her, but then we had a little change of plans.”

  Dr. Lorraine looked him up and down, trying not to drool. “Damn, you’re good.”

  EPILOGUE

  FIVE YEARS LATER

  “YOU KNOW, AIDAN, this is my favorite spot in the whole wide world.”

  “Why, Daddy?” the three-year-old asked, his dirty blond hair full of sand.

  “Because this is where I married Mommy.”

  His toes in the Gulf, his son on his lap, Reed smiled and looked back at the beach house, a wedding present for Peyton five years ago. He knew he did the right thing buying it. It just didn’t seem right that the very place where he whisked her away to grieve Adelaide, where Peyton shared her darkest secrets, where he first told her he loved her, where they first shared their bodies, could ever be occupied by strangers to their memories, random folks escaping work for some meaningless long weekend.

  “Can I bury you in the sand, Daddy?”

  “Knock yourself out.” Reed scooted back and stretched out, as Aidan grabbed a bucket and began to cover his father’s leg.

  Reed looked down at the sand, remembering dozens and dozens of pink flowers all around. He wasn’t too far from where he exchanged vows with Peyton — before the only five people invited: Bret, Quinn, Marion, Dr. Lorraine, and Jeremiah. With the wedding so small and simple, they’d actually beat Bret and Quinn down the aisle by a few weeks, much to Quinn’s dismay, which always made him smile.

  It also made Reed smile at Bret and Quinn’s wedding to introduce his wife as Peyton Langston, and he made sure Griffin was within earshot a time or two to hear it. Reed was happy that he’d proven the guy wrong, happy that the guy had moved back to Chicago, happy that even though Peyton kept the door to their friendship open, Griffin never knocked on it — always keeping things polite, cordial, and distant when he happened to cross paths with her in New Orleans.

  Aidan got to work on the other leg. Reed looked at his son’s baby blue eyes, so big and bright, so sweet and innocent, so full of life and hope, so perfect. His father died two years earlier without ever having the privilege or pleasure of seeing them. Some things stay broken.

  “Is Granny calling before bed tonight?”

  “Doesn’t she call you every night before bed?”

  “Yes, Daddy. But that’s in New Orleans.”

  “She knows the number here in Seaside, too.” Reed laughed slightly to himself, knowing his mother actually knew everything. And she seemed to do everything, too. There was hardly a day she didn’t visit her grandson or a week she didn’t buy him a toy. After all, she alone had to fill the shoes of the customary four grandparents.

  Aidan nearly finished both legs when Reed suddenly burst free. “The sand monster’s going to get you!” He tickled his son, laughing Peyton’s sweet laugh.

  “I’m gonna pee!” Aidan cried, and Reed quickly put him down. “Tricked you!”

  “You little....” Reed reached to tickle him again, wondering how his three-year-old was a better liar than he was. But the boy was too fast and bolted towards the back patio, to the safety of his mother waddling outside in a pink bikini, a phone in her hand, a six-month baby bump in full view.

  To Reed, Peyton was sexier and more beautiful than ever before, but she rolled her eyes every time he said so. She did her best to keep in shape running in Audubon Park, and though he worried about its effect on her and the baby, she insisted on doing it. So he often found himself running with her, pushing Aidan in a jogging stroller, making sure she was careful, keeping a protective eye on her.

  Peyton gave the phone to Aidan. The little boy put the phone to his ear, listened for a moment, smiled widely, then said, “Goodnight, Granny. I love you.”

  Peyton took the phone. “Bed time.”

  Aidan pouted his bottom lip. “I’m not tired.”

  “Too bad,” Reed said, scooping up his son, and looked at Peyton. “I’m ready for bed.”

  Aidan kissed his mother on the cheek, and Reed started for the door. “Wait!” Aidan cried. “I need to kiss my sissy.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on Peyton’s belly.

  Reed brought his son to his bedroom and stayed with him until he fell asleep — which took three stories, two trips to the bathroom, a sip of water, a lengthy prayer in which the boy prayed for a puppy seven times, three goodnight kisses, and a final check of the closet and under the bed for monsters. It was the same routine each night at Peyton’s house — their house — in the Garden District.

  Exhausted, Reed staggered outside to the patio and knelt down beside his wife, resting on a lounge chair. He ran his fingertips across her belly, and her eyes flittered open.

  “Our son is the worst sleeper,” he said.

  “You’re a good daddy.”

  And Reed thought she was the best mother. When she was pregnant with Aidan, he didn’t want her to work, but she insisted on keeping Adelaide’s open, and even baby-proofed the shop with the hope of taking him to work each day. Reed wasn’t crazy about the idea but knew it was hopeless to argue with a pregnant woman. It’s not a fair fight. But in the end, it didn’t matter. When she held Aidan for the first time,
she fell in love with him, and Reed knew there was no way she was going back to work — at least not for long. Peyton briefly considered turning the day-to-day operations over to Julia or someone else but ultimately couldn’t bring herself to entrust Gram’s recipes and legacy to anyone. So she closed the shop a month after Aidan was born. She just didn’t need it anymore.

  Reed leaned his head down on her belly. “It’s still so strange to think there’s a baby in here.”

  “You ready for another?’ Peyton asked quietly, running her hands through his messy hair.

  “I hope our daughter is a better sleeper.”

  “Whatever happens,” she said, “you better enjoy it — because I’m done.”

  Reed raised his head slightly. “We’ll see. We need to catch up to Bret and Quinn. Bret thinks he’s hot shit now.”

  “Because they have triplets?”

  “And all boys.”

  “Let me tell you about Bret,” Peyton said, sitting up with Reed’s help. “He got fixed last week.” She made a cutting motion with her fingers. “Snip snip.”

  Reed covered himself then helped her up. “Don’t get any ideas.”

  She got to her feet. “Thank you for our little family.”

  He held her in his arms and swayed under a thousand stars, like he’d imagined years ago, with the moonlight reflecting off the water, cascading around her body, even twinkling off her scar. It was hardly a sign of brokenness but instead looked as perfect as she was, how he always saw her, from the very first time in her shop. “Do you want me to sing to you?”

  “No.” She laughed. “We don’t need music. Plus, I have a better idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I made your pie.” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s waiting in the bedroom.”

  Reed smiled. “I’m not tired anymore. And Aidan better stay asleep.”

  Peyton took his hand — the one she always needed, the one she truly needed to find — and led him back inside.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  MANY THANKS TO the makers of all brands of aspirin and coconut rum, because this book would not have seen the light of day without them. More importantly, many thanks to my dear husband for his tireless support and encouragement when so often the end seemed unreachable. Also thanks to my children for their patience and good listening when I told them not to read over my shoulder. A huge shout out to my sister, Kathy, and childhood friend, Dani Lee, for listening to me drone on and on and for their helpful feedback and encouraging words. Thank you to Laura Hidalgo at Book Fabulous Designs for my wonderful cover, which I just love. And thanks to the team at BookNookBiz for the interior design. Lastly, thank you to everyone who read my first book, First Position, and encouraged me to continue my dream. Here’s to hoping this gig will one day pay the bills.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Prescott Lane is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas, and graduated from Centenary College in 1997 with a degree in sociology. She went on to Tulane University to receive her MSW in 1998, after which she worked with developmentally delayed and disabled children. She currently resides in New Orleans with her husband and two children. She is also the author of First Position, which is exclusively available on Amazon.

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