by Wade, Ellie
“We need to stop by the store down the street first. I need a basket of muffins,” I say as I pull back out of the driveway.
“What? Why?” London asks as she buckles her seat belt.
“We should show up with a housewarming gift, right? And Sarah loves muffins.”
“Okay, sure,” London answers in a carefree tone.
On the drive, I tell London about the memory I had in the car. We pull up to a bakery and step inside. London insists that we buy not only all of the wicker baskets they have available, but also every last muffin in the shop as well. London loves to go big. Her generous heart is one of the things I love most about her.
In thirty minutes’ time, we are parked back in the driveway of Sarah and Dixon’s house. Gift baskets of muffins in our hands, we head up to the front door.
Sarah opens the door with a wide grin. “You’re here!”
“We’re here.” I smile.
“Ooh, you come bearing lots of baskets.” Her mouth tilts up into a smirk as she scans the baskets in our hands. “Here, come in.” She steps aside, allowing London and me to enter.
“Your new house is adorable,” London tells Sarah.
“Thanks. We love it,” Sarah answers.
“Well, these are for you.” I hold out my arms, presenting Sarah with the gifts.
She reaches toward my outstretched arms and removes the tissue paper that covers the top of one of the baskets.
Her mouth drops open as she stares into one of the baskets.
“Blueberry muffins,” she almost whispers in awe.
“Yes…well, actually, it’s all the muffins the bakery down the road had. London insisted we buy out the place.” I pause and watch Sarah as studies the contents of the basket. “Do you remember?”
She raises her face to meet mine, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and she nods. “I can’t believe you remembered,” she says, her voice shaky.
I place the items in my hands on the table in the foyer and pull Sarah into a hug. “Of course I remember. I remember everything about us. I’m so happy for you.”
Sarah burrows her face into my chest as she hugs me tight. “I got my cute little cottage with my grandma shutters.” She sniffles.
“You did,” I agree. “And, now, it’s full of muffins, just like you wanted.”
“Yeah.” She nods again before pulling away. She wipes her eyes and turns to London. “Here, let me take those to the kitchen.”
She grabs the baskets from London’s hands, and we follow her into the kitchen.
“I’m so glad you guys could come out a day early,” she says. “I mean, we obviously didn’t need to do a big rehearsal dinner since we’re just having a little backyard wedding. But it will be nice to hang out with you,” she says to me.
“Where are Dixon and Ev?” I ask.
“They’re down the hall, in the bathroom. They’ll be right out.”
Sarah has just finished her thought when the pitter-patter of little feet sounds against the wood flooring.
“Yo!” my three-year-old nephew, Evan, screeches when he sees me.
He takes a flying leap into my arms, and I hug him tight.
“Hey, little buddy. How’s my favorite guy?”
“Guess what, Yo?”
Evan’s nickname for me from when he was a baby and couldn’t pronounce L sounds has stuck.
“What?” I ask him.
“I went pee in the potty,” he says excitedly.
“That’s awesome, little dude. But haven’t you been going pee in the potty for a while?” I ask as I set him down on the ground.
“Sometimes, I pee my pants.” He says without a care in the world.
“Well, okay.” I chuckle.
Dixon comes from around the corner. “It’s not that he can’t make it to the bathroom in time. Just, lately, he’s too engrossed in his Mega Blocks creations to take a break for such trivial things like potty breaks. It’s a phase,” Dixon says with a shrug. “How are ya, man?”
He reaches his hand out, and I take it in mine. Then, he pulls me into a hug, slapping my back with his free hand.
“Good. Really Good. You?”
“Couldn’t be better.” He releases me from our manly embrace and turns his attention toward London. “London! How are ya, hot stuff?” Wrapping his arms around her, he lifts her off the ground and spins her in a circle.
“Great,” she answers with a squeal of laughter.
His face continues to wear the warm smile that I’ve come to associate with him. He still reminds me so much of Cooper. Their sense of humor, laughter, and larger-than-life personalities are identical. It can’t be a coincidence that Dixon came into my life just as Cooper left it. Though they are similar in so many ways, it’s the manner in which they befriended me that’s so astonishing. They saw something in me when I couldn’t see anything of value in myself, and they worked their way into my life, despite my resistance. My stubborn nature would never have let me admit that I needed someone. But neither of them waited for an invitation. They created a door, and then they changed the trajectory of my life for the better.
“So glad you guys could come over. We’ve got some steaks to grill out. How does that sound?” he asks as he sets London down.
“Great. I’m starving,” I say.
“What’s all this?” He points to the baskets that fill up the kitchen island.
“They brought us some muffins, baby,” Sarah answers.
“Well, sweet,” he says with a wide grin and a nod before he walks over to the refrigerator. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” I answer.
“Water would be great,” London says from the floor where she’s kneeling, holding Evan in her lap.
He’s twirling her long brown locks between his fingers, staring up at her with such awe in his gaze.
I know the feeling, buddy.
Sarah grabs a tray of food and drinks. “Let’s go out to the deck,” she says.
We all follow Sarah outside.
I walk behind London, who is holding Evan on her hip.
“How long you stay with us, Yondon?”
So, the kid is still working on his L sounds.
“Till Sunday. Almost three whole days,” she answers him.
“How many shows?” he asks.
London looks momentarily confused.
“He measures time by the length of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episodes. So, an hour in our home is also known as two shows,” Dixon says from behind us.
Realization dawns on London’s face. “Well, Ev…lots of shows.”
“How many?” he asks eagerly.
“Ninety-two shows, buddy,” I answer, having already done the math.
“Is that a lot?” Evan asks.
“Oh, it’s a lot,” London says. “You know how you’ll go to bed tonight and then wake up in the morning?”
Evan nods.
“Well, we’ll be here for two nighttimes, two wake-ups, and all of the daytimes in between.”
This response seems to satisfy him. He says something about a monster truck, wiggles down from London’s grasp, and runs out to the yard.
Dixon heads to the grill at the end of the deck, and the rest of us take a seat in the patio chairs situated around the table.
“So, how many people are going to be at the wedding tomorrow?” London asks Sarah.
“Not too many. Maybe forty or fifty,” Sarah answers.
“That’s a good amount,” London says.
“Yeah, well, my only family is Loïc…and, well, now, you. The rest are his guests.” She points to Dixon, who is turning a knob on the grill.
“You have Paige and her boyfriend and Maggie coming,” I say.
“Maggie can’t come. Something about too many people out this weekend and how she has to cover.”
“Oh, that sucks. I haven’t seen her in forever.” London sighs. “Well, she has that new nurse manager job. I guess that’s what it entails.”
“And Paige’s man isn’t coming anymore,” Sarah adds.
“What? Why not?” London questions.
“Not sure. She just said he couldn’t come.”
“That’s weird. She didn’t say anything about it to me,” London says. “So, the rest are Dixon’s friends?”
“For the most part. All of his military buddies and then his parents and his brother.” Sarah turns her attention from London to Evan. “Come on, Evan. Get out of the dirt!” she yells out in frustration.
Evan either didn’t hear Sarah or chose to ignore her, as he is making engine noises while pushing a red truck across the yard on his hands and knees. I can’t help but chuckle as I look at him. His blond hair has streaks of brown. I missed how he got clumps of dirt in his hair in such a short amount of time, but apparently, monster-trucking is serious business.
Dixon comes up behind her and kisses her head. “He’s a boy, babe. Boys like dirt. Get used to it.”
“I just did all the floors,” Sarah whines.
“When we’re done eating, I’ll carry him right to the tub. He won’t even touch the floors. Okay?”
“Fine,” she sighs.
“So, should we tell them?” Dixon takes a seat next to Sarah and looks at her with pure joy.
“Ooh, tell us what?” London asks excitedly.
“Go for it,” Sarah says.
“Well”—Dixon’s face lights up with a huge smile—“Sarah and I are expecting a baby.”
“No way. Awesome, man,” I say.
London claps her hands together and congratulates them. “When are you due?” she asks Sarah.
“Not for another eight months. It’s early.”
“What’s the due date again, babe?” Dixon places his hand on Sarah’s knee.
“March 13,” Sarah answers.
I turn to London in question, and she nods as her lips quirk up.
“We’re actually trying right now, too,” I say to them. A wave of pride comes over me. My wife and I are going to start a family. It’s surreal.
“Really?” Sarah grabs my arm. “That’s amazing. So, you could be pregnant?” she asks London.
“Hopefully.” London shrugs with a shy grin.
Sarah’s annoyance has faded into pure squeals of excitement. “Oh my gosh! That would be so great. Our babies would only be, like, a month apart. They could grow up as best friends. Or, if you have a boy and I have a girl, they could be, like, soul mates. Oh…what if our kids got married? That would be so cool. Have you thought about names? Let’s talk names. We obviously can’t have the same ones on our lists.”
“No way, Sarah. We’re not talking names.” I recall the horror of listening to Sarah list thousands of name suggestions for six months as she tried to come up with Evan’s. I slap Dixon’s shoulder. “You get the joy of naming a child with Sarah this time around. Good luck,” I say on a chuckle.
Dixon shoots me a look. “That bad?”
“Oh, it’s bad.” I shake my head. “I’d tell you that I’d be here for you, but that’s not true. This one’s all you.”
We eat dinner as Sarah yammers on about names, and since it’s too early in the pregnancy to know whether she’s having a boy or a girl, we’re fortunate enough to listen to both lists. I have flashbacks to living with her at my house in Michigan when she was pregnant. God, that seems like a lifetime ago.
I glance at London beside me, who is listening to Sarah with fake interest. The smile perched on her face is strained and doesn’t reach her eyes. I know every expression and emotion London’s beautiful face makes.
After dinner, London and I volunteer to do the dishes while Dixon carries a giggling Evan over his head toward the bathroom.
“Oh, I got a new bath bomb for Evan. I’m going to go grab it from my car for bath time,” Sarah says before hastily exiting the kitchen, leaving London and I alone.
London rinses a plate before handing it to me. I place it in the dishwasher.
“Have you thought about names at all?” I wonder aloud. “I mean, girls plan these things from the time they’re little and playing with baby dolls, right?”
London lets out a small laugh. “I was never one of those girls, not really. But I have thought about it a little.”
“And?”
She turns off the water and dries her hands with a dish towel. Turning toward me, she says, “I think it might be nice to stick with names of geographical significance. You know, it’s kind of a theme.”
“Yeah?” I place the last dish in the dishwasher before closing it.
“Yeah, I mean, obviously, I was named after the city I was conceived in. You were adopted by parents who had the same last name as the city you were found in. It’s worked for us, right?”
“You do realize that, if you’re pregnant right now, the baby was conceived in Georgia. If it’s a girl, you want to name her after your sister?”
London laughs with a shake of her head. “God, no. One Georgia in my life is enough. We could name her Savannah though.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I like that. And if it’s a boy?”
“Um…Sav?” London crinkles her brow. “George? I don’t know. We’ll have to think on that.”
“Okay,” I say with a laugh.
“Loïc?” Sarah’s hesitant voice comes from behind us.
“Hey, what’s up?” I turn to her.
“Do you think we could talk?” she asks, wearing a mask of self-doubt and worry.
“Of course,” I say with a gentle smile.
“You know, I was just going to go take a shower. Wash the airplane cooties off of me. Where are we staying?” London asks Sarah, gracefully excusing herself.
“The guest bedroom. Down the hall, first room on the right. You can’t miss it. It’s the one with original orange-and-gold wallpaper from, like, the 1800s,” Sarah says with a roll of her eyes. “We haven’t gotten around to redoing that room yet.”
“Okay, sounds good,” London says with a smile before exiting the kitchen.
“Want to go outside?” Sarah asks.
“Sure.”
I follow her out to the deck, sitting next to her on the porch swing. “Why the solemn face?” I ask.
She grabs my hand, entwining her fingers with mine. “Am I doing the right thing? Getting married? I mean, it’s tomorrow, and I’m freaking out a little. I’m getting married”—her voice drops to a whisper—“and not to you. It’s not that I’m still pining over you or anything. Yet, at the same time, growing up, every time I pictured my adult life, you were in it. We were partners, you know?”
I squeeze her hand in mine. “Oh, Sarah. I am in your life. Do you love him? Are you happy?”
“Yes, very much. I’m so happy. It’s like my dreams are coming true, yet it just makes me so confused that I’m having doubts.”
“Maybe you’re confusing doubts with nerves. It’s normal to be nervous. Tell me why you love him.”
She lets out a sigh. “Well, he’s handsome and kind. He’s funny. He treats me like a princess. He loves Evan as his own. He’s patient with me. You know how I can be.” She lets out a dry chuckle. “He gets me. It’s like he doesn’t let me spiral out of control.”
“He sounds perfect for you and Evan.”
“He is, and that’s why I don’t understand why I’m feeling this way. I’m living my dream life, but it’s not with you, and I don’t know how to process that. He usually talks me through any negative thoughts, but I can’t talk to him about this. Can you imagine how much that’d hurt him? Knowing that I’m marrying him tomorrow, but I still love you.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “And I know you don’t love me like that. God, you’re married, and you’re happy. Why can’t I be happy?”
I release my grasp on her hand and pull her into my side, hugging her tight. My chest aches for her. So much time has passed. She’s a whole world away from that little girl who was abused, homeless, and traumatized. Yet, all these years later, she’s the same girl.
“
Sarah, you don’t love me like that either. It’s okay to love me. You always will, and I’ll always love you. We’re family. What you feel for Dixon isn’t the same. You don’t have to feel guilty. He knows your feelings for me, and he understands them.”
I move back slightly so that I can see her face. Placing my hand beneath her chin, I tilt her tear-stained face up to meet mine. “Look at me,” I say gently. “You’re going to be okay. You deserve happiness. You deserve someone who loves you the way Dixon does.”
She shakes her head with a frown before resting it against my shoulder. “I don’t know why he loves me. I’ll always be a mess. It’s like, no matter how hard I try to run from my past, I can never escape it. The painful memories haunt me. You’re the only one who understands.”
“That’s not true. The reason Dixon is so perfect for you is because he understands trauma. He lives it every single day. Hell, if it weren’t for him…I probably wouldn’t be here, Sarah. He can help you. He gets it. He’s more of a gift to you than you’ll ever know.”
“You think?” Her voice is laced with hope.
“I know, Sarah. Dixon loves you because he can look past the hurt that weighs you down. He can see the Sarah that I do—the one who loves with everything she has. He sees you, and that’s why he loves you. Don’t let your past and doubts control your life anymore. You’re doing so well. You’re happy, and though the demons inside you want to tell you that you’re not worthy of it all, you need to know that you are.”
“It’s just so hard,” she says through sniffles. “I can’t forget the past. Just when things start to get really good, the darkness sucks me in, rendering me incapable of holding on to joy.”
“You can’t let it, Sarah. What you went through wasn’t your fault. The drugs that followed weren’t either.”
She lets out a huff of disagreement, her feet kicking back and forth in time with the swing.
“It wasn’t. You were a child, Sarah—one who had no positive role models or guidance, one who was in an immense amount of pain. It’s difficult enough for children to make the right decisions, but without the proper tools, it’s almost impossible. None of it was your fault. You did the best you could with the hand you were dealt.”
We rock in silence for a few minutes. The sounds of the neighborhood surround us—distant voices, cars passing on the street, the hustle and bustle of life. Yet we don’t hear any of it, our thoughts consumed with the past.
