A Love So Tragic (28 page)

I laugh. “Uh, yeah, which means pussy.”

Arching his brow, he lifts his cup back to his lips. “Actually, I meant cunt, but...”

I roll my eyes as I stand from the table. “Thank you for the roses and the letter. You are so good to me.”

“And you are so fucking good to me, pretty girl.” Nic walks up behind me, looping his arm around my waist and kissing down my neck.

And I feel this is where our story could end, right here. Me and Nic, in our home, married, so in love with each other. After all, isn't this where all fairy tales end, right after the wedding? Right after the vows are said, when the entire future lies ahead of you? If you go too far past this kind of ending, it goes from a romance to a love story. From a happily ever after to a tragedy.

But you can't stop life wherever you want to.

Eight months later

My palms are sweaty. I'm jittery. A car speeds up to pass me, the driver laying on his horn and flicking me the bird as he drives by.

“Fuck off!” I shout, not taking my hands off the wheel.

“Nic,” Peyton calls from the backseat. “You do realize you are going twenty-five under the speed limit, don't you?”

“Well, they can go around.” I glance in the rearview mirror and my chest swells. Peyton's leaned over the car seat, holding Olivia's tiny hand.  “I mean, they just let you go like that. Hey, congrats on having a baby, now take her home and fend for yourself? I feel like they should have at least given us a book or something.”

“We're almost thirty. I think we can handle this.”

“Are you sure she's strapped in good?” I ask, glancing back in the mirror.

“Yes, she's fine.” She laughs. “She's so perfect. Momma would have loved her,” Peyton says quietly.

“She would have. She'd love that we named her after her too.”

“Oh, I don't know about that. Momma hated her name. Daddy always called her Olive Oyl, and it pissed her off so much,” she laughs through the tears building in her eyes.

This tiny little noise like a cat crying comes from the backseat.

“Oh, what's wrong?” Peyton whispers. “Don't cry. Shh-shh.”  And just like that, Olivia quiets. “You think it will always be that easy to make her stop crying?” she asks.

“Uh, no. I doubt that, babe.”

Ten minutes later, we pull into the driveway. I help Peyton out, then carefully un-click the car seat from the base, staring down at our sleeping baby as I slowly walk up the steps.

The moment I found out Peyton was pregnant, I worried what kind of dad I would be. Would I be too strict, too lenient? You try to imagine what it will be like, but nothing prepares you for that first moment when you see your tiny baby swaddled in a blanket and in the arms of the woman you love. It's a fucking emotional overload. Unconditional love at its greatest.

And I realize, thirty years into my life, it’s really just beginning.

A shrill cry startles me awake, then there's silence. The hall light is on and the soft hum of music floats down the hallway. I stumble out of bed, following the trail of lights until I make my way into the kitchen. Peyton's cradling Olivia against her chest, swaying in beat with the slow, soothing melody of John Mayer’s ‘Slow Dancing in a Burning Room’
.

Smiling, I walk up behind her, wrap my arms around her, and dance in beat with her. I lean over her shoulder and kiss Olivia's soft head. 

“She won't sleep,” Peyton says. “I've been trying for an hour.”

“You should have woken me up, babe. Here…” I spin her around and take Olivia, placing her tiny frame on my chest. “Go to bed.” 

Peyton's tired eyes look up at me. I pull her against my side, wrapping my free arm around her waist. Olivia nuzzles her head against my neck, and we dance.
Gravity
comes on and I can't help the smile. 

“Remember this song?” I ask, resting my chin on Peyton's head as we sway to the melody. 

Her hand rubs over Olivia's back. “Yeah.”

“We used to dance to this in my townhouse in college. Just us.”

“I loved John Mayer because of you.”

“The first time I heard him, it made me think of you. It was ‘Wonderland’
, and all I could think was Peyton. You know I'm more of a Deftones and Seether kind of guy.”

“I know,” she laughs.

“But as always, Peyton, you are my exception.”

“And it makes me feel special.”

“Well, good. Because you are.” 

Peyton sighs before bringing Olivia’s foot to her lips and kissing it. “You know what I like to think about?”

We continue to move in beat with the music. “What's that?” I ask.

“All the things that led me to you.”

Peyton loves to do this every once in a while. I'm not sure if it's a girl thing or a Peyton thing, but I love when she gets all philosophical about why we belong together, even if I won't admit that to many people.

“Such as...”

“Well, as much as I hate to say it, your mom having an affair, because had she not, you never would have left Argentina. My mother...” she trails off and I hold her tighter. “How many things could have changed over the past two years, been a week or two later, and we may not be together? Had Jen not forced me to call you, you may have married that other girl.”

That other girl. I would have married her, and it most definitely would not feel like this. 

“Then,” she continues. “Aiden's party, and all those letters you saved and started sending to me. And not divorcing Isaac when I intended to, well, that let me leave him for no other reason than I didn't belong with him.”

I smile against her hair. “You mean you aren't going to go back to the pilgrims coming over on the Mayflower? I mean, had that not happened your ancestors never would have mated which means you never would have been born. Oh, and let's not forget that without the Spanish Inquisition, I wouldn't exist either.” I laugh and kiss her lips again. “You're losing your touch, Peyton.”

“It's three-thirty in the morning.” She smacks my back and pulls away to glare at me. “And I'm delirious.”

“Fine. Excused.” Olivia makes a tiny grunt, and Peyton goes to take her from me, but I step back. “I can put her to bed. You go put yourself to bed.”

She smiles, turning around and heading down the hall. I stay in the kitchen for another song, dancing with our little girl. I never imagined a love like this existed. Never.

Olivia’s asleep in my arms when I turn the stereo off. On my way back to the bedroom, I sing to her: “Duérmete mi niño, duérmete mi amor, duérmete pedazo de mi corazón.”
Sleep my child, sleep my love, fall asleep piece of my heart.

When I walk into the room, Peyton’s in bed, pen and notebook in hand, smiling at me. “That just literally made me melt,” she says.

I lay Olivia down, then crawl into bed next to Peyton. “Of course, it did,” I smirk. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Just wanted to write something to Olivia.” She closes the leather journal and places it on the nightstand. “That was the last page.”

“I gave that journal to you our senior year.”

“I know. And it’s all just poems to you. I think it's fitting that the last page is a poem to her.” She grins and gives me a kiss before turning off the lamp.

As soon as I lie back, Peyton’s head is on my chest. I place my arm around her and pull her close. This is how I imagined my life. This is what I wanted. She is always what I needed.

Nic went back to work today. The past two weeks he’s been off, helping with Olivia, and without him here I have been bored out of my mind. I've already cleaned the entire house, done the laundry, and Olivia's asleep.

Plopping down on the couch, I grab the remote and flip the TV on. Judge Judy pops on the screen, slamming her gavel down as she screams at some poor soul. Just when I've had my feel of the woman going on and on about how her boyfriend borrowed money to buy his other girlfriend a Micheal Kors bag, the weather interrupts the program.

“The national weather service has issued a tornado warning for Pickens County. Folks in Hamilton and Hackleburg, take cover. There's strong rotation with this storm.”

Shit, where is Pickens County?
I swallow, pulling up a map of Alabama counties on my cell phone.

“Wes,” the meteorologist continues, “there are four confirmed tornadoes on the ground in different parts of the state right now.”

I don't look up from my phone. Pickens is the next county over from us. My stomach knots, my heart pounds.

“Tuscaloosa. This storm is headed your way within the hour. Seek shelter on the lowest level and center room of a sturdy structure. If you live in a mobile home...”

Panic jolts through me, and I call Nic.

He answers on the second ring. “Hey, babe.”

“Can you come home?” I stare at the screen watching a tornado rip through some town I'm not familiar with. “I need you to come home...” My hard breath rustles over the receiver.

“What? Is everything alright?”

“The weather is freaking me out. There are tornadoes all over the place.” That knot in my stomach kinks up as I watch the twister on the television.

“Peyton, babe. I can't leave work...” I can tell he’s fighting a laugh, but this isn't funny. I'm terrified, and I just want him here with me. He makes me feel safe.

“Have you watched the weather, Nic? I'm not joking.” I look at the screen again before going to check on Olivia. “There's like four tornadoes on the ground. They said we're next. This shit's not funny.”

“I'm about to go into a meeting. I’ll be leaving in two hours. If it gets bad, take Olivia and go into the bathroom. It’s in the middle of a
brick
house. I promise you'll be fine.”

I stand in the doorway to the nursery, watching her little chest rise and fall.
Surely God wouldn't take something so precious away?
Thunder rattles the window and I swallow. “You know I hate storms.”

“I know, but I'll be home soon. Just keep on eye on the weather.”

“Okay.”

“I love you. It will be fine, stop worrying.”

“I love you too.”

I hang up and stare out the window. Thick, ominous clouds hang low in the distance, and I can't shake that sense of impending doom that's falling around me like a heavy cloak.

Forty minutes later, I'm still glued to the TV.

The meteorologist has taken his suit jacket off, his sleeves are rolled up. “I don't know that I've ever seen a radar like this,” he says pointing at a red blob on the map. “This may be the largest tornadic outbreak in Alabama's history.” He pauses, cupping his hand over his ear to listen to his earpiece. He looks up at the camera. “There is a large wedge tornado on the ground about ten minutes outside of Tuscaloosa.” My heart drops. “This is a very dangerous, life threatening storm. Northport, Tuscaloosa, University of Alabama campus, go to your safe place, you are directly in the line of this storm.” The camera cuts to the Tuscaloosa skyline, and I exhale from shock. The city is dwarfed by the massive tornado looming behind it. “This thing is a mile and a half wide,” the meteorologist says.

How in the hell can I hope to survive something so big?

A loud boom of thunder shakes the house.  I take my phone and run to the nursery, scooping Olivia up into my arms.