Brisé (23 page)

“Damn it! I didn’t hear you come in.” I press my hand over my racing heart. He gives me his grin; you know the one that makes me forgive all his antics and wrongdoings.

“You were in your own little world, shredding your fingernails, and picking at the non-existent strings on the blanket. What’s on your mind?” Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Not much,” I can’t look at him. He’ll know I’m lying.

He chuckles, “Shit liar, Twinkle. You’d think you would stop doing it.” I stick my tongue out at him. Mature, I know, but it’s all I have at the moment.

“Don’t stick it out unless you plan to use it, little girl,” he taunts.

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line to you?” I roll my eyes.

“I always use my tongue, babe. No complaints yet,” he tells me while licking his lips. Damn him. “Now, spill it.”

And like the good little girl I am, I open my mouth and emit every fear in my mind. “I’m scared. I don’t know why it just hit me; I know it’s irrational. The last time I saw Dr. Marks, it wasn’t the best experience of my life. I hate laying all of this on you, but I don’t think we should go. I think we should just wait for the six-month check-up. Don’t break the regimen.” I’m almost hyperventilating at the end of that monologue.

“Come here, Twinkle.” I move slowly towards him and as soon as his arms go around me . . . silence. My breathing calms, the horrible thoughts disappear, and I just exist, here in this moment. “Come outside with me.” He isn’t suggesting it, which is evident by him dragging me through the kitchen and out the back door.

I’m astonished by the vision of our back yard. He’s transformed it into a fairytale. A gazebo is set up in the middle of the yard, white lights draped throughout the upper trellis, pillar candles on every flat surface, and pale blue rose petals make the walkway. In the corner of the yard, standing upright is an exact replica of my playhouse. “When? How?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s all for you.” He guides me to the gazebo, and I feel like the princess he always treats me like. I’m in my own enchanted world, with my Prince Charming standing beside me. He walks over and picks up his guitar, softly tuning it. When he looks up and over at me, never breaking his stare, the chords begin to fill the air. His green eyes locked on my blue, strumming the guitar, his voice dances through the air. He begins singing ‘Just Say Yes’ by Snow Patrol, never breaking eye contact. Finishing the song, he stands and kneels before me, “Phoebe Marie Wells, it’s always going to be you. For one day, one month, one year, or for one lifetime, whatever time we are allotted I want every second with you. Will you marry me?” He presents me with a stunning solitaire, framed by emeralds, the perfect match to his eyes.

The boy who rubbed my head in comfort, the boy who walked me to school, the boy who was my fiercest protector and biggest champion . . . is now the man I will call husband. “Yes,” I happily tell him. I don’t give him the chance to stand up, I sink to my knees and meld my lips to his, and once again, we are Luke and Phoebe. He
is
me, not my other half, but my entire being.

Chapter 27

Luke

“I don’t want to wait,” I tell her honestly, pulling away from her lips. She laughs.

“Hold on a hot minute, you just put a ring on it. Can I enjoy this moment?”

“You can enjoy every moment . . . as my wife. I’m serious, Phoebe. I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but it is. I need you to be mine.”

“I
am
yours, Luke. Always have been. A last name isn’t going to change that. I will have your last name, but mine to. I look at her questioningly, not following. “I don’t want to lose the last tie I have to my parents.” Her tears haven’t fallen yet, but they will soon.

“It does for me. I want you to have my last name.” I don’t know why this sense of urgency is overtaking me, but I can’t stop it. I have this obsession for us to be legally one.

“Okay, whenever you want. I have a few conditions. I want to hyphenate my name. Wells-Nichols. That way I have the best of both worlds. My parents forever with me and tied to my new name. I want Brett and James to be there, and I want to get married right here. That way I’ll feel like I have my parents with us.” Everything she just said is perfection. I understand her need to keep her parents, and I want them right here with us.

“I agree. Wells-Nichols. I never want you to feel you have lost any part of them, but you are gaining a part of me. We can do Saturday. That gives us four days, and I’m sure my mom can pull something together.”

She just gives me her smile, then puts her hand on her hip, “Glad to see you replaced my playhouse.”

“Told you our daughter needs somewhere to play.” She tries to make an objection, and I place my finger over her lips, “Remember, it doesn’t matter how it happens, but it will happen. Our child will grow up here, and she needs a playhouse.” Seeing her roll her gorgeous eyes at me, I can’t help but feel relief in this moment. “Let’s go upstairs and you can put that tongue to good use.” I pick her up amidst her laughter and carry my girl to bed.

Holding her in my arms is home. It is comfort. It is all I need. “Luke, what happens if we can’t have our own daughter, or son? What happens if the doctor tells me I can’t have kids?”

“We’ve been through this. We both know it is probably not going to happen naturally, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have our
own
. Regardless where are children come from, they will be ours. Is this why you put off the appointment?”

“Subconsciously, probably.” I jump off the bed and go to the top drawer of my dresser. I picked up the paperwork earlier after doing my own research on our odds. I don’t want her ever feeling less than because she can’t conceive. I know she looks at it as another thing cancer robbed from her, but I look at it like another milestone in our life we get to experience because she survived.

I throw the pamphlets and paperwork down between us. “Read it.” She picks up all the information I have gathered about adoption. I have a few about surrogacy, but I am leaning towards adoption. Giving a life to someone who may not get the opportunities we had. “You’re okay with this?” She tries to keep the hope out of her voice, but it is there.

“I’m more than okay with it. I want this. It’s a journey, and won’t be overnight but we can take the time to enjoy being married while we wait.”

“Have I told you lately how lucky I am? I love you, Luke.”

“I love you, Phoebe. This is the right decision for us. I know it.”

Pleasantries are overrated when sitting in a doctor’s office. I just want to go in, have Phoebe checked out, her blood taken, get the results, and the all-clear. Is that so hard to do? Instead I have this doctor wanting a breakdown of her life in the past four years, something that he would know about if he read the records in front of him. “How are you feeling, Phoebe?” Dr. Marks asks her. She reaches over and places her hand on my knee to stop the bouncing while answering, “Good. I feel fine, really.” I have to let go of her hand to shake mine out, it’s covered in sweat, and I need some blood to flow. Standing up I begin to pace, and I hear her laughter.

“He’s a bit anxious,” that’s an understatement.

“I see congratulations are in order,” Dr. Marks says nodding to the ring I placed on her finger last night.

I have been on edge for weeks about this appointment, and last night when I walked in, seeing her stressing out, I was calm. I was able to make her forget, and she has tried doing that for me all day, but it isn’t working. “Luke, come sit back down. Her lab work just came back.”

I sit back down and grab her hand giving it a reassuring squeeze. I watch him study the labs, click on his mouse a few times, and then he lowers his glasses. Fuck no, this is not happening again. “You aren’t fatigued, Phoebe? No abnormal symptoms.”

“N-n-no.” She manages to get out. I can’t swallow, so I know I can’t speak right now.

“Hmm . . . that’s promising.” He goes back to his computer and then his calendar. Looking up from his desk, “Congratulations. There’s no sign of cancer.” Those words wash over my soul, send blood through my veins, and oxygen to my lungs. “And you are expecting. Looks like you are right about three weeks. Going to make for a long pregnancy, but a healthy one, this time.” I can tell the moment isn’t lost on him. He once gave us the news that blew us apart, now he sits giving us the news that continues to bind us.

“Holy shit,” I blurt on exhale. “We’re having a baby,” I turn to look at her, and I see her sitting, immobile, frozen in fear with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What is it, Phoebe?”

“Are you sure? What about the chemo I had?” She’s pleading with him to tell her everything’s going to be okay. Afraid to realize in this instant, we have it all. She doesn’t want it ripped away.

“Take a breath, Twinkle.” I pick her up and place her in my lap. “Take a deep breath in, let it out.” I’m trying to sync our breathing, calm her nerves. “It’s going to be fine, I’m right here, we’re together.” I whisper these phrases over and over, silently hoping I believe them.

“You have no reason to worry right now. Take this news and embrace it. Be happy about it. You’ll need to follow up with an obstetrician, but I have no concerns about the pregnancy.”

After getting a referral from him for a doctor and discussing how I would feel better if we did every six weeks with him instead of every six months, he indulges me. Phoebe says it was because of my smile and not the fact I was on the verge of threatening him with bodily harm. Whatever works. I’m reeling from the news that I am going to be a father. In less than a week her husband; and within the year, someone’s daddy.

Once we are in the confines of our house, I sit down and soak it in. “Twinkle, we’re doing it this time. Please tell me this is real.”

“It’s real. It’s overwhelming, but we’re going to be parents.”

“And married. Don’t forget that.” I can’t remember a time this wasn’t what I dreamed of, what I had searched for. I’m so fucking lucky that I’ve been able to turn my dreams into reality.

“You, Luke, are my happily ever after.” Yep, this is my life, and I’m fucking living it.