When September Ends (21 page)

“Got to,” he replies, his eyes warm and loving, “Saving for our honeymoon”

“What?”

He chuckles and comes over to me, pulling me up against him. “Don’t you think it’s about time we make honest people out of each other? The divorce is final. My lawyer sent the papers today, but he called to let me know.”

“It is?” I ask.

“Yep, and hey, I hope you don’t have your mind set on some big old-fashioned wedding, babe. I mean, if that’s what you really want, it’s fine, but I’m thinking the money might be put to better use for say, the rest of your college tuition? Or maybe a bigger house after the baby arrives?”

“But I can’t get married while I’m pregnant,” I protest. “Look how big I’m getting!”

“You look beautiful to me, September. And if you think we’re not sharing a bed till after this baby arrives, think again. Did you want a big fancy wedding?”

“Oh please,” I reply with a giggle, “Who the hell would we invite? Gram and Grandpa aren’t exactly jumping for joy with the news I gave them.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I guess you’re right. Weekend getaway?”

“Sounds wonderful to me,” I reply. “Let’s do it.”

“It’s a date.”

The following weekend, with Scout staying at Amber’s, Jesse and I get married by a Justice of the Peace in Little Rock. We speak our vows; and then just like that, he pronounces us husband and wife. We exchange our first kiss as a legally married couple, and it doesn’t feel any different.

We go back to the luxurious suite he booked at the Capital Hotel. I’m overwhelmed just walking into the lobby, with the high, gilded ceilings, ornate archways, massive pillars and plush settees and sofas.

Our suite is more of the same. We spend the weekend there, ordering room service, making love over and over, and taking breaks for showers and meals.

I never knew making love as husband and wife could be so fucking hot, but it is. Jesse is attentive, loving and so romantic that I find it hard not to be pressed up against him in some fashion 24/7. I hope I’m not getting on his nerves, but if I am, he never lets on.

We talk a lot about the baby. My next appointment is the following week and Jesse, as always, is coming with me. We seem to be in the minority because we have decided not to know the sex of the baby beforehand. We both like surprises I guess.

I love looking at his left hand now, with the gold wedding band on his tanned ring finger making him mine. I keep raising my left hand up, loving the way my gold band looks with my solitaire.

I’m happier than I’ve ever been.

I love Jesse more than I ever imagined possible.

April 21st

Finally things are as they should be. Thank fuck. The business is going well, September is doing well with her classes and taking care of the books for me, and Scout is thriving in school and at home.

We have less than three months to go until the baby gets here, and I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to get the nursery ready, as September has reminded me multiple times.

It’s getting dark as I pull my truck into the driveway behind September’s car. Once inside, I notice that the house is unusually quiet, so I call out for both September and Scout.

“Back here,” Scout hollers, “In the nursery.”

As soon as I hit the hallway, the smell of paint permeates the air.

Aww…fuck!

As I step into the nursery, my eyes are immediately drawn to the far corner, where September is precariously perched on top of a ladder, a paint roller in one hand, spreading white paint across the ceiling.

“Fuck,” I growl, crossing the room in a flash. I reach up and pull her into my arms, surprising her enough that she lets out a squeal as I feel the roller brush the top of my head.

“Jesse,” she screeches, “You scared the beJesus out of me!”

From the corner, I hear Scout giggling, and I turn and notice she’s painting the wall a pale yellow, but she seems to be wearing more of the paint than what’s on the wall.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, woman?” I ask, my tone harsh, because I’m scared at what I saw.

She flashes me a glare. “I
was
painting,” she replies, pushing away from me. “I need to get this nursery in order before I’m too big to move.”

“Babe, I told you I would take care of it, didn’t I?”

She gives me an eye roll. “Yes, Jesse, you’ve been telling me that but I’m not seeing any action.”

“Well excuse me, baby, but it’s not like I’ve had a lot of spare time.”

“I realize that, Jesse, which is why I decided that Scout and I could get it done.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Scout pipes up, “We were having fun.”

I turn to her. “You, young lady, get yourself in the shower and scrub that paint off. It’s damn near your bedtime and it’s a school night. Go on now.”

Scout’s expression is pissed, but I don’t care. Right now I have September to deal with. I turn back to face her. “Look, I don’t want to see you up on a ladder again, do you understand?”

She nods, finally realizing that I, in fact, do mean business.

“Okay, good. And I’m not sure you being around paint fumes is a good thing in your condition. Did you consider that?”

“Yes, I did,” she mutters, “I asked the guy at the paint store and he assured me the paint is lead-free.”

“Hey,” I say softly, tilting her chin up so that she’s forced to meet my gaze, “I’m sorry I startled you, baby. But hell, you
scared
me. Now how about I finish up in here while you get a shower? You’ve got some paint sprinkles in your hair.”

“You’ve got a paint stripe in yours,” she teases, giving my cheek a kiss. “But what about dinner? Have you had anything to eat?”

“No, I’ll get something when I’m finished.”

“No you won’t. How about I run to the drive-thru at Burger World and grab you something?”

“If you insist,” I reply, tossing her the keys to my truck. “I’m parked behind you.”

“Be back in a flash,” she replies giving me a smile that always serves to melt me.

I tune Jesse’s truck radio to a different station as I back out of the driveway. I mentally give myself a pat on the back. That hadn’t been too difficult.

I chuckle softly. Now I know what Scout and I did might be officially termed a “game,” but come on? It was for all the right reasons, wasn’t it?

The fact that I’ve been hounding Jesse for weeks to get the nursery painted is one thing, but the fact that the carpet I ordered is being installed next week, is the final straw. Men don’t understand how to prioritize on the home front, I’m starting to get clued in about that. And so is Scout. Actually, she is the one that came up with the idea. Well, sort of.

“I can paint the nursery if you want me to, September,” she had offered after hearing me gripe about Jesse being late again and that the room was not going to paint itself. We had been clearing the dinner dishes, and loading the dishwasher.

“Aw, thanks sweet girl,” I had replied, and then it dawned on me. Maybe Jesse could be shamed into getting his priorities straight if he saw his women taking the bull by the horns. “You know what?” I had replied to her, “Let’s both work on it and we’ll get it done twice as fast.”

“Yay,” she had chirped happily, “We can do anything a man can do, right?”

“Right.”

And so we had set about finding a tarp, changing into old clothes, and getting the paint stirred to the proper consistency. We’d only been at it for about forty-five minutes when Jesse had come in and, true to form, he had seen the light.

I pull the truck up to the drive-thru speaker of Burger World. “May I take your order, please?” the voice screeches out through the speaker that looks like a giant hamburger.

“Yes, I’ll have a double cheeseburger, medium order of fries and a jumbo sweet tea.” We don’t do takeout a lot, but when we do it’s here so I know Jesse’s order by heart.

Several minutes later, I have my food order. Since the jumbo sized sweet tea won’t fit into the truck’s cup holder, I rest it between my thighs on the way home. All is well until I go to pull up into the driveway and hit the dip between the street and the concrete apron a bit too fast. The truck bounces and the cup tips, causing the plastic lid to come loose.

“Shit,” I yelp, as the cold liquid drenches my crotch. I manage to get the truck in park, and I place the now half full cup on the floor mat on the passenger side. I brush the lap full of ice off of my jeans and onto the floor.

Jesse is picky about his truck, this much I know. I scoot over, looking around for something, anything to wipe up the mess. I pull out the single paper napkin from the bag of food, and wipe my thighs off, and then start wiping the seat beneath me. By this time, it’s soaked, so I reach over and open the glove box to see if he’s got anything in there I can use.

My hand gropes around in the dark and I feel something silky beneath my fingertips.

The hell?

I pull it out, holding it up so I can make out what it is. A red silk thong.

And not mine.

I immediately hit the button for the interior lights, and search the rest of the glove box. There’s a plastic bag from Walgreen’s. When I open it up, my heart drops to my knees with a thud. A box of condoms.

It’s open.

There’s one missing.