She steps off the table just in time for me to drop the cake, let go of the balloons, and catch her very pregnant body in my arms.
“Liv, are you okay?” I examine her stomach.
“I’m fine,” she says, laughing, “but Brandon’s cake isn’t.”
I look down and see our toddler son eating his third birthday cake off the floor. Brandon looks up at us with big green eyes and waves his little icing-covered hand at me. “Hi, Daddy!”
Roxy slides across the hardwood floor and starts licking the icing off Brandon’s face.
“Roxy. No!”
She sits up straight and gives me big innocent brown eyes. Brandon giggles and pats her back.
I put Liv down and pick him up. “Buddy, you’re not supposed to eat that yet.”
He smiles and shoves his little fingers into my mouth.
“Oh, it’s good,” I mumble, licking the icing off my lips.
“I think I can salvage it,” Liv says, bending over to pick up the cake.
“I’ll get it,” I say, putting Brandon down. “Come on, buddy, let’s help Momma take your cake to the kitchen, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
I ruffle his sandy blond curls and follow Liv into the kitchen with the cake.
We bought this house a few years ago, because we fell in love with the property, and we’ve been renovating it ever since. It’s just a mile from my parents’ place and the property is about the same size, complete with a barn I use as my workshop when I’m not at the warehouse where my furniture line is manufactured now.
Gone are the days of making furniture in my parents’ garage. But I’m happy to see my business growing and becoming one of the top furniture manufacturers in the Southeast. I’m also happy to be able to provide for my family doing something I love.
Liv is also providing for our family as a freelance book editor—her dream job, as she puts it. It helps that we’re both able to work from home. We put in a double home office, complete with two desks and a play area for Brandon. And I have a full staff that keeps production running smoothly at the warehouse.
The final renovations on the house were completed last week, after we decided to add another room for the new baby, and today we’re having everyone over for Brandon’s birthday. It’s probably the last time we’ll be able to get together before the baby’s born. Liv is due in three days. Brandon was born a week late, after twenty excruciating hours of induced labor, but the doctor assures us Liv is right on schedule this time.
Liv’s parents should be here soon and mine just pulled up. Trisha is here too. Liv’s due date lined up perfectly with her husband’s hockey schedule, which has him in Canada right now, so she’s staying with us until after the baby’s born. Audrey and her husband, John, will be here too. Brandon is pretty smitten with their little girl, Mallory, who just turned two.
“Grandma!” Brandon shouts, running over to my mother when she walks in.
“Ah, petit bébé,” my mom says, pulling him into her arms. “Joyeux anniversaire!” Happy birthday!
“Merci,” he says, thanking her in French. Brandon speaks French as fluently as he speaks English.
“Where’s my big birthday boy?” my dad asks, walking into the kitchen.
“I’m right here, Grandpa!” Brandon says, running over to him.
My dad scoops him up and puts him on his shoulders.
“Liv, honey, you gonna make it through the party?” he asks, looking at her stomach.
She laughs and pats her belly. “Oh, I think he’s got a few days left.”
“He? What makes you think it’s a boy?” my mom asks, placing her hands on Liv’s stomach. Much to everyone’s anticipation, we chose to wait until the baby is born to find out the gender.
“I don’t know.” She smiles at me and it takes my breath away. “I just feel like Brandon’s supposed to have a brother,” she says, reaching for my hand.
“Me too,” I say quietly.
“Take me outside, Grandpa!” Brandon says, patting the top of my dad’s head.
“All right.”
“Come on, Grandma!” Brandon bounces on my dad’s shoulders.
My mom laughs and follows them outside.
When we’re alone, I pull Liv into my arms and kiss her. “Je t'aime tant.” I love you so much.
“Pas autant que je t'aime.” Not as much as I love you. She reaches for my hair and runs her fingers over the c-shaped scar above my ear, and I’m overwhelmed as I think of everything we went through to finally get to this place in our life together.
I hold her face in my hands and look into her green eyes—the ones she shares with our son. “You are my compass, Liv, my beacon home. You are, and always were, my true north.”
Her eyes mist a little. “Gabe.”
I kiss her again and thank God for this beautiful girl who came into my life when I was just a boy. For letting me know and love her brother like he was my own. For guiding us through everything we went through to get where we are today. For my son and for the new life He’s blessed us with. For bringing me out of the coma and for being seizure free for the last three years.
There was a time in my life when I didn’t think I deserved the happiness I know today. I blamed myself for the accident. And for losing Brandon. But I know now that it wasn’t in my hands.
None of this is.
And one day, I’ll get to see my brother again.
Until then, I will love Liv and our babies, and cherish this precious life we’ve built together.