All at once, the rooms erupts into, “Oh my God, congratulations!” and “When did this happen?” and “Good choice, man.” Christopher says the latter in his drawl.
Within seconds, Sol and I are pulled apart as hugging and shaking hands and shoulder thumping ensues.
Eventually, Father Foster says, “You both look happy.”
“We are,” I say, my cheeks hurting from smiling so hard.
His gaze moves from me to Sol, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I’m glad you two didn’t let me screw up what you have. I don’t think I’ve seen two people so in love.” He turns to my mom and Christopher. “Unless I count you two.”
Sol side-hugs his uncle and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m the man I am today because of you, Luke. Don’t ever forget that.”
Luke sniffs, clearly overcome by emotion. “All right. Let’s see if my cooking skills rubbed off on you.”
Relief rushes through me as our guests settle back into their chairs, and Sol and I bring in the food and set the pots on the table.
“This is the life I’ve always dreamed of,” I whisper to Sol. “The man I love and my family sitting around the table sharing a meal.”
Sol glances around the table, then back at me. “We’re writing the chapters of the rest of our story.”
I couldn’t agree more.
It’s been almost three weeks since Sol and I came back from Boston. I’ve spent the same number of weeks coming to terms with the fact I might be pregnant. After the shock wore off, Sol took over the role of my fiancé as though he was born to be that person for me. Eventually, I accepted what might be and decided to wait and see if, in fact, I’m carrying his child.
Today is Mom and Christopher’s wedding. Mom, MJ, Beverly, and I are just doing the final touches.
After Beverly escorts my mom to the bathroom, I face the mirror and study my reflection, the way the blush pink fabric drapes across my body.
I move my hand and smooth it up and down my stomach. It doesn’t feel any different than it did a few weeks ago. Pressing my palm harder, I’m hoping to feel something, and it hits me again how okay I am with the whole thing. Sometimes I wake up in a panic, wondering what the hell I’m thinking. I hardly have my shit together. I mean, what kind of mother would I be if I’m still worried my baby would turn out to be like the man who conceived me?
“How are you feeling?” MJ asks, sidling closer to stand next to me.
“Good, I guess. I’m wondering if I should be feeling . . . something. Like maybe a life growing inside me?”
She props her chin on my shoulder. “It’s still too early. You’re not freaking out anymore,” she observes.
I smile, my gaze lingering on my stomach. “I’m finally okay with it. It’s Sol’s baby. I mean, what could be more perfect than being the mother of his child? He’s the calm to my storm.”
She wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me from behind. “Yes, he is. He’d make a great father. And you’d make an amazing mom.”
“You really think so?”
She nods. “And I can’t wait to be an aunt.”
“Okay. We need to stop talking about it. I don’t want to jinx it.”
“It’s almost time,” Beverly appears, then my mom. “You ready, Debs?”
Mom nods, then wrings her hands nervously. “I can’t believe I’m getting married. How did this even happen?”
“You should see Chris. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he walked into the church. We better go before he sends someone to drag you out,” I say with a laugh. Beverly grabs a bouquet from the table and places it in Mom’s hands.
“Hey, give me a sec. I need to go to the bathroom, then we can go,” I say, lifting the skirt of my dress and hurrying away. When I’m done, I glance down, ready to pull up my underwear. My stomach drops to my feet as I stare at the red splatters of blood on the material.
No. God, no. This can’t be happening.
I press my lips together to suppress the sob building inside my chest, pull up my underwear, and adjust my dress before heading to the sink. Tears spring in my eyes, and my stomach twists in pain. I should be relieved that I got my period, but I was getting used to thinking I was carrying Sol’s baby. I should have waited to see if it was true before investing emotionally on that chance.
But I can’t do this right now. My mother is getting married. Everything else is secondary.
I wash my hands and grab some tissues to wipe the tears from under my eyes, then breath in and out a few times, shoving my disappointment to the back of my mind. Then I force a smile and walk out of the bathroom.
“She’s here!” MJ yells, clapping her hands. “Thank God. Your mom is freaking out.”
“Crap. I’m sorry,” I say, darting a quick look in my mother’s direction. “Can you distract her for a few seconds? I need to do something,” I whisper, reaching for my purse on the table and pulling out a tampon. When I look up, MJ is watching me, her eyes wide with understanding.
“Oh, babe,” she mutters, reaching over to hug me. “I know how much you wanted—”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I swear.” My voice breaks on the last two words, proving how not okay I am. “I guess after talking to Dr. Taylor and also seeing Sol so happy I started seeing things differently and I hoped it would be true, you know.” Tears sting my eyes. I stare at the ceiling, willing them away. “Besides, I’m only twenty and still in college. What would I have done with a baby, right?”
“Don’t downplay it, Grace,” she whispers, her expression gentle.
I sniff. “Just distract her. I’ll be back in a few.” Then I take off to the bathroom.
When I walk back into the room, MJ looks up from Mom’s side, taking a step in my direction. Subtly, I shake my head, then paste on a smile. “I’m here.”
Mom whirls around to face me. “Finally. You can head out first, then Bev and I will f—” She stops talking mid-sentence, her sharp gaze scouring my face. “You okay?”
I nod. “Stomach cramps. I just took Advil.” The lie falls out of my lips fast, my voice rising an octave. She eyes me doubtfully.
There are times I really hate that my mother senses something is wrong with just one look, and this is one of those times. Her gaze darts to MJ, lingering a little too long. My best friend’s hands fidget nervously with the strap of her purse.
“Let me fix your mascara,” MJ blurts out, hurrying to the makeshift table. She plucks the tube and darts in my direction.
“You need to get your shit together,” I whisper under my breath.
“I’m trying. But the way she looked at me . . . ugh. I swear your mom can smell a lie from miles away.”
I snort, grateful for MJ’s ability to make me smile when things are tough. “Right? It’s like a super power.”
She blows out a breath through her mouth. “Done. I need to get out of here before I spit out the details.” After another quick hug, she leaves to join Sol and Ivan outside. She and Ivan have been talking, and things seem to be going well so far.
I shove all thoughts away to deal with later and smile. “Come on. Let’s get this show on the road.”