“Just give it some time. He’ll latch on eventually. You may be sore, so be sure you use the salve I gave you. There are nipple guards you can use if it gets to be too much. Those help quite a bit.”
Sam and I both nod. We’ve got one of those at home. Actually, we have everything we’d ever need and more at home. Between Val, Perri, Lauren, and Gill, our little guy is set up for life. Lauren has had a head start on this baby stuff. She and Gill delivered a baby girl about three weeks ago. Her name is Violet, and she’s gorgeous, just like her mama.
Gill and Lauren were married in Las Vegas by an Elvis impersonator. Her divorce had been finalized the week before our trip, so when Gill got down on one knee and presented Lauren with the biggest ring I’ve ever seen—a cushion-cut diamond micropavé design of at least three carats—she went literally speechless, a rare occurrence for Lauren. I’m almost positive she thought it was a cubic zirconia until she saw the ring box with the words Harry Winston embossed on the inside of the lid.
When she saw that, she nearly passed out. “You can’t afford that,” she squeaked. “Gill? You don’t need to prove anything to me. I love you no matter what. It’s okay that you’re poor. Can we take it back? It’s too expensive.”
She rambled on and on until Gill finally shut her up with a kiss. “Is that a yes?” he said with a chuckle.
“Of course it’s a yes, but this has to go back,” she said with her hands on her hips.
Gill leaned over and gave her another sweet kiss, and then he whispered in her ear. I watched her face turn first pale as a ghost and then red as a tomato. He wrapped his arms around her, and I watched his back shake. He was laughing.
“You’re rich?” she said quietly.
“I am.”
“It doesn’t mean I love you any differently, Gill. I love you the same either way.”
“I know, baby. I feel the same about you.”
We all watched as they kissed so sweetly and then so passionately that it got a little uncomfortable. Sam finally cleared his throat, loudly. They finally stopped. To the relief of everyone.
That meant my bachelorette weekend turned into the Gill and Lauren wedding weekend, and that was okay with me. It was perfect and hilarious. Sam and I considered making it into a double wedding, but we didn’t. In the end, we were married in the same chapel that his mom and dad were married in. We had a small ceremony on a hot July day. I was over the morning sickness and well into the glowing stage. Even though I was showing at the ceremony, I didn’t mind. It just meant our little guy was with us when we said our vows.
I look over at Sam and smile. I can’t believe how lucky I am. I’ve got the two most handsome men in the world with me right now, and I know they’ll always be with me. I also know that Pops, Mom, and Grandma are all looking down and smiling.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
THE COAT
The daywe brought our little guy home, I had a surprise waiting for MacKenzie. I’d had it wrapped in brown paper and I placed it on the rocker in the nursery. I wanted Frankie to be with us when she opened it, so the nursery was the logical place.
I carried Frankie, snug in his carrier, into the house and walked directly into this room. MacKenzie’s still a little sore from birthing my big guy, but she’s getting better. Just as I suspected, Mac followed me into the baby’s room. She started unbuckling him from his carrier, lifting him up and kissing his chubby little cheek.
“Here it is, Frankie, your new bedroom. Do you like it?”
We decorated it in soft, cool colors. MacKenzie chose a light sage green for the walls, a colorful rug for the floor, and a light-purple throw for the rocker. On the walls are several of her grandfather’s drawings, along with one of his most colorful little shelves. I’ve got a photo of my mom and dad on one of his walls and a picture of us with all of our friends from the Vegas trip on another. We wanted our little guy surrounded by the people we love.
I take him from her arms and lay him in his new crib. The bedding is covered in colorful cartoon animals, and there’s amatching mobile above his head. He’s too little to understand what that is, but it’ll be no time at all before he’ll love watching it move around and listening to it play soft music.
When I turn, I see Mac holding the box. “What’s this?”
“Oh, um, I don’t know. You should open it and see.”
“Sam. You’re such a terrible liar.”
I shrug, admitting nothing. She sits on the rocker and carefully opens up one end and then the other, making sure not to tear the plain brown paper. She opens gifts just like my mom. Once the sides are open, she flips it over and pulls open the paper. She folds it in four and sets it down. Jesus, it’s taking her forever. I can hardly wait for her to look inside the box. I almost want to grab it out of her hand and rip the lid off. But I wait.
She turns the box back over, lifting the lid slowly. She uses her thumb and forefinger to pull one side of the tissue away and then the other. She blinks. And blinks some more. She’s sitting completely still looking into the box. She finally looks up at me. Tears are streaming down her beautiful cheeks. “Is this… is this his?”
I nod, attempting to hold back my own emotions. She’s been extra weepy during and since the pregnancy, but I know it would have been emotional no matter when I chose to give her this. I take the lid from her hands, set it down next to the rocker, and pull the coat out of the box and her out of the chair at the same time. I hold the coat up. “Put it on.”
She nods, holding out her arm. I slide the coat on one arm and then the other, then turn her to face me so I can tie the belt around her. She looks down at the left side and then at the left sleeve. “I don’t understand. How did you…?”
“Once the police were done with it, I sent it to a textile conservator in New York. It took her a while, but she was able to repair the damage while preserving the good stuff left by Pops.”
Mac is still standing in front of me, gazing down at the coat. She gently touches a spot just below the collar on her left side. She feels around in the right pocket and pulls out the satin lining. There’s a hole in the bottom. “The hole is still there.”
