“It’s closed,” Gabriel reaffirms. “Mason changed it all earlier today. Every product says we’re not currently accepting orders, and there is a banner as soon as the page loads that announces we’re taking a break for the holidays.”
“Perfect.” I blow a stray hair from my face and hold out a hand. “I have to pee.”
Gabriel helps me up. “You went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago.”
“Feel free to have a talking-to with your son,” I call over my shoulder as I waddle from the room.
Six more weeks to go until delivery, and I’m huge. And I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in. And I’m constantly being kicked from the inside.
I love every second of it.
Last year, Gabriel and I had a house built on the outskirts of Sugar Creek. We hosted a housewarming party and invited all our family and friends. Everyone was confused when the music switched from top hits to Canon in D Major. Gabriel and I walked from the house, him in a navy blue suit and me in a lemon yellow dress. Everyone swore they were shocked, except Camryn, who loudly announced she saw it coming a million miles away. That night, we said ‘I do’ a second time.
Our home has a large wood shop in the back, where Gabriel works. Joel retired from Intricate Wood Works, and Gabriel took over. Gabriel spends his days working with his hands, and creating. Mason runs his online store and social media. His wedding arches have become something of a wedding status symbol, but he is careful about how many orders he accepts. Gabriel is purposeful with how he spends his time. His priority is me, and this sweet boy I’m carrying.
My phone rings in my purse as I’m turning off the bathroom light. I lumber over to where I left it on the kitchen counter, nearly missing the call.
When I see it’s Jill, I glance at the time. It’s late for her to be calling.
“Hey, Jill,” I answer.
“Are you sitting down?” Her brisk voice thunders across the connection.
“Um, no. Why?” She sounds excited, so I don’t think the news is bad.
“I don’t want to be the reason you deliver that baby early. Maybe you should sit down.”
“Spit it out, Jill.” I’m pretty sure my smile comes through in my tone.
“I received an email from a production company. They want to know if the TV/Film rights are available for your book.”
“Wha— What?” I look around for a chair. I think I really do need to sit down.
Gabriel comes in from the backyard, feet stuffed in unlaced boots. He didn’t wear a coat, and now he’s rubbing the cold from his forearms. He stops when he sees whatever look is on my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, hurrying to me.
“Jill.” I point at the phone. “TV. Film. Book.” I hold my hands out to steady myself. “Sweet Jesus. Oh my Lord.”
Gabriel grabs the only chair not loaded with packages and guides me to sit. He hits speaker on my phone.
“Jill, hi,” Gabriel says. “What’s going on?”
She repeats herself.
Gabriel’s eyes grow large and he mouths ‘Are you flipping kidding me?’
‘I know!’ I mouth back, arms slicing the air in tiny, chaotic movements.
“What do you think?” Jill asks, voice crisp. “Should I say yes?”
“Yeah. Yes.” My hands are at my mouth, fingers tapping my lips. “This is insane.”
Jill informs me she’ll write the person back right now, and get back to me with their response. She hangs up, and I stare at my phone. The baby kicks, and reflexively I reach down and press into the spot.
Gabriel lays his palm on mine. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly are you freaking out right now?”
“One thousand,” I reply.
