Like she wants out of the conversation and car, she moves to climb off my lap.
I drop my hands to her thighs, holding her place against me. “Talk to me. Please.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble. It’s probably nothing.”
My hand is back under her chin. “That’s not going to be good enough for me, I’m afraid. I want to know all that’s happening in here.” I tap the side of her temple. “Every. Single. Thought.”
Delicate fingers pluck at my henley. “I don’t think Maria likes me all that much, and that’s been particularly apparent since I returned from Austin.” She looks up into my eyes, an ocean of thoughts swirling in them. “I’ve always had the impression that Maria thought there was something going on between us. I felt it that time you came for Christmas before I left for college, and that was only confirmed when you told me that she accused you of flirting with me.” She chews on her lip. “I’m not a home-wrecker, Emmett. Sure, I thought you were hot when I was younger, but we were only ever friends.”
Taking her hand in mine, I kiss her palm and then place it over my tattoo.
“We’ve always been friends, Bill, and we always will be. Let me handle Maria. Whatever personal thoughts or conclusions she wants to draw about us have nothing to do with the truth. You know that, and so do I, and that’s all that really matters.”
“Apart from when she shoots death stares across the dining table.”
Billie’s words cut me because the thought of anyone—even Maria—being mean to her makes me want to tear the world apart. They also hurt because I know the chances of us all sitting around a table again after I tell Scott that I supported his family through afinancial crisis and then took his daughter to bed are slim to fucking zero.
“Promise me that it’s going to be okay?” Billie asks me to make an impossible statement. Not because I have doubts over us, but because of all of the above.
Capturing her mouth with mine, I let her lips soothe away my anxieties for us both.
“I promise that I will always be here for you and Blake. That I will care for you and be right by your side when you need me the most. I promise you that I’m nothing like Tucker Price and that my ex-wife will never get a chance to pin any of this on you or tell lies about what we were in the past. And I promise”—I heave in a heavy breath and fill my lungs—“tonight, when our baby girl has gone to sleep and the stars are the only thing lighting up a clear night sky, I will make you feel every vow that just left my lips.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
EMMETT
Before Mom passed away, I remember her explaining that it wasn’t until she had me and Beau that she truly understood what my grandma had meant when she said that having a baby was equivalent to being ripped from a warm bed in the dead of night and dunked into an ice-cold bath.
No one and nothing can prepare you for the biggest shock you’ll ever experience, both mentally and physically. Never has a baby been born with a bespoke instruction manual on the best way to keep them happy and safe. Every parent or guardian is flying without a net, trying to figure shit out on next to no sleep and, for a lot of women, with a healing body that has been through a traumatic birth.
These past two days have been my own personal ice bath and a brief insight into Billie’s daily life.
Earlier today, I strapped Blake to my chest, and we went hiking around the Catskills. Being alone with nature and my girls for hours were some of the best ones of my life so far, but also some of the most revealing.
No one warns you that just because you’re up the side of a mountain, a baby won’t poop or need to feed and that finding a flat boulder to lay a changing mat on could take way longer than you first anticipated.
Changing Blake’s diaper was a two-person job, but Billie made it look like she was pulling off a saucer pass in her sleep.
When she sat in my lap and we agreed to be together, I was in awe of my girlfriend. Now, I have no doubt that she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met.
If my mom were still here, she’d tell me to “put a ring on that girl’s finger before some other man snaps her up.” Over and over, she would repeat her warning until I finally got down on one knee and asked Billie to be my wife. Mom never had the chance to meet Billie or Blake, but when she did meet Maria, her plea was very different. My parents wanted me totake my timeto make sure that she was the one. With the benefit of hindsight and life experience, I think that’s the reason why we eloped in Vegas. Maria had kept telling me that she didn’t want a fuss, and I couldn’t see any logical reason why we had to wait. It felt like true love, but the truth is, I’ve only started to appreciate what that looks like over the past couple of months.
Now, I understand why my parents urged me not to rush. While they never explicitly said that Maria wasn’t right for me, I think they hoped that I would heed their advice and figure that out for myself.
It took me well over a decade to gather the metaphorical pieces together. There was something always holding me back from walking out of the door for good each time we argued. We’d tell friends that we were over and then fall right back into the same cycle, each round only getting worse for us both.
Billie and Blake are the final piece in my jigsaw—the reason why I would take a freezing bath straight from my bed and scale every mountain until I found the perfect place to change Blake’s diaper. Everything I do for them, I don’t question it, and I don’thear my mom’s familiar voice asking me to think it over before I dive right in.
“Is she sleeping?” Billie’s question filters from over my shoulder as I stand over Blake’s bassinet, her baby monitor in one hand and her metaphorical heart in my other.
Dressed in black sleep shorts and a matching top, Billie glides toward me like an angel would approach you in a dream.
Who knows? Maybe she isn’t from this world, but a figment of my imagination. All I know is, when I set my hands on her hips and pull her body into mine, she sure as shit feels real to me.
We feel real. Indestructible.
Rising onto her tiptoes, she hooks her arms around my neck, brushing our noses together before we kiss.
