Chapter 8 Will the Fuckery Never End? Cara #3
His words die as Rosie slaps the balloon on top of his head, and a river of blue runs down his face, soaking his shirt. He looks down at himself, then back to his new wife.
Rosie picks up another balloon, tossing it in the air, catching it, eyes hooked on Carter. A slow grin spreads across her face, the sparkle in her eyes now pure mischief. “You’re next, Beckett.”
The party erupts, chairs scraping against the stone patio as everyone jumps to their feet.
The backyard fills with the sound of shrieking laughter, and balloons fly across the yard, painting it with color.
The tightness in my chest eases as I take in the sight of the people I love most in this world letting go, letting themselves be kids again.
Emmett steps in front of me, and like always, when I look at him, everything else fades away. He strolls toward me, heated gaze sweeping over me as he bites back that mischievous smile.
“Don’t you dare come near me,” I threaten quietly. “This dress was twelve hundred dollars, and I plan on wearing it again. My ass looks fantastic in it.”
“It does. Your tits too. And those legs?” He lets out a low whistle, slowly closing the distance between us.
“Been dying to wrap them around my neck all fucking night, firefly.” His fingers dip beneath the slit in my dress, his palm scraping up the back of my thigh where he grasps my bare ass.
“What if I told you I ordered a replacement the second I walked out of our bedroom earlier?” His grip on my ass tightens as he jerks me against his chest, free hand coming up to cup my cheek, tilt my mouth to his.
“Because I planned on ruining this dress tonight, one way or another.”
“First smart decision you’ve made all day,” I whisper against his lips, and suddenly his mouth is on mine, my legs around his waist moments before we’re in the air, and then the pool.
I cling to him as we’re submerged, and when we break the surface, coming up for air beneath the setting sun, the streaks of purple, pink, and orange that paint the sky, when Emmett steals the laughter right from my mouth, everything in this world is right and good.
“Excuse me,” Carter calls across the yard, ambling into the middle of it, dragging Adam and Rosie behind him, Connor and Lily clutching their hands.
He gestures at them, at their perfect, beautiful family, the lot of them covered in pink and blue, a mottled mess of periwinkle.
“We accidentally used all the water balloons before we could get to the gender reveal. Luckily, I always come prepared with a backup plan.”
He hands Rosie a small tube, whispering something in her ear. She looks to Adam, to the kids jumping up and down at her side. Then, she aims the tube at the sky and pulls.
A burst of bright pink smoke rains down around them, and the party erupts all over again.
“Congratulations,” Carter says with a smile as Adam sweeps Rosie into his arms, tears running down both their faces as their lips meet for a long kiss. “It’s a girl.”
HAVE YOU EVER HAD THAT crash that comes after the high?
You spend the day soaking up the light, the laughter, the love, the same way you soak up the sunshine. A beautiful day that seems to last forever, but as everything begins to grow quiet, you take a moment to look around and realize, at some point, the day is ending, and it’s nearly here.
The crash.
Mine starts as the party dies down. As the guests disappear one by one.
As sleeping kids are scooped into strong arms, carried upstairs, and tucked in for the night.
As I look around the firepit and see the faces of my family, buzzing with quiet happiness as they soak in the glow of such a perfect, beautiful day.
The grip I have on my mental steering wheel loosens as I watch Adam reach over, caressing Rosie’s belly beneath his palm.
My foot presses against the gas as Carter stops on his way back from the bathroom to kneel at Olivia’s feet, pressing a whispered Daddy loves you against her belly.
And when the four of them talk animatedly about the milestones their babies will reach together, how they’ll be best friends from the moment they’re born… that’s when I close my eyes. Lose sight of the road.
“Where you going?” Emmett asks softly, catching my hand as I slip off his lap, draped in his sweats.
“To the bathroom. Be right back.” I drop a kiss to his cheek and turn away before he can snag my gaze and see everything I can’t name, all the things I don’t want to feel.
In the bathroom, I pat cool water on my face, breathing through the tightness in my chest, the exhaustion that’s been nagging at me, begging for my attention.
I don’t know how to ignore it anymore, and that scares me.
I make my way through the house, standing at the counter in the dark of the kitchen as I sip a glass of water, watching my friends through the window, their smiles illuminated by the glow of the fire.
There’s a weight in the pocket of the sweatpants I wear, heavy against my thigh. I snake my hand inside, cradling my phone in my palm as my heartbeat races and patters.
I tell myself I’m not going to look at the phone, but it finds its way out of my pocket anyway, face up on the counter, staring at me.
A swipe of my finger, and something sick and anxious swirls in my stomach as I stare down at my inbox, the subject line that reads Pregnancy Results.
I curl my fingernails into my palms as I fight with myself, tell myself I have more self-control than this. That I can’t let this, this journey, all the heartache so far, change me. That I won’t.
But as I reach to lock my phone, the tremor of my hand catches me off guard. This hand isn’t supposed to shake. I’m not supposed to shake.
Maybe that’s why I jab my finger against the email before I can change my mind. Before I can talk myself out of it.
I wish I’d talked myself out of it.
My throat seizes as my eyes fly over the words that feel a lot more like a sentence, a lifetime one for a crime I didn’t commit.
Tears gather in my burning eyes without my permission, and I shake my head, like I can shake them away. I can’t, though, and when the patio door slides open and Emmett slips inside, it feels like my chest cracks wide open.
He stops before me, not paying any mind to the phone in my hand, the screen now black.
“You looked,” he says gently.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words hoarse as Emmett’s face blurs.
His hand closes over mine, pulling the phone from my grasp, tucking it in his pocket. He takes my face in his hands, midnight eyes dancing with agony as he watches tears free-fall down my cheeks. “Never apologize. Not for this.”
He presses a kiss to my lips and my hand to his heart, and I feel it, the way he loves me, the depth of it. Infinite.
But then he pulls back, his eyes glossy. He blinks, and a single tear drips from both eyes, carving his pain into his face. Pain I put there.
I let go of the steering wheel.
And I crash.