Chapter 37
Now
Today is Monica’s ultrasound, and Michael, Jordan, and I are here.
She’s six months, almost seven.
Although we are dying to know what gender the baby is, today will not be the day.
She has planned to have a gender reveal party.
And guess who is making all the arrangements and will know the sex today—Michael. The transformation is endless, and I’m slowly learning to breathe more comfortably.
We all watch in anticipation as the nurse spreads the jelly and moves the sonogram along Monica’s swollen belly.
As soon as the head and little hands appear, we all sigh.
Tears come to my eyes, and I feel Michael squeeze my hand.
I look up, and he embraces me in his arms.
“I wish I were with you the day you had your sonogram. I missed so much,”
Michael says and kisses my forehead.
“I wish you were there too.
But this is the future you spoke of, and we’re all here now.”
Holding Monica’s hand, I look at how my baby has grown and now looking at her baby.
Jordan makes comments that he knows it’s a boy.
Even though these sonograms have come a long way, I still can’t tell the sex.
But to be sure, Monica has had an NIPT to check for chromosomal conditions.
“This is unbelievable.
Look at my precious baby.
I can’t even express how much I already love this baby,”
Monica says, admiring the screen.
“Does everything look okay? Is my baby healthy?”
“Everything appears normal,”
the tech tells her.
“But your GP will read the final results.”
She looks through Monica’s file and smiles.
“Your NIPT came back normal negative.
And who am I to give this to?”
she asks, writing the baby’s sex down.
“Me, the grandfather,”
Michael says proudly, holding up his hand.
She folds the paper up and hands it to him.
Michael takes the piece of paper and shoves it down into his pocket.
“Well, you won’t look at it right here?”
Monica begs.
“Oh, no, Sweetheart.
It would be best if you didn’t read into my facial expressions.
But yes, I’m dying to know.”
“You do have the Pinterest board I shared with you?”
“Yes, but I thought I was planning it?”
“You are, Dad.
I’m just giving you suggestions.”
“Okay, everything is good.
You are free to go,”
the tech says, wiping the gel from Monica’s tummy.
Jordan helps Monica off the table, and Michael suggests taking us all out for lunch.
“Since we all took the day off, I know of a great place to have lunch.
And don’t even think I’ll look or show you the piece of paper tucked safely away in my pocket.”
. . . . .
Another perfect day.
Another perfect Michael.
Breathe.
My days include love notes placed around the house, love texts whenever we’re not together, and songs dedicated to me on social media.
It must all be real because everyone tells me a gorgeous glow surrounds my smile. I feel I’m seventeen again and ported back when I first met Michael. In this life, I feel I’m the reserved one and waiting for the bottom to fall out. Sometimes, I want to ask what happened with Cami and what made him want me back. But each time I do, something inside me tells me to accept it and not argue with a good thing. Maybe someday I will know.
Walking into the kitchen as Michael pours our morning coffee, I look up to the whiteboard stuck to the fridge, where a love message from Michael is handwritten each day.
But today, it’s a little different.
Captioned above his message is the word jeopardy.
He smiles at me when I take my coffee.
“That is the answer, and you must guess the correct question,”
Michael says.
“Oh, so now it’s a game?”
“Yep.
And you must answer in the form of who is or what is.”
“Hmm.
I’ve never been good at Jeopardy.”
“Well, I’ll give you a hint.
The ‘who is’ is always about you.
That should narrow it down.”
Taking a sip of my coffee, I read the answer.
‘So fucking beautiful.’ “Well, if the who is always me, then the answer is: Who is Jill Danforth?”
“Well, that’s a given.
But this has to do with time.”
“Time?”
“Yes.”
Grrr.
“This is hard but simple.
When Michael sees me dressed up? Now.
You have never complimented me in the past.”
His eyes blink with a hint of sadness.
“True, and I’m so sorry.
But, let’s change this to things I was thinking but never said.”
I reread the answer.
“So fucking beautiful.
Um…the Christmas party at the Whirlpool mansion.
I mean, how did Jill look at the Christmas party?”
“Wrong, but right.
You were drop-dead gorgeous that night.
But here is the correct question to that answer.
“When I first saw you sleeping in your brother’s car.
So fucking beautiful.”
“Oh, Michael.
You really thought that? I was so embarrassed.
I thought I had drool running down my chin.”
“I wish I would have told you, “he says, kissing me sweetly.
“I wish I would have told you a lot of things.”
I smile up into eyes full of love, desire, and regrets.
“I love you, Michael.
Even when I thought I hated you.
I loved you.”
“I will always love you, Jill, and still regret the twenty years I wasted when I could have been with you because there’s so much I want to do with you.
And tonight is one of them.”
“Oh, yeah? And what are we doing tonight?”
I ask, reaching up on my tiptoes and kissing his lips.
“Karaoke.”
“What? There is no way I’m getting up and singing.
No way. No, how.”
“Not you. Me.”
“Oh.”
I cock a brow and cover his cheeks in my hands.
It takes me back to our first kiss.
The abrasion of his beard and how it felt so manly.
So grown up.
“Really, who are you?” I tease.
“The man who will love you for the rest of his life.”
We head to the patio for coffee and see Alan and Tyler working in their gardens.
I wave when Alan looks up and, for once, feel as happy as they have always seemed to be.
“Your garden is gorgeous as always,”
I holler over.
“We have tomatoes ready.
I’ll bring some over in a bit.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful.
Thank you.”
Michael smiles and then takes a sip of his coffee.
“I got lucky your neighbors are gay.
Or else, they would have been hitting on you.
But, this time, I was willing to fight my competition.”
“Competition? What are you talking about?”
“Drake.
And I’m not talking about the night at the coffee house when you were in college.”
This time, he winks at me and takes another sip.
How does he know about Drake? It was so many years ago.
I don’t have Facebook, so how would he know?
“How do you know about Drake?”
“I saw you two together.
I saw you…happy.
And though I intended to get you back, I didn’t want to cause you more problems.”
Oh, my God.
I don’t believe this.
I move away from his stare, look at Alan and Tyler in their garden, and sip my coffee.
“Yes, we were…happy,”
I say quietly.
“What happened?”
Is this the part where he asks me, and then I ask him about Cami? Do I want to know about her and relive the worst moment of my life? But he is asking.
“Me.
I was what happened,”
I confess and hide my shame inside the coffee cup, taking a sip.
“I…freaked out and called it off.”
Wow, admitting out loud still isn’t comforting.
“I was still in my dark years, unwilling to let go of the past, and…I don’t know.
I just felt I couldn’t trust someone.
It was wrong, and he didn’t deserve it.”
I feel his gaze on me, and I don’t know what he’s thinking.
Does he think I’ll do the same to him to even the score?
“I see.”
“Michael, if you think I’ll do the same to you, I won’t.
I promise.
At first, the thought was there in the far back of my mind.
But as I saw the change in you, I started to trust you again.
I love you, Michael. I do.”
I pause.
“It was a few years after you left.
He asked me to marry him—surprising me with a ring and the whole entourage in front of a crowd.
What every girl dreams, right?”
He presses his lips with shame, I can tell.
“Right in front of the restaurant, he got down on one knee and said those words.
‘Jill, will you marry me?’ I was elated and said yes right away.
Once he slipped the ring on my finger, it was what he said next once the clapping and cheering were over.
He held my hands from across the table, looked into my eyes, and said something that changed how I felt about him. Everything inside me changed, and I felt once again like a second-class citizen. But maybe I jumped the gun and missed out. I should have talked more about it with him. Instead, I returned the ring and told him goodbye later that night. He was hurt, and I never gave him an explanation. But look, it worked out for the best.”
Should I ask about Cami? “Michael…what happened after I left? What happened to you and Cami?”
Taking a deep breath, he sets his cup down and searches the sky for words.
A few seconds go by before he begins.
“You always think the grass is greener on the other side and I know that sounds cliché.
But here is what you learn about that other grass.
It still has to be watered and mowed.
And some grass becomes…too high maintenance and you find yourself missing the grass you used to have.
The grass that only wanted to love you, adore you and just simply…you.”
Am I that grass?
“I went on, thinking I found love at first sight—many times.
I feared being irrelevant to someone, so I never let anyone attach to my heart.
The problem with youth is it’s your penis falling in love at first sight.
Then…when you finally figure out what true love is, it’s left the building.
You find yourself sitting across the room watching the love of your life being proposed to. That ship has sailed, and you’re only a bad memory to her.”
“You were there?”
“Yes, and I got what I deserved that night.”
“Oh, my God.
I had no idea.”
“But to answer your question about Cami, in the end, we…just became friends and business partners.”
“Do…do you still keep in touch with her?”
“Yes, I do.
But it is strictly business.
Please, don’t ever worry.”
How can I not?
. . . . .
Michael tells me to wear jeans and a tight T-shirt for tonight’s date.
He still hasn’t told me where we’re going, but I have a feeling it’s not a place I would typically go—or he for that matter.
He is dressed in tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a tight black T-shirt.
He so reminds me of the young Michael in those jeans.
And…he’s put on a few pounds since we’ve been together. But only in the right places.
I laugh.
“Oh, my God.
Howdy partner.
Michael, you’ve never been country.
And I haven’t listened to country music since high school. Are we really doing this?”
He walks over and scoops me up in his arms.
“You bet, Gorgeous.
Once the baby comes, our date nights might become limited.”
“Yeah, but this is Monica and Jordan’s baby.”
“I know.
But I want to make up for not being the father I should have been.
I want my grandchild to know how special they are to me.”
My insides burst with love when he talks like this.
“Speaking of grandchildren…”
“Oh no you don’t.
My lips are sealed.
You’ll just have to wait.”
Still, in his arms, he rolls me forward and gives me another big kiss.
“You ready?”
“As ever.”
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of Diamond and Denims, a country bar I’ve passed by several times but never went in.
I never had a reason to.
But looking over at the handsome man in the driver’s seat, I sure do now.
He’s so gorgeous and loving, and thoughtful and I’m so afraid I don’t give him enough credit.
“Michael, if I don’t say it enough, I want you to know how happy I am because of you.”
“Thank you.
I have another Jeopardy answer for you.”
I laugh.
“Okay, hit me.”
“Blondes are the prettiest.”
“Oh, how easy.
What was the caption on a T-shirt you bought me in high school?”
“Hehe,”
he says, sounding like a buzzer.
“No, I’m right.”
“Correction.
What was an excuse for Michael to come to see Jill?”
“Ahh. Really?”
He holds up two fingers.
“Scout’s honor.
And how lucky I got, that Scott was gone, and you were washing your car in those tight, little jean shorts.
I even remember the song that was playing on your car stereo.”
“Really? Because I don’t.”
He places his finger under my chin and looks into my eyes.
“This Kiss,”
he says and gently lays his lips on mine.
“Maybe you’ll sing it to me tonight.”
“Ahh, no.”
Stepping inside, it’s what I expected and the last place I would expect Michael to be.
And I tease him about it.
“Okay, Mr.
West Coast.
What barrel shall we sit on?”
“The one closest to the stage.”
We settle in on a high wooden whiskey barrel used as a table and slide our barstools in.
The place is genuine country, with bowls of peanuts and shells all over the floor.
The waitresses are dressed in denim shorts and shirts tied at the waist.
And of course, country music playing—loud.
Michael orders us a few drinks—him a beer, me a diet, and Captain.
“You still don’t drink beer?”
Michael asks
“No, it never appealed to me.”
Our drinks are served, and Michael asks for the karaoke list to put his name on.
He’s really serious.
The only time I recall him singing was when I delivered him a pizza, twenty years ago, and he sang to “You’re Still the One”
by Shania Twain as we danced.
He smiles over at me and hands the list back.
There’s a cheeky grin on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.
“What did you pick to sing?”
“It’s a surprise,”
he says, holding his beer for a toast.
A few singers go by, and Michael is called to the stage.
I’m nervous—and I’m not the one singing.
“Hello, everyone.
My name is Michael Danforth, and that stunning lady there is my wife.
Isn’t she a knockout?”
The crowd whoops and whistles, and my face flushes.
“Can you believe she is about to become a grandmother?”
“No way,”
I hear someone in the crowd say.
“Tonight,”
Michael continues, “I want to sing a song to my beautiful wife.
I’m not much of a country person, but I heard this song once, and it hit my heart hard.
And I said to myself, if I ever get the chance to sing this to her, I would.
So, here goes.”
The music starts, and I’m unsure if I know this song.
But then someone hollers, “I love Blake Shelton, and I love this song.”
Michael begins to sing, Mine Would Be You, and I’ve never heard something sound so full of love and regret at the same time.
His eyes never leave mine with each word, and then he comes and takes me to the stage.
On one knee, he sings the last chorus.
What’s the greatest chapter in your book?
Are there pages where it hurts to look?
What’s the one regret you can’t work through?
You got it, baby, mine would be you.
He finishes the song, and with tears in my eyes and my hands shaking, he kisses me on stage and everyone in the bar claps.
Slowly by slowly, I begin to breathe again.