12. Chapter 12 #2
Donna comes on a Sunday. She pulls her car into the visitor spot downstairs, comes up in the elevator with her casserole dish covered in foil, and the second I open the door she's past me, shoes still on, heading directly for the great room where Christina is walking Luke in slow circles.
She stops two feet away, one hand going to her mouth, the other reaching out before she's even fully stopped moving.
"Oh," Donna says. "Oh, look at him."
She cries three times before noon. Once when she holds Luke.
Once in the kitchen when she sees how the coffee is set up, which I don't fully understand but don't ask about.
Once out on the terrace when she gets a look at the tomato planters I've neglected since October.
She stands out there in her coat with her hands on her hips, surveying the damage, and announces that she's coming back in March with seeds.
I put her casserole in the oven. Christina comes to stand beside me at the counter while Donna walks Luke around the great room, narrating the lake view to him in detail, keeping up a steady commentary on the color of the water and the angle of the afternoon light.
"She paid off her credit card," Christina says, low enough that it doesn't carry. "Last month."
"Yeah?"
"I set up a transfer from my account. Automatic. She fought me on it for one conversation." She watches her mother at the window, showing Luke something outside, pointing. "Then she let me."
I look at Christina. She's watching her mother with an expression she won't name out loud. I just put my hand at the small of her back, very light, and she leans back against it.
She cries three times before noon. Once when she holds Luke.
Once in the kitchen when she sees how the coffee is set up, which I don't fully understand but don't ask about.
Once out on the terrace when she gets a look at the tomato planters I've neglected since October.
She stands out there in her coat with her hands on her hips, surveying the damage, announces she's coming back in March with seeds, and walks back inside like it's already decided.
I put her casserole in the oven. Christina comes to stand beside me at the counter while Donna walks Luke around the great room, narrating the lake view to him in a steady stream, the color of the water, the angle of the afternoon light, what she's going to plant in those pots in the spring.
"She paid off her credit card," Christina says, low enough that it doesn't carry. "Last month."
"Yeah?"
"I set up a transfer from my account. Automatic. She fought me on it for one conversation." She watches her mother at the window, showing Luke something outside, pointing. "Then she let me."
I look at her. She's watching Donna with an expression she won't name out loud. I put my hand at the small of her back, very light, and she leans back against it a degree, just the one, just enough.
Donna stays through dinner. She eats at the table with Luke in the crook of her arm, talking to him like he's already following the conversation, filling him in on things he needs to know.
She leaves around eight, kisses Christina twice, squeezes my arm on the way out, tells me the planters need drainage work and she'll bring her own soil.
The door closes. The apartment goes quiet.
The three of us settle in for the night.
I'm up before anyone the next morning. That part hasn't changed.
Luke is still asleep so I don't touch the bassinet.
I make the coffee. I find eggs in the back of the fridge, the good bread Christina's been buying, a half jar of the raspberry jam.
I make toast. I put it on the tray with the coffee, the jam, a glass of water, and I carry it back down the hall.
Christina is awake. She's on her back with her arms over her head, staring at the ceiling. She turns her head when I come in. Her eyes go to the tray.
"You made breakfast."
"I did."
I set it on the nightstand. I sit on the edge of the bed. She's already pushing herself up against the pillows, reaching for the coffee, and I let her get one sip in before I reach into the pocket of my sweatpants.
She sees my hand and stops with the mug at her lip.
I don't make a speech. I'm not built for speeches and she knows it by now. I just open the box and hold it out, and I look at her, and I say, "Marry me."
She looks at the ring. She looks at me. Her hair is a wreck. She slept in my shirt. There's a baby asleep ten feet away. This is not the version of this moment that exists in any magazine, and it's the only version I want.
"Julian."
"Yeah."
"Did you plan this or did you just wake up and decide."
"Both."
She looks at the ring again. Then she takes the ring out of the box herself and slides it on her own hand.
"I love you," she says.
"I love you more."
She reaches up and pulls me down toward her. She kisses me slow. Luke makes a sound that let's us both know he's awake.
I walk over and lift my son out of the bassinet in the gray morning light, and he looks up at me with his mother's eyes.
I carry him over to where Christina is sitting up in bed with my ring on her hand eating raspberry jam on toast, and I sit down on my side, and Luke settles on my chest, and that's the morning. That's all I need.
The end.
Thank you for reading!