Chapter 22 #2
“It’ll be fun,” I tell her. “It’s a costume party.”
“All of my birthdays are costume parties, baby,” she groans.
“Yeah, but this year, you’ll have the party in the gift.”
She glares. “Christian… I don’t appreciate gift teasing.”
“I thought you didn’t like my gifts.”
“But it’s worse when you tell someone you have something for them, say that they’ll like it, but you can’t give it to them yet.”
I arch a brow and take a sip.
“That wasn’t an innuendo, Christian!” She groans.
I set down my glass and go to her. Standing between her legs, her arms come around my waist and mine around hers. “I love you.”
“Hmmm,” she hums, the sound filled with incredulity. “Can we order in? I’m tired of cooking.”
“I cook dinner,” I remind her.
“Okay, fine.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “The clean up that comes after cooking then.”
I snort. “Chinese or pizza?”
Lana beams. “Chinese!”
My shift at the campus IT center finally ends and the office closes.
Exhausted after answering phones and staring at the computer screen for six hours, I get into my car and blast the heat.
With the wind shield wipers, I rid my car of the thin layer of snow before I drive to the supermarket and make a stop at Natalia’s.
Lana called me after work on her way home, and I knew she sounded off. I can’t blame her today. She’s exhausted and grieving, and it hurts to know.
Natalia texts me to drive by to pick up Lana’s favorite cookies that she’s baked, hoping it will help Lana feel better. I stop at the stores first, pick up things I know that’ll put a smile on my girl's face, even if it’s a tiny, weak twitch of her lips, and then stop at Natalia’s.
I’ve been thinking about Lana all day. I wanted to call out to stay at home with her, and I told her she could do the same—that missing one day won’t hurt us.
But she insisted on working today, saying she needed the distraction as much as we needed the money.
So I trusted her to make the right decision for herself.
Lana and I are getting our associates at the community college in Spring Haven—one town over—until we save enough to transfer for our bachelors—her’s in business and mine in computer science.
We’ve been making out just fine this year.
Scholarships help enough, plus the money we make from work and whatever pocket change we stuff into our house jar.
And whatever tips Lana makes from her shifts at the diner gets put in the jar at the end of the night.
Whatever side money I earn from shoveling snow for elderly neighbors gets put in it too.
We’re making it just fine, and one day we’ll have that lake house, and it’ll be perfect.
I park down the block from our building and sigh, readying myself for the sadness I’m going to feel when I walk into our apartment from just looking at her. I already feel it, I’ve felt it all day.
She took the morning shift at the diner so when I called her on my break she was home, and I could hear the way her voice shook with every word. I wanted to go home to her so I could hold her and be sad with her.
But tomorrow is Sunday and the IT center is closed. And she’s off. I get to be sad with her all night and all day tomorrow.
I climb up the stairs of our apartment building to the third floor and let myself into our apartment, holding a small bouquet of flowers, a tub of vanilla frosting, the cookies Natalia baked, and a new stuffed elephant.
Locking the door behind me, I toe off my snow boots and set everything down to remove my snow dusted jacket. It’s dark in the apartment, save for the kitchen light, and the flickering lights from the candles she lights at night.
Holding everything I bought for her, I go into our bedroom and find her curled on her side under the blanket, resting in the dark. “Lana?”
“Hmm.”
I go around the bed, to her side, and squat down, finding her eyes as though they were lights in a tunnel. They are—for me. I reach to switch on the lamp on the nightstand and the room is now dim with yellow light.
“Hey, baby,” I breathe and hold up the simple bouquet of yellow flowers. “I got you some things to make you feel better.”
Lana nods, her chin quivering. Her eyes red and puffy, cheeks rosy and stained, and her lips in a sad pout. She sniffs and I wipe her cheek.
“I got you frosting,” I say, holding up the tub. “And Nat made you cookies.”
“Thank you,” Lana rasps. “For all of it.”
I smile and hold up the elephant. “And this.”
Lana huffs a laugh, her eye brightening just a tiny bit.
“There it is,” I breathe. “What should we name him?”
Lana’s tiny smile is enough for me today. She reaches out for me, her hand coming around to cup my nape and her nails scratch into my hair. “Dwight.”
I laugh and set the elephant down next to her. “Dwight it is then.”
“Come to bed,” she whispers.
“Let me shower first?”
Lana nods. “Did you have a good day?”
“My day doesn’t matter,” I say. “Tell me about yours.”
“Don’t do that,” she murmurs. “Did you have a good day?”
“I did, baby,” I whisper, pushing her hair back. “You?”
“Fine.” Lana sniffles.“Take a shower and come back to me.”
I give her the elephant, which she instantly pulls snuggly into her chest, and I leave the frosting and cookies on her nightstand. “I’ll come right back.”
In the kitchen, I take out a vase to fit the flowers into. After, I take a quick shower to wash off the day I’ve had at work, and I rush through everything just so I can slip into bed with the love of my life.
I stroll back into our bedroom after my shower, shaking out my wet hair and wearing boxers. Lana’s sitting up now with a spoonful of frosting in her mouth and her eyes on the TV with The Office on.
“Hey, baby.” I cozy in beside Lana, sitting up against the headboard with her as the bed squeaks beneath me, and kiss her shoulder.
“Hi.”
“You feeling better?”
Lana shakes her head with a small pout on her full lips, her eyes are still red and swollen. “I miss her.”
“I know, baby.”
She slowly begins to sob again and I take the tub of frosting from her hands to set it down on the bedside table. I pull Lana into me but she settles down with her head on her lap.
“It hurts,” Lana weeps.
I kiss her head and brush back her hair. “I know, I’m sorry, baby.”
Lan weeps and wails, screams into me as her body trembles in my arms, and I hold her tight. She cries and cries until there is nothing left, her trembles fading and her battle cries calming. She pushes herself up and climbs over my body, straddling my hips and wrapping her arms around my neck.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her securely to my chest, hoping to ensconce her with my love. “I love you, Lana.”
She sniffles hard and her voice trembles as she says, “You’re my only family, you know.”
I nod and she pulls her head out from the crook of my neck. Her eyes are so red and swollen, it breaks my heart, and her lips are in a heavy pout. I pull the strands sticking to her wet cheeks and push them behind her ear. “You’re my only family too,” I murmur. “Just you.”
All my family did was conceive me. Never anything more.
Lana nods. “Christian?”
“Tell me, Lana.”
“I can’t wait for us to buy a house,” she croaks. “A big one on the lake.”
“A big house on the lake—got it,” I say. “What else?”
Her pout barely lessens, but I see it. “A pool?”
“Noted. What else?”
“Uh…” she sniffs and wipes her cheek. “Fireplace.”
I create a mental list. “Keep going.”
Lana sniffs, a rogue tear slipping from her eye. “Um, a library. And windows. And a really big kitchen with one of those electric stoves and really deep sinks.”
“Okay,” I say. “We will have all of that in our house, baby. I promise.”
Her lips twitch, and I take the win for today. It’s enough for me, just to make her feel better enough to give me a twitch. “And the kids?”
I smile. “How many do you want?”
“Two, maybe three. But if we have twins it’s a two for one deal and I’m cutting us off.”
I laugh. “Okay. Two babies.”
“How many do you want?” Lana asks quietly.
“However many you want, babe.”
“So two?”
“Two,” I agree. “And girls.”
“I have no control over that,” Lana chuckles, a bigger smile, but just by a centimeter or two.
I wipe her beneath her eye, catching the tear before it rolls down her cheek. “We’re going to have two girls. I’m psychic.”
Lana giggles, and it’s beautiful. “Okay then.” She sniffles and wipes under her nose with her sleeve. “You promise?”
“I promise, baby,” I whisper.
“Okay.” She’s pouting again and she buries her face in my neck. My hand slips under my sweatshirt she’s wearing and I wrap my arms around her. I always run hot and she’s always cold, we balance each other out that way, I think. “Can we watch some movies?”
“Yeah, baby,” I say. Holding her, I turn us on our side and she turns to press her back into my chest. I reach for the remote and scroll through our options until we come to an agreement on a comedy.
“I love you,” she breathes.
“I love you.