Chapter 36
Cole
“I can’t believe we finished,” Lydia surveys the now empty yard.
“I can’t believe Jamie and Luke just woke up.”
“Hey, they had a late night,” Lydia begins to defend them, then catches my eye and we both burst out laughing.
“This calls for ice cream,” Lydia declares as our laughter dies.
“It’s only 10:45,” I say incredulously.
“Yes, but the ice cream place I want to go to is thirty minutes away, so it’ll be after eleven by the time we get there. And eleven o’clock is ice cream’s five o’clock.” She cocks her head. “And also, I’m pregnant, so basically any time of day is ice cream time. What do you say?” She chews her lip. “Or do you have to get to work?”
I really do need to go to work, but instead of saying that I shake my head with a chuckle. “How can I say no to such a convincing argument in favor of ice cream? Let’s go.” I lead her towards the driveway, where I moved my truck back to late last night after the wedding guests had vacated it. Work is going to have to wait.
“Hop in.” I give Lydia a leg up into the truck, studiously ignoring the thrill that runs through me as her fingers brush mine. Lydia settles into her seat as I start the engine and back out of our driveway. She flips through her phone for directions then attaches it to the mount on my dashboard.
“Shakes’N’Cones has the best caramel shakes,” she tells me as I drive. “And the best part is I’m pregnant, so I can finally get a large.” She smiles happily, her defenses down for once. “You should see the size of these shakes,” she goes on. “Basically, a small at Shakes’N’Cones is a large anywhere else. So you can imagine how big the large size is, and now I can finally order it.” She pats her bump contentedly.
I laugh, my eyes landing on said bump, causing me to burst with pride. “Well, whaddaya know, sleeping with me has finally come with its advantages,” I quip. There’s a beat of silence before Lydia laughs, and I don’t miss the slight blush that creeps across her cheeks. I stifle a grin. Gosh I want to kiss her. I’ve been fighting so hard against it ever since our dance at Jamie’s reception. Well, for longer than that actually, but holding her in my arms only intensified the feelings.
“Did I thank you again for saving Jamie’s wedding,” she says, fidgeting with the edge of her skirt and looking anywhere but me.
“Only about a hundred times,” I laugh. “Seriously, I’m glad I said yes to you about hosting. Jamie and I got off to a rough start, but I think hosting her 100-person wedding in my backyard may have won her over. Not to mention pulling clean-up duty on top of all that.”
Lydia laughs again, and I relish the sound. “Oh, turn here.” She indicates the intersection ahead, which I’d been about to miss thanks to the distraction of her presence.
“How do you know about this place anyway?” I ask when I’ve recovered my wits.
“From the weeks I spent in Grand Haven every summer. We used to go to this beach nearby called Rosy Mounds. We’d climb the dunes and swim for hours. Then afterwards we always went to Shakes’N’Cones.” She gets a dreamy look on her face at the memories. “I loved those days.”
“Rosy Mounds, I’ve never heard of it.”
“What? You can’t be serious!” she exclaims. “We have to fix that. I’ll take you after ice cream. It’s where I go whenever I need to think or be alone. It’s so beautiful there.”
I smile over at her, touched she wants to take me to her special spot. I’m about to tell her so, when my phone rings, and I see my dad’s name scroll across the screen.
“Go ahead and take it,” Lydia says with a little sigh. “I know how your dad gets when you ignore his calls.”
I send her a grateful smile and answer his call, hoping to get off quickly so I can return to the happy bubble Lydia and I have temporarily constructed. Unfortunately, he’s in business mode and talks my ear off about how he needs me to review the billboard ads his team put together before he can submit them to the billboard company. I finally manage to end the call just as we pull into the parking lot of Shakes’N’Cones.
“Sorry about that.” I give Lydia an apologetic smile.
“No problem,” she tells me, but some of our earlier comradery has vanished. Silently cursing my dad’s timing, I scan the parking lot for a spot. It’s packed, but I get lucky and snag a spot someone is just leaving.
“Wow, this place is busy,” I comment as I step out of the car and survey the outdoor seating. “I don’t think there are any free tables.”
“I told you—their ice cream will change your life,” Lydia says seriously. “Oh look, someone’s leaving!” She stretches onto her tip-toes and points to a picnic table near the back where a family is tidying up their cups and napkins to go. “Why don’t you go grab our shakes, and I’ll save the table. Remember I want a large Caramel Magic shake. Large .” She repeats the word for emphasis, but doesn’t wait for my reply, too busy booking it to the table. I head inside, laughing to myself as I see Lydia reach the table at the same time as another woman. She rubs her belly and pulls a pained face. The other woman immediately backs away and lets her have the table .
My phone rings as I step into the line and, seeing that it’s Ashley, I pick up. I still feel a little bad I left her alone to deal with the hiccup with our client’s merger deal. Then again, she’s done the same to me before with clients and there was no way I wasn’t making it to Jamie’s wedding. Lydia had been depending on me.
“Hey Ashley,” I greet her, “what’s the latest?”
Lydia
Cole re-emerges from the ice cream shop fifteen minutes later, my shake in hand, his cell phone once again glued to his ear. He makes his way back to our picnic table, sliding the shake across the table to me just as I hear him say, “Yeah, I know, and that’s what I told him, Ashley.”
Of course, he’s talking to her. He’s always talking to her. I grab the shake, disappointed
by the size but still ravenous. I stick the straw in and bring it to my lips.
Cole ends the call and eyes me with amusement. “I did ask for a large you know,” I mutter before taking a sip.
Cole frowns, “Yeah, and I ordered you a large. How is that not a large?” I barely hear him as the flavors hit me, and I drop the shake like I’ve been poisoned. As my throat starts to constrict, I realize that in a way I have been.
Cole
“Lydia?” I watch in confusion as her shake tumbles from her hands and onto the table, spilling the contents all over it.
“Excuse me, sir, but I think you took my shake,” a teenager speaks from behind me, she’s got the largest shake I’ve ever seen clutched in her hands. In that instant, the smell of the drink streaming across the table hits my nostrils, and I realize what’s happened. Peanut butter.
“No, no, no!” I’m across the table in a flash, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Lydia!” She’s clutching at her throat, her lips turning a dangerous shade of blue. I have never been more afraid in my entire life. “Where’s your EpiPen?” I’m fighting to think clearly. I dump the contents of her bag, praying fervently it’s in there. I spot it in a second, shouting, “Someone call 911!” as I uncap it and insert it straight through the thin fabric of her cotton skirt and into her thigh, holding it there until I hear the click that signals the injection has started. I count slowly to three, before removing it and massaging the area. There’s nothing more I can do, but I can’t just sit there. I hold her tightly in my arms, glancing wildly about to see if anyone has called an ambulance.
An older gentleman runs over to us, his phone gripped in his hand. “They’re on their way,” he tells me, but I can’t feel relieved… not yet. Not until I see her green eyes open and look up at me with their us ual annoyance at my complete idiocy.
After what has to be an eternity, they finally do. She looks dazed and confused, but she’s breathing. She’s breathing. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
“Lydia.” I smooth hair off her face, and then I can’t keep it together any longer, and I just start crying all over her.
***
The next week is the longest of my life. As soon as the ambulance arrived on the scene, they whisked Lydia off to the hospital, and that’s where we’ve been ever since. Even though her breathing stayed steady after that first dose of epinephrine, they still wanted to keep her and the babies here for observation, so she’s been stuck in bed, hooked to a fetal heart monitor this whole time.
I haven’t been able to leave her side. We spend the days watching crappy daytime television, eating bland hospital food, and playing endless games of Scrabble. I let her beat me the first few times until she yells at me to stop, announcing that if I don’t manage to put a z tile on a triple-word score the next game then I forfeit all naming rights to her. I don’t tell her that if she and the babies make it through this unscathed, she can name them whatever she wants to.
Her parents show up on the second day, and her mom is quick to tell me that I look like hell and should go home and shower while they’re here. I can’t bring myself to leave Lydia though, so I just go stand in the hallway, listening as her mom bursts into tears and tells Lydia how much she loves her and how sorry she is about some fight they had. She goes on to tell her how much she loves her, then starts another round of apologies, saying she let her pride get the best of her and has been feeling guilty ever since.
A few minutes later, when they’ve both stopped crying, her dad announces he wants to pray. As his gentle words flow out into the hallway, something inside me stirs. I find myself leaning in to listen, even folding my own hands as if to join in the prayers being sent up to heaven. I can’t stop replaying the scene at the ice cream shop over and over again. I could’ve lost her. The very thought makes me feel helpless and out of control. I guess Lydia was right, and I do need God after all. The realization floors me and I sink to the ground, sobbing quietly.