Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Katie
“What’s the rush?” Amy asks, her brow creasing. She stares out of the screen, silent, waiting for my answer. Even though we’re not in the same room, tension crackles. The direct question, which I’m not surprised about, is unsettling. I take a breath.
“I’m not getting any younger, Amz.” I roll my eyes; she laughs. “I don’t want to be a granny in a wedding dress.”
The little nip of nervousness stings—my age, my stage, what I’m now embarking on. How part of me feels like I don’t deserve this new beginning, not at my time in life. And especially not with a man like Lance.
“You’ve only been back together a few weeks. Are you sure you want this? You said you’d never get married again.”
The truth grates. I did say that. But life changes, people come and go. Then, sometimes, you know, it’s time to go against what you said, pivot, and go with your heart.
“That was before him,” I say dreamily. Him, Lance, the man who changed so much, and I became more stable.
The younger man who showed me I was worth fighting for.
Not only myself, but that someone else cared enough that I succeed, that he stood with me, even when I sent him away.
That someone was willing to put me before them, in all my life, I’ve never had that until now. Until him.
My mind wanders back to Lance’s unexpected proposal. I think he was just as surprised as me when he popped the question. His eyes sprung open, and he’d laughed at himself.
When I said yes, his jaw dropped to the floor.
We were sitting on the sofa, cuddled under a blanket, eating popcorn and watching a cheesy rom-com. The movie portrayed a forbidden romance where the hero and heroine came together against all the odds.
“That’s a bit like us,” Lance said thoughtfully. I’d glanced over.
“How do you mean?”
“On paper, we shouldn’t work, but we do. We’re meant to be together. Perhaps we were born out of order; there was a mistake in the queue somewhere. But we’ve fought for each other, and here we are.”
“You don’t believe in all the mumbo jumbo, do you?” I said, genuinely surprised. His softness still floors me on occasion. “Soul mates?”
“Of course I do,” he snorted. “Why do you think I chased you halfway around the world to bring you home? You're meant to write happy endings for living…”
I cuddled into him tight, an attempt to squeeze away the irony and divert our conversation from my flaw.
“I don’t want to go to London tomorrow.” My hands slipped under his t-shirt, stealing more warmth from him. “I should be grateful Celia has agreed to reinstate my contract, but I hate the thought of being away from you and the children.”
“We’ll be here when you get back.” He smiled.
“I wish you could come with me.” I pouted.
“I have a very important job. The reindeer won’t feed themselves, you know. I think I’ve four primary school classes booked this week for tours. My stress levels are going to be through the roof.” He grinned. I giggled.
I love fun-loving Lance; he’s so cheeky and full of life. He literally breathes air into my lungs with each wisecrack. He’s my oxygen.
“I know,” I said with a snort. “Santa’s relying on you to look after them. Ensure they’re in good shape for the big day.”
His head bobbed, the movement exaggerated. “Damn sure he is.”
Then he saluted me like the army major he is.
“Katie,” he said softly. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Oh, did it hurt?” I chided, and he scowled.
“Bloody hell,” he scolded. “Be serious for a second. I’ve been thinking.”
My eyes held his. Unsure what was coming next, the seriousness unfamiliar.
“What if we got married?”
Butterflies danced in my stomach instantly. My heart racing. All possible replies flying off, leaving me stranded—mute.
“Only if you want to,” he stuttered. “It’s been playing on my mind, but I was nervous to ask you.”
“Are you asking me, Major McDonald?”
The air crackled, filled with hope and promise. His cheeks flushed, mine warmed in solidarity.
“Suppose I am,” he said.
“Well, ask me properly,” I teased.
He stepped toward me, taking my hands in his. I gazed up into sincere, stunning eyes.
“My beautiful Katie, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Simple. Perfect. Unexpected.
“Yes.”
***
Lance
Katie and I sit in the doctor’s office. My hand in her iron grip, trying to let her calm demeanor flow between us.
It’s not working. I’ve questioned my decision to find out if Hannah is mine numerous times, but I need to know.
I’m positive it won’t change my feelings.
She’ll always be my daughter, but I do need to know if Ainsley was cheating on me all through our marriage, how deep the betrayal ran.
I did try to speak to my ex-wife directly about my concerns, but she shot me down, not confirming nor denying my theory. She’s unrecognizable now compared to the girl I married a decade ago.
Back then, she was the young woman who lived life to the fullest and wore a smile wherever she went.
Hannah refuses to go to her mother’s house now as the atmosphere is so bad.
It turns out that after years of living together, Ainsley and Hamish’s passions have wavered.
They fight regularly and rarely spend time together.
Both have become bitter and twisted with the demise of their love.
When I told Ainsley about my relationship with Katie, she became aggressive, screaming at the top of her lungs.
It was a saddening experience to watch the person you shared your life with self-destruct in front of your eyes.
I remained calm throughout the ordeal, but walked away knowing things were only going to get worse between us.
“You okay?” Katie asks softly as she squeezes my hand.
“Yes. I just need to know now. I need to know if she’s biologically mine or not.”
The doctor appears in the waiting room. I jump at his greeting, not hearing him approach.
“Major McDonald? This way, please.”
He introduces himself and explains the procedure. Hannah will need to be brought in for a sample of saliva. It’s up to us whether we tell her the reason for the test. I’ve decided not to tell her after Katie convinced me it wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Lance, I can accept your decision to find out about her paternity. But unless the result is negative, then she doesn’t need to know. She’s nearly a young woman, not a child. This is a vulnerable time for her. The last thing she needs to do is question her identity unnecessarily.”
Katie and Hannah’s relationship progressed from enemies to friends at a rapid speed. After the incident in the bathroom, which Katie explained to me the next morning, Hannah has taken Katie as her confidante.
They discuss issues with the girls at school, swap beauty tips, and chat about anything remotely girly that I would never understand.
Katie has become the role model in my daughter’s life that I hoped she could be ― prayed she would be.
Hannah is the surrogate daughter that Katie could never have. It’s heart-warming to watch.
“Bring Hannah in tomorrow at 3 p.m. We can take the samples then. You’ll have the results within the week,” the doctor says.
“What will I tell her?” I ask him, panicked.
“Just tell her it’s a routine allergy test. I find that works well. Children rarely question these things.”
“You haven’t met my daughter,” I say, chuckling to myself. Katie snorts. Hannah thrives on asking awkward questions, on seeking out the truth. I can imagine her as a rogue journalist in the future. Heaven help her interviewees.
***
Katie
“I still can’t believe you’re getting married!” Amy continues to shriek about the shock she felt when I called to tell her I was engaged. She was on the next train to Scotland, promising to throw me the craziest bacherlorette ever.
Deep down, I know she’s concerned because Lance and I are moving fast, but she’s being supportive. Well, attempting to be, even though the occasional worry slips through. The ‘are you sure’ or ‘you can always delay’, I ignore.
“Shall we get on with dress shopping?” I remind her of the reason we’re here. Keeping Amy on track is hard enough at the best of times, never mind when so much is happening.
“You’re having a beach wedding?” she asks for the umpteenth time. “Just the four of you. No one else is invited.”
“Yes, Amz. Just Lance, the children, and me. I don’t need anyone else there. Small, intimate, and understated.”
“It sounds lovely. I’m obviously gutted I won’t be there to see it, though.
” She huffs, then flashes me a cheeky grin.
Again, part of her isn’t joking. I know she was stung when I told her it was only us attending the wedding, but this wedding isn’t just about Lance and I.
It’s the start of our family of four, and everyone there is involved in our new beginning.
“We’ll have a big celebration when we get back, but I’m not asking everyone to pay for flights to Barbados. I want my family to myself for the first few weeks,” I explain again. “This is important to me, Amz. Please understand.
“Sorry, Katie,” she says. “I’m being a bitch. The truth is, I’m jealous. You know I want you to be the happiest you can be.”
“I know.” I hug her tight, and we return to look at the racks of white summer dresses that could double as a wedding dress.
***
Lance
The envelope with the paternity test results has been tucked away in my sock drawer for the past week. Katie knows it’s there; she’s never asked when or if I’m going to open it.
We leave for Barbados in a few days, and part of me feels like I need to know before I move on to this new chapter of my life. The other part of me is angry that I even requested the test in the first place and wants to throw the results away.
“Shall we start packing?” Katie’s voice interrupts my thoughts; she’s using a jovial tone meant to move us along, lighten the mood. It doesn’t work.
I shrug, not meeting her eye.
“What’s wrong, darling? Is it the results letter? Did you open it?”
“No,” I mumble. “I’m not sure I want to.”
“Maybe...” She hesitates. Her face blank, the way she looks when choosing what she wants to say carefully.
“Maybe you don’t need to know. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
Maybe she’s yours biologically, and opening that letter will eradicate all your fears.
Or maybe she isn’t yours, and opening that letter will allow you to come to terms with the possibility that she isn’t.
You’re a good man, whatever you decide to do. ”
She walks over and takes my face between her fingers, stroking my cheeks softly as she kisses my forehead. With her, I feel safe.
“I love you,” she whispers before leaving, closing the door softly behind her.
I stare at the dresser; it’s willing me to open it. Before I can second-guess my decision, I pull out the drawer, remove the letter, and rip it open.
My eyes scan the paper in front of me, trying to absorb the information. My heart pounds at lightning speed; my hands shake. Tears spring to my eyes.
I collapse onto the bed in joyous relief.
She’s mine.