Chapter 38
Right From The Start
? Camera - Ed Sheeran (Unplugged)
Griffin
If I had known my life could look like this, I never would’ve left Angelina’s bed six years ago.
It’s the morning of our first anniversary, and we’re lying in bed with three-month-old Jessie between us.
A lot has changed since then, and my life—our life—is more than anything my imagination could’ve ever concocted.
Jessie has her favorite banana-shaped teething toy in her fist, and she’s staring up at me with those brown eyes that are now identical to her mother’s, down to the flecks of gold around her irises. One look and I melt.
She grabs a fistful of my hair like she so often does.
I give a dramatic, “Ouch!” and she giggles.
Best goddamn sound in the world, even if it comes at my expense. I don’t know how I ever lived without them.
I pull my hair back from the sadistic infant and glance over at her mother. “Happy Anniversary, Angel.”
“Is it our anniversary?” she says with a teasing lilt to her voice. “I completely forgot.”
“If we didn’t have a baby in the way, I’d give you a very thorough reminder of our wedding night.”
“Happy Anniversary.” She leans over and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Do you have to work today?”
“Just for a couple of hours, but I took the rest of the day off to spend it with my beautiful wife. In fact, Gigi should be arriving in an hour to pick up the little tater tot.” I tickle Jessie’s belly, and she giggles again.
“What exactly do you have planned?” Angie asks skeptically.
“You’ll see. Go shower and get ready for the day. I’ll get Jessie’s stuff together for her sleepover and meet you in the kitchen with breakfast.”
She stands and heads for the ensuite, her silky pajamas leaving nothing to the imagination. Halfway to the bathroom, she pauses. “Did you remember to pick up—”
“Formula and coffee grounds. Of course. I have to keep both of my girls fed and happy.”
The first couple of months with Jessie felt like we were flying by the seat of our pants, but we’ve settled into a bit of a routine the last few weeks.
I hired several new employees to help run the sanctuary so I can be home more often, and the grand opening and official naming ceremony are slated for August. Not even Angie knows what name I’ve chosen. I know she hates surprises, but I think she’ll be okay with this one.
An hour later, Jessie’s off to the big house with Mama, and Angie’s standing in the kitchen, cradling a cup of coffee to her chest.
“It never gets easier to let her go,” she says.
“Just wait until we have to send her to preschool. Olivia said Wilder was a blubbering mess when they dropped Emmy off, and that was only for a half day.”
“I don’t even want to think that far ahead. Let me live in ignorant bliss for a while longer.”
“Speaking of bliss.” I steal the ceramic coffee mug from her hands and set it on the counter. “You have places to be.”
“First of all, you should know better than to touch my coffee.”
I set a to-go cup in her hand, replacing the pilfered mug.
“Oh.”
“Mhm. Go put your shoes on, Mrs. Hayes. You’re due at the salon in half an hour. After that, you’re going shopping to buy a bunch of new outfits for our trip to Europe next month.”
Her brow furrows. “Ok…”
“Don’t question it.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet.
She places her hand over mine, stopping me. “I can afford my own stuff.”
“Let me spoil my wife on our anniversary.” I pull my platinum card from my wallet, and in the process, a photo strip falls to the floor.
Angie’s breath catches as she stares at the worn paper with deep creases from being folded up in my wallet for so many months.
She crouches low to pick it up. “Where did you get this?” Her voice quivers.
“You dropped it outside the hair salon last spring.”
“Why did you keep it?”
“I would’ve held onto any scrap of you I could find, Angel. I wasn’t sure you’d want to keep me, but I knew in my bones you were meant to be mine, even if all I’d ever have is that night in Vegas and those photos to remember our time together.”
She cradles my face and pulls me down for a languid kiss. “I love you. I’m really glad you found me at the hotel bar that night.”
I snatch the photos from her hand and slide them back into my wallet. “I guess what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas. And thank fuck for that.”
Angelina
Motherhood is beautiful and joyful—everything I ever hoped it would be—but somewhere along the way, it robbed me of my identity. I haven’t felt like myself in months, since long before I gave birth to Jessie.
As my body changed, I started losing little pieces of myself. When I wasn’t wearing my scrubs, I’d taken to walking around in athleisure or Griffin’s oversized shirts. My feet swelled so much that I could only wear orthopedic shoes that weren’t particularly aesthetically pleasing.
It’s not that my entire personality was wrapped up in my physical appearance, but the overall discomfort stifled my self-expression. By the time I had Jessie, I no longer recognized myself in the mirror. Messy buns and oversized shirts became a uniform of sorts.
Griffin, as attentive as he is, must’ve sensed I needed this—a day to myself, to reclaim the Angie from before. A reminder I’m not just a mom; I’m a woman too.
After my hair appointment, I head out to the strip mall.
My first stop is the shoe store. Now that my feet aren’t swollen anymore, I can wear heels again.
I pick out several pairs of pumps and a pair of sandals that’ll be perfect for our trip to Greece, along with some more comfortable options for walking around the cobblestone streets of Rome.
After that, I head down to the plus-size boutique and rifle through the racks of clothing.
Silk, satin, chiffon—so many textures I haven’t worn since my body started changing.
I spot a knee-length leather skirt and grab it in my size, along with a floral maxi dress for the beach, and a new swimsuit, too.
I’m just about to head to the dressing room when I spot a mannequin wearing a perfect pair of distressed jeans and a flouncy baby blue top with a puff sleeve that ties between the breasts.
“Could I try that on?” I ask the clerk.
“Of course. What sizes do you need?”
“I think I’m a size twenty-six in jeans, and a 3x top, but it’s been a while. I just had a baby, so I could be way off.”
“No problem! I can grab a couple of different sizes for you to try.” Her voice is cheerful, not in the usual customer service this-job-is-sucking-the-life-out-of-me way, but in a way that tells me she’s genuinely happy to be here. It’s refreshing.
She grabs several sizes of each item and leads me into a changing room.
Admittedly, I’ve never loved trying on clothing in store.
I always feel hot and sweaty, worried I might get stuck in something too tight, panic ensuing when I do.
Luckily, I make it out unscathed. In fact, I emerge from beyond the curtain still wearing the baby blue outfit.
“Could you cut the tags off for me? I want to wear it out.”
“Absolutely. That color looks gorgeous on you!”
“Thank you.”
She snips off the tags, and I pay for all of my items, feeling more like myself than I did when I wandered in. Having spent way more on myself than I intended, I take a stroll through the baby boutique across the hall.
At the front of the store, there’s a display of infant swimwear. A bright red one-piece that looks like a strawberry immediately catches my eye. It even comes with a matching hat with a stem. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
Jessie’s a chunky girl, so she’s a few months ahead in the sizing chart as it is. I grab the next size up, hoping she doesn’t have some crazy growth spurt before the trip. With a brand new swimsuit, several sundresses, and a few new sleepers in hand, I head back out onto the thoroughfare.
As I approach the exit, a familiar gruff baritone stops me in my tracks. “What are you doing, Angel?”
Griffin is standing in front of the photo booth, his hands in his pockets. His hair is impeccably styled like he just got a fresh blowout, and he looks damn good in a pair of Wranglers and his usual button-down.
“Still have free will,” I say. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a man stalk his wife at the mall?” He smirks and takes the bags from me. “You look beautiful. Are you done?”
“I think so.”
“How about we make it a yearly tradition?” He nods at the kiosk. “I think Jess would approve, don’t you?”
“She’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”
It’s a tight squeeze, but we manage to fit mostly side by side in the booth. My ass is halfway on Griffin’s lap, but it’s not like he’s complaining. I slide the credit card into the slot, and the timer starts counting down.
I lean in so we’re cheek to cheek as the first flash illuminates the enclosed space.
There’s a four-second delay between photos, but it only takes one for Griffin to leave me utterly speechless. An oval-shaped diamond on a gold band is nestled inside a blue velvet ring box, and he’s holding it up between us. My hands fly to my face as the next flash goes off.
“Will you marry me?” he blurts out the words so fast I almost miss them.
I nod. “Yes. Yes! Of course!”
He slides the ring onto my finger, and I grab his face to kiss him for the third photo. Conscious of the ticking clock, I hold up my hand for the camera and let my cheesy grin speak for itself. The flash goes off, blinding me one last time.
“I think I blinked that time,” Griffin says. “Maybe we should do it again.”
“Don’t you dare! It was perfect.”
I kiss him again, soft and unhurried.
He smiles against my lips and pulls away.
“We did everything backward,” I whisper.
He toys with the diamond on my finger as if he can’t believe his eyes. “No. We didn’t.”
“You’re supposed to do the falling in love thing before you get married and have babies.”
“I did, Angel.” He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I fell in love with you six years ago, before we ever stood at the altar. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”
I scoff. “That’s ridiculous. That would mean…”
“I was a goner right from the start.”
He picks up my bags and the strip of photos, and we walk out of the mall hand in diamond-clad hand.
“How do you feel about a Vegas wedding?” he teases.
“Vegas weddings are cheesy and overdone. How do you feel about a honeymoon in Mexico?”
“I think Europe would suit you better.”