Chapter 41
Everly
Two Years Later
“My little brainiac, the psychologist. Congratulations, my love. I’m so proud of you.” Julian kisses me so sweetly, picks me up and spins me around. The foyer is crowded with fellow graduates and their family members, but he doesn’t care. I laugh and try not to kick those nearby as we twirl.
“Where is everyone?” My head swivels as my feet land on the floor.
“Rushing to the restaurant. So are we, if I can navigate this traffic.” He takes my hand and leads us through the throng of people toward the door.
Jase insisted on hosting a simple graduation lunch in my honor when I refused the huge party Allie and Luke wanted to throw.
Now that I’m his official team psychologist, or I will be now that I have my degree in hand, he said, as my boss, it was an order.
He picked the same restaurant he took us to that first day he told Julian who he was.
It’s become one of our favorites.
Walking in, cheers erupt in the private room.
All my favorite people in one place—except my mom and Via and Ryan.
I blink away the tears that try to fall, but one escapes.
I’m not sure why butterflies have taken flight in my stomach, but they’re currently trying to fly out of my chest. The excitement mimics low-level panic.
I rest my hand on my stomach to calm the flutters and accept all the hugs and congratulations, take my seat next to Julian and just breathe amid the swirl of conversation.
When the waiter comes around to take our order, I already know even though I haven’t looked at the menu.
It’s gotta be the chicken broccoli alfredo.
As I tell her my order, Julian’s head swivels to look at me.
I know he’s surprised. It’s a celebration, not a stressful event.
Still he knows exactly what it means. It’s been our comfort dish almost since day one.
Squeezing my thigh under the table, he places a kiss on my temple, then orders the Chilean sea bass—our other favorite on the menu since we started coming here two years ago.
I should feel ecstatic right now, but I’m way off.
Probably overwhelmed. Despite being a semi-well-known mental performance coach, I don’t love being the center of attention.
I still refuse to handle my own social media.
Thank God for Callie’s team or I wouldn’t have a social presence at all.
I chalk up my anxiety to the focused attention and take some covert deep breaths.
I then try to zero in on the conversations around me, commenting and laughing appropriately.
Once our plates are placed in front of us, my stomach grumbles at the smell of my comfort dish.
After everyone is served, I roll noodles onto my fork and take a healthy bite of creamy sauce, meat and vegetable just as a whiff of Julian’s sea bass hits my nose.
I swallow the bite, but it immediately tries to come back up.
Pushing away from the table, I make it out of the room, through the restroom door and into the stall before my stomach rejects the food.
Shit! I rinse my mouth in the sink and stare at my wan reflection.
Shit! I press a palm against my tender breasts and mentally calculate my last period. Shiiiiit!
Stepping out into the dimly lit corridor, I come face-to-face with Julian leaning against the wall across from the ladies’ restroom.
With his arms folded loosely across his chest and his eyes soft on mine, he greets me calmly. “Hi, sweet girl.”
“You know.” I swipe the back of my hand across my lips.
“I’m guessing.” He shrugs, holding his arms out to me now. “You okay?”
“I . . .” I push a breath through pursed lips. “I think so. I . . .” Bursting into tears, I cover my face with my hands just as his arms wrap around me.
“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay, babe. I got you.”
“You sure about that?” I try to laugh, but it comes out a sob. “The timing sucks.” I sniff, burying my face between his pecs. His baritone chuckle soothes me. I press my ear tighter to his chest and let its echo vibrate my cheek.
“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Thank you for saying that.” I sniff again and swipe my fist down my cheek.
“If everyone waited for the exact right time to have a baby, there’d be .
. . a lot less babies,” he finishes lamely, chuckling at his awkward attempt at a pep talk.
“Okay, so clearly you’re the motivational speaker of the two of us.
But, Ever, we’re going to be fine. Great, even.
And I know four people who are going to flip when they find out. ”
“Speaking of, how am I supposed to go back out there and pretend nothing’s up?”
“I say we go give the room something else to celebrate.”
“Right now? What if . . . it happens again?” My breath comes out shaky as I lean my head back to look at him, gauge his real mood beyond the comforting platitudes.
“It won’t. It can’t.” He looks steady, calm as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, kisses me softly on the lips and nods once like saying it out loud makes it so. “But we can wait—say whatever you want. Just not sure what they’ll believe.”
His confidence permeates my worry and squashes it. I nod.
“Okay?” He grins like a little kid.
I swallow and nod again.
Stepping back into our private party room, every head turns our way as the din of conversation lulls.
Julian pulls me in closer to his side and clears his throat. “Guys, it seems Ever wants to get all the celebrating done at once. She’s . . . we’re”—his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat—“having a baby.”
Erupting applause thunders through the room just as the waiter steps around us in the doorway.
Julian stops her and asks if she can take away the sea bass and bring him a cup of the soup of the day despite the Southern California heat.
To me, he whispers, “It’s chicken and wild rice, nice and mellow. I’ll eat your alfredo.”
My eyes prick with tears again at his thoughtful gesture. Okay, pregnant hormones: check.
Stopping her as she proceeds to check on the other guests, he adds, “Can we also get some champagne for the room and a ginger ale for my wife?”
She nods and tells the room at large that she’ll be right back.
Allie cries. So does Jason. Throughout the rest of the meal, Jason and Shanna share stories of her three pregnancies as well as how twins run in his family. Ever was already pale from the bout of queasiness. That disclosure drops her color another shade.
“Jase, don’t scare the girl. Geez. Ever, don’t listen to him.” Shanna smacks his arm.
Allie chimes in. “I was a twin, remember? I mean, there’s no blood tie, but twins can be fun. A built-in best friend.”
“Or twice as much of . . . everything,” I reply somberly.
Julian can tell the day is overwhelming me. As soon as politely possible, he makes our excuses and takes me home, draws me a bath and happily joins me when I insist. An overwhelming day maybe, but a perfect ending with my perfect man.