December 25th
A good plan.
Damon
“Merry Christmas,” I say, snuggling Ainsley when she finally wakes up.
I’m always the first one up in my house every year, ready to open presents, but I’ve been lying still for about an hour now.
And it’s been killing me.
Although it hasn’t been that bad, just staring at her. The way she sleeps with her hands up by her face. The little noises she makes when she’s dreaming. Her growing baby bump.
I’ve imagined our Christmas today, how it will be with a toddler running around, a teen, and life beyond. It’s like I’m living in a dream.
She covers her eyes with one hand, but she’s got a smile on her face. “What time is it?”
“Six,” I tell her.
“Ugh,” she says. “Are you one of those people who still can’t sleep on Christmas morning?”
“Maybe,” I say with a grin. “I was always the person in the house who woke everyone up.”
“You didn’t wake me up.”
“Nope, just been sitting here, staring at you.”
“Oh, ick,” she says.
I run my hand through her messy hair and stare into her eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of the Christmases in our future. Of our life together.”
“I hope this works out,” she says, which literally makes me feel like I was just stabbed in the heart.
In fact, I let out an involuntary exhale.
“What do you mean?”
Is she not sure she wants to be with me? Is that the real reason why she wants us to live apart?
“Just what I said. That I hope this all works out.”
“Do you think we might not?” I ask, my eyes growing wide.
“No, silly, but this is all a bit unconventional, right? I always had a plan for my life. College. Marriage. Maybe a dog. Then a baby.”
“You know I’d marry you today. You’re the one who doesn’t want to,” I tell her. “Is there a reason why?”
“Yeah, because we’re really busy right now. Also”—she points down to her stomach—“I’m huge.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“I know that. You know that. We all know that. But it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m really starting to feel big. Large. Huge. Have you seen my stomach lately? And I still have weeks to go.”
“I think you are beautiful.”
“Motherhood is beautiful—I get it. Can you just be real right now?”
“Your stomach is quite large,” I finally say.
“Thank you!” she says, giving me a kiss.
“I get it. You’re not supposed to make a pregnant woman feel like she’s fat.
I don’t feel fat. I feel much bigger than I’m used to.
And while I’m thrilled to be carrying our baby and I want her to keep growing and growing, my body—well, I told you the other day—it feels really heavy.
Like I’m walking around all day, carrying a backpack with twenty-five extra pounds.
Only the backpack is on my belly, and it’s in an awkward position. If that makes sense.”
“It does. When Jennifer and Dad had a couples baby shower before Weston was born, they had a game where they made the guys wear pregnancy bellies, and they just had to do simple tasks, like tie their shoes. It was hilarious, watching them struggle. Especially since most of the guys were football players and in really good physical shape.”
“I bet that was funny,” she says with a grin. “So, it’s Christmas.”
“It is. Shall we go turn on the fireplace and open our gifts to each other?”
“I might need coffee first,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “You sound like my dad.”
“So, presents before coffee?”
“I suppose we could have coffee and breakfast picnic-style in front of the fire, then open presents.”
“Now, that sounds like a good plan,” she says. “As long as when we are done, you will not laugh when I ask you to help me up.”
“Deal, Champ.”
That future.
Ainsley
Damon makes coffee while I pop the cinnamon rolls into the microwave. Chef Paul was adamant that it only be for a few seconds so they wouldn’t get chewy.
Once the bell dings and I take them out, I spread on the icing he included and put them on a tray, along with silverware, napkins, and a few dessert plates.
Damon sticks his finger in the bowl of icing, and just when I think he’s going to lick it off his finger, he runs it down my cheek.
“Damon!” I say as he licks it off.
And I forget that I’m hungry for food. I leave the food on the counter, go in front of the fireplace, spread out a blanket, strip off my nightgown, and just stand there.
“Ho, ho, ho,” Damon says, strutting toward me. “Santa has a big present for you.”
“He’d better since he got me up so early,” I tease before he kisses me.
We’re lying in front of the fire, the blanket a mess, just staring into each other’s eyes.
I love to read, and that is always something in romance books that I thought sounded so incredibly awkward.
Just staring at someone. But I get it now.
Somehow, our eyes can convey the depth of our feelings in a way that words just can’t.
Damon slides his hand through my hair. “I love you. So, so much.”
“I love you too,” I tell him.
“You kind of freaked me out earlier when you said you hoped we’d work out.”
“I’m pregnant. I know I don’t like to blame hormones for my moods, but I can’t deny that they are running rampant.
And that I feel a lot of emotions right now.
There are times when I want to cry about how happy and lucky I feel.
And other times when I want to cry over the fact that we’ll be apart.
That our families have questioned us on everything.
And I wonder if they know something that we don’t. If that makes sense.”
“It does. I worry too. But I didn’t see you for—what was it—eighty-two days this fall. And we did fine. I thought. Didn’t you?”
“We had some very conveniently placed storms—that’s for sure. It seemed like every time I geared myself to go see you and tell you I was pregnant, there was some freak ice or snowstorm.”
“Ice and snow are pretty common here in the winter,” he teases.
“Still, it was like the universe knew something I didn’t, and I’m pretty sure it wanted you to get through your season before I told you. It was seriously plotting against me.”
“It might have been. I still can’t believe I bought the lot to surprise you for our future family without knowing that future was already upon us.”
“Weird how things work out,” she says. “I was thinking about family last night. It was really fun to get to go to Jennifer and your dad’s house. To see it. See the happy home they’ve created. Hang out with your little sisters. They really adore you.”
When I say that, the smile on his face grows so wide.
“I adore them. And I just can’t imagine how I’m going to feel when our baby is born.
We were in the waiting room when Weston was born, but they let Dani and me come in right after because we were so excited to meet her.
And when I got to hold her … gosh, she was so pink, so little, and those tiny little fingers.
Magical really. And they are going to love Summer. ”
“It’s kind of crazy that once Summer gets a little older, she’ll be able to run around with them.”
“Yeah, they will turn three and four soon. I was thinking about that the other day. Summer’s due date is sort of right in the middle of their birthdays.”
“When are they?” I ask.
He grins. “Just another reason why our brand, One Eleven, makes so much sense. Weston was born on February the eleventh and Easton on March eleventh, just a little over a year apart.”
“That’s so cool.”
“And Chase’s little brother Madden’s birthday is January eleventh.”
“That’s a lot of elevens,” I say, then think about Damon’s birthday. “Your birthday is June first. Is that why you chose the number one—well, two number ones—for sports?”
“Not really. Chase chose one, and I chose two ones. One Eleven was born before we knew it,” he says with a laugh.
“It’s cute.”
“You’re cute,” he says, pulling my nightgown strap back up on my shoulder and kissing me. “But I’m dying to open presents. Can we finally?”
“As long as we can eat at the same time,” I tell him.
“Shoot, I forgot about the food. Probably need to reheat our coffees. I’ll go do that. You stay right here.”
We eat our rolls, drink our coffee, and leisurely open our gifts to each other, then get dressed and ready for the day ahead.
Really beautiful.
Damon
We’re driving over to my house to see what my little sisters got from Santa when I turn to Ainsley and say, “Last night, right before I fell asleep, I realized that we haven’t chosen a middle name for Summer.”
“You’re right. We haven’t. I’d like her to have one.”
“Me too. I also realized that I don’t know your middle name.”
“I don’t know yours either,” she says. “Mine is Noelle. Ainsley Noelle Archibald.”
“That’s really pretty. Mine is Archer.”
“Damon Archer Diamond,” she says. “Very cool.”
“It’s my dad’s middle name too. Archer was Mimi’s maiden name, and Papa really looked up to Mimi’s dad, so they named my dad after him. I never got to meet him, but Dad always said he was a force to be reckoned with.”
“Well, I don’t know how you feel about it, but if we have a son someday, we’re naming him Archer. I literally love that name.” She tilts her head and grins. “You do realize your initials spell out dad.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. Mom got me a leather duffel and had it monogrammed, but it just has DD on it.”
“Probably didn’t want it to say dad.” She laughs. “So, what would you think of Summer Archibald Diamond?”
“Well, her initials would spell out sad. And that would be bad. It also definitely can’t start with a M.”
“Why not?” she asks.
“SMD? Suck my dick,” I say seriously.
“Well, that would be hard since she won’t have one,” she says with a laugh.
“Still,” I say.
“My grandma Archibald’s first name was Elise. I’ve always thought it was pretty. What do you think of Summer Elise Diamond?”
“That’s actually really beautiful,” I tell her. “I love it.”
“I feel like we told everyone everything already. Let’s keep her middle name a secret until she’s born,” Ainsley says.
“I thought we said no more secrets.” I reach across the seat and squeeze her knee.
“No more secrets between us. Unless they are fun surprises,” she says.
“Agreed.”