Jane
JANE
A YEAR LATER
The movie theater is brimming with VIPs, but all I care about is my husband sitting to my right. Yes, Adrian and I decided to stay married, so he really is my husband now, not just one in the eyes of the law.
He grasps my hand, and between that and the movie starting, my heartbeat skyrockets. Adrian has worked tirelessly on this project but has kept it a secret from me, all so I could enjoy this viewing tonight. All he’s told me ahead of time is that I inspired him to do this, and that he thinks I might like it. Oh, and that he personally wrote the screenplay, composed the score, designed some of the costumes, and a whole laundry list of other accomplishments.
Put another way, I’m more amped than a kid after a tiramisu-eating contest.
I watch, enthralled, as the first scene unfolds. If Adrian’s goal was to please viewers like me, he’s totally nailed it.
The setting is England circa mid-1830s—one of my favorites—and there’s a great love story in the film, making it a historical romance. The lovers in question are Ada Lovelace and Charles Babbage, real historical people, though the relationship is fictionalized. Charles was an eccentric genius inventor who —and this is hard-to-believe-but-true history—developed plans for a mechanical computer, a machine that, sadly, was never built (or else cat videos might’ve become a favorite pastime of humans a hundred years sooner). Ada was a talented mathematician and the only legitimate daughter of Lord Byron. Because she wrote programs for Charles’s machine, she is now credited as the world’s first computer programmer. That’s right. She was the first in a field in which women today still hold only about thirty percent of the jobs, and she was in it at a time when women were considered incapable of learning mathematics with their feeble, tiny lady brains.
Needless to say, by the time credits roll, my eyes are teary. Leaping to my feet, I clap, and the rest of the audience joins in.
“You’re a genius,” I tell Adrian fervently.
He grins at me. “You really liked it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s now my favorite movie.”
Before he can reply, a reporter who introduces himself as a movie critic for The New York Times begins gushing to Adrian about how much he loved the film.
As soon as the reporter finishes, the mayor congratulates Adrian on a job well done, and then one of the actors stops by to thank Adrian for giving him a chance to be part of such an amazing project. Other people come by too, and it goes on for almost an hour.
When we get to the lobby, everyone we know is already waiting for us—the only person missing is Piper because bringing a toddler to a movie premiere is against the Geneva Conventions.
“That was actually watchable,” says Bernard.
“For a movie without car chases and explosions,” Michael corrects.
“Hey, it’s the best sappy romance I’ve ever seen,” Warren chimes in. “Not that I’ve seen all that many.”
“You three are crazy,” Mary says without ungluing her gaze from her phone. “The movie was the GOAT. Don’t you think so, sis?”
The “sis” in question is Sydney—who’s been getting along with Mary extremely well. It might have something to do with the fact that Mary has hit preteen-hood hard this past year and is drawn to Sydney’s Queen Bee vibes. Mom and I are grateful to Sydney because she’s thus far been able to talk Mary out of pink hair (what are you, an anime character?), a pierced nose (you’ll look like a cow), and a tattoo of a dolphin (you’re not enough of a tramp to get that stamp).
“You did a great job,” Sydney says to Adrian with exaggerated graciousness.
“Thanks,” Adrian replies, and I can tell he’s doing his best to sound friendly—which is still a work in progress for these two. Hard work. But the fact that she’s here today is evidence that she is trying.
On my end, I get along with my newfound half-sister pretty well considering she tried to sleep with my husband a mere year ago. It does help that she’s started dating someone new, and that she’s a good mom to Piper… and that she gets along with my own mom.
Hell, I think a few years from now, I might even like her.
“Great job?” Mom exclaims. “Understatement of the century! That was Oscar material.”
“I agree,” Tristan says. “Golden Globe too. That score was a work of high art.”
I smile gratefully at the man I’m increasingly viewing less and less as the sperm donor. As with Sydney, the major reason I’ve warmed up to him is because of how much he adores Piper. He and I currently have a monthly brunch, and I’m thinking of upping that to biweekly, but I haven’t told him that yet.
“I agree with all the praise,” Mrs. Corsica chimes in. “And we will for sure stock this movie at the library when it is available.”
She really means that I will stock it. She recently told me that she plans to retire, and that she will recommend me to be the one who takes her throne.
“Thank you all so much for coming out to support me,” Adrian says. “I assume we’ll see you at the afterparty?”
Once everyone answers in the affirmative, Adrian grabs my wrist and drags me out of the theater, through the crowd of paparazzi, and into the limo.
As we pull off, he pours us both a glass of champagne, but I don’t drink mine. Instead, I catch his gaze. “Your surprise is going to be hard to beat,” I say, “but I will try.”
Adrian eyes me curiously. “Is it a new outfit?”
I smile. “That too. I got something with lots of lace. I’ll wear a chemise under it. But that’s not comparable to the movie—even if tangentially related to the surprise.”
“You like to tease a little too much,” Adrian says.
It’s true. I started off our sex life as a virgin, but with our twice and sometimes three times per day sexcapades, my skills in the bedroom now resemble those of an experienced courtesan, and teasing is par for the course.
Mrs. Westfield believes there’s a line past which marital duty becomes wanton behavior. A line that, in this case, was crossed eleven months and three weeks ago.
“Fine,” I say. “Spoilsport. Here’s a hint: the surprise has to do with a certain IUD I recently took out.”
Eyes widening, Adrian snatches the champagne glass from my hand, as though he thinks I might accidentally drink it. “You mean?—”
“Indeed. I am with child.” I’ve wanted to say that for ages. “Turns out, that movie isn’t the only amazing thing you’ve created lately.”
Grinning, Adrian sweeps me up into a warm hug, all the while telling me how exciting this is and how much he loves me. Finally letting me go, he says, “When everyone liked the movie, I didn’t think today could go any better, but you’ve just improved on it, exponentially.”
His words make me feel light and glowy. “Are you ready to write more children’s stories?” I ask. “Or will you use the same ones, and just replace Piper’s name and likeness with the those of your unborn baby?”
“I’ll write new ones.” He bends down and kisses my belly through my dress. “It will be a labor of love.”
I press the button that closes the privacy partition of the limo—a not-so-subtle hint of where my mind is at.
Adrian’s eyes grow hooded. “Here, now? What about the outfit?”
“That, dear husband, is hours away.” I unbutton the collar of his shirt.
“Good point,” he says and promptly rids me of my dress.
I kiss him then, a passionate, greedy kiss that makes promises of things to come.
Wonderful things.
Naughty things.
Exciting things.
And as he kisses me back, I taste his promise of our everlasting love.