“I’ll marry you again, as long as it can be at the bed and breakfast. Maybe by the beach out back?”
Smiling, I respond, “That’s perfect.”
She reaches up and rests her hand on the collar of my T-shirt, much like the way she does when I wear a tie. “And I’d like to get married right away. Maybe in a few weeks?”
I can only grin. “Yep. I want that too.” And then I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant.”
“Me neither, Sammy. Talk about a shock to the ol’ ticker!”
I snort a laugh, but before I can reply, the nurse enters. “We have your discharge papers ready. I’m going to remove the IV now, and you’ll be able to head home and rest.”
As she pulls the tape and tube from Freedom’s hand, I keep her attention on me. Running my hand over her head, I tell her, “Home. We’re going home to my place, okay? I know you were probably about to head to Harper’s house—”
She winces when the tube is removed and pressure placed on her vein. “Actually, my apartment is ready. I was going to grab a blanket and pillow and head there.”
I give her a disapproving look. “No way, Free. You’re coming home with me. Where you belong. You and the baby.”
Her lips brush against mine once more. “Okay. Let’s go home.”
***
This is what I’ve been missing. This bone-deep contentment, as I hold my wife in my arms.
The moment we got home, we ripped up those divorce papers. I’ll make a call to the attorney first thing in the morning to let him know we’re not proceeding. At least, not with the end of our marriage.
My second call will be to my regular attorney who drafted my will. In the event of my death, everything will currently go to my mom and siblings. I learned the importance of a last will and testament back in college, when I was interning at Hanson Funeral Home and discovered how many don’t have proper planning for end of life. It bothered me instantly, so I met with an attorney to draft my own. Now, I’ll be making a change. Freedom is the one I’ll be protecting in the event of my passing.
Freedom and our unborn child.
After we shredded the papers, I propped the marriage certificate up on the counter. It was the only way I could think to display it until I can purchase a proper frame. Harper and Latham ran to get her prescription and brought home dinner, and over sub sandwiches, shared the details of Snuggles’ vet appointment.
Now, our house is empty and the night sky full of stars, but most importantly, the woman I love is home and sleeping in my arms. I can’t seem to stop touching her, though I’m making sure to keep it PG. She needs her rest; she’s growing a tiny human.
I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t terrified when Latham called me earlier. I tore out of here like my ass was on fire and broke more laws than I care to admit to get to the hospital as quick as possible. I make it my personal mission in life to make sure she’s never dehydrated or having issues with low blood sugar again. I don’t care if I have to force-feed her food and water.
Freedom softly snores on my shoulder, and I can’t help but smile. As I gaze up at the white ceiling in the bedroom, inspiration hits. I reach for my phone and fire off a text to my sister.
Me: I have an idea.
Harper: How can I help?
I spell out my plan, one-handed, which is difficult, but I manage. I smile as she replies with a dozen emojis.
Harper: Yes! Perfect! I’m in! See you Sunday at eleven.
Me: Thank you.
Harper: *insert kissy face emoji* Anytime! You and Free deserve this.
We sign off, but I don’t set my phone down. Even though it’s nearing ten, there’s one more call I need to make. I slowly extract myself from Freedom and head for the door. Before I leave the room, I stop and turn around, watching as she sleeps. Her breathing remains even as she turns on her side and curls into a ball. The sooner I make this call, the quicker I’m back in bed, with her in my arms.
I enter the kitchen and flip on the light. As I bring my phone to my ear, I grab a glass of water and fill it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom.”
“Samuel, is everything okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.
“Everything is fine.”
“You never call this late,” she reminds me.
“I know, I apologize.”
“Well, don’t apologize if nothing’s wrong. It’s just unlike you.”
I can’t help but grin. “Yeah, I know. I’ve done a lot that’s unlike me lately,” I reply, almost absently.
She’s quiet for a few seconds before asking, “Well, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“How about dinner tomorrow evening?”
Again, she’s silent on the other end. “Okay,” she finally agrees, but I can hear the hesitancy in that word.
“Can you come here? I’ll cook.”
“Well, sure. What can I bring?”
“Nothing. Freedom will be here, if that’s okay.”
Now, she chuckles and I can practically hear her relax. “Of course it’s okay. I mean, she’s staying there with you while her apartment is worked on, right?”
I clear my throat. I hate I’m lying to her, but this isn’t something you tell your mother over the phone. That’s why I say, “Right.”
“What time?”
“How about five? We can enjoy a few appetizers before dinner at six,” I offer, spelling out my timeline for the evening.
Some things never change.
“I can’t wait,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Great. See you tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Yes. Oh, and, Samuel?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure everything’s okay?”
I lean my hip against the counter, spying the marriage certificate still propped against the wall. “Everything’s exactly as
