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“You better make your intentions known then,” Harrison advises. “Women move on quickly when they realize that they aren’t going to get their happily ever after.”
“She might not want a happily ever after with me,” I reluctantly tell him. “She’s a bit younger, and she might be interested in finding someone closer to her age.”
Harrison waves me off. “Nonsense. You’re one of the best guys I know. She’d be crazy not to want you.”
It’s a four-hour drive to Manhattan, shorter than the drive Danielle and her father are making. They’re coming from the opposite direction, probably singing show tunes and talking about the memories they made. I wish I’d been with her. I want to make lifetime memories, too.
Ididn’t give myself much of a vacation buffer. School starts again tomorrow, and by the time I get home, I’m exhausted. It’s been a long weekend, and I’m ready for bed even though it’s only 4:00 pm. But a single cryptic text keeps me up.
I have a surprise for you.
Danielle is somewhere between Manhattan, Kansas and Colorado Springs. I nap on the couch while I wait for her return.
My dreams are filled with laughter. My brother’s kids drift in and out of scenes among kids I’ve never seen before. Somehow I know they’re mine. And we throw snowballs at one another and bake cookies in my galley kitchen. I’m almost disappointed when the doorbell rings.
I hear it in my dreams at first, a single ring, and I head for the door of my brother’s home. But then, as I’m twisting the handle, I hear the doorbell again. I’m caught between reality and sleep, the scene before me fading as I’m slowly brought back to life. The third time the doorbell rings, I awake with a jump. It takes me a minute to realize that I’m in my house, on the couch, listening to my doorbell ring for a fourth time.
“Coming!” I yell as I struggle to get up. I feel a little off-kilter, and my brain is slow from the nap. The clock on the wall says 6:42 pm. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep.
I open the door to a smiling Danielle. She looks even more breathtaking than when she left. Her dark hair is pulled into a severe bun, and she’s holding a box in her hands. It’s small, perhaps the size of a book, maybe a little bigger. “Babe,” I grin, and she launches at me.
I’m caught off balance for a second and stumble backward, but having Danielle in my arms is like reaching the right side of heaven. She fits perfectly, like a puzzle piece made for me. And she peppers my face and neck with kisses, telling me in between how much she missed me.
This is why I told Harrison that I’m going to marry this girl. When someone greets you like you just returned from war, you never want to let them go.
I carry Danielle to the couch and set her down gently before sitting beside her. She instantly shoves the box at me. “Open it,” she insists.
“Tell me about your vacation,” I smile.
“I need you to open the package.”
I shake the box, but all I can hear is a soft rustle. “You didn’t have to get me anything while you were gone,” I tell her. After all, I didn’t get her anything. But I was also holed up in a sprawling home with my carpenter brother and his lawyer wife. We never left the house unless it was to play outside.
Danielle impatiently bounces in her seat. “Please, Holy, for me,” she begs.
I sigh heavily before adhering to her request. I make a mental note to get her something special for Christmas. I’m not sure what, but I know it’ll come to me.
When I open the box, I’m met with tissue paper. I pull it aside gently and find a small bit of cloth neatly folded. With a frown, I grab the item and pull it out. Quickly it unfolds, turning into a baby onesie. On the front, it saysHi Daddy, I can’t wait to meet you!And I’m so dumbfounded by the present that I miss its meaning at first.
The seconds tick by as I stare at the white onesie, reading the words on the front repeatedly until it clicks. “Holy shit,” I whisper under my breath. “Are-are you pregnant?”
Danielle is tearing up as she nods her head. “Yes,” she manages to whisper.
I drop the onesie and pick her up instead. “Oh, god, Dani,” I whisper in her ear.
“I’m scared,” she whispers back. “And excited.”
That last little bit sounds like an unholy admission, as if being excited about being pregnant at eighteen is a crime. “Me, too, baby. But I swear on my life that I will do whatever it takes to keep you happy and safe.”
“I’m six weeks pregnant, due in late July.” We can both count. Danielle will be fine for a while. She’ll make it to February, maybe March, before she starts to show. With the right dresses, she might even make it to graduation in May before anyone finds out. But we have to start preparing. “If we can wait a few months, my dad can’t fire you for dating a student. Not if I’ve graduated.”
Maybe so, but by the time graduation rolls around, she’ll be seven months along. She might be able to hide her growing belly during the school days, but what about around the house? What about her position on the dance team in those skin-tight outfits they compete in?
Nerves pop up like little fires, heating my skin from head to toe. There are a thousand things we need to worry about, but right now, all I do is hold my girl and think about the life we’re making. Danielle is just as nervous as I am, if not more, and it’s my job to protect her. Come hell or high water, I’ll make sure no one gives her grief.
Pregnancy is her cross to bear, but I’ll take up all the rest—anything to lighten her burden.
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