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There have been so many changes in the last year and more are coming, but they’re all beautiful and exciting things, though I’m sure there will also be hard ones in between. Amelia’s mom has been holding steady since that minor stroke, but another decline could happen any time, and Amelia has said what comes next may be worse and involve her communicating and moving around less. She’s doing her best to emotionally prepare for it while not dwelling on it, and I’m proud of her for that. For how hard she continues to work on herself.
“I think I told you about all our shenanigans tonight,” Amelia says with another yawn. “And I know Mackie told you all about Hyla and maybe getting a dog.”
“She did,” I say with a laugh. She was texting me all night about it. There hasn’t been any forward motion with Hyla, but I hope they can figure out what their future looks like because if it’s not with each other, Mackie needs to heal, so she can move on. Somewhere in my gut, though, I can’t shake the feeling that Mackie and Hyla are supposed to end up together.
“Everything’s kind of… good right now,” Amelia says with a soft smile. “I’m working hard to remind myself that doesn’t mean everything is going to fall apart. I love it, though, especially with us. It’s good to be this happy.”
“It’s like we’re in our own little love bubble.”
She smiles, then her brows dip in. “Do you think it’ll pop at some point? I mean, it has to, right?”
“Do you think it will?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes. “I’m not trying to turn it back around. I’ll answer, but I want to know what you’re thinking first.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her gaze on Emmie as she watches her nurse. “I know it will, but that’s life, right? All the more reason we should enjoy it now.”
“That’s what I think, too. We’ve been through a lot, you most of all, and it’s good to be cozy and wrapped up in our love bubble, but even when it pops that doesn’t mean we’ll be any less in love, it just means we’ll have to let some of the real world back in, and that’s okay. I think times like this help strengthen us for challenges in the future.”
“I like that way of looking at it.”
Emmie, half-asleep, unlatches and I take the chance to steal her from Amelia and burp her. Amelia laughs at how quickly I grab her, but I missed her while Amelia had her with the girls tonight. I was originally planning to take her for part of the time, but the girls barely let Amelia touch her, so I didn’t bother fighting it.
Emmie lets out a man-sized burp, then nuzzles her head against my shoulder. Amelia hands me a blanket, and I set it in front of me, then lay Emmie on it and swaddle her. She’s barely awake when I finish, so I take her to her crib and lay her down. Thankfully, she doesn’t cry, which means she’ll likely fall right to sleep.
When I get back to the bed, Amelia’s eyes are closed, so I turn off our lamps and climb in with her. She rolls over, curling her body around mine.
“Love you, baby daddy.”
I kiss her forehead, then with my lips still against her skin, I murmur, “Love you too.”
In my head, I say one final word. Wifey.
Hopefully that’s what she’ll be sooner than later.
Mackenzie
“I love this vibe,” I say, looking up at the old farmhouse surrounded by trees, shrubs, and wildflowers. It looks like it grew here rather than being built. At the side of the house there’s fencing—probably a fenced in area for the dogs, though she has cats, too, and apparently a couple of rabbits and a turtle.
“Right?” Hyla says with a smile. “And you’ll love Lana. She’s the absolute sweetest. She took good care of me my first year as a flight attendant. A surrogate mom when I needed some motherly love.”
I reach over and squeeze Hyla’s hand. “I’m glad you had her, and I’m excited to meet her.”
“Let’s go.”
As we climb out of the car, the front door swings open and a pitty mix with a limp trots out to greet us. No barking or jumping, just some happy whines.
“Hello, sweet baby,” Hyla says. “Aren’t you a good boy, Scout?”
He wiggles his butt and soaks in her love. My heart beats faster as I watch. Her love knows no bounds.
A woman in her late fifties or early sixties with a mix of gray and brown hair, steps onto the porch. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Lana,” Hyla says.
Scout carefully walks back up the stairs to Lana, and after a pet on the head, goes inside.
“You must be Mackenzie,” she says as we get to her.
“That’s me.”
