It Was Us Page 14

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Just a little further,” he said.

  We walked another fifty yards or so before he stopped. There were fewer people here, just a couple of families with a group of young kids goofing off close to the water's edge. West let go of my hand so he could spread the blanket. He dropped the backpack to the ground and sat down, pulling me down next to him.

  “Hi,” he said.

  I smiled. “Hi.”

  I tucked my legs to the side and leaned back on my hands, breathing in the cool, salty air. I was glad we'd skipped Sessions, glad he'd decided to not brave the crowds and the drunkenness of 4th of July at the park. We'd had a good time the past couple of years but I wasn't in the mood for obnoxious people and illegal fireworks going off and the pungent smell of weed I knew would somehow work itself into the air.

  He unzipped the backpack he'd brought and pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups.

  “What's that?” I asked.

  He unscrewed the cap. “Peach Snapple.”

  I grinned. “God, I love you.” It was one of the only things I craved. I could drink gallons of it, breakfast, lunch and dinner.

  He poured some into one of the cups and handed it to me. “You're so easy to please.”

  I sipped it. “Did you bring a porta potty, too?”

  He chuckled. “Nah.” He motioned to my dress. “But you can just hike that up and go wade into the water if you get desperate.”

  I made a face. “Not a chance.”

  “Yeah, let's see what you say about that an hour from now...”

  I jostled his arm and he laughed, pulling me close. His lips nuzzled my neck and I closed my eyes and sank into him and sighed. I loved him, wholly and completely. His mouth moved from my neck to my jaw, finding its way to my lips, and he kissed me hungrily. I wrapped my arms around him, my fingers weaving through his hair and it was his turn to sigh, to pull me tighter, fitting himself against me.

  “West,” I said, breaking my mouth free of his. “There are people...”

  “I know, I know,” he muttered. His lips found mine again. “I'm just kissing you. And thinking about doing a million other things to you.”

  I shivered in his arms. “Yeah?”

  He nodded, his eyes dark. “Uh huh.” His hand moved from my arm to my ribcage and he rested his fingers below my breast. “A lot of things. Dirty things.”

  “Later,” I promised. “After the fireworks.” I straightened a little and gazed out at the water, then turned so I was looking toward the road and the houses that lined that side of the street. “You know, if we face the other direction, we might be able to see some.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Unless you don't want to watch, “ I said.

  “No, that's fine.” He reached for the thermos and filled his own cup. “I just wanted to go somewhere with you. Have a special night, you know?”

  I nodded. I knew. It was one of the many thoughts that had started to creep in over the last few days. Thoughts about where we would be in a few months time and how our lives would change. Thoughts about how completely unprepared I was, how completely unprepared we were. We'd ironed out some of the details—West dropping baseball was a huge one—but it still felt like there were a million things to do to get ready. And not enough time to do it all.

  We sat in silence, watching as the evening slipped further into darkness. Dots of light appeared on the beach, kids holding glow sticks and flashlights as they sprinted across the sand.

  “What are they doing?” I asked, squinting at the shadowy figures.

  “Looks like they've got a wiffle ball out,” West said.

  I squinted more and tried to bring them into focus. There were five of them. One was holding what looked like a stick, some sort of make-shift bat, and another was winding up their arm, a slow-motion windmill. I watched as the kid released the ball, a flashlight trained on it as it moved through the air. The kid holding the stick swung hard. And missed.

  “He's not swinging level.”

  I looked at West.

  “He needs to keep the bat level. He's swinging low to high.”

  “Always the coach,” I said, smiling.

  He smiled back and shook his head. “No. Just always the baseball freak.”

  I looked back at the kids, watching as the ball was pitched again. This time, the boy swung and the stick connected with the ball, a soft thwack as it vaulted into the air before landing soundlessly on the sand. I thought about what West had said.

  “Do you miss it?” I asked.

  “Miss what?”

  “Baseball.”

  “I see a baseball nearly every day, Abs.”

  I stretched out my legs and dug my toes into the sand. “You know what I mean.”

  “No. I don't.”

  I sighed. “Do you miss playing? Practices and stuff?”

  He was quiet for a minute. “Honestly?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.”

  I felt my pulse quicken, felt the guilt well up in my gut. I'd asked the question and I was pretty sure I knew what the answer was going to be, but it still stung to hear it.

  “But not enough,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not enough to go back to it,” he told me. He scooted closer to me, pressing his leg against mine. His skin was cool and goosebumps prickled my arms.

  “I'm sorry,” I said.

  “For what?”

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “For making you choose.”

  FORTY

  WEST

  “You didn't make me choose.”

  Abby tugged at the dress of her skirt, stretching the fabric so it almost covered her knees. She released it and it sprang right back to the middle of her thighs.

  “I sort of did,” she said. “I mean, if it hadn't been for the baby, you'd still be playing.”

  “You don't know that.”

  She stared at me, disbelieving. “What the hell are you talking about? You would have already gone to Massachusetts for the summer.”

  “You don't know that,” I repeated.

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes. “Your whole life since I've known you has been about baseball. The box of stuff you showed me from high school. The scholarship your dad lost.”

  A muscle in my jaw twitched but I said nothing.

  “Going to Arizona and trying out. Getting the scholarship there and then going to USD instead. On a full baseball scholarship.”

  “Jesus.” I shook my head, irritated. “How many fucking times do we have to have this conversation?”

  “We haven't had this conversation. Not ever.” I started to protest but she cut me off, raising her hand to silence me. “We've talked about your dreams and how this is your new one.” Her voice held a note of disbelief, like she was repeating something totally asinine, something she didn't believe a word of. “And I get it. I get that you love me and you love this baby and you're happy with this decision. But we haven't talked about you missing baseball. And excuse me if I feel a little fucking guilty for knowing that you've given up something that has pretty much been the most important thing for your entire life, but I do. And I probably always will.”

  I waited.

  “So, when I see kids playing baseball and I watch you watching them, I get a little upset. Pissed with myself. Because I know what you're giving up for me. For us. And I haven't had to give up shit.”

  My mouth dropped open. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You heard me.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “How about sharing your body for the last six months? That's not giving something up?” I tried to keep my voice low but it was a losing battle. “How about not transferring to State? How about the next eighteen years of your life?”

  She gaped at me. “That's not giving something up. At least not for me.” There were tears in her eyes. “Is that how you look at this? That
you're losing the next eighteen years to being a parent? Because, for me, it feels like a gift. An unexpected one, one that I wasn't necessarily looking for, but a gift. Not a curse. Not a punishment.”

  She was twisting all of my words and I was so pissed I could barely see straight. This was not how I'd planned for the night to go. Not by a long shot.

  I pushed off the blanket and grabbed the backpack sitting in the sand. I ripped the zipper open and plunged my hand inside, fumbling around for the small box I'd put in there. My fingers closed around it and I pulled it out. Wordlessly, I tossed it into Abby's lap.

  She looked from it to me, a look of confusion on her face.

  “What is this?”

  “Open it,” I practically barked.

  She reached for it with shaking hands.

  “You think I see this as a punishment? As some sort of curse?” I kept my eyes locked on her, my mouth a thin, tight line. “Because if I did, if this was something I was dreading, something I didn't want, I'm pretty fucking sure I wouldn't be asking you to marry me right now.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O, her eyes widened in surprise.

  I dropped to my knees and reached for her hands, gripping them tight. “Abby Sellers. I want to marry you and you fucking better not say no.”

  FORTY ONE

  ABBY

  “So, clearly, you did not say no.”

  I smiled into the phone. I'd just relayed the previous evening's events to my best friend. “Uh. No.”

  Tana laughed. “No you didn't say no or no you did?”

  I stifled a laugh of my own. “I said yes, you dipshit. I said yes.”

  “I knew it,” she practically squealed. “Remember when we were talking about getting married? I knew it was gonna happen before the baby was born.”

  I was sitting in my office, leaning back in my chair. “Who said anything about that?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sat up straight and the baby protested at my sudden movement, a soft jab in my side. “I mean, we're engaged. We haven't set a date or anything.”

  And we hadn't. I'd taken one look at the exquisite diamond ring nestled in the small jewelry box West had given me and promptly burst into tears. Tears that were remorseful and happy and everything in between. We'd stayed there, wrapped up in each other's arms and then, later, we'd gone to my house and shared the news with my parents. My mom had hugged and kissed us both and my dad's stoicism cracked just a little as he shook West's hand and congratulated the both of us.

  “You can't wait,” my best friend said.

  “Watch me.”

  She huffed into the phone. “No. Look, if you're getting married you just need to go ahead and do it. Because there won't be time after the baby comes. You'll be tired and busier than shit and pretty soon, the kid will be heading out the door to kindergarten and you and West will look at each other and realize you never did the deed.”

  “Could you be any more dramatic?”

  “I'm serious,” she said. “Life will get in the way. You need to do it now.”

  “You're high if you think I can plan a wedding before the baby comes.”

  “What's there to plan?”

  “Uh...everything. Where to have it, what to wear, who to invite.”

  “If I was there I would hit you,” she said. “Not in the stomach. Probably in the face.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “I'm serious. I know you, Abs. You're not a big wedding person. Get a dress, invite me and Griffin and do it on the beach. Boom. Done.”

  “Whatever, Tana.” I picked up a file on my desk and adjusted the receiver next to my ear. “Look, I gotta get to work. I just wanted to share the news.”

  “Right,” she said, her tone resigned. “Since I'm not there in person to hear it.”

  “I know.” My knee started to bounce a little. “Sucks not having you here.”

  She sighed. “Sucks not being there. I fucking hate summer school.”

  “But it's going okay? You're passing your classes?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed again. “Barely.”

  I frowned. “Barely? I thought you needed a certain GPA to keep your scholarship.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “We were talking about you. Not me. The next time we talk, you better have a date set.”

  “I do. Due date is December 29. You already know that.”

  “Not what I'm talking about,” she warned. “Two days. I'm giving you two days.” She hung up.

  I shook my head and hung up the phone. My best friend was a piece of work.

  I grabbed the folder off my desk and walked it over to the copy machine in my parents' office. Their desks were empty. They were at a lunch caravan with other agents in the area, hopping from house to house to see some homes that had been on the market longer than normal. I knew our office had included a home on Mt. Soledad that was a tough sell because of its size: great location but a two bedroom on a small lot with no room for expansion made it less than desirable for buyers shopping that locale.

  I pulled some papers from the file and stuck them into the copy machine. I waited as the machine whirred to life, spitting out collated sheets in the trays below, and I thought about what Tana had said.

  I knew I wasn't going to be a big wedding person. In all the times I'd envisioned my wedding to West, I'd always pictured something simple. A ceremony on the beach, my parents and a few friends in attendance, a nice dinner afterward. I didn't like attention and I didn't want to spend a ton of money, especially with my parents battling the seemingly insurmountable medical bills from my mother's illness.

  But I'd never pictured myself in a tent for a wedding dress. And that's what I would need if I got married right then.

  FORTY TWO

  WEST

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing,” Abby said. She was sitting next to me on the couch. “I'm watching the movie.”

  I reached for the remote and hit the pause button. “Bullshit. You haven't flinched once.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We're watching a movie about zombies. You hate zombies.”

  She smiled. “No, I don't. I hate thinking about what zombies eat.”

  “A dozen people have died in the last five minutes and you haven't made a single sound.” I reached for her hand. “Give me a little credit.”

  “Whatever.”

  I let my fingers trail along her palm before finding and playing with the ring that now sat on her finger. I twisted it gently. “I love this.”

  She glanced down at our hands. “Me, too.”

  “No. I mean, I love it.” I looked at her. “I love knowing this is from me. Love knowing what it means. What it represents.”

  “Me, too.” She returned her gaze to the television for a few seconds before bringing it back to me. “Do you think we should get married now?”

  “What?”

  She shifted on the couch so she was fully facing me. “Should we get married now or should we wait until after the baby comes?”

  “I don't care.”

  She frowned. “You don't care?”

  I shook my head. “You know what I mean. I want to marry you. I don't care when. If you wanna get married now, let's do it. If you wanna wait, we'll wait.”

  A long sigh escaped from her and she pressed herself closer to me. “I don't know what I want.”

  “Tell me what you're thinking.”

  “I can see both,” she said. “My gut is to wait. We've got a ton of shit to figure out before the baby comes and throwing a wedding into the mix doesn't seem like the best idea, you know?”

  I nodded. “Right. I get that.”

  “But part of me doesn't want to wait.” She smiled at me. “Part of me wants to be married to you right this second.”

  I picked up my phone from the arm rest and checked the time. “Pretty sure the courthouse is already closed. But we could go first thing in the morning...”

 
She swatted my arm. “Smart ass. You know what I mean.”

  I grinned. “I know.” I leaned forward and grabbed the beer sitting on the coffee table, taking a quick swig. “I'm cool either way. You just let me know what you wanna do, when. I'll be there.”

  “You know how good I am at making decisions...” She let her voice trail off.

  I feigned a horrified look. “Shit. You're right. We'll never get married.”

  She whacked me again. “Oh my God. Stop.”

  “You two already fighting? Thought that was supposed to start after the wedding.” Griffin flipped on the living room light and I threw up my hand to shield my eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  He grinned at us. “Grabbing a drink. And waiting for you two to go hole up in your room so I can have the TV.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and I heard the refrigerator open. Thirty seconds later, he was strolling into the living room, twisting the top off a bottle of beer. He lowered himself into the recliner and brought the bottle to his lips, draining half of it in one long swallow.

  He belched loudly. “Ahhh.” He looked at me, then at Abby. “So what's up with you two? Besides the fighting and shit.”

  “We weren't fighting,” I said.

  He pointed his beer at Abby. “She hit you. And you said you were never getting married. Doesn't look good, man.”

  I picked up the remote and fired it at his head. He ducked, laughing.

  “You are sill getting married, right?” Griffin asked. He took another swig of beer before setting the bottle down on the table. “I need a reason for that best friend of yours to get her ass back down here.”

  Abby smiled. “Me, too.”

  “When's the big day?”

  “No clue,” I said. “Hand me that remote. We're watching a movie.”

  Griffin lifted an eyebrow. “The remote you just launched at my head? No fucking chance.”