Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) (12 page)

Ever since the talk Brody had with Trigg on the porch, things have been progressing on the PDA front. Brody touches me in ways I don’t think the kids notice, but that has me feeling closer to him than any time before.

I pour the coffee, butter, coconut oil, gelatin and vanilla into the blender when everyone is making their way down the stairs.

“Hey! Look who it is!” Brody says loudly as he enters the kitchen, followed by the kids. He kisses the top of my head as he passes me, squeezing my hip as he reaches for a coffee mug. “Are you feeling more alive today?”

“Finally.” I put my hands on the kids’ heads as they head to their chairs. “Hi, babies. Trigg, are you ready to go back to school today?”

He shrugs and climbs on one of the high stools. “Yeah.”

I shrug back and pour the frothy concoction into the coffee mugs.

“You should make a video for that, Mom. I don’t think we’ve done one for your weird coffee,” Harper says while I brush her hair. Brody is cracking eggs into a skillet for breakfast. He’s taken over my house and formed a new routine with them. They’re already dressed and have their shoes on. It seems impossible, but for him they do it.

“We grew up on bulletproof coffee, princess. It’s really good for you.” I sit next to her and sip the smooth coffee.

“The stuff you put in it looks disgusting,” Jet exclaims loudly.

I laugh and cough slightly. It’s getting better, but too slow for me.

“One day I’ll let you taste it.”

Jet makes a gagging face. “Bleh. Nah, I’m good.”

Brody and I laugh at Jet’s expression and share a look. How I’ve missed those—the little looks of shared humor that parents take for granted, but are blaringly absent when you have no one to share it with. Brody puts a plate in front of me first as he serves the table.

“Thanks, babe.” I think my heart stops. There it is again, that thing that’s been in the dark for the whole of our budding relationship is finally coming out into the open. My eyes track to Harper and Trigg. Harper looks dreamy, a small smile on her face as she looks back and forth between us. Trigg looks nonchalant; like it’s something he hears every day. I feel Brody’s hand slide under my hair to squeeze my shoulder. My eyes are drawn to him. I turn my head, leaning my face against his hand and watch him smile and shrug at me.

“Ack. If you two start kissing, I’m for real gonna puke. I can’t take this before breakfast,” Jet says loudly. Brody and I are frozen, both of our eyes wide, breath suspended, until Harper bursts into the sweetest giggles I’ve ever heard. Every laugh makes me think that, but this time I think it’s the definition of the word beautiful. Trigg quickly follows with a shake of his head, lifting his milk to his mouth, but having to put it down again as he snickers.

I almost collapse against Brody in relief, but grip the table to keep myself upright. Brody gives me another, harder squeeze before bringing more plates to the table for the kids.

“Thanks, Brody,” sounds simultaneously from the kids as we dig in. After a few minutes of silverware scraping plates, I try to make a joke.

“Who knew Brody could cook, huh?” The kids are less than impressed with my question, since he’s been feeding them for a week.

“You never asked. I was a cook in the Navy,” Brody says with a straight face. My fork clatters as I drop it, studying his straight face.

“You were a cook in the SEALs?” I ask incredulously. Brody does a chin lift thing, like he doesn’t want to talk about it but is dead serious. I fall back in my chair and huff a breath.

“Wooooow,” Trigg drawls out with a shake of his head. Jet laughs with food in his mouth and it goes spewing across the table to Harper. She gasps, her hands up in the air, before she succumbs to the giggles again.

I look directly in front of me, to the far side of the table. Brody begins chuckling deeply, making me realize he totally had me going for about five seconds. I feel stupid, but my family is happy so I keep it up.

“What?” I ask, feigning confusion. “Who feeds the SEALs?”

Brody wipes his mouth with a napkin before saying, “Zookeepers, generally. People, definitely.” The kids completely lose it and I share another smile with Brody. I love my family.

~

After Brody takes the kids to the bus stop, he finds me in the bathroom getting out of the shower. I’m putting mascara on, and he takes advantage of me being bent over the counter to get closer to the mirror by pushing his hips into my ass. I reflexively push back, putting the wand back into the mascara tube.

“That went well,” Brody murmurs as he moves my hair out of the way to kiss my bare shoulder, causing me to shiver.

“They seem to be adjusting fine,” I manage as he trails his kisses across to the nape of my neck.

“Mmm,” he hums, tugging on the edge of my towel, making it open.

“Brody,” I mildly protest. Don’t ask me why. Maybe I’ve still got sick brain or something.

“Do you know what my favorite part of you is?” he asks suddenly, straightening away from me.

“No. My heart?” I guess, thinking he was about to say something sweet again.

He smirks, meeting my eyes in the mirror before biting his lip and moving his fingers lightly from the top of my neck to my ass. “I’m not that good, baby. No, my favorite thing is this line right here. There ridges and valleys on your spine are exactly the same as I remember.”

He meets my eyes and keeps them locked as he bends out of my view. “Right here,” he whispers, “my lips kissed you right here a lifetime ago, and now we have a lifetime again. This is my spot, this line.”

My breath catches, my heart swells and I have to whisper back, “I love you.”

Brody sighs from deep in his soul as he traces my spine, up and back, and over again. My skin is covered in waves of goose bumps, rising and receding with his touch. “Oh, baby I love you so much,” he looks back up to meet my eyes in the mirror. “I love your kids,” his breath catches, and he looks down. I hear his belt buckle jingle briefly before I get his eyes again. “Marry me. Let me help you raise your kids and make new babies. I want our life to start together, Jules. You’re my forever.”

My hands fly from the counter to my mouth, my weight not distributed properly for the fast movement and I start to bend over. Brody wraps a quick arm around my waist, bringing our bodies together. I feel him slide in between my legs and close my eyes.

“No, no, no,” he whispers in my ear. “Give me those eyes, baby. I want all of our babies to have your eyes.” I sob out a breath and see him grinning as he presses his lips to my jawline. “Say you’ll do this with me, Jules. Become my Mrs. Dentin.”

My mind flashes to all of the notebooks my mom probably still has of a young girl dreamily writing her name with her love’s last name. I can do nothing but nod my head as the tears fall. Without warning, Brody enters me from behind, filling my body as he does my heart. “I need the words, Juliet.”

“Yes, Brody. I’ll marry you. Yes, yes, yes . . .”

We haven’t said anything to anyone about this new development in our relationship. Honestly, I wanted time to freak out and have Brody put me back together again. And I did. But it seems that there was a different plan in place. I’m a planner, that’s what I do. I plan blog posts, video posts, school lunches, and just recently, date nights.

This, I did not see coming. Why, I have no idea. Everyone knows that when you take antibiotics that it can make birth control ineffective. Could I have possibly conveniently forgotten?

Standing in the bathroom watching a test strip turn pink, I have a huge sense of déjà vu. I look around to the gardenia wallpaper and remember when I stared at those flowers over a decade ago. I remember feeling scared. I feel scared now, but definitely not for the same reasons. This time, I worry how my kids will take the news. I worry about starting over at thirty. I worry about how Brody will take the news of a pregnancy so fast after his proposal.

“Jules? Babe, are you sick again?”

I look to the door and back down. What do I do? Wait and go to the doctor before I tell him? That doesn’t seem fair when I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin wondering what he’ll think.

“Babe. The kids are gone to school. If you’re putting on something sexy I appreciate it, but trust me. Not necessary.”

I smile and shake my head. Oh, Brody. Turning the lock, I open the door, immediately backing up as he walks into the room and grips the counter beside me.

“So it’s not lingerie. Is your stomach acting up again?” He puts a hand to my forehead, but I shake my head. His eyes roam my face, trying to puzzle me out. “You look nervous. You aren’t about to break up me with me are you? ‘Cause I swear, Jules, I will freakin’ handcuff you to me. Don’t even think for a second I—”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.

“Won’t . . . What?” Brody stares into my eyes, his face hard. “You’re what?” he asks again.

“I just took a test. The pills weren’t effective with antibiotics and I had to take them until they were gone remember—”

“This is fucking . . .” Brody breathes through his mouth and rakes his hands into his hair. “This is fucking . . .”

“I’m sorry. I should have known bett—”

“This is the best day of my fucking life. Are you okay? Do you want another kid? Maybe you don’t.”

“I do!” I say quickly. “I do.”

Brody’s face loses the worried frown, and he graces me with the most beautiful smirk I’ve ever seen on his face. He puts both hands on me, bringing my head to his and whispers against my lips, “Keep saying that.”

BRODY

“Happy birthday, Daddy.”

“Happy birthday, Dad.”

“Happy birthday, Daddy.”

The words ring out in the cold simultaneously, drifting over the white stone and disappearing with a cloud from their lips. The kids place their painstakingly picked presents on the frost-covered ground and touch their dad’s name on the headstone.

Juliet has been taking the kids to their dad’s grave in Arlington Cemetery from the first time he was laid to rest in this hallowed ground. Having all of us make the trip was as much a pain in the ass as it was non-negotiable. My first trip last year was awkward, to say the least. What do you say to the man who stole your first love from your fingertips, only to leave her in the ultimate sacrifice for our freedom? I don’t fucking know.

I feel a hand on my arm, a small hand that means more to me than air. A hand that, despite the cold, warms me more than the sun ever could. Juliet. I give a slight twitch of my lips, not really a smile, meeting those gorgeous baby blues that tell me all of her pain, all of her hopes, and all of her fears in a single glance. I stand motionless, as long as necessary. I would stand all night and tomorrow, too.

I look to the grass in front of me and send a silent message.

Sebastian. Happy birthday, man. You know this is weird for me, but I know you loved them, and I know you would want them to be happy. I just want you to know that they’re looked after, they’re loved. Maybe not the way you would have done it, but seriously, we’re lucky bastards. You made the best kids I’ve ever seen. I’m lucky to know them. Honored to love them. I want you to know that I don’t take a second for granted. We haven’t forgotten you, we talk about you all the time. More than I think Juliet was doing without me. They love you as the father they lost, and as the man you were to their mom.

Am I glad you’re gone? No. If I could give those kids their dad that they miss, that they picture in their heads every time they say the Pledge of Allegiance, or have a bad day and wish you were there, I would do it in a second. I love them all enough to want that for them.

But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for the family you’ve given me. It couldn’t have been easy knowing the history we had, and you loved that beautiful girl despite the past. I’m envious of you for having the kids’ births, their first words, first steps. Just know that while I have their present and God willing, their future, you will always be right there, in their hearts, in their pasts and Juliet and I will make sure you’re carried into their futures as well.

We cemented a flagpole in the front of the house, and every morning Trigg, Jet, and I raise the flag. We talk while we’re doing it, about the people that have fought for this country and given that ultimate sacrifice. I think it helps me as much as them, to be honest. With everything that goes into a career in the military, we, as a people, get sad, and angry. I’m certainly not an exception. But through these kids’ eyes, I am finally able to relive the happy times. The people that we were blessed to have in our lives, even for a brief time. We laugh and pass down jokes and funny stories that might have been forgotten in time. We honor you, and all of those angels in heaven guarding the gates. We will never forget. Not any of you.

Harper is doing a social science project about veterans and you have a starring role in that. It’s caused us to reach out to your parents. I know you weren’t close to them, but they’ve been great. They’re getting to know the kids, and they love hearing all of the stories, maybe as much as your parents love telling them. Her leg is doing so much better, but it’s slow going with the arthritis. I think everyone has benefitted from moving home.

Jet sniffles and gives a dramatic shiver, pulling our attention away from our thoughts. Jules leans down to put her sweet lips on his hat-covered head. Trigg touches the white stone one more time before heading down the row. Jet follows his brother’s motion, and our princess, Harper, kisses her lips before blowing it at the sky.

“You ready, babe?”

Juliet nods her head as she takes a deep breath, blinking back tears that make her eyes look as deep as the ocean.

“Yeah,” she whispers. I lean down and wrap my hand around the handle of the car seat, briefly checking under the blanket covering our sleeping daughter. My other arm goes around her shoulders, pulling her into that sweet spot, and we make the long trek past the hundreds of other soldiers lain to rest in this cemetery. Some going back hundreds of years, to the battles that founded this country.

My eyes move to the hills of white headstones before looking up at the sky.

Thank you. Thank you for sparing me. Thank you for our chance.