“But I digress,” she continued, voice gone from wry to soft. “You don’t need to follow every impulse in life; you don’t need to take on every gamble. But some, even ones that have burned you before, well, some of them you do. Some of the sweetest moments in life come from second chances.” I knew this was Bev giving me her blessing, and I gave her a teary smile for that.
Who knew better than Bev that second chances could work?
He was dressed nicely in a plain navy suit. It was simple and severe, and he looked just gorgeous in it. His face was pretty neutral as I opened my front door. It was a surprise visit, and I was certainly surprised. Without even thinking, I opened the door to let him in. I’d missed him and had half expected never to see him again.
“What’s going on?” I asked him, instantly suspicious by his smile. It was a sweet, bland smile, which made me think he was up to something.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” I told him.
“Oh Danika.” His soft voice was full of reproach. It was almost…comforting, as though nothing had changed since our last meeting.
He was carrying a briefcase, something I’d never seen him do before. I was instantly suspicious.
“What’s in the case?” I asked him. I automatically thought it must be for some kind of magic trick. That was, after all, what he did. “Don’t tell me. Magic, right?”
The sweet smile got bigger, lost the bland, and became mischievous. “You could say that, I suppose.”
What the hell did that mean?
He moved immediately into my living room, making himself at home on my sofa. He set the briefcase on my coffee table, popping it open. He took out a small laptop that looked ridiculous as he opened it and started typing with those huge hands of his.
I moved in front of him, one hand on my hip, the other pointing to the small black velvet bag in his case. It reeked of a magic trick.
He just smiled, shaking his head. “It’s a surprise. Let me pull something up on here, and then I’ll show you.”
I moved around him to look over his shoulder, trying to make out what he was looking at on his screen.
“Step one: Pick an adoption agency. I already found one. I hope you don’t mind me just deciding. I’ve been doing nothing but researching it for the past week, so trust me when I say I’m making an informed decision.”
My heart was trying to pound its way out of my chest, but I managed to keep my voice calm. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Step two: Choose the country of adoption. I’ve thought this over a lot, and I was thinking, and tell me if I’m wrong, that it doesn’t really matter. But I heard that the process goes faster if you choose a country yourself, so I went to the liberty of putting them all in a hat.”
He bent forward, plucking the black velvet pouch out of the briefcase and pulling it open until there was just enough room for my hand to fit in. “I think you should do the honors.”
I put my hand in, mostly because it was so surreal that I couldn’t quite believe what was going on. I pulled out a small piece of paper that only said China.
“China. Perfect. Now that that’s out of the way, Step three: Do a shit-ton of paperwork. I’ve heard that part is a headache, but it’ll be well worth it.”
“Tristan—”
“Oh, wait, I forgot something important. Reach into the bag again.”
I don’t know why, but I just did it, though I knew we needed to talk more than he needed to continue with this.
Whereas before my hands had skimmed over several small pieces of paper, now it held only one thing, at the very bottom. He hadn’t so much as twitched, that I could tell, since the last time I’d reached in.
I yanked my hand back like it had been burned the second I felt what was inside. I knew what it was instantly.
I started shaking my head as Tristan started nodding that yes, it was just what I thought it was.
He got down on one knee in front of me.
I covered my face with my hands.
He started laughing. “I learned my lesson the first time. Notice my clever location is very much private.”
“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice muffled by my own hands.
“You know,” his deep voice was affectionately amused.
He moved my arm a bit, but not to take my hands from my face, as I originally thought.
Instead, he covered the spot on my chest just over my heart. He kept it there for a few beats, and then he was shifting, standing, then pulling me against him, pushing my face down on his chest with one hand, the other moving to cover my chest again.
“Do you hear that?” he uttered quietly.
“Hear what?” I whispered back.
“It never stopped, did it?” he asked softly. “All this time. Years. And my heart is still beating in time with yours, still working, above all else, to keep that even pace. Fight it all you want, but even our bodies betray our feelings.”
As though in direct contradiction, my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest at his words.
I clenched my eyes shut tight, clenched everything as I spoke. “I can’t have children.”
“Oh, sweetheart. You haven’t been paying attention. Did you think the way I felt about you would change because of that? I am not that guy. I am the guy who has been in love with you for over six f**king years. I am the guy that has thought about you every day. I miss you every day. What happened—what we lost together—breaks my heart, but it doesn’t change anything. I still want to marry you, and I still want you to be the mother of my children.”