Page 30 of Butterfly Effect (Ottawa Regents #2)

Wade

Three Years Later

I haven’t seen Gabe weep with joy like this since our trip to India.

We’d gone to the Maldives on honeymoon, but the surprise trip to Mumbai had been somewhat of a culture shock to us both. Every sense was overstimulated beyond limits. Being there during Ganeshotsav was part of the plan, but the pictures and videos don’t do the havoc justice.

Shoulder-to-shoulder, limb-to-limb, we were two insignificant dots within a crowd of thousands headed down Linking Road to Juhu Beach, chanting and singing in chorus. A cacophony of cymbals and drums pealed out, inspiring some to throw colored powder into the air to join the smell of sandalwood and sweat. Its orange dust covered the tops of our heads, our kurtas, and cotton pajama-style pants.

The story-high Lalbaug cha Raja stood above us all, adorned in flower garlands and petals and dotted with pink and orange color brought to it by the breeze and adhered by the humidity of monsoon season. I cringed at the sweaty smear of a transliteration on my arm and repeated the cheer by ear alone. “Ganpati Bappa—Morya!”

“This is insane,” Gabe yelled, securing my hand and cinching her engagement and wedding rings in our clasped fingers.

“I know!”

The procession forged ahead but unexpectedly stopped after a few loud calls.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“No idea!”

A split occurred in the crowd, allowing dozens of young men to emerge in white short-sleeved shirts peeking from bright orange Nehru jackets and topi, giant drums tied to their torsos. Women carrying the same drums joined too, decked out in traditional jewelry, sari pleats separating their legs.

“It’s like the picture,” Gabe stated loudly in my ear. “The one of Aai.” Her rapid blinks collected tears from her waterline. “Dhol tasha.”

I squeezed her hand harder.

A sharp scream garnered the crowd’s attention as the drummers took their positions, heads bobbing with eight beats of light, steady clanging. Sudden, rhythmic bass notes reverberated, vibrations felt through the air, the earth, the heart. Cymbals paired in the raucous cadence, shooting energy through the masses. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my body from moving if I wanted to. The throng of people roiled and jumped, throbbing with the dhol flow, rejoicing in our shared humanity.

Gabe wept and wept, streaks cutting through the powder and revealing the underlying freckles on her cheeks. I cocooned her as we pulsed together, protecting her from rowdy bystanders and selfishly wanting to experience this private catharsis with her for myself and no one else.

Eventually, the crowd spilled onto the expanse of Juhu Beach and downed the clay idol, releasing it into the ocean. We settled into a spot on the trodden, packed sand, clasping our elbows over our knees, peering off into the horizon as the sun journeyed downward. My ears rang and rushed with the slowing of adrenaline, crashing in waves like the ones before us. I was surprised to be able to hear Gabe’s hush.

“I’d lost hope to ever connect with my mother. Coming here, today” —she choked through a silent sob— “I finally felt her. Her roots, her spirit. I may never know why she left, but she remains in my heart, encouraging me to live the life she couldn’t.”

My arm found her shoulder. I pressed my lips into the frizz of hair atop her sweet head.

“I wouldn’t have that without you. Thanks for making me come.”

Dimples pursed my cheeks as she nuzzled closer, wrapping her arms around the knees between us. “That’s what she said.”

Landon, his father-in-law, Rahul, Jaeger, and I sit on a sofa facing Skylar, Indi, and Gabe, their forearms linked, absolutely beside themselves. A recently unraveled gold cloth sign hangs in the background with white-outlined black text: The Newest Addition to the Regents Roster Arriving in the Offseason!

Congratulations and handshakes have already been exchanged, so I don’t know what’s going on with them. Maman and Baba clink glasses of champagne, beaming in the solidarity of forthcoming grandparenthood.

“I know why I’m crying,” my wife blubbers. “Why are you two crying?”

“‘Cause you’re pregnant,” Indi wails and pulls her loose dress taut around her belly, exposing a baby bump, “and I’m pregnant, too!”

“Way to go, buddy,” I whisper to Landon. “You’re really sneakin’ ‘em past the goalie.”

Indi’s dad phews audibly. “If it’s another girl, bless you.”

“They’re the best.” Radek was born to be a girl-dad. “I want six so they can have their own team and play puck against the neighborhood kids.”

“ Six little girls?” Rahul shakes his head. “Pass. Three was enough for me, mate.”

“Skylar, what’s wrong?” My ears perk at Gabe’s question.

She calms for a moment between sniveling. “Jaeg and I got word this morning from the adoption agency that a child is headed our way. Our child.”

Their collective weeping crescendos.

Landon and I sandwich Jaeg in a hug. “Daddy!!!”

His mouth remains downturned except for one corner, the red painting his cheeks failing to hide his excitement. “Yeah, yeah. Now get off me.” He elbows us away, which tickles my ribs, and I giggle.

“Seriously, though. We’re happy for you, Jaeg.” Landon leaves his arm on Derrick’s shoulder and squeezes before he and I exchange a look and bound from our seats, clinging to one another in a tight embrace and pretending to sob.

“We’re all pregnant!”

It’s a maudlin display that earns us multiple smacks from our wives and Skylar.

When she wraps her arms around my torso, I kiss the top of my best friend’s head and whisper into the blonde strands, dampening them with my tears. “You’re gonna be the best mom, Sky.”

“Stop it, you big bully.” She playfully shoves my chest and sniffles. “You’re gonna make me cry harder.”

Two tiny Radeks come wailing in response to our uproar, trailed by Indi’s mom. Akhila and Ellora are both toddlers now, but they’re still the team’s first babies and are protected as such.

“Will you cut it out?” Gabe scolds me. “You scared them.”

Landon and Indi pick up a daughter each and soothe them with soft coos and shushes.

Of course, they’re wonderful parents. They stemmed from sets of wonderful parents. Me? I wasn’t so sure.

“What if I’m not cut out for it? I don’t know how to be a dad.”

“I don’t know how to be a mom, either.” My wife, the lovely creature, held me tight. “We’ll figure it out and do our best, like everyone else.”

I’ll believe, do, try anything Gabe says. She’s my whole world.

My fingers toy with the oxidized silver chain around my neck while throwing a glance her way, unsuccessful in making eye contact. Occasionally, I stop to hook into the keyring-like circle joining the two ends.

“You’ve been messing around with that necklace for a while,” Landon pries. “What was it, a birthday present?”

More like a commitment. It’s a day collar, an everyday reminder of who I belong to.

“A gift for our one-year.” I smile towards Gabe, and this time, she notices and smiles back.

My heart sighs, gaze tracing the delicate threaded pearls of our matching mundavalya, then the overjoyed expression we share in the wedding photo framed on a side table.

Gabe strolls up and tucks into my side, wrapping my arm around her until my hand covers the slight swell of her lower belly. Her chin rests on my shoulder, face peering skyward. I kiss her eyes.

“Good day?”

She nods, digging her chin in. “The best. You?”

“Every day with you is the best.”

We share an agreeable hum. My wife turns to study the picture as well.

“Look at those two silly gooses.”

“That smile,” I gush. “I live and breathe and die for that smile.”

She says, “Romantic sap.” But her arm loops through mine.

My nose scrunches, accepting the compliment. “What were you thinking right then?”

“I was wondering who forced you into dancing to ‘Navrai Majhi’ in the Varaat.”

“Forced me ? Pfft. I’m a naturally skilled dancer. Those TikToks aren’t the brainchild of Maddie, you know.”

“My apologies for doubting your ability.”

“Apology accepted. I’ll have you know I helped my sorry, graceless teammates learn the choreography to Landon’s proposal flash mob and that hype song in the groom’s procession.”

“All those years at the barre paid off,” she teases. “Wanna know what I was actually thinking?”

I nod. “Mmhm.”

Streaks of hazel light up like a lamp when she peeks up at me. “That you weren’t the piece missing in my puzzle. You’re the deft hand who helped me find all the pieces and put me back together like one.”

Who says Gabe Finch isn’t a hopeless romantic?

“If you’re a puzzle, I’m a puzzle.”

She headbutts me for the comment, eyes heavy with sleep. “Okay, Noah Calhoun.”

I never imagined I’d say such a thing, but this is better than sex.

It’s the river delta of humor, comfort, and fulfillment, of the intimacy and trust we built brick-by-brick, having shed the lying and hiding under pretenses of who we’re expected to be. The type of love we didn’t know how to accept or maybe that we didn’t truly believe we deserved. And yet, here she is.

“Wade?”

I hum as a reply.

“Carry me to bed.”

An easy task, despite the long walk to the other side of the penthouse. She falls asleep before we even get to the bedroom.

Of all the versions of myself, I like this one— being hers —the best. It always leads me home and onward to the promise of a future neither of us knew was possible.

THE END