Page 27

Jacob

Two Years Later

My private investigator made his money’s worth with Becca’s family. Some white collar criminals are impressive with how they cover their tracks. Then there are people like her family, who left one hell of a paper trail for every illegal thing they did. By the time all was said and done, Rodney Junior received a sentence of fifteen to thirty years in prison, while his dear mother received ten to twenty years.

I only know of their sentences because I kept up with their trials. My wife wrote them off the moment we left Miami, and never mentioned them again. She made peace with her lack of biological family. Only after my investigator found her original birth certificate were we able to piece together the first few months of her life.

Becca’s mother, Tina, struggled immensely attempting to raise Becca on her own. Contrary to what Becca’s step-mother suggested, Tina did not ask for money. She had loved Rodney Senior, and innocently hoped Rodney would come to his senses and leave his wife for her and Becca. When that didn’t happen, Tina fell into a deep depression. She lost her job, was evicted from her apartment, and could no longer afford any of the necessities of raising an infant. In a moment of intense despair, she left Becca on Rodney’s doorstep, and intended to return for Becca once she established herself again.

Unfortunately, Tina never returned. The PI tracked her to Detroit, where she seemed to disappear. A death record showed Tina passed away from complications due to breast cancer when Becca was around fifteen.

Becca mourned the mother she never knew, but found peace knowing Tina was no longer suffering in any way. It took some time, however, and I worry what I’m about to tell her will set her back again.

“Baby?” I call as I enter our apartment. It’s been two years since I met Becca Stephens, and not a day goes by that I’m not thanking God for putting me in Becca’s path.

“With the pigs!” she shouts. We lost Rose and Daffodil to guinea pig old age, and I find Becca, more often than not, hanging with the remaining four. I never knew how traumatizing an animal dying would be, and I certainly never knew the average lifespan of a guinea pig was so damn short.

“Hey,” I tell her as I stride into the room. Thunder now has a large dog bed in the corner, content to watch the pigs. All it took was Dahlia biting him once and he never chased another pig again. Placing a brief kiss on Becca’s forehead, I squat next to her, pulling a small rodent box from behind my back. “I have a present for you.”

“Oh!” she squeals. “Did you get us another guinea pig?”

“Yes …” I answer hesitantly as she carefully opens the lid. “Technically I got two. You know I have a thing for even numbers.”

“They are so adorable,” she gushes quietly. Looking at me, she asks, “have you already named them?”

“Well, I’ve named one. I wanted you to name the other one. The brown and black one needs a name, but the all white one, I’ve named —”

“Hyacinth,” she interrupts. “I know you. You named her Hyacinth.”

I do fucking love how this woman knows me, inside and out. “Her name is Hyacinth.”

To this day, I get Becca bouquets of white hyacinths fairly often, and she never tells me to stop.

“I think the brown and black one should be called Tulip,” Becca says. “I hope the rest of the girls are nice to them.”

“We’ll work on introducing everyone slowly, but for now, we’ll put the two newbies in their own cage.”

“That makes sense.” She looks up at me again, love shining in her eyes. “I don’t know why you decided to get me guinea pigs today, but thank you. I love them.”

I hesitate briefly before explaining what I really need to tell her. “I have something else I need to give you, and I’ll admit I’m a little freaked out about how you’re going to handle it.”

“Okay?” she responds with a light laugh. “You’re not going to unretire, are you?”

“No,” I chuckle. Our conversation in Miami made me acutely aware of my career, and whether or not I felt I’d achieved everything I’d set out to do. I realized quickly that I was pleased with what I’d done. I made the decision to retire at the end of that season, and I haven’t regretted it once. “My PI reached out to me. I never told you, but he continued to investigate your birth mother. He finally found some family of hers.”

“What?” she breathes, and I wince slightly as her eyes fill with tears. Fuck, I hate it when my wife cries.

“Yeah. She had a baby book for you, darlin’. She kept track of everything, even journaling a few times she saw you in public after she took you to your dad’s.”

“Oh my God,” Becca whispers as I pull the book out from behind my back. She reverently takes it from me, tracing the handwritten ‘Rebecca’ on the front. I watch as she carefully flips through the book, full of Polaroid pictures and tidbits about her newborn life.

“There’s something else, baby,” I tell her quietly, waiting until her eyes meet mine. “You have a sister.”

“What?” Tears cascade down her cheeks as she digests the information. “She had another baby?”

“A couple years after you were born. She just turned thirty-three. Her name is Emma, and she wants to meet you.”

“Really? She wants to meet me?”

“She does.”

“Does she still live in Detroit? Is she married? Does she have kids?” Becca peppers me with questions.

“She moved to Chicago. She is married, and I believe she’s currently pregnant with her first child,” I answer, but I’m surprised when Becca cries harder. “What’s going on in that head of yours? I didn’t think you’d be more upset.”

“I’m just so happy,” she cries. “Because it’s something I’ll get to share with her.”

“What?”

She gives me a watery smile as she places something in my hand. “Pregnancy.”

I stare down at the digital pregnancy test, the word ‘pregnant’ big and bold across the screen, and I forget how to breathe. “Pregnant? Really? We weren’t even really trying.”

She nods. “I’m as surprised as you. The OBGYN said it might take a while because of my age. I didn’t even realize my period was late until I got sick outside the station this morning. The food trucks didn’t smell good to the baby, I guess.”

I reach forward and tenderly touch her stomach. “There’s a baby in there.”

Becca nods again. “It’s surreal, isn’t it? I’m making a human.”

We spent the first eighteen months of our marriage enjoying each other’s company. We weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but we weren’t opposed to it either. Becca’s OBGYN explained the concept of a geriatric pregnancy, which is a bullshit way to say Becca’s reproductive system is getting older. The doctor also encouraged us to be patient and to enjoy the ‘trying’ process of making a baby. I always enjoy sex with my wife, but I could tell Becca was going to stress herself out with negative thoughts.

Two months with two negative pregnancy tests were heartbreaking, but it never occurred to me that she’d get a positive this quickly.

“I wonder how far along my sister is,” Becca says quietly, a smile blooming on her face as she says the word ‘sister.’ “She really wants to meet me?”

“She does. In fact, the private investigator gave her my phone number. I wasn’t completely confident that you’d be excited about this information, so I figured it was better to dole out my number instead of yours. Emma should be calling in about an hour.”

Becca sniffles, wiping her nose with the corner of her shirt. “This is a lot to process in an hour’s time.”

“A sister, a niece or nephew, and a son or daughter? Yeah, I’d say it’s been a big afternoon,” I laugh.

Becca’s eyes widen. “A niece or nephew! I never thought of that! How old is your information? Maybe she already had the baby. I should get a gift just in case. Oh! What if she decides she wants to do a FaceTime call instead? I look like crap. Should I shower? I have to make a good first impression, don’t I?”

“God, I love you,” I tell her, grinning widely. “You are so fucking amazing. And no, you don’t need to shower. You look spectacular.”

She rolls her eyes. “You just want to get lucky.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. “So? We have a whole hour. Might as well take your mind off everything with a couple of orgasms.”

“Oh, I guess. If you insist,” she says sweetly as she grabs my face and brings it to hers. Becca attempts to deepen the kiss, but I pull away. “What’s wrong?”

I nod toward the guinea pig cages. “Not in front of the kids.”

Standing, I swoop Becca up into my arms, bridal style, and carry my laughing wife all the way to our bedroom. She doesn’t complain with her orgasm, or the three others I give her, before I follow her into bliss myself. What a way to celebrate the best day of my life so far.

The only day that tops it is nine months later, when Becca gives birth to our son, Jackson James Mitchell.

I couldn’t have predicted the happiness I’d find when I ran into my little Spitfire years ago, or the peace and contentment she’d bring just by being near me. I guess our forecast calls for beautiful days, filled with Colorado blue skies, and I’m pretty damn happy about it.