Austin Page 7

  “Nothing for now.”

  Eyeing the box in my hands, he asks, “Is that all you want?”

  “I think so.”

  He steps over the arm of the couch and I maneuver my way out. “Wait!” Running back in I grab my grandmother’s crocheted throw, then step back out. Pulling the door down, he padlocks it again and we walk back toward the man on duty at the desk. “Goodnight,” I say as we pass.

  Joey replies, “Goodnight.”

  In the car, Austin looks over at me, my box, and the blanket. “How are you doing?”

  I don’t hesitate, being there was easier than I expected. “I’m good. Better than I thought.”

  “So he gave all your stuff back.”

  Not a question. Just a statement. “Yep.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  Turning sideways on the seat, I shrug. “Not sure yet, but it seems I have a year to decide.”

  He nods. “You hungry?”

  “Starved.” I reach over and hold his hand because even though I thought I would be the one crumbling, he seems to need the comfort. “American Bistro?”

  “Yes.” He kisses the top of my hand and smiles. “I know how much you like it.”

  “I do. Thank you and thank you for coming here with me.”

  “No problem.”

  I can breathe again. Somehow Dylan giving all that stuff back, whether I keep it or not, has eased my lungs. Feeling lighter, I take his hand and kiss the palm. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  ALTHOUGH I KNEW it was coming one day, it wasn’t what I expected at all. The day it came, I was blindsided. But first, I should take you back just about a year…

  I’m packing my stuff, throwing it into a large purse haphazardly. I don’t care. I just need to see Austin. I slip out of the gallery and hail a cab. Traffic sucks. Nothing new, but I’m still frustrated. It takes forty minutes to cross town and get to his office. I pay the cabbie and rush inside. Waving to the receptionist and then to Tony, the Office Manager, I head straight for Austin’s office.

  Tony calls, “Austin’s in a meetin—”

  But I already have the door open. “I’m pregnant.”

  The room goes quiet and five men turn around to stare at me. I shift from one foot to the other, my cheeks flaming with heat, embarrassed. Then I see Austin smile at me. He calmly asks, “You’re pregnant?”

  I gulp, then nod. “Yes.”

  He comes out from behind his desk and says, “We’re gonna have a baby?”

  “We are.”

  Taking my face in his hands, he whispers, “We’re gonna have a baby.” He kisses me. When we open our eyes, the office is empty and the door closed. Austin’s smile is so big when he asks, “When did you find out?”

  “Just before I came over. I took five tests at the gallery.”

  His hand covers my stomach and rubs gently. “How are you feeling?”

  “It’s early, so I feel great.”

  Caressing my cheek, he says, “We’re gonna do this, right?”

  “I want to.”

  “I want this baby and I want you. I want to have a family with you.”

  I moved into his penthouse five months ago. We don’t talk about marriage or kids much. We have in the past. We know we’re on the same page when it comes to those things, but it didn’t seem like we had to rush things. We did that the first time and it didn’t turn out so well. So now after almost two years together, we’re taking the plunge in a huge way, but I’m not scared. I’m happy. It may not seem ideal to some, out of order from traditional expectations, but this feels right for us. I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “I want you and a family with you too.”

  Austin wraps his arms around my waist, and says, “We should look at brownstones or a place with a yard.”

  “I like the penthouse. We can change the guest room into the baby’s room.”

  “What if we have two or three kids?”

  Laughing, I say, “You have big plans. Let’s just enjoy this one first before we start planning the Barker baseball team.”

  “Barker baseball team? I could get behind that idea.”

  “Slow down big boy. First time, soon to be mom, here. You’re making me nervous.”

  He laughs, walking back to his desk. “I’m happy. This is the best news I’ve ever gotten.”

  I sit down across the desk from him. “You really are happy, aren’t you?”

  His grin is ever present. The sparkle in his eyes shows joy. “So happy. When do you go to the doctor?” He types on his keyboard, then turns toward me.

  “I don’t know. I just wanted to tell you, so I came straight over.”

  Reaching across the wood desktop, he holds my hand. “I’m here for you. I’d like to go if you want me there.”

  “I always want you there.”

  …and he came to every appointment.

  THE BIRTH WAS a dream. I couldn’t relate to other mothers. I didn’t have a twelve hour labor or push for three hours. I had an epidural, so I wasn’t in any pain and things progressed quickly. With Austin holding my hand, our sweet boy, Theodore Weston Barker, was born on March 12th.

  That evening in the hospital, we all lay on the bed together. When I open my eyes, I see Austin holding the baby. He whispers, “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired.” I readjust, moving so I can rest my head on his shoulder and watch our son.

  Holding the baby closer to me, he asks, “Do you want to hold him? Are you feeling strong enough right now?”

  “Yes,” I say, taking him into my arms. I kiss Theo’s head, then lower him to my chest. I always thought I could be content with my job, that it somehow defined the person I dreamed of being. But I was wrong. So wrong. Being here with Austin and holding our baby defines everything that matters most. This little baby represents a love that survived my mistakes and bad judgments, a love that shone through the pain, giving me pure sunshine.

  Theodore’s blanket loosens and I move to tighten it but feel something hard through the fabric. Investigating further, I find a ring sparkling in the low light of the room. I glance to Austin just as he takes it. In the quiet room at my bedside, he kneels down on one knee and says, “I once made you a promise that I had every intention of keeping. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, your beauty outshining any painting that hangs in any gallery. I spent three years waiting for you to say yes, but would have waited a lifetime.”

  My voice is soft, the tears inevitable. “Oh Austin.”

  “You once asked me what my dreams were and I said you. What I didn’t tell you is it was really this—I used to dream that one day we’d have a family together. I think you’re the most amazing woman and I know you’ll be an incredible mother… and wife. Juliette Weston, will you marry me and give me a forever full of dreams come true?”

  Tears fall as I lean, hiding my face against his chest while holding our baby between us. “Yes.”

  I DON’T CRINGE when I hear my name anymore. I’m actually kind of partial to it these days. Austin still calls me Jules, but every now and then I introduce myself as Juliette with a smile on my face.

  My apartment has been sublet for years now after I bought it for investment purposes. I recently rented it to a young couple who moved from Nebraska. College sweethearts. Standing by the mailbox on the first floor, I put the new sticker on, replacing the old one that fell off two days earlier. With their new rental agreement in hand, I walk outside, but stop when I see Dylan standing on the sidewalk looking up. When our eyes meet, neither of us rushes to find words. Instead, we hold the moment with a gentle gaze.

  Theo is restless though. When he’s strapped in the chest carrier, he likes me to keep moving. With a little protest, I look down at him, holding the back of his head and place a kiss there. When I look back at Dylan, he smiles and nods. I can see the toll life has taken on him. He’s not a mess. He still has a great head of hair. And he just might be even more handsome with age. But a s
adness resides in his blue eyes, a stormy grey taking over. I wonder if it can ever be erased. It’s not something I’ll dwell on, releasing all that anger a long time ago.

  I smile and give him a little wave before walking away. Not running this time. When I reach the corner, I look back, but he’s gone and for a brief moment I wonder if I imagined him altogether. The light changes and I cross the street, walking back to the life I deserve, a life that seemed impossible at one time. Austin gave me a second chance, a second chance at a life full of pure love and as he puts it, dreams come true. He’s the most generous, caring man I know and I realize before any promises of marriage were ever made, he made me a promise the night we met, the night Dylan broke my heart. Austin was there at the gallery and made me a promise, a promise he kept when he said, “It will be okay.”

  He’s given me more than okay. He’s given me amazing.

  THE ANSWER WAS always yes. I made Austin a promise that day in the hospital, but today is when that yes becomes a commitment. And I have no fears or worries anymore.

  Standing in the middle of the gallery, in front of a small gathering of friends and family, I say, “The story may have changed, but this was how it was always supposed to end.” Our hands tighten. “I didn’t need a fairy tale, but ended up in the middle of one. Thank you for being strong enough to love me, for showing me that love isn’t just about healing, but about creating a new destiny, one we determine. You made me fall in love with love again. You made me fall head over heels in love with you along the way. So today, I happily become your wife as you have become my life. I love you, Austin, forever.”

  The Justice of the Peace says something, but I’m lost in Austin’s eyes as he looks into mine. Then Austin says, “Life was predictable, orderly, and completely boring until I met you. You with your tear streaked face, so concerned about a painting when you were hurting so much on the inside. When I looked into your eyes the first time, I saw a future that offered nothing more than passion and fiery outcomes. When you thought you had nothing to give, you, my love, gave me something exciting and new. Kissing you was like kissing fire despite the ice. Over the years I watched you fade, then come back to life. You were always the woman you are today. You just forgot for awhile. I’ll spend every day reminding you of how you make each day worthwhile and thanking you for our son. I love you, Jules, forever.”

  With rings on our fingers, we kiss, sealing a destiny that was always meant to be.

  SOMETIMES I THINK of Dylan. How can I not? He defined years of my life for so long, but I found that letting go of the past doesn’t erase it. Time has a way of lightening the load that once tainted it. And through it all, I can now look back and remember the good times we had. There were more good than bad when I reflect back. From where I sit today though, those memories pale in comparison to the life I’ve been given, the life I live.

  Looking over at the framed quote that sits on my desk, a gentle reminder I keep around, I read silently, “A storm doesn’t ask for volunteers.” I gave into the hard times willingly. What I didn’t realize then is that there were always other options. It just took me some time to see the beacon of light through the dark. Now that I have, I’ll hold onto to this life, finding my happiness in the present rather than living in the sorrow of the past.

  Scorned (Part 1), Jealousy (Part 2), and Dylan also available.

  THERE ARE PEOPLE who I need to thank for their endless dedication and support of not only me, but the characters and books I write.

  Dear Heather, your support, amazing outlook on life, and great editing skills are invaluable to me. Thanks for polishing my words and making them shine. But more, thank you for your friendship and love.

  Marla, you have an eagle eye that I’ve come to rely on. Thank you for editing my books and making them prettier.

  Lisa, you are a trusted source that I know I can rely on and I value the time and attention you give to my books.

  Irene, my dear friend, this journey would not have been the same without you along for the ride. Thank you for always being there for me.

  Dear Flavia, your words are inspiring and I’m so thankful for your dedication to my books and me.

  Danielle, you make magic. Thank you for not only all you do, but for your friendship and endless support.

  Corinne, you are beyond amazing. Thank you for all you do and being who you are. Mwah.

  Sometimes when you least expect it, you’re given a Cara of your very own. I treasure you more than you know. Thank you for being there for me.

  Vilma, you’re an inspiration always. Thank you for your support, open door, and friendship.

  Dear Missy, your covers on this series are beyond incredible. I’m blown away by your talent and you make it so easy and fun to work with on these projects. Thank you.

  Angela, thank you for sharing your vision and making my stories stand out amongst the rest. You are awesome!

  Some of the friends who make my world go round: Chris, Kerri, Kirsten, Julie, Lance, Liv, Michelle, Rachel, Rebecca, Ruth, Sonia, and my Yennifer.

  Thank you to my family for being the most supportive family a girl could wish for. I love you from the bottom of my heart. Forever, Always.

  NEW YORK TIMES and USA Bestselling Author, S. L. Scott, was always interested in the arts. She grew up painting, writing poetry and short stories, and wiling her days away lost in a good book and the movies.

  With a degree in Journalism, she continued her love of the written word by reading American authors like Salinger and Fitzgerald. She was intrigued by their flawed characters living in picture perfect worlds, but could still debate that the worlds those characters lived in were actually the flawed ones. This dynamic of leaving the reader invested in the words, inspired Scott to start writing with emotion while interjecting an underlying passion into her own stories.

  Living in the capital of Texas with her family, Scott loves traveling and avocados, beaches, and cooking with her kids. She’s obsessed with epic romances and loves a good plot twist. She dreams of seeing one of her own books made into a movie one day as well as returning to Europe. Her favorite color is blue, but she likens it more toward the sky than the emotion. Her home is filled with the welcoming symbol of the pineapple and finds surfing a challenge though she likes to think she’s a pro.

  Scott welcomes your notes to sl@slscottauthor.com