As you might have guessed, I wasn’t excited about the holidays this year, but then again, I am. I’ll get to the good stuff soon, but the bad always comes before the good.
For now, you’re probably wondering the bad?
Well, there’s certainly bad and his name starts with an A. Might as well end in an E as far as I’m concerned because I’ve never been more disappointed in him as I am now, and that’s fucking hard to accomplish after the shit he’s pulled in the last five months. By the way, our divorce was final two days ago. Thank fuck.
After the incident at the house a week before Halloween, I was granted full custody of the boys pending a hearing.
Guess who didn’t show up for the hearing?
Austin.
He didn’t call on Thanksgiving, either. It’s now Christmas Eve and guess who hasn’t called or asked to see his kids?
Austin.
He did send them each a gift, one I’m sure was picked out by Brie. They send fucking gift cards to Best Buy. How impersonal can you get? Even my neighbor put more thought into the boys’ gifts.
They even had the nerve to sign the card, Dad and Brie and baby boy Lucas. I ripped the card up and threw it away. Too much?
Probably, but I was pissed off he couldn’t come see his kids.
Wanna know the worst part about this? The boys haven’t asked about Austin or asked to see him in over a month. I’d love to say this makes me happy, but it doesn’t. I feel bad for them not having him in their life.
I’m in the kitchen making gingerbread cookies and attempting to perfect their faces when Ridge comes into the kitchen from outside. He sets an envelope on the island and takes one of the gingerbread cookies and bites the head off.
Then spits it out in the garbage. “I hate ginger.”
I laugh. “You hate all food.” It’s true. Ridge’s harder to cook for than the boys.
“Not true.”
Still trying to perfect the face on the gingerbread man, I nod toward the envelope. “What’s that?”
He shrugs, palms against the counter, leaning in. His expression reminds me of the day in the school when I first saw him after ten years. “Open it and find out.”
“Can you?” I hold up the tube of frosting. “I’m kinda in the middle of something.”
Again, he shrugs. “Guess you don’t care then.” And then he takes two more cookies, leaving the headless one on the counter and disappears into the living room where the boys are playing some zombie video game.
“Take that!” Cash yells. “I ate your face!”
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I reach for the envelope. Inside is a legal form, and my heart races.
I read through it, and it’s a grant deed transferring shared ownership of Calistoga Speedway to me. That’s not what makes me cry. I had a feeling that was coming when he asked me to be the track promoter for the speedway this coming season. I agreed because I wanted to do something like that since I was a kid. Now I finally can.
What makes me cry is who he names as the beneficiaries. Equal rights to Cash Alan Jacob and Grady Nathan Jacob.
My throat tightens, my stomach burning. I drop the papers in my hand, gripping the counter and draw in a deep breath trying to fight the lump rising in my throat.
Nope. Not gonna work this time. I rush to the bathroom and vomit.
I’m not sick.
I’m emotional.
I’m in love.
I’m pregnant and relieved to have a man in my life who’s thinking of more than himself.
I know, you’re shocked. I slipped the pregnancy in there, didn’t I?
Had to. It slipped in on us too.
There’s a knock at the door, soft and subtle and Ridge asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Be out in a minute.” I brush my teeth, run water over my face and then step out to find Ridge leaning into the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
He’s smiling, but there’s concern in his features. “How long does morning sickness last?”
I breathe out slowly, shaky, nervous. . . and then lean into the wall across from him, my hands flat against the wall. I think about the papers, and I don’t ask him about the grant deed. I know why he did it. “Usually the first trimester but with the boys, I was sick through the whole pregnancy,” I answer, falling deeper in love with him.
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He steps forward, closing the distance between us. His left hand rests on my hip, then trails across my stomach. I’m not showing yet, I’m only ten weeks, but it doesn’t stop Ridge’s newfound obsession with the life growing inside of me. Life he had a hand in and would no doubt be a part of.
His head dips forward, lips teasing at my ear. “Can we tell the boys tonight?”
Our plan was to wait and tell them Christmas morning, but patience has never been Ridge’s strong suit. “If you want to.”
He draws back. “I want to now.” And then he marches down the hall, and I’m thinking he’s going to tell them himself.
I follow him, and when I enter the living room, he’s on the couch with both boys, one on each side of him. Ridge’s holding a card in his hand.
I eye the three of them suspiciously. “What are you guys up to?”
The boys giggle, and Ridge hands the card to me. No words. Just smiles from boys withholding secrets.
Taking the card in my hands, I run my fingers of the construction paper they used, breathing in slow breaths of courage not to burst into tears just yet. I open it to find a handwritten note from the boys and a ring taped to it.
I laugh, but underneath Grady’s note is one from Cash saying: No I Don’t!!!
Tears burn my eyes and nose. There’s even a check yes or no box.
I look up at Ridge. He’s full of surprises today. “Do you have a pen?” I ask, tears released.
He winks and pulls a red crayon from his pocket. “I do.”
Do you notice the way he says I do?”
Me, too.
Taking the red crayon from him, warm fingertips brush mine in the exchange, his heat undeniable. There’s nothing cold about this man.
My eyes drift to Cash first. His expressions hopeful, his demeanor almost giddy. He winks at me; a gesture he’s learnt from Ridge. It’s his okay. His approval.
I move my fingertips over the simple diamond ring and then look to Grady, who’s standing now, his hands on Ridge’s shoulder, his excitement unable to be contained as he jumps around. “Say yes, Mom. Say yes!”
Taking the crayon between my fingers, my eyes meet Ridge’s as I check the box. His breath draws in, as though he’s waiting on my answer for his next breath.
Handing it back to him, Ridge leans forward, taking it from me. His lids lower to my answer.
I watch his chest move, his exhale, his relief.
He nods, his jaw tense, and I notice his hands are shaking. I’d give anything to know what he’s thinking.
Scooting forward on the couch, he kneels in front of me and takes the ring from the card, placing it on my finger. Leaning in, he holds my gaze and hand. “This one stays forever.” And then he presses his lips to mine.
Did you burst into tears yet? I nearly do.
“Did she check yes?” Grady asks, reaching for the card.
Cash slaps his shoulder. “Yes, dummy. That’s why he put the ring on her finger.”
“That means you can’t give it to Arrow now,” Grady teases, shoving Cash.
He growls at his brother. “I don’t like that girl!”
While the boys tease, push and shove, Ridge pulls me on his lap. “Hey, dudes, we got something else to tell you.”
They both turn, and you can immediately tell they’re not sure what that means. Last time they heard those words, Austin told them he didn’t love me anymore and was moving out.
With the Christmas tree shimmering behind them, bright reds, greens, and blues contrasting against the worried sky-blue in their eyes, I start bawling and stare down at the ring on my finger.
How’d this happen? How’d I go from getting a divorce to getting engaged in the same year?
Ridge looks to me for approval, and when I nod, he’s about as giddy as the boys had just been. “Your mom is gonna have a baby.”
The boys don’t say anything at first. They really don’t need to say anything at all because their beaming smiles are enough.
“Really?” Grady asks. “We’re gonna be big brothers?”
“Cool.” Cash nods, then glares at Grady. “I’d like a sister this time.”
I’m an emotional shit show of tears while Ridge is the one holding it all together, like usual.
The boys move on pretty quickly to counting the presents under the tree. Ridge’s arms tighten around me, and I lean my back against his shoulder. He kisses my temple, his lips lingering as I lift my hand staring at the ring once again.
“I hope you like it. You’re never taking it off,” he teases, but we both know he’s not teasing.
“I love it and I love you.”
You’re in love with him too, aren’t you? Too bad. He’s all mine.
Everyone wants to fall in love. Why?
Because it’s the only experience in life where you feel completely alive. Everything inside you is heightened, every emotion magnified. It may only last a moment, a night, an hour, an afternoon, but it doesn’t discount the value of falling.
“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes tender and bright. I want this look for the next sixty years.
After my divorce, I felt unloved, unwanted, undeniably broken. I took comfort in knowing starting over wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.
Love’s complicated. It’s not meant to be perfect.