BRIGHTON LETS OUT a big burp, and I tear my eyes away from Tomi—still latched to my left breast—in search of my son, propped up against Ashley’s chest. His brown eyes are open wide in surprise, and the sight makes me giggle.
“Wow, buddy. That was a good one!”
“That’s my boy,” Ashley mumbles, his lips pressed against the top of Brighton’s head.
Brighton hums his reply, his whole body wobbling as he lifts his head in an effort to see me better. He coos before emitting a sigh, resting his cheek against his father’s chest.
“Do you feel so much better? Hmm? Is my sweet boy ready for some tummy time?”
Ashley kisses Brighton a second time and then lays him down on the bed between his legs, looking to me as he inquires, “You want to hop in the shower when she’s done? I’ll burp her and tackle tummy time until you get back; then you can dress them while I get cleaned up and we’ll head out for breakfast.”
“That sounds perfect. She’s just about finished.”
I shift my gaze back down onto my baby girl, and she smiles at me when her eyes find mine. My heart warms at the sight, and I sit her up, kissing her cheek before handing her off to Ashley. After I set my nursing pillow at the foot of the bed, I lean over to kiss Brighton’s chubby cheek. Anxious for the chance at a hot shower, I then gather what I need and hurry to the bathroom for a few moments alone.
I take my time under the steaming spray of water, simply because I can. I shampoo and condition my hair, and I even squeeze in a shave. Twenty minutes later, I feel completely refreshed and ready to spend the day with family. With one towel wrapped around my body, and another holding my wet hair, I enter the bedroom and find Ashley still sitting in bed with the twins. Except, now they’re playing as he sings to them. He doesn’t even notice me, which makes it better, and I admire the three of them until my heart can’t take it a second longer.
Tiptoeing my way toward the sitting chair in the corner—where we discarded the early gifts we opened last night—I grab the set of pajama’s Deb bought me, smiling as I sneak back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Unfolding the jogger sleep pants, I laugh to myself, admitting that I’m completely in love with them. They’re red, with white reindeer and snowflakes printed in that Scandinavian pattern with which I’ve recently become obsessed. I slip them on and immediately decide I’m going to wear these things all day.
The loose fitting, knit top matches the bottoms, and I hang my second towel in order to pull it on over my head. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I don’t see the parts of myself I wish I could change. I don’t give any thought to my face void of makeup, or the way the pajamas hug me a little closer than any of the clothes I’ve been wearing recently. Instead, all I can think about is how adorable my little family will be when Ashley dons his matching pair and I dress the babies in their coordinating footie pajamas.
My stomach growls, and I stop staring at my reflection as I go about blow drying my hair. I don’t bother to dry it completely, too hungry and impatient to worry about it. As soon as my locks have transitioned from dripping wet to merely damp, I return to the bed to switch places with Ashley.
When I occupy the space beside him, he shifts his gaze onto me—eyeing me up and down with a sly smirk. Chuckling, he leans toward me and presses a kiss just below my ear before he mutters, “You’re too damn cute.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he climbs out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom for his own shower. I watch him go, shamelessly ogling him the whole way. When he’s gone, I look to my babies and ask, “Should we get you dressed? Yeah?”
Leaving them in the middle of the bed for a moment, I get up to grab their outfits. Rather than white on red, Brighton’s pajamas are green with white print, while Tomi’s are white with green print. Each pair also comes complete with a matching head piece—a little white beanie for Brighton, and a headband with a green bow for Tomi. It doesn’t take me long to get them dressed, and I’m just getting ready to snap a couple of pictures when there’s a knock at the door.
“Hey—it’s Mel. Can I come in?”
I pause, listening for the shower. Certain the water is still running, I look toward the door and call out, “Yeah, come in.”
She pries open the door slowly, peeking her head in until she spots us. Her eyes light up as her gaze lands on the twins, and she scurries into the room toward the bed. I grin at the sight of her, in love with the pajamas Deb picked out for her and Scottie. Melanie’s long johns are navy, covered in Santa gnomes and Christmas trees.
“Oh, my god—this is exactly what I needed. Y’all are too stinkin’ cute.”
“Yeah, they’re always cute. But you! You look adorable.”
Melanie rolls her eyes, plucking the red beanie off her head by the navy pom-pom. “Right. Adorable girlfriend. That’s me…”
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
She sighs, stretching out across the foot of the bed, focusing her attention on the twins as she murmurs, “I thought maybe he was lying, you know? Like—like he was going to ask me to marry him today, but he didn’t want to ruin the surprise, so he pretended like he wasn’t going to. Turns out, he’s really not going to.”
Studying her for a moment, I try to find the words to say. Deep down, I get the impression that nothing I can come up with will offer much comfort. Ashley and I knew each other for less than six months before he proposed. We were married before we knew each other a year. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with him, except he’s not ready for the rest of our lives to begin. What Ashley and I have started out like the definition of whirlwind. Yet, regardless of all I can’t relate to, I know Melanie didn’t come in here to hear me say nothing.
“I wish I could offer you some answers,” I venture to say. “I wish I knew how Scottie was feeling or what he’s thinking. I don’t. Honestly, if anyone knows where his head’s at, it’s you.”
“And what does it say about me if I admit I have no clue?”
“Nothing. It means nothing.”
She flops onto her back, expelling a loud sigh as she stares up at the ceiling. “I have no room to complain. It’s Christmas. He’s out there with my dad, helping to make breakfast, wearing these ridiculous pajamas. He could be anywhere. He could be with his dad in California, or with his mom in Memphis—but he’s here with me. Why isn’t that enough?”
“It’s okay to want more, you know? It’s okay to want forever. It’s okay to want a family.”
“I want what you and Ashley have.” I lift my eyebrows in surprise as she pushes herself up onto her elbows and looks me dead in the eyes. “I want a husband who will look at me the way my brother looks at you. Corie, he worships you. I’ve never seen you fight. I’ve never even felt a hint of you two being at odds with each other. When the two of you are in a room, you’re constantly aware of one another. And don’t even get me started on Jill and Leo. They make me sick. Leo hardly even speaks, but when he walks in and Jill is there…”
“Yeah,” reply with a knowing smile. “What they have is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“You, too. You’re not that different.”
For a moment, I’m distracted as Brighton starts to fuss. I don’t even think about it as I scoop him up into my arms, holding him close as I reach out and rest a hand on Tomi’s belly. When my eyes find Melanie’s once more, the longing I see in her stare makes my heart ache.
“Nobody’s perfect. What Leo and Jill have? Believe me—it was fought for. They’ve known more pain than either of them ever deserved. And your brother and me? We’re not perfect, either. While it’s true we don’t generally get into fights, it’s not because we don’t have our disagreements or because our relationship is void of conflict. It’s not. I just happen to be married to the most laid back, patient man on the planet.
“Mel, it’s okay for you to want more. Just be careful not to wish for what other people have. It diminishes the relationship you’ve built with Scottie over the last few years. If he’s not who you want—”
“No, he is. He is,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. Reaching up to comb her fingers through her hair with the same hand, she offers me a small smile and a shrug. “I love him. I choose him.”
“Okay, well, he’s right out there, actively choosing you, too. Are you okay with giving him a little more time?”
Melanie laughs as she sits upright. She sweeps a bit of hair behind her ears and then pulls on her red beanie. “I think Ash sucked all the patience out of mama’s uterus when he was born and didn’t leave me any—but I’ll see what I can do.”
“What are you blamin’ me for?”
At the sound of Ashley’s rich, baritone voice, we both look toward the man himself. He’s wrapped in only a towel, his dark hair slicked back, making him look good enough to eat.
“Oh-kay,” cries Melanie, quickly hopping onto her feet. “Brother in a towel. I’m going to go now. Breakfast is just about ready, so, come out when you’re dressed.”
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Ashley jibes as Melanie slips through the door.
She pops her head back into the room and replies, “Merry Christmas.” Shifting her eyes in my direction, she offers me a kind smile and murmurs, “Thanks for listening. See you in a bit.” Closing the door softly behind her, she’s gone just as quickly as she came.
“What was that about?” inquires Ashley.
“Think Scottie’s ever going to propose?”
“If he knows what’s good for him.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope he does.”
Tomi interrupts us with a pathetic whimper, and I rub her belly, hoping to keep her placated for another few minutes. When her face scrunches in frustration, I look back at Ashley and demand, “Get dressed, daddy—someone wants you, and mommy’s hungry.”
“Al’right. Give me just a minute.”
True to his word, Ashley’s dressed and ready to join the rest of our family in no time. With Brighton in my grasp and Tomi cradled in his, we follow our noses to the kitchen. Emerging from the hallway and into the family room, the first person I see is Leo. The laugh that bursts out of me will not be silenced. I’ve never seen the man dressed in anything other than solid, dark colors. At Ashley’s and my wedding, he wore khaki pants—and that was a one-time deal. To see him now, wearing gray pajamas covered in Tannenbaum trees, it’s simply amazing.
“Corie,” he glowers.
“I’m sorry,” I giggle. “I don’t mean to laugh.”
“Babe, that would be a lot more convincing if you could say it without laughing,” says Jill as she sidles up to her man. Her matching gray top is stretched taut around her gloriously round belly, and she smooths her hand over the material, eyeing me with a mischievous expression.
I try to straighten my face and offer Leo another apology; but when Jill starts laughing, all bets are off.
“Oh, leave the man alone. He’s bein’ a good sport, is all. And don’t you worry, you still look quite handsome, Leo. Now, who wants a peppermint hot chocolate?” calls Deb from the kitchen. “Jill, honey, I’m so sorry—if you want one, you’ll have to drink it plain. I grabbed the mint liquor but forgot the mint extract in all our packin’ frenzy.”
“No problem. I’d love a plain hot chocolate. Thank you.”
“Al’right. One plain. Cal? Leo?”
“None for me, thank you,” mutters Leo.
Cal pushes himself out of the armchair he was nestled into and replies, “I’ll just make myself a cup of Joe, if that’s all right.”
“Of course. Am I gonna be the only heathen in this house this mornin’?”
“You know I want one, mama,” chimes in Melanie. “Corie, you can have one too, right? You’ve got enough breastmilk stocked up to indulge a little. I know it’s been ages since you’ve had a drink.”
Ashley wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I lean into his side as I smile up at him. We haven’t told anyone our news yet. Even Jill doesn’t know that I’ve taken all three tests she gave me. It’s been nice having a few days to wrap my head around it—Ashley, too. Even more, our celebratory dinner the other night was just what I needed to get out of my own head and revel in the news with my husband. Though, I can tell by the look in his eye that he’s ready to tell the family if I am.
I have no idea how far along I am, and I don’t plan on making a trip to the doctor until after the new year. Even still, all signs lead toward another nine months with no alcohol. Glancing back at Melanie, I simply shake my head and tell her, “I’ll pass.”
“I can make you a cup of coffee, if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Uncle Cal. I’m okay for now.”
“No liquor and no coffee? But it’s Christmas,” Jill says pointedly.
Looking her way, I don’t miss the way she scrutinizes me with her stare, searching for an answer to a question only she knows.
“Yes, I know.”
She raises her eyebrows at me, and I can’t contain my smile as I offer her a nod. She gasps, clinging to Leo, and I try my best to stifle another giggle.
“Hey, hey—none of that. None of that best friend, no-words-needed conversation. What’s going on?” Melanie demands to know.
I peer up at Ashley again, and he winks at me. That’s all the go-ahead I need.
IT’S BEEN A good day. Better than good. I don’t think it’d be an exaggeration if I were to label this the best Christmas I’ve ever had. After Corie shared the news that she’s pregnant again, it took a while for everyone to settle down long enough to eat breakfast. When our bellies were full and the babies were napping, we all sat down and opened presents. Even now, after the day has come and gone, my gut wrenches and my heart swells when I think of the gift Corie had made for me.
I reach for my phone, left on the nightstand beside me, as I continue to wait for Corie to finish up in the bathroom. When I unlock the screen and maneuver my way to my Instagram app, I’m not at all surprised by the thousands of notifications that await me. I don’t bother scrolling through them. Instead, I go looking for the two images I posted today.
The first was taken this morning, before breakfast. Corie’s got Brighton on her shoulder, his face pointed the opposite direction of the camera; Tomi’s in my arms, situated in the same manner. Melanie took a dozen pictures, but she insisted I post this one—with me kissing Corie on the temple. The caption under the photo simply reads: Merry Christmas, from my family to yours. #pajamaday #Christmaspajamas #twinsfirstchristmas #loveisgold
Glancing down at the first couple of comments, I chuckle at what I find. One is from @thesagemccoy, and it reads: Merry Christmas to you and yours. Can’t wait to meet your 2-for-1 specials. Those pjs, though…#dontletthewifeysee #shellgetideas. The one right underneath it is from @brittoncortnieofficial and says: Oh. My. GOSH! I just died from cuteness OVERLOAD! Tell everyone to blame those little baby booties and those freaking #famjams!!!!!
Knowing she’ll get a kick out of them, I click out of the app really quick and pull up my contacts. I find Britton’s number and open up our text thread. It’s been weeks since I’ve sent her any photos of the twins, so I send a handful with an invitation for her to stop by any time she’d like to meet them in person. With that done, I return to my Instagram and click on the second image I posted today.
There’s never been any doubt that Corie was it for me. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want her—never loved anyone the way I love her—never. But the gift she had under the tree for me today, it was as if God himself was letting me know that Corie was meant for me in more ways than I might ever know. Staring at the image of my custom, ebony, Gibson Les Paul is like staring at a dream come true. This guitar isn’t just about my music. It’s not about my talent; not about my passion—it’s a declaration made to me by my wife. It’s a promise—a vow—a symbol of my family and my music and the way they are intertwined.
I’m never going to have to choose. That’s what the guitar means. My music, it’s not just my life—it’s our life—it’s all of our lives. Knowing that—seeing evidence of that—it means more to me than I can comprehend. It’s a feeling burrowed so deep inside of me, it might as well be embedded in my very DNA.
I focus in on the little gold footprints of my children, stamped on the bottom right side of the guitar. I can tell, just by looking at them, which feet belong to who—Brighton’s a little smaller than Tomi’s. I know already, wherever I go and play, that guitar will go with me. No matter what.
“What are you doing?” Corie asks innocently, pulling me from my thoughts as she slips between the sheets beside me.
I black out the screen of my phone, setting it on the nightstand before I roll onto my side. “Waitin’ on you,” I mutter as I reach for her. I pull her close, and she rolls toward me, snuggling against my chest with no protest.
A smile plays at her lips as she slides one of her legs between mine. I know right away this night won’t be over until I’ve buried myself inside of her so deep, she can’t remember where I end and she begins. I know already, I sure as hell can’t remember.
“I’m here now,” she whispers.
“Want you to know somethin’.”
She feels her way over my side and around my back—her cool palm against my warm skin making my dick jerk. “Tell me,” she breathes.
I move the both of us until she’s on her back, settling myself between her legs as I prop myself up on my forearms, resting on either side of her head. She gasps softly at the feel of my semi-hard cock pressed against her center, and I take in every detail of her face, lit only by the dim light of the bedside lamp. Finally settling my eyes on hers, I keep my voice low as I confess, “I see you. I see who you are—the woman you are. I know what you’re capable of, and I won’t let you down.”
“Let me down? Honey, I don’t know what you mean.”
“You see me. You know me. You support me—more than anyone, you support me. There’s nowhere I’d go you wouldn’t come with me.”
Corie raises a hand to hold my cheek and murmurs, “Of course, there isn’t.”
“That’s what I’m tryin’ to say, sugar,” I insist, touching my forehead to hers. “This is not a one-way street. Where I go, you go. Where you go, I go. You’re my partner in all things. Whatever you want—whatever you want to chase, I’m right here. You don’t have to choose anymore than I do. We’re in this together.”
“Sweets,” she whimpers, lifting her other hand to cup my opposite cheek. “How do you not know that you’ve already given me more than I could ever even think to ask for? This is all I want. The life we’ve built—your music, our family—you…that’s it. That’s all I want is everything with you. And maybe that sounds shallow,” she goes on to say, tears now rushing across her temples and into her hair.
I shake my head, brushing a kiss against her lips, but she’s not finished.
Speaking through her tears, she tells me, “Maybe someone else might look at my life and see me standing in your shadow. But that’s not true. That’s never been true—that’s never been our story. Before I deserved it, before I’d earned it, I was chasing this life with you. It’s not about the money or the fame—”
“I know,” I murmur, kissing her once more. “I know it’s not about that.”
“When I’m with you, I get to be part of something so much bigger than me. The fact that you’re giving me a family on top of all of that—Ashley, you haven’t let me down yet; and as imperfect as we might be, I don’t think you ever will.”
“I love you,” I sigh against her lips.
She sinks her fingers into my hair at the same moment she hitches her knees against my hips and breathes, “I love you more.”
I hardly give her the chance to get the words out before my mouth is sealed with hers in a hard kiss. When I seek entrance between her lips with my tongue, she opens up for me with the faintest of moans. I rock my hips against hers, my erection now throbbing between us as my heart beats wildly inside of my chest.
Her grip grows tighter in my hair as she gasps, “Ashley.”
Kissing my way toward her ear, I whisper, “Sugar?”
“I need you—take me slow, please—make love to me.”
“Any way you want it, darlin’. Always.”