Five years later
Greg was right when he said he was going to marry me. Less than a year after he bought the house next door, we gave up trying to do things on the society-approved timeline and went for it. We knew we were going to be together forever and raise our girls as one big happy family anyway. What was the point in delaying the inevitable?
Best decision we ever made.
Planning a wedding while working and raising children seemed like such a daunting task, we opted to celebrate the way we do it best… with a backyard barbeque. It was basically all the same people who come to all the birthday parties anyway. They just all dressed in their Sunday best and a florist set up white flowers everywhere.
The one hitch we ran into wasn’t much of a surprise. Greg warned us that Christopher would be a loose cannon as a ring bearer and it was probably a better idea to keep the rings in his pocket than actually put that child in charge of the jewelry.
He was right.
I guess Christopher got bored as he was waiting to walk down our makeshift aisle. As soon as his foot hit the back patio, he took off running, threw the pillow right at Greg’s face, and then climbed to the top of the play scape. I mean, all the way to the top. At the peak of the fort, one foot on each side of the roof.
My matron of honor spent my wedding standing underneath the structure so she could break her son’s fall if needed. No judgement here. We all agree, broken necks and mini-tuxedos don’t go well together. There’s no way to get your money back if a penguin suit has to be cut off in the ER and those deposits aren’t cheap.
A caterer put the final touches on the party, providing an amazing hot dog bar, complete with all the fixings you could ever imagine, and weiners cooked to perfection. Greg fed me the first one, wedding-cake style, and didn’t even smash it on my face.
He’s so romantic.
I became Mrs. Greg Brady that day, a fact Callie never seems to let go of. And honestly, with as many kids as run around here, the last name seems perfectly fitting.
In the shock of all shocks, and I say that sarcastically, James and Keri broke up shortly after Greg and I got married when she found out he was cheating on her. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes that she was so shocked a man who got engaged to her while he was married to someone else could suddenly fall out of love with her. The other part of me cheered when she took him for half of everything he had. Which was half of what he started with when we got divorced. So now he has a quarter of everything he started with.
You’d think he would learn his lesson. Nope. He’s already married to someone else. That’s wife number three. So far. Good luck, dude.
We actually don’t hear from James very often. He stopped picking up the girls on his scheduled weekends a couple years ago and only shows up every once in a while. Like when he’s showing off what a good dad he is for his new wife. At first, it was hard on all the girls. Especially on Fiona. She has the most memories of him so I know, at a minimum, she’s disappointed in who he turned out to be. I do, however, suspect Maura is more affected than she usually lets on, but the girls have an amazing therapist who reassures me that everything they’re feeling is appropriate and they’re open with her about their feelings and are incorporating healthy ways of coping with their grief. It also helps that Greg does an amazing job as a stand-in father. But they’ve always loved him, so it doesn’t surprise me at all. It also helps that we got custody of Peyton.
Yep. She lives with us full time now. Libby started dropping Peyton off more and more because she was “busy” or “had to work.” We didn’t mind at all. In fact, we encouraged it. Our home was the most stable environment Peyton had and the more she could be surrounded by normalcy, the better off she was. Eventually we had enough documentation that we went ahead and filed for full physical custody. Libby fought it at first, but when her own mother agreed it was best for Peyton, she went ahead and signed off on the change. She also raised holy hell about losing her child support, but we never once heard her complain about losing her daughter. It was a huge sign that we did the right thing, even though it was stressful and expensive.
Many, many times over the years, Greg and I have laid in bed, discussing how we found these losers and how the hell they fooled us into marrying them. Clearly, they are terrible people. So we’re either really stupid or they are very good at showing different sides of themselves depending on the situation. Welcome to the age of entitlement and narcissistic behaviors. Ain’t it grand?
“Mo-OOOOOM!!”
Greg winces as Fiona’s shrieking voice bounces around the room. I slap his hand away from the bowl of chips I just poured, but he’s determined.
“Those are for the party,” I remind him as he finally gets one and pops it in his mouth.
“If I have to put up with a dozen teenagers tonight, I get to snack on their food. Even trade.”
We look over when Fiona comes storming in the room, stopping to put her hands on her hips and shoot us a glare. “Why are there nine-year-olds at my party?” she demands in that tone all thirteen-year-olds have. “This is a boy/girl party for teenagers only. So why are they here?”
“Because they live here,” I respond. “And you can’t kick them out of their house.”
She huffs. “Can you at least kick them out of the garage? They don’t need to be at my party.” She looks down at our hands, Greg’s still clasped in mine, his arms still wrapped around my waist. Crinkling her nose, she adds, “And can you stop, like, doing that?”
“Doing what?” Greg asks innocently and begins kissing his way down my neck. “Kissing your mother? No can do. Her kisses are too sweet.”
Fiona turns and tramps away mumbling, “You guys are disgusting,” under her breath. The whole thing makes me laugh. He loves embarrassing her.
“You do realize she’s the least-dramatic of the bunch,” I say, as I pull away to grab the hot pads and pull the pigs-in-a-blanket out of the oven. “Once the others start going through puberty, we are totally screwed.”
“And I will have fun embarrassing them with our acts of love. Ow, that’s hot,” he blurts out, dropping the croissant and shaking out his fingers. Serves him right for grabbing food straight off the cookie sheet before it has a chance to cool.
Before I can reprimand him for stealing more party food, a booming voice calls from the front door. “Is that dinner I smell?”
Aputi rounds the corner and kisses me on the cheek, handing me a platter of freshly made taquitos.
Yes, Aputi. He’s been the most surprising addition to our fold.
Right before we got married, as we were trying to figure out what to do with Greg’s house, he got a call from Aputi. Turns out, his daughter lived in the area and didn’t want to stay with her mother anymore. In her full-blown teenage years, the two of them weren’t getting along and she wanted to get to know her dad better. Of course, Aputi jumped at the chance to raise Amber for the few remaining years of her childhood and decided the best course of action was to move here so his daughter could still be close to her mom.
In that moment, we became rental property owners and it’s turned out great having them live next door. Not only is his daughter, Amber, our favorite babysitter, the love of Aputi’s life was practically around the corner. Her name is Deborah.
Yes, that Deborah. As it turns out, the uptight, high strung, half-crazy woman who ended up divorced when her husband decided she was too OCD for his taste, is the perfect match to this quiet, huge, intimidating Samoan dude. He calms her crazy. She takes care of him. They adore each other and it’s ridiculously cute to watch.
“Thanks,” I remark, putting the platter next to the rest of the food. “Where’s Deborah?”
“She’s cooking the rest of the taquitos and trying to get Trevor off the Xbox.” He snatches a handful of chips out of a bowl, eliciting a glare from me that he completely ignores. “She’ll be here in about ten.”
“You didn’t want to wait for her?”
An ornery smile crosses his face. “I’d rather be here to see the fireworks when Christopher shows up.”
“Christopher is coming?!?” Fiona screeches again.
Greg immediate rubs his ear with his finger, a grimace across his face. “Weren’t you just in the other room? I need to attach some bells to your shoes. You’re getting too sneaky as you age.”
Fiona completely ignores Greg, too busy staring me down. I look back at her like she’s being ridiculous. “Of course, Christopher is coming. This may be your first girl/boy party,” I chide as a shove the bowl of chips in her hand to take out to the garage, “but this is our family.”
She stomps her feet, some sort of garbled half yell/half scream coming out of her mouth before she turns on her heel, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a huff as she leaves.
Aputi looks over at Greg. “This is gonna be a fun few years.”
“At least she’s not dating yet,” he responds, patting Aputi on the shoulder. “Hope you’re enjoying that.”
Aputi groans. “Don’t remind me. It took everything in me not to pound the shit out of the loser Amber brought home for dinner the other day.”
“Who brought home a loser?” Callie asks, walking in with a giant cake box.
“Amber,” Aputi responds.
Callie carefully slides the box onto the counter. “You say that every time she’s dating someone new.”
“It’s true every time she’s dating someone new.”
The cake box is opened, revealing a two-teared, black and white cake with Fiona’s name written in beautiful calligraphy icing, a giant 13 candle at the top. It’s beautiful. And over the top. Some things never change.
“Well,” she responds, as she steps back and inspects the cake for any flaws that need to be fixed. “Get used to it because she’ll probably marry a loser the first time around. Look at all of us.”
We all look at each other and kind of shrug like “She’s not wrong.”
Despite her dig, Callie and Ben are still married and spend most of their time arguing. I’m convinced she gets some sort of sick pleasure out of thinking up creative ways to get him back when he pisses her off. For instance, the time she gradually weaned him off caffeinated coffee all the way to decaf. He kept increasing the number of cups of joe he would drink to make it through the day. Then one day, she added back the full-strength version without telling him. He was strung out and jittery as hell. I’m still not sure how many hours he stayed awake before he finally crashed.
That’s when I realized it’s all some weird form of foreplay they enjoy, so I stopped even asking about it. Now, when she bitches, I just laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. If it works for them, who am I to judge?
Suddenly, Christopher and Trevor go racing by, Max and Peyton hot on their heels. No telling what they’re up to, but judging by Fiona’s scream, it’s not good. Yet, we’re all so used to it, none of the adults even make a move to go investigate.
Christopher is still a death trap waiting to happen. We can’t figure out how he hasn’t broken any bones yet, but there are wagers floating around our group of friends about concussions and teeth being knocked out. At nine years old, Christopher has been playing pee-wee football for a while and he loves it. I’m convinced he’ll play through college and maybe even beyond. Aputi practically foams at the mouth when anyone mentions Christopher’s potential.
I look around the room as Deborah walks in and realize, it’s all done. We’re ready for tonight. All we need now are a dozen teenagers to walk through that door and the party will officially begin.
Suddenly it hits me… I have a teenager. The memories of my own teenage years are so vivid, and that’s the stage my daughter is now in.
Wow. It’s like her life is just beginning. What a strange revelation.
Greg puts his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. Whispering in my ear, so as to not interrupt the conversations around us, he asks, “You ok?”
I squeeze my arms around him and nod. “Yeah. Having a moment, I guess.” He holds me tighter and we enjoy watching our friends and family laugh and be together.
It’s been fun building this big group of friends. I’ve always had only one or two close-knit people to lean on, so having an entire tribe that helps take care of each other has been an unexpected joy in my life. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have expected this.
Rubbing my hands down his stomach, I look up at Greg. He looks back, a contented smile on his face. “I love you, you know?”
His grin only gets bigger. “I know. And I love you, too.”
Kissing me, I realize how happy I am in the moment. In my life.
I’ve still got flab. He’s still got abs. I still make him laugh. He’s still great at oral.
I had a second chance to find my one great love, and here it is.
And it’s a Perfect 10.