Loïc
“Happily ever after isn’t a destination. It’s a journey.”
—Loïc Berkeley
I smell her hair, always the same alluring fruity scent. I smile sleepily and instinctually bend to kiss the top of her head. The movement sends sharp pains throughout my body. I let out a groan.
It’s then I realize that London’s here, but we’re not at home. The sounds, the smells, this bed—it’s all wrong.
Where am I?
What’s going on?
My pulse rises as I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to remember. It all comes back to me.
Tommy…the shot.
I’m alive.
I try to make my body work to assess the damage, but nothing is moving right. Most of my body is heavy and numb, and the parts that aren’t hurt.
I look around the room. It’s dim, but the accessory lights keep it lit enough to see everything. I search for clues for my condition, but I don’t see anything.
“Loïc?” London whispers. She lifts her head from me and props herself up on her elbow. Her eyes are swollen and red from crying.
My heart sinks.
It’s going to be bad.
I try to speak, but my throat is so dry, and sound doesn’t come. I swallow hard and try again. “Hi,” I croak out.
“Hi,” London says, tears now rolling down her cheeks.
She reaches toward the side table and grabs a Styrofoam cup with a straw. She bends the straw toward my lips, and I take a drink. The cold water is exactly what I needed, and I feel marginally better.
“What’s the damage?” I ask her.
“You’re going to be okay.” She smiles. “The bullet missed all of your major organs and spine. You were in surgery for a long time. You had extensive internal bleeding, but they fixed you up. You’re going to be fine. It will be painful while you heal, but the doctor doesn’t think you’ll have any long-term effects.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, releasing a long breath. Relief spreads over me. I’m so thankful that I’m not paralyzed and that I didn’t lose anything major, like a kidney or another limb.
“Oh, thank God,” I say.
“I know. It was such a horrible day—like, the scariest day ever,” London says through tears.
I lift my arm, trying not to grimace as pain shoots through me, and I wipe away the evidence of London’s sadness. I hate seeing her cry. “Where’s Lindi?”
“She’s at home with my parents. She’s good. She immediately warmed up to everyone, not that I’m surprised. She’s such a sweetheart.”
“Yes, she is,” I agree.
London takes my face in her hands. “Please don’t ever do that to us again. I can’t risk losing you, Loïc. I can’t live without you.”
“You could,” I say. For some reason, I want her to know that she would be strong enough.
“I couldn’t.” She shakes her head. “And I don’t want to.” Her lip trembles. The exhaustion of the day is so evident on her face. “I didn’t know for most of the day if you were going to make it. It was my worst nightmare, Loïc. I can’t go through that again.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m just happy that you’re okay.” She kisses me again. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
Suddenly, I remember. “Tommy?” I ask hastily.
“I don’t know.” London shrugs. “Hopefully, locked up.”
“So, he’s alive?”
London looks confused. “I’m not sure. I didn’t think to ask. What happened?”
I tell London how Tommy was when I found him. “He didn’t try to shoot me, London. It was an accident.”
“How do you accidentally shoot someone, Loïc? He almost killed you. He almost left me a widow and Lindi without a dad. That’s not an accident,” she says with so much anger.
I shake my head against the pillow. “He wasn’t in a good place. He wasn’t himself. He was trapped in the darkness. He didn’t try to shoot me. He was holding the gun out to get me to stop. His hand was shaking. I know he didn’t mean to pull the trigger, London. I know it. Tommy’s a great shot. If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead. It wasn’t intentional, and I’m sure he feels absolutely horrible about it. He needs help. I need to talk to him.” I scan the room for my belongings, specifically my phone.
London doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t argue. “You can figure that out tomorrow. You need your rest.”
I look up to the clock on the wall. It’s almost midnight.
“Oh, look,” I tell her.
She looks toward the clock, and then she reaches for the remote and turns on the TV. We watch the crowd in New York City cheer as the ball begins to drop.
When the countdown reaches ten seconds, London takes my face in her hands, and we count down together. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.” I stare into her gorgeous brown eyes, more in love with her today than yesterday. “Six. Five. Four. Three.” She’s so beautiful, and she makes me incredibly happy. “Two. One.”
Her lips press against mine. It’s a promise. Each and every time we kiss, it’s a promise to love each other always.
She pulls away.
“Happy New Year,” I say.
“Happy New Year. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Well, sorry your party didn’t turn out the way you’d planned.” I bite my lip with a grin.
She lets out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, not even close. Promise me, we’ll never celebrate this way again.”
“I promise. Are you going to make any New Year’s resolutions?” I ask.
“Yes, I have one—to never leave your side for as long as you live.”
“You never do,” I tell her. “No matter where I am or what I’m doing, you’re with me. You’re a part of me, and I carry you everywhere I go.”
“No, like, I legitimately want to be with you, physically present, at all times.” She looks at me, furrowing her brows.
I can’t help but grin. “That might be a little challenging, don’t you think?”
“I’ll make it work,” she says. “I can’t risk losing you. I’m so very weak when it comes to a life without you. I know it’s a flaw, but it’s the truth.”
“You know I love every single flaw of yours, just as you love mine.”
“I do. I love everything about you.” She snuggles back against my side before quickly popping back up. “Wait, every single flaw? It sounds like you’re saying I have tons.” She narrows her eyes.
I let out a chuckle that I instantly regret. I squeeze my eyes closed as my entire abdomen burns with agony.
“Oh no! Let me buzz the nurse. You need more pain meds.”
“I’m okay. I need to sleep. Come here, beautiful.” I think I motion for her to lie with me, but the waves of discomfort still course through me, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.
“You don’t have to be in pain, Loïc. Let me just call the nurse.”
“I’m fine. Come here,” I say softly.
London lies back down next to me, burrowing into my side.
“Much better. All I need is a little rest.” My words fade.
I wake to a room bursting with sunlight. The rays seem to be multiplying as they bounce off the stark white walls that surround me. London is no longer lying with me, but her voice fills the space as she talks to someone. I’m assuming it’s my doctor. I attempt to open my eyes again, and they start to water from the intrusive brightness.
“Babe?” I say.
“Oh, let me get the blinds,” London replies. She fiddles over by the window.
I open my eyes again.
“Better?” she asks.
“Much. Thank you.”
“Loïc, this is the surgeon who stitched you up yesterday. He’s doing his rounds.”
The doctor asks me all sorts of questions about discomfort and pain levels. He goes over the surgery yesterday, and I thank him. I ask him when I can leave because all I want is to go home. I’ve never been a fan of hospitals. He tells me that it will be at least a week. I try not to act like an asshole, but I can’t hide my disappointment.
“It’s okay, Loïc. It will go by fast,” London reassures me.
The day consists of scans, nurses, doctors, and a whole lot of fuss over me, which makes me extremely agitated.
I get to talk to some fellow officers from the VA and get my account of the events into the record. I tell them that I’m not pressing charges against Tommy. They reassure me that he’s getting help, which is all I want for him. I want him to get help and find happiness. As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that happens.
London’s family brings Lindi by for a visit. They also bring London a change of clothes and some essentials. She showers here, as she refuses to leave my side. London and Lindi sit on the bed with me, and we read books. The three of us also fit in a nap, which is heaven. I’ve never been into naps, but sleeping during the day is my new favorite thing at the moment. I’m constantly exhausted. I know it takes a lot of energy for the body to heal itself, and if my energy level is any indication, I have a lot of healing to do.
Finally, the family leaves, and London and I are left alone again—at least until the nurse returns in an hour to check my vitals.
“How are you?” London asks.
“Good. Tired but good.”
“Do you want to go to sleep?”
“Not yet,” I admit.
“I have an idea,” she says with excitement. “We could do a round of Twenty Questions. Remember how we used to ask each other questions while you were deployed?”
“Oh, I remember.” I remember every moment I’ve ever had with London. The only parts of my life that show up in color are the times I’ve had with her. The rest is just white noise.
My memories are like an amazing movie trailer. They show every good part of the film, leaving one feeling like they have to see that movie, or they won’t be able to go on. That’s how it is with London. She’s every good part, every highlight. I don’t need to watch the rest of the movie because, at the end of the day, she holds the best scenes.
“We should think of some questions,” she says, pulling up a chair beside my bed.
“I’m pretty sure I know everything there is to know about you, London Wright Berkeley.”
“Not everything.”
“Everything.”
“Really? Prove it.”
“Well, I know that your favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip, yet when you buy ice cream, you always buy Ben and Jerry’s because you have this idea in your head that they are the best, and if you’re going to splurge on ice cream, you want it to be the best.”
“You’ve got me there,” she agrees.
“I know that you nervously twirl your hair every time you read over an article for the last time before you submit it because, even after publishing hundreds of great articles, you still don’t feel confident in your writing.”
“Maybe.”
I grin. “I know that you say you’re a dog person, but you love cats just as much. In fact, I’d say a lion is one of your favorite animals. I know that, if you see a few pieces of dirt on the floor, you’ll kick it under the rug instead of grabbing a broom.”
“Um, excuse me. I do not push the dirt under the rug.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
“Fine, you’re right.” She waves her hand through the air.
“You let out the same sigh every time you get into the bathtub. You also giggle and make funny faces when you’re scrolling through your Facebook feed on your phone. I know that it’s usually a funny animal meme that causes you to giggle.”
“I really do love animal memes,” she agrees. “Especially the dog and cat ones.”
I continue, “Your favorite cereal is Fruit Loops, but you always let it soak in the milk for a minute before you eat it; otherwise, it cuts the top of your mouth. You tap your foot whenever the news is on, as it makes you nervous. You’ll leave one small square of toilet paper on the roll, so you don’t have to change it. You use I hate you as a term of endearment. You check your blind spots three times before changing lanes. Always three times.”
London rolls her eyes. “Well, now, your knowledge is bordering on obnoxious.” She smiles at me.
“You know every episode of Friends by heart. You tell everyone that your favorite character is Phoebe, but you laugh the most at Ross. You’re a foodie, and you love all sorts of foods, though Mexican is your favorite. If you like something, you always let out a small sigh after you take your first bite. If you love something, you smack your lips together after you taste it. Your favorite fruit is blueberries, but it’s also your least favorite. You only love the firm berries because the texture of the soft ones makes you gag. So, you’ll spend thirty minutes going through a container of blueberries, doing the squish test. You hate exercising because sweating drives you insane. You have a slight road-rage problem and like to call old ladies douches if they are driving too slow.”
London holds up a hand. “I will have you know that I do not call old ladies douches.”
“Yes, you do.” I chuckle. “Remember last week? The blue Chevy Malibu?”
“Well, first of all, I didn’t know it was an elderly lady driving. All I knew was that someone was going twenty-five in a forty-five. Who does that? Anyone who is going twenty miles under the speed limit deserves to be called a name. That’s just rude”—she holds up a finger—“and, not to mention, unsafe.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.” I shrug.
“No, I called the driver of the Malibu a douche, not the lady.”
“Oh, I forgot to mention that you hate to be wrong.” I laugh.
London presses her lips together and glares my way. “I hate you,” she says with a slow shake of her head.
“I love you, too.”
“All right, fine. You know a few things about me.”
“Oh, I’m not done. You love to travel, and airports make you happy. You hate bugs. You’re deathly afraid of centipedes…and snakes. It must be a wiggly thing. You could live off of gummy bears and coffee if you had to. You name every wild animal you see. You love cherry tomatoes but hate all other tomatoes because of the texture. You can belch the ABCs and are quite proud of it. You spent years of your childhood in ballet classes but hated it. You prefer even numbers over odd, and your favorite number is sixteen. Your least favorite day of the week is Wednesday because you’re not a fan of words that start with W, and you have no idea why.
“You’re the strongest woman I know, though you don’t think you are. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and sometimes, I think you know you are. You’re a loyal friend who would do anything for those she loves. Your laugh gives me goose bumps. Your smile lights my insides on fire. And your touch makes my heart beat faster than if I just ran a mile. You’re the most intriguing person in the world to me, the best mother, and the perfect lover.
“And it was your side boob falling out of your bikini top as you washed my truck all those years ago that I first fell in love with,” I say with a devilish grin.
“Oh my gosh!” London laughs. “Thank goodness I wore that bikini, or who knows where we’d be?” She takes my hand in hers and kisses the top of it before setting it back down. “Fine, so you know a few things about me. But there’s always more to discover.” The sides of her mouth rise in a smile.
“Well, I have a random question for you,” she says. “What if you had a time machine and you could go back and stop your parents from getting in their car the night of the accident, would you?”
“Of course I would. I think anyone would stop someone they loved from dying. If that were plausible and I could save them, maybe they’d still be here today. They could have helped my grandma when she was sick, and my grandpa could have lived with them instead of going to a home. Who wouldn’t do that for their family?” I thread my fingers through London’s. “Selfishly though, I’m glad I don’t have the choice because it would ruin everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“My path would have been completely different. Every single thing that I’ve encountered in my life has led me here. If my parents were alive, I never would have met Sarah, which means I wouldn’t have Evan or Emma in my life either. I never would’ve met Cooper, so I wouldn’t have Maggie. I probably never would have gone into the military. And, even though I lost Cooper, I’ve been able to save many men over the years. That means that none of them would be here anymore. I’d probably still be in California, which means I wouldn’t have known you or Lindi.
“I love my life, London. I’ve had to fight really hard to get to a place where I can say that. And growing up with parents who love you doesn’t guarantee anyone a great life. Maybe I would have gotten in with the wrong crowd in high school and become a druggie, left home, joined a band, and died of a drug overdose.”
“That never would’ve happened. You hate drugs and singing.”
“I hate drugs because I saw the way it changed my foster parents over the years. If my parents were here, I wouldn’t have had that same level of anger toward drugs and what they do to people. And I don’t hate singing. I’m just not good at it. So, I would have been the drummer or something. My point is, who knows where I’d be if they were here now? I wouldn’t be here with you, in this beautiful life that we’ve created. Loving you, having this life—it’s everything and worth every single thing that I’ve gone through to get here.”
“Yeah, but maybe we would’ve ended up together anyway because we were meant to be,” she says.
“Perhaps, but I’d never want to take that chance.”
“You wouldn’t have had to go through so many horrible things as a child. Chances are, you would have been happy. And maybe you wouldn’t be with me now, but you could be with someone you love just as much,” London says thoughtfully.
“That’s not possible. There’s no one else on this earth I could love more than you, London. I wouldn’t change a thing. Everything has led me to you. I’d walk through hell and back to find you.”
“You kinda have.”
“I kinda have.” I nod, squeezing her hand. “And it was worth it.”
She climbs up into the hospital bed with me. I scoot to the side to allow her more room. She rests her head against my chest, and I know she’s listening to my heartbeat. I don’t blame her. Her beating heart is one of my favorite sounds in the world, too.
She sniffles, and I know she’s crying.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It’s just that we’ve been through so much—you especially—and just when things are perfect, something horrible happens. I thought I was going to lose you, Loïc. Yesterday was the worst day of my life. And, now, I’m just scared. What’s next?
“I mean, we reached our happily ever after. We found each other and got married. The rest is supposed to be cake, right? I want the happy in happily ever after. But it hasn’t been. There were baby issues and my depression, and when we finally put that behind us and got our daughter, I thought, Okay, now, we’ve reached it. And then you got shot and almost died. It’s like, what’s next?”
I rub my hand across her back that shakes as she cries. “London, listen,” I say calmly. I wait because I want her to hear my words. “Happily ever after isn’t a destination. It’s a journey. Every day that we spend together is a gift. Some days aren’t as great as we might hope, but they’re there for a reason—to teach us or guide us to where we’re meant to be. We have hard days, so we can appreciate the good. If we hadn’t gone through a year of infertility, you wouldn’t have left for Africa, and we wouldn’t have Lindi. The good and the bad are crucial for our story because they shape our path. Life itself isn’t easy, and it’s never promised to be, but we’re living our happily ever after because we’re on the journey together.”
We’re both quiet for a while.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she says finally. “I wanted you to tell me that this was our last test, and from here on out, life would be perfect.”
“It will be perfect with some struggles mixed in,” I say.
“So, there’s no such thing as perfection without heartache?”
“No,” I say honestly. “Plus, have you heard how difficult girls are when they’re teenagers? Helping Lindi survive through her teenage years will be a battle in itself. I’m sure.” I chuckle, thinking about the power struggles London and Lindi are sure to have in the future.
“Love isn’t always happy, London, but it’s forever. We’re not going to be thrilled when Lindi wants to date in high school, right? It will be stressful, and I’m sure the topic will end in a few arguments, but it won’t change our love for her or our life with her. You know?”
“Just thinking about those fights exhausts me,” she admits.
“Yeah, but it will be a battle worth fighting. And through the moments that will make you so mad that you’ll want to pull out your hair will be the priceless seconds that make life so worth living. It’s the journey, babe.”
London chuckles. “God, I hope she has your temperament. If she gets mine, you’re going to have to give me this speech again every day.”
“Are you saying you’re difficult?” I ask, humor in my voice.
“I have my moments,” London scoffs.
“And I’m fortunate enough to be with you through them all,” I kid before kissing the top of her head.
“Everything you said sounds a lot like fate and destiny. You know, the whole everything-happens-for-a-reason thing. Wasn’t it you who told me that was all a lie back at the beginning? My, how you’ve changed, Loïc Berkeley.” London tilts her head back, so she can see me.
“Yeah, I have,” I admit. “You’ve changed me.”
“I hope, for the better.”
“For the best.”