May has never looked so pretty. Her sister fixed her hair and makeup, both made damp by an excess of tears, and the dress is perfect, both elegant and sweet at the same time, much like the girl wearing it. May ‘The Electrician’ Wexler—a name she’s been calling herself for the past hour—is finally ready to walk down the aisle, now that the man responsible for upsetting the bride has been arrested and two cups of chamomile tea have made their way into her bloodstream.
Ozzie looks like a gentle giant standing under the heavily flowered arbor. He doesn’t seem nervous, but I know him pretty well. Under that chest of steel beats a heart that feels everything, absorbs every emotion from the people around him and yet somehow manages to remain wide open and available to those he loves. A lot of women have come and gone from his life, but only one has stuck. May. I wasn’t sure about her in the beginning, but I’m sure about her now. She’s the one for Ozzie. The only one. Who else would have the lady balls to stop a murderer cold in the middle of her wedding by tazing the shit out of him? Only May. She’s an original, that’s for sure. Ozzie deserves nothing less.
I move my gaze back to Lucky. He’s definitely the one for me. I used to try to fool myself into thinking it was Charlie, but I was so, so wrong about that. I almost convinced myself it was true, too—blinded by his attitude, by the danger he brought with him that I craved. I was trying to outrun my past, the trouble I suffered in my youth, but it was always right there next to me, riding shotgun. Charlie was the last thing I needed, but I couldn’t see that then. Like Lucky said, I was the girl who always blamed myself for what others did to me. There was no way I was in a position to choose a healthy relationship for myself. That’s probably why I never noticed Lucky crushing on me. But I’m not that girl anymore. I refuse to be.
May reaches the arbor and Thibault hands her over to Ozzie, stepping to his friend’s side to act as best man; he’s pulling double duty today. The vows begin, but I don’t hear any of it. I’m too busy staring at my boyfriend. He stares back and smiles. That silly beard only makes him sexier. I didn’t like it before, but it’s grown on me. He could probably shave his head bald and I’d find it sexy. I think this is what love does to you: it makes you blind by opening your eyes.
Rings are exchanged and the happy couple kisses, sealing the deal. I cheer along with everyone else, bracing myself against the pain it causes my ribs. Inside, I’m pain free, though, celebrating their love with them. I could not be happier for my boss and my co-worker—my friend and fellow cube-crew member, May ‘The Electrician’ Wexler.
The reception starts as soon as we’re down the aisle. The caterer opens up twenty chafing pans at the buffet across the lawn, and the champagne is poured. I stand in a far corner with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand.
“You having fun?” Lucky asks me, drinking a glass of juice at my side.
“Yep. Getting tired, though. My ribs will not stop aching and my head is throbbing.”
“You want me to take you inside?” His hand is on my lower back as he readies himself to guide me across the lawn.
I shake my head. “Not yet. I want to watch them dance some more.”
I’m talking about all of the members of our team. They’re ridiculous. I’m bummed that I’m on the injured list. I wish I could cut a rug out on the dance floor like they are right now. They’re making fools of themselves, something I’ve never wanted to do before, but I find myself jealous of it tonight. I’m ready to let my hair down and not care what anybody thinks of me. I should have done this back in junior high when Lucky asked me to dance. It took me ten years to find the right path, and now I’m too injured to take it. Thankfully, this is only a temporary problem. Lucky and I will be dancing soon enough.
“I’ve been thinking,” Lucky says after we spend a few moments watching our co-workers do some form of swing dance I’ve never seen before.
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“About this shindig.” He waves his glass of juice around the backyard.
“Pretty nice, eh? Jenny’s good at last-minute plans. The Wexler girls don’t even let a would-be murderer ruin things.”
“Yeah.” He pauses before continuing. “Maybe she could plan our wedding.”
My heart skips a beat or two when I realize what he’s hinting at. “Maybe. You’d have to ask me first, though. And of course I’d have to say yes . . .”
He chuckles. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
I shrug, still facing the dancers but not really seeing what they’re doing anymore. “Nope.”
“Fair enough.” He puts his hand on my arm and turns me toward him. “Dance with me.” He pauses to take our glasses and set them down on a small nearby table before turning back to take me in his arms.
We both look down at my belly and laugh. “Easier said than done,” I say regretfully. It feels like I’m getting bigger by the hour.
He puts his hands on the sides of my belly and starts to sway. I go with the motion as I stare into his beautiful eyes. The sounds of the party fade and I can only hear him now.
“Toni, do you think you could be happy with a guy like me for the rest of your life?”
My heart feels like it’s going to explode. I love him so much, but I’m afraid to jinx what we have by letting him know. “You’ve been there all along, haven’t you?”
He shakes his head. “You have to say it, babe. You can’t keep running away from the hard stuff.”
I give him a teasing punch on the arm. “You calling me a coward?”
He pulls me in closer and leans toward me, kissing me softly on the mouth. “Chicken licken, bawk, bawk, bawk . . .” He’s smiling as he rests his lips on mine.
I grab him around the back of the neck and pull him in for a deeper kiss, reminding him who he’s messing with for a few moments before letting him go. “Fine—you want me to say it? Yes. I could be happy with you forever.” My ears are ringing with the admission. I can’t believe I just said that to Lucky . . . the kid with the BB gun, the buck teeth, and the glasses who I’ve been running away from for way too long.
He pulls back and stares into my eyes, his joking expression gone. “You did it.”
“Did what?” I feel silly now. I try to pull away, but he won’t let me.
“You let me in.” Tears well up in his eyes.
Normally I’d cuff him again for being so ridiculous, but I realize what this means to him and to me. To us. I nod, crying right along with him. “Yep. Now you know my big secret. I’m just a big wimp underneath it all.”
He draws me gently into a hug. “You’re my little wimp. I love you so much.”
I rub his back, my spirit soaring at his words. “You did it.”
He leans back to look at me. “Did what?”
“Let me in.”
He nods and we stare into each other’s eyes for the longest time. And then a sound breaks into our little bubble. It’s May, and she’s using a bullhorn.
“Hey! Toni and Lucky! Did you guys tell each other you’re in love with each other yet or what?”
I slowly shake my head at her as we watch Ozzie pull the bullhorn out of her hand and spank her lightly on the butt.
“She is so going to regret that,” I say, making a mental note to seek revenge after her honeymoon.
Lucky drapes his arm over my shoulder. “She means well. She offered to plan our wedding, you know.”
I drop my head into my hand. “Oh, dear God, spare me.” I can already picture it: me in a dress so big I can’t fit through the door, fifteen bridesmaids, and a crew of ten kids carrying flowers and rings.
Lucky laughs and squeezes me tight. “Don’t worry, babe. I got you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
When my labor comes, everything’s all orchestrated and planned out. Lucky is wearing scrubs and he’s sitting on a stool near my head, and a green surgical curtain blocks my view of my belly. One of our babies—Milli or Vanilli, we’re not sure which—was being stubbor
n and refusing to turn around and head out of the warm home he or she has been enjoying for the past almost nine months, so the doctor ordered a C-section. I’m shaking with nerves and whatever medications they have me jacked up with.
“Excited?” Lucky asks me, a piece of his beard not covered by his mask tickling my face as he leans in closely.
“Very. And nervous. I don’t want to die.”
He frowns at me. “You’re not going to die. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re going to be just fine,” the anesthesiologist says through her mask. “I’ll be watching you like a hawk.” She looks up at the monitors over my head that are attached by wires to my chest, my arms and about five other places, it seems.
I ignore her in favor of staring at my babies’ father. “I want to get married,” I blurt out.
I’m guessing his grin is huge. He’s wearing a surgical mask, and all I can see are his eyes, but they pretty much disappear into his cheeks.
“Now?”
I nod, holding his hand with a grip of iron. “Yes. Right now.”
He laughs. “We can’t do it now, silly. You’re about to have two babies.” He glances over his left shoulder, looking over the curtain. “I think they’re getting started.”
He turns his attention back to me. “Hold that thought, babe. I promise, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s get Milli and Vanilli outta there, and then we’ll call Jenny. She can make all the plans.”
I nod, breathing in and out as evenly as I can to calm myself. Jenny will do it. She handles everything like a pro. She’ll tell May no big dresses or big hair.
“Just relax,” the anesthesiologist says. “Everything’s going to be fine. Tell me if you feel nauseated or dizzy.”
“Ready to get started?” the obstetrician asks. He peers at me over the curtain, his dark brown eyes twinkling in the surgical suite’s lighting.
I nod. “Yes. Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Okay!” He disappears behind the curtain again and I feel pressure down below. My whole body is really warm, but I’m still shaking.
“Things are going to move pretty fast,” he says, jerking my body a little with whatever he’s doing. “Here we go . . .”
Nurses rush over and another doctor leans in. “Baby A is coming out . . .” my doctor says.
We didn’t opt to find out the sex of the babies, so all I can do is yell the name we’ve been using for Baby A. “Milli!” I yell.
There’s a faint cry of an infant and then some laughter. “Milli is a boy!”
I start crying right along with my baby. “Milli is a boy, Lucky—did you hear that?”
Lucky’s crying too. And then he stands, looking over the curtain. “Oh my god, he’s gorgeous.” Lucky looks back at me, laughing and crying at the same time.
The doctor holds the baby toward me so I can see him. I catch a glimpse of a tiny red body and a scrunched-up face before he disappears. He’s handed off to a nurse, who takes him over to a bassinet. I watch as best I can, wishing the anesthesiologist would move out of the way. She’s blocking my view with her fat doctor head.
“And Baby B . . .” A second baby is lifted from me and starts crying right away too. “Is a girl!”
“Vanilli!” Lucky and I yell together. Then we laugh and cry, too. Our life is so crazy right now.
She’s lifted over the curtain so I can take a look at her before she’s handed off to another nurse. She looks like a tiny prizefighter, her hands in miniature fists, bloody goo on her body, and her eyes swollen shut. I’ve never been prouder. My little fighter!
Lucky sits down and strokes my cheek with his gloved hand. “You are so beautiful, babe. You did such a good job baking those peas.”
“You can butter me up all you want, but you’re not naming our daughter Vanilli.”
He laughs and leans down to kiss me. Everything falls away in that moment but him, his lips on mine, his tongue, the smell of his soap. I love every bit of it.
“Love you,” he says when he pulls away.
“Love you, too.” I’m crying again. It’s starting to wipe me out, being this emotional.
He looks over the drape and cringes. “They’re putting you back together. Mind if I go take a closer look at the peas?”
I nod, wanting a moment to get my head straight before I see them myself. When Lucky’s hanging over me, it’s hard to concentrate, I love him so fiercely. “Sure. Go ahead. I’ll be right here.”
He kisses me quickly on the forehead and stands, joining the nurses, who’ve put the two bassinets together. Everyone is oohing and aahing over the babies, exclaiming over their weights. Both of them are over seven pounds, which is something special with twins, or so I read in one of my books.
My body jiggles a little as the doctors work to sew me up. My mind drifts into a haze and I find myself thinking about Charlie. For the first time I can imagine him not looking angry. The face I see in my mind now is the one I always liked. Charlie wasn’t always a mean drunk; sometimes he was happy and generous and full of love for life.
I’m so sorry I took this from you, Charlie. So sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get my life straight ever since that night I shot you. I’ve had a really hard time with everything, and now I know why. All this time, I’ve been asking the wrong question. I shouldn’t be asking why I did what I did or who’s to blame for it or why I can’t go back and change things. Why does anything happen the way it does? A thousand actions and decisions of a thousand people come together in a single moment and there’s an outcome. Change any one of those variables and the outcome changes, too. Control is merely an illusion. I really don’t know that there is a right question anymore, but I know what the right answer is. Love is the answer. Love is why I’m here, it’s why I keep struggling, it’s why I need to move on from the mistakes I’ve made and look forward to an imperfect but fulfilling future. If I’d truly loved you or loved myself, things would have gone differently, I’m convinced of that. It was a lack of love that made everything so dark and wrong and destructive between us. Charlie, I forgive you for what you did to me and to us, and I forgive myself, too, for what I did to you and to me. Wherever you are, you’re good now, I know that. You’re no longer weighed down by the imperfections of our human perceptions and egos and all that garbage. You’re surrounded by God’s love now, and it gives me great joy to know that you’ve found that peace.
A light fills me from the inside out, making me feel like I must be glowing. I look around me, but everyone is acting normal, like they don’t see it. But both of my babies immediately stop crying. They sense it. Just like me, they feel the perfect love that fills this room.
Lucky turns around with an astonished expression on his face. “What just happened?” he asks, laughing.
I mouth the words to him from across the room. I love you.
His whole face trembles as he realizes what I’ve said. Tears slip past his defenses and he nods. Love you too, he mouths at me.
“Bring me those babies,” I say, trying to sound demanding.
Everyone laughs, and ten seconds later, I have two tiny babies, one who resembles a pink burrito and one who resembles a blue burrito, looking down at me from the arms of my husband-to-be.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elle Casey, a former attorney and teacher, is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling American author who lives in France with her husband, three kids, and a number of furry friends. She has written books in several genres and publishes an average of one full-length novel per month.
Elle Casey, Wrong Question, Right Answer
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