Chapter 58

Poppy

Christmas Eve the following year.

I can ' t believe it ' s been a little over a year since Andrew took his own life.

A year of mixed emotions: some filled with torment, others with sorrow, but, thankfully, many more brimming with happiness.

Julian is right; occasionally, something stupid triggers memories of Andrew. However, over time, these triggers have become less frequent and my reactions less intense.

I'm not going to say I'll never think of Andrew again. That would be a lie. Dr. Peterson has taught me to confront the truth. I know there will be times Andrew haunts me, like when I'm a mother and it's time to talk to my daughter about sex. There's no way not to think about Andrew when I'm thinking about my first time.

Where there is darkness, there's light. Julian will shine new memories over the bad ones.

He has.

That's a good life lesson to teach our future kids. No matter how deep the hole you're trapped in, you can always find enough rope to pull yourself out. Trust me, Amazon can supply rope by the hundreds of miles if you need it. Plus, they will ship it to you in two days. It's up to you to decide when to start climbing and when to allow someone else to help you climb and pull on that rope. It ' s not going to be a fun climb; it ' s going to be hard; you ' ll stumble and fall back down a few feet.

Keep climbing. Fight.

Remember, there are others on the other side pulling that rope to get you out. One day, your fingers will reach the sunlight. One day, it will be all over. A new chapter can begin.

Julian parks the car along the gravel driveway, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. His gaze drifts, settling on the expansive silhouette of his father ' s grand ranch house framed against the setting sun. Shadows stretch long over the manicured lawns, and the house's windows reflect the dying light as evening begins to take hold. He sits motionless, caught between the urge to step out and the weight of old memories.

" Are you nervous?" I ask him, noticing the slight tension in his expression.

We ' re having Christmas Eve dinner with his family and mine tonight. Henry flew in, and Harper was Kent ' s date. However, the prospect of seeing Elsie again is making my usually unshakable man slightly jittery. I know he likes his father ' s girlfriend. The problem is he ' s scared to admit it because if he does, he thinks it will erase his mom.

I ' ve never had to witness a parent falling in love again, especially with a different woman. It must be odd, but I know Julian and his brothers are happy to see their dad smiling again.

Dr. Peterson has helped the Sterling men find their footing again. They all talk and meet at least once a month to catch up.

I ' ve met Elsie, and she ' s genuinely sincere and sweet. I never got to meet Julian's mom, but I think she would feel settled knowing someone is watching out and caring for the man she loves as well as his sons.

" I ' m just hoping Kent didn ' t let Harper cook anything," Julian jokes, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

I reach for the car door, " They were supposed to bring the wine."

Julian arches a brow, his smirk widening, " That still scares the shit out of me. Knowing those two, they ' d try to make moonshine."

I tip my head back and laugh heartily. He ' s right. Harper has made it her mission to learn how to cook well and not cause mass sickness. Poor Kent has to take the brunt of it, trying bites of all her very strange recipes. She tried to make veggie burgers during the fourth of July. I'm going to leave it at that and not go into the details because I'd like to eat this meal in peace and not think about the massive amount of turmeric we all had to swallow. It died our lips and tongue orange for a solid day. Harper's fingers looked like little Oompa Loompas; they were stained turmeric orange for a week.

Julian gets out and rushes around to open my door. In the far distance, a few horses creep closer to the fence to inspect us. His dad turned his Texas ranch it into a rescue ranch, and I could spend hours here playing with the animals, especially the miniature horses — I've never seen anything so adorable. Messy and stinky but so darn cute.

We still live in Julian ' s penthouse, but we ' re in the middle of building a house on some of this same land. Julian ' s dad gave it to us, and he saved plots of land for each of the boys to build a house on.

Julian opens my door and reaches for my hand. It takes some effort for me to move from a seated position to standing — over thirty pounds of weight will do that to you. He gently guides me up with a hand on my lower back.

"I feel like a whale being forced back into the ocean. I can walk on my own, Jules." I wiggle and try to shake off his protective hold.

"Walk or waddle?" Julian teases, a naughty twinkle in his eye.

"That comment, dear sir, has earned you a month of diaper duty," I grin widely.

"Well, if that's the case, I'll go all the way and tell you that for Christmas, I got you a penguin onesie. I figured if the shoe fits and you're shuffling so much, it does."

I smack him playfully.

"Whose fault is that, Jules?"

"Mine," he beams proudly. "I knocked you up good."

"Too good. How the hell are we going to handle this?"

He bends down and kisses me. "I've got it all covered, Pumpkin," he whispers over my lips.

I have no doubt he does. He's taken on this pregnancy like a military operation.

He begins to guide me to the stairs, one hand on my elbow, the other placed firmly on my lower back. "You know pregnancy doesn't affect vision, right? I can see the stairs. I can walk them too. It's not a slip-and-slide," I jest, though secretly, I adore his attention and care.

"The steps are steep," he replies with a gentle seriousness, his eyes glinting at my stomach.

His smile? It outshines the sun.

I pause, taking a deep breath as I prepare to climb the steps to the ranch house.

" You okay?" Julian's voice is filled with concern.

I glance down. My feet? Completely hidden by my sixth-month belly. That's what twins will do to you. I thought my belly would be cute and round, but it's more oval, getting scarier each week.

" I ' m six months pregnant, not elderly," I joke, though I ' m half-lying. I did need to take an extra breath. I should have worn my Crocs shoes; they're like clouds for my swollen feet, but I opted to look more classy and wore loafers to match my dress pants and yellow blouse.

Big mistake.

I should have gone with the flowing, loose dress Harper bought me. Not to mention, I have a few months left to wear my Crocs without Harper goading me over that fashion decision.

Instead, I feel like a hot air balloon struggling to lift off the ground.

" You know I love you, right?" Julian grins as I muster the strength to ascend the entrance steps.

" You better. We eloped." I glance down at the antique-looking diamond ring Julian got me. A marquise cut diamond surrounded by gray diamonds like his eye color. It ' s unusual, different, yet stunning. The gray diamonds resemble the darkness we overcame; the huge white diamond proves that no matter the darkness, the light will outshine it eventually. It ' s the kind of ring that belongs to an epic love story.

"And then three weeks later, instead of going on a honeymoon, I ' m peeing on a stick like a feral forest animal and finding out I ' m pregnant," I grumble, then pause and smile.

Twins! As in two humans growing inside of me.

Harper literally passed out when I told her. She ' s since recovered and has sent me so many creams, pills, and lotions, and I ' m sure some of them are potions she concocted herself to help combat stretch marks. This isn ' t out of the kindness of her heart; she Googled twins and was met with horrifying pictures, which she showed me, and we both started freaking out.

Julian calmed us down after he ushered Harper out of the house. Now Harper is on her ‘ I ' m sorry I scared you ' guilt train and buys me endless beauty products to ensure I look "fine as hell" after the babies arrive.

She also has sent me surprise packages of cute maternity clothes, most of which I actually wear and like. I should have worn one of those items tonight.

" Next Christmas, they will be with us," Julian beams, his eyes on my stomach as he pushes open the front door.

I smile and grasp his hand tighter.

We ' re having a boy and a girl. We ' re naming our girl Emma after Julian ' s mother. We ' re going to tell his dad that tonight. I think he ' ll take it well. I hope. And we ' re naming our boy Peter. I debated this for months, unsure if calling my son Peter would too often bring up memories of my brother. Would it continually dredge up the past? I discussed it with Dr. Peterson and concluded that some memories are okay to keep in the present, like my brother's memory. I know my son will be an amazing older brother to his sister. He will protect her and watch over her just as Peter did for me. It ' s my job as their mother to teach them to listen to each other. Sometimes, we can ' t trust our own judgment; we have to rely on others to sense things we're blind to.

I want them to be able to lean on each other and trust each other.

I rub my stomach and start to dream about next Christmas with our twins. I've had a lot of family members taken from me, but just like Julian vowed, we're going to make new memories, start a family, rejoice, and live. This new chapter in my life is going to outshine every bad one.

***

" Here, try this!" Harper beams, her voice so peppy that it's as if she's a cheerleader trying to coax me into winning the game. I eye the pink—or is it violet?—drink. And is that green at the bottom? It looks like swamp water in a fantasy land.

" I made it," Harper adds.

That's what I was scared of. No bottled, FDA-approved drink has that many shades. If I drink that, I might turn into a leprechaun and be bouncing over a rainbow.

Kent covers his mouth as he chuckles, and Elsie starts to laugh as well. Harper glances over her shoulder, silencing them with a harsh look.

I look for Julian, knowing he wouldn ' t want me to consume anything Harper has made, but he ' s nowhere in sight.

" I can ' t," I rub my stomach. "No alcohol when preggers."

" Poppy!" Harper pouts, " Obviously, I know your condition. I found a mock-tail recipe for pregnant women. This is filled with peptides and vitamins you and the babies need. And look," she points at the rim of the glass, " that ' s sugar, not salt. Too much salt is bad for babies." She pushes the drink closer to me.

" It ' s good. I swear. I tried it." She adds.

I accept the glass, " Tried it, or was it so good you drank one too?"

What we do for family. I sigh and slowly raise the glass to my lips. It has a somewhat fruity smell.

" I tried it. I ' m not pregnant, so no need to waste those yummy vitamins on me when you need them more."

"Well, that sold it." I chide.

" Not yet," Kent winks as he looks at Harper's flat stomach.

Harper rolls her eyes. "My vagina will never be stretched, Kent."

Kent has had baby fever since I got pregnant. That terrifies me because I don't want his desire to make Harper run for the hills. I also don't want him to give up his dream of marriage and kids. I hope they find a middle ground.

"I stretch it all the time," he replies with a cheeky grin.

"Oh my god!" I glare at them to stop. Elsie clams up, looking as out of place as a nun at a bachelor party.

Kent is suddenly bashful, "Shit, sorry, Elsie."

"I'd say it's fine, but I'll take that as my cue to go and check on the food," Elsie replies as she hurries from the sitting room.

"You're so embarrassing," Harper elbows him.

"Me?" His eyebrows shoot up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You're the one who got so horny you dragged me into my old room twenty minutes ago. Do you honestly think Theo didn't hear you screaming from the kitchen? You're lucky Dad was outside with Elsie."

"No one says 'horny' anymore, Kent. You sound like you're filming a bad porno from the '70s."

"Well, I don ' t fuck like I'm from the '70s," he smirks wickedly. "Need a reminder? I can thrust you into this century before we break bread."

"It ' s a decade, Kent. Not a century," she corrects, rolling her eyes.

Kent's smirk widens, "Give me ten minutes, and I'll make it feel like a century. Your orgasm won ' t stop, Siren."

"Oh, dear lord." I close my eyes. "Do you want me to try this concoction or not!" I snap.

"Ignore him," Harper says, turning her back to Kent. "Drink up, buttercup."

I part my lips and let only a drop touch my tongue. " Mmm," I murmur. Is it bad? Not exactly. Is it good? Questionable.

I part my lips again and take an actual sip, adding, " Interesting."

Why is it gritty?

Harper beams happily. " I ' ll take it," she pivots. " See, I told you she ' d like it," she tells Kent.

Kent nudges his head towards me, " She ' s turning green as we speak."

Harper whirls around, seeing I ' m just fine, then rushes at Kent, trying to smack him. He sidesteps, and in a quick, fluid motion, he ' s got her back pressed to his chest. Bending down, he nibbles on her neck and whispers something in her ear, which causes her cheeks to flush.

"Excuse us, Pops. I need to speak with my woman." Kent grins, then he lifts Harper up and over his shoulder as he smacks her ass.

I glance down and giggle into the drink.

Awkwardly, this turns out to be one of the best Christmases I ' ve had. It ' s hard to believe I ' d ever think that after losing my parents and Peter.

I ' m married to the man I love and pregnant with our twins. My brother Henry is here, and our relationship is tighter than ever before. My best friend, who fought love for so long, is finally giving in. Harper ' s head over heels, and I pray it stays that way.

Bad things might come in a baker's dozen, but good things last much longer, and their taste is one you can savor for years to come. I place both hands on my stomach and feel one of the twins kick. I grin and pray that heaven exists, and I hope that my parents and Peter are rejoicing that Henry and I, along with my new family, are all healing.