Going Nowhere

April 28, 2019

He didn’t like to admit it, but Michael was a romantic. When I woke he was placing pancakes onto a plate. It was something he had become very proud of after being able to accomplish it by himself. There was a beautiful bouquet of flowers centered on the table. A letter was perched underneath it, my name scrawled in a looping slur.

 

Our anniversary (or what we had deemed the 28 of April to be two years ago), was something Michael always seemed to get excited about. He always made it special. For that first year he established the guidelines; watching World War Z and making dinner together. Last year, we had decided we would add the tradition of slow dancing to our song. This year, Michael said he had something greater planned, but it was a surprise.

 

He wouldn’t lead me on to any details, though I nearly tore off his limb trying to pry it from him. On the walk to work he smiled and shook his head every time I nudged him or begged him with wide eyes and a ‘pretty please’. His hand had stayed in mine, squeezing every once in a while to get my attention again. I had smiled brightly over at him, nudging my shoulder against his.

 

Michael had stressed how busy he would be today and how he wouldn’t be able to come and see me very often. He had kissed me goodbye at the door to my office, hooking an arm around my waist. He eased his touch around to my stomach, letting his touch linger there for a second. We looked up at each other, grinning stupidly, knowing that we had everything we could have ever wanted.

 

“Take care of her, alright?” Mikey had pressed a kiss to my forehead.

 

“How are you so sure it’s a girl?” I had raised an eyebrow, seeing our little girl with wide green eyes wave at me.

 

Michael shrugged. “I’ve got a feeling.” He breathed heavily and pressed another quick kiss to my temple. “Take care of our little miracle.”

 

“Our little ass-kicker.” I had reminded him, reprimanding him with the phrase he had deemed our child to be when we came home from the doctors.

 

“Love you!” He had shouted down the hall, ducking into the studio.

 

“Love you too!” I grinned, resting a hand against my stomach and strutting into my office.

 

Our little ass-kicker wasn’t showing yet and wouldn’t be for a while. Michael and I had just gotten the news about two weeks ago. We decided not to tell anyone until I started to show, knowing that a miracle was just that, a miracle. It was so easy to recall a miracle.

 

It was still difficult not to imagine our little kid having play-dates with Jessica. Ashton and Soph and Michael and I would sit on the couch or in the kitchen discussing. The kids would run around, coming up every once in a while to tap one of us on the leg and ask if we could go and get ice cream.

 

Of course, Em and Luke would probably be there as well. Hopefully by that time they’d be married already. They’d been joking about it for so long… I wouldn’t be surprised if one day they explained that they were tired of waiting and had just had a secret wedding. They’d show up at Sophie’s house one day and Em might show off her ring, glancing over at Luke talking with the guys and sharing the details of the intimate gathering.