[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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The funny part about being in your late twenties was that engagement parties, weddings, and baby showers, usually these once-in-a-blue moon events, became a regular part of your routine. About every other month, I sent a congratulations text to some happy couple, went shopping for a dress that was any color but white, and learned all the many ways you could add -eigh and -en to the ending of a baby's name.
Quite ironically, the near constant celebration still didn't prepare you for the day it'd be you wearing that white dress, you hearing those congratulations, and you figuring out the politest way to respond to, "So, when are you planning on having kids?"
"Oh, you have no idea how happy I am that the hard part's over." Barefoot, I spun around in a circle in my backyard with little Jax in my arms, beaming at his giggles as the world spun around us. The short white dress I'd changed into for the reception fanned around me in a circle, almost making me feel as young and carefree as the three-year-old clinging to my shirt. "Are you happy, little man?"
"Yes!" he squealed, throwing his arms around my neck. "I'm happy!"
"And I don't think you're going to be happy when my son, who's consumed nothing but sugar all day, pukes all over your beautiful white dress."
Stella came to collect Jax, ruffling his dark-blond hair as she pulled him into her arms. Apart from the huge bug eyes, he was the spitting image of his father, currently on his second round of appetizers. When Alex spotted the three of us, he threw out his plate and enveloped Stella and Jax into a bear hug from behind, kissing each of their heads.
"Want me to get him off your hands?" he asked, tweaking Jax's full cheek. The boy giggled and leaned his face into his hand, looking up at his father like he'd spotted the eighth wonder of the world.
"I don't think you're asking for me, babe."
"I'm actually not," Alex said, scooping his son into his signature one-armed hold.
Stella and Alex eloping the year after we'd graduated college wasn't the biggest twist in their story, neither was their son born two years later. The real surprise was the daughter she was currently carrying, just barely peeking out of the silk of her mauve bridesmaid's dress.
"You holding up okay?" I asked, eyeing her paling face.
"Eh, I've been better. But I can't complain." She flattened her hand over her stomach, grinning wide. "A boy, a girl, and a husband by the age of twenty-eight? Girl, I've practically prevented every annoying question ever from my Portuguese relatives for the rest of my life."
I downed another sip from my glass of champagne, which Stella longingly eyed as she picked up her glass of sparkling water. "I'm pretty sure I'm in the exact opposite situation right now. Somehow almost having a PhD doesn't make up for still being childless."
"I think I'd rather do this pregnancy shit a third time than get a PhD."
"To each their own suffering," I laughed, and we clinked glasses.
