Penthouse Prince(52)
While Corrigan and I eat and go over the logistics of our day, Grier races around the table, roaring and flapping her sequined wings and yelling, “I’m breathin’ fire!” at the top of her lungs. I picture a roomful of preschoolers all acting out their costumes at maximum volume, and wince in sympathy for Mrs. Ledford.
“She looks even cuter than she did as our flower girl,” Corrigan says.
“Some things never change,” I murmur, and she meets my eyes and gives me a soft look. “Are you eating enough?”
“Lex.” She frowns at me.
I hold up one hand. “I know. I know.”
She’s asked me not to worry. When I bought all the baby books and prenatal vitamins and started quoting the blog posts I’d read, Corrigan shut me down in a hurry. She wants to do this her way, which has been decidedly chill and low stress.
What can I say? I’m just excited to experience the pregnancy alongside her.
With Grier, it was so different. My ex and I didn’t live together, and to be honest, there wasn’t all this excitement in the air. There was a lot of uncertainty. Of course, it all worked out in the end because I got my sweet baby girl.
We haven’t told Grier yet about her new little brother or sister yet, since Corrigan’s only three months along, but we plan to soon.
After finishing my last bite of eggs, I wipe my hands on the napkin and push my plate away. “I’ll be done with the closing for the Mount Hill property by four.”
Corrigan nods. “Perfect. I can’t wait for tonight.”
I give her a surprised look. “That excited for trick-or-treating?”
She chuckles. “Sorta. Actually, I’ve just been craving those chocolate-peanut-butter-cup thingies.”
I laugh and shake my head at her. “Then you shall have them.” I make a mental note to stop at the store on the way home and grab some extras.
Corrigan turns that bewitching smile on me and reaches over to squeeze my hand. “All the changes ahead of us . . . there’s nobody I’d rather go through them with, Lex. I love you.”
I bring her hand up to kiss it, my lips brushing the cool, smooth gold of her wedding band. Our first anniversary was just a few months ago. I still haven’t stopped being awed at the fact that Corrigan is actually my wife, that our life together is real and not just an amazing dream, and I hope I never will get used to it. It feels like I just placed that ring on her finger yesterday . . . and yet it also feels like we’ve been married since the beginning of time, her presence a comforting force that I can’t remember living without.
“I love you too. And I can’t wait to see them all together.”
Corrigan rises to her feet and begins clearing the plates away. “Now, if you’re done eating, let’s take a picture for Grandma.”
“Even though we’re seeing her in less than eight hours,” I say under my breath.
My wife gives me a look, so I promptly shut my mouth.
“We’re gonna carve pumpkins and brew witches’ slime,” Grier says to me while executing a little dance around the kitchen.
“Absolutely, and it’ll be great.” I scoop her up. “And then what?”
“Trick or treat, smell my feet, gimme somethin’ good to eat!” A renewed burst of wiggles and giggles springs out of her.
“Dinner first, but you’ve got the gist.” Corrigan steps beside us and fiddles with her phone until all three of us are onscreen, then taps the button. “There. And . . . sent. To Dak and my parents too.”
Grier squirms. “I wanna gooooooo.”
“First you gotta brush your teeth, then we’ll leave.” When I let her down, she crams one last apple slice in her mouth and scampers off to the bathroom. I look at Corrigan. “Speaking of Mom, do you remember when we told her about us?”
“Oh yeah, every detail. The first thing out of her mouth was, ‘I’m so happy you’re all settled now.’” She chuckles. “As if she knew what was coming the whole time, and we were just dragging our feet getting to the good part. Then she told you, ‘Now hurry up and propose so I can see you two married before I go. Can’t miss my only child’s wedding, even if I have to come with a bald head and wheelchair and all.’”
I laugh aloud. Little did we know, she didn’t need to be in a rush at all. Everyone except Mom was surprised when she lived long enough to see us married, well past the six months she’d been told, but even she hadn’t expected to just . . . keep going.
The cancer started slowly shrinking away shortly before Grier’s third birthday, and two months ago, Mom’s oncologist declared her officially in remission. And not just healthy either, but strong and fit as a fiddle. She’ll be playing with Grier and cheerfully meddling for many long years to come, and I’m so happy she gets to stick around and be part of our lives. When I first got that phone call in New York from her with the grim news, I never expected so many happily-ever-afters were in store for me, but I love that I was wrong.
I bring my arms around Corrigan and pull her close. “Love you, sweetheart.”
She brings her mouth to mine for a soft kiss. “If you really loved me, you’d drop off those peanut-butter cups to me at lunchtime.”
I chuckle. “Understood, wife of mine, understood.”