The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(88)

My shoulders shake with barely contained laughter.

Once I’ve gotten the medicine, I check out and drop by the local ice cream shop before heading back home. Seda licks happily at her vanilla ice cream the whole way.

Caleb isn’t in yet—Salem had me call him to see if he’d come up so Seda could stay with him and not catch the flu.

The flu.

I chuckle to myself.

I don’t think what Salem has is contagious. But it’s cute of her to think so.

Putting a movie on for Seda, Winnie and Binx jump up on the couch to join her. “I’m going to check on Mommy.”

“Okay,” she replies, completely unbothered.

Grabbing the bag of goods, I jog upstairs and into the bedroom. Salem’s not in the bedroom, so I try the bathroom. The door is locked.

Giving a knock, I say, “Salem, let me in.”

There’s a groan on the other side of the door. “I can’t give you medicine if you don’t unlock the door.”

“I’m contagious,” she whines. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Sunshine,” I say through the door, “my tongue has been inside your pussy. Your sick germs are the least of my concern.”

She squeaks from the other side, the door finally opening. “That was unnecessary,” she mutters, her hair mussed around her face.

“It got you to open the door, didn’t it?”

She rolls her eyes, holding her bathrobe tighter around her. She watches me with narrowed eyes as I set everything out on the counter. The pregnancy test is the last thing I put there. She snorts when she sees it.

“I’m not pregnant,” she scoffs.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I’m sure?”

I hand her the test. “Humor me.”

“I don’t have to pee. Besides, you’re supposed to do it in the morning.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

She huffs out a breath, snagging the box from my hands. “Fine. But I can’t wait to say I told you so."

She closes herself off in the separate space with the toilet. While I wait, I clean up the bathroom as best I can in just a few minutes.

The door opens and she sets the test down, washing her hands. Her nose wrinkles at the Gatorade on the counter. “I told you I didn’t want that.”

“And I didn’t listen.”

“This isn’t morning sickness. In case you didn’t realize, I’ve been sick all day long for two days now.”

I clear my throat, hesitant to bring up my ex. “When Krista was pregnant with Forrest, she was sick all day the first trimester. She lost a lot of weight because of it. It was bad.”

Salem exhales unsteadily. “I’m not pregnant.”

I know why she’s so insistent. After so many negative tests in the past I don’t know how many months, she’s scared to get her hopes up. I know she’s been devastated time and again. I don’t want to be wrong this time, for her sake, and I don’t think I am. But we need that confirmation.

Salem turns a light shade of green and lunges back for the toilet.

“Sunshine,” I murmur, pulling her hair back. Her body lurches.

“Go away. You shouldn’t see me like this.” She tries to shove me back, but her attempt is weak.

I massage the back of her neck. “In sickness, and in health, right?”

She dry heaves, gagging. “Fuck off.”

I grin to myself. I love it when she gets feisty with me.

When she settles, no longer heaving, I ask, “Can I go look now?”

She slumps against the floor, shooing me away with her hand. “Knock yourself out.”

I walk over to where she left the stick. My heart jolts, speeding up at the positive test.

“Salem?” I only get a groan in reply. “You’re pregnant.”

Her eyes widen. “No, I’m not. Don’t lie.” She starts to cry. “Don’t lie. Not about this.”

I crouch down in front of her, cupping her cheek in my hand. “I’m not lying, Sunshine. We’re going to have another baby.”

She sobs, and I sit down on the floor beside her, gathering her into my arms and just holding her, because that’s what she needs





“Right there,” the doctor points to the screen at a tiny little blip that doesn’t even look like anything yet. “That’s your baby.”

Salem’s hand hovers over her mouth, her eyes glued to the black and white image displayed on the screen.

I pick up her other hand, kissing her knuckles.

“That’s our baby, Sunshine. Look at them.”

I think to myself that this is how things should’ve happened with Seda, but life had other plans for us. We needed to be apart to grow into the people we’ve become. Our love is stronger for the trials we’ve endured, and both of us knows how precious life is, how important it is to cherish every moment. At the end of the day, it isn’t the expensive things, or the big things you remember. It’s the people you love and the simple moments—dancing in the kitchen together, sitting down and having a meal together, just existing.

Life is not an infinite source—it’s finite, and the best thing we could all learn, is to treat it as such, because each breath in our lungs is a precious gift we shouldn’t waste.