Page 53 of This Means War

Cole frowns, “Yeah, and I ordered you a large. How is that not a large?” I barely hear him as the flavors hit me, and I drop the shake like I’ve been poisoned. As my throat starts to constrict, I realize that in a way I have been.

Cole

“Lydia?” I watchin confusion as her shake tumbles from her hands and onto the table, spilling the contents all over it.

“Excuse me, sir, but I think you took my shake,” a teenager speaks from behind me, she’s got the largest shake I’ve ever seen clutched in her hands. In that instant, the smell of the drink streaming across the table hits my nostrils, and I realize what’s happened. Peanut butter.

“No, no, no!” I’m across the table in a flash, adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Lydia!” She’s clutching at her throat, her lips turning a dangerous shade of blue. I have never been more afraid in my entire life. “Where’s your EpiPen?” I’m fighting to think clearly. I dump the contents of her bag, praying fervently it’s in there. I spot it in a second, shouting, “Someone call 911!” as I uncap it and insert it straight through the thin fabric of her cotton skirt and into her thigh, holding it there until I hear the click that signals the injection has started. I count slowly to three, before removing it and massaging the area. There’s nothing more I can do, but I can’t just sit there. I hold her tightly in my arms, glancing wildly about to see if anyone has called an ambulance.

An older gentleman runs over to us, his phone gripped in his hand. “They’re on their way,” he tells me, but I can’t feel relieved… not yet. Not until I see her green eyes open and look up at me with their usual annoyance at my complete idiocy.

After what has to be an eternity, they finally do. She looks dazed and confused, but she’s breathing. She’s breathing. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

“Lydia.” I smooth hair off her face, and then I can’t keep it together any longer, and I just start crying all over her.

***

The next weekis the longest of my life. As soon as the ambulance arrived on the scene, they whisked Lydia off to the hospital, and that’s where we’ve been ever since. Even though her breathing stayed steady after that first dose of epinephrine, they still wanted to keep her and the babies here for observation, so she’s been stuck in bed, hooked to a fetal heart monitor this whole time.

I haven’t been able to leave her side. We spend the days watching crappy daytime television, eating bland hospital food, and playing endless games of Scrabble. I let her beat me the first few times until she yells at me to stop, announcing that if I don’t manage to put a z tile on a triple-word score the next game then I forfeit all naming rights to her. I don’t tell her that if she and the babies make it through this unscathed, she can name them whatever she wants to.

Her parents show up on the second day, and hermom is quick to tell me that I look like hell and should go home and shower while they’re here. I can’t bring myself to leave Lydia though, so I just go stand in the hallway, listening as her mom bursts into tears and tells Lydia how much she loves her and how sorry she is about some fight they had. She goes on to tell her how much she loves her, then starts another round of apologies, saying she let her pride get the best of her and has been feeling guilty ever since.

A few minutes later, when they’ve both stopped crying, her dad announces he wants to pray. As his gentle words flow out into the hallway, something inside me stirs. I find myself leaning in to listen, even folding my own hands as if to join in the prayers being sent up to heaven. I can’t stop replaying the scene at the ice cream shop over and over again. I could’ve lost her. The very thought makes me feel helpless and out of control. I guess Lydia was right, and I do need God after all. The realization floors me and I sink to the ground, sobbing quietly.

Chapter 37

Lydia

On Sunday night, I’mfinally discharged from the hospital with strict instructions to take it easy for the next few days and to call if anything feels abnormal. Honestly, after seven days in a hospital bed hooked up to fetal monitors, just getting into a car feels abnormal. Not to mention how solicitous Cole has been since the accident. That’s a whole new level of abnormal.

Even though it’s only 8:30 when we arrive home, I tell Cole I’m going to bed and head straight to my room. Having just spent a week in bed, I’m not actually tired, I just need the reprieve from Cole’s constant presence. It’s messing with my mind and giving me false hope that he might actually, on some level, care about me. I keep reminding myself that he’s just worried about the babies, but my stupid heart flip-flops in my chest every time I picture him crying over me outside the ice cream shop.

I take a shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water against my skin after so many days of just takingunsatisfying sponge baths. When I get out, I towel dry my hair and pull my favorite nightshirt over my head. I hear banging in the kitchen and, my curiosity getting the best of me, I venture towards the noise.

As I round the corner to the dimly lit kitchen, I spot Cole kneeling on the floor rummaging through cupboards, a trash bag at his side. My throat dries as I notice that he’s only wearing a pair of boxer shorts. Then as I watch him for a second, I realize what he's doing. He puts a jar of peanut butter into the trash bag, then, a second later, a half-eaten bag of almonds. He reaches all the way into the back of one cupboard, his hand reemerging with a spice jar labeled nutmeg. He studies it for a second, considering, then tosses it in the trash bag with everything else.

“Nutmeg isn’t a nut,” I speak up from my perch in the doorway and he turns, startled. I’m shocked by the haunted look I see on his face, and I realize he’s been putting on a front for me this whole time. He must’ve been really worried about the babies.

“Lydia, I thought you were sleeping.” His voice comes out a croak. He’s been crying. My heart lurches in my chest.

“Cole,” I say, taking a tentative step forward. “It wasn’t your fault what happened. It was just a mistake.” He shuts his eyes and shakes his head.

“I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve never made that mistake. When I think about what could’ve happened…” his voice breaks off and he shakes his head again.

“Cole,” I take another step closer, placing my hands on my protruding stomach, “the babies are fine, okay? Yes, it could’ve been really bad, but you did exactly the right thing giving me my EpiPen. The babies are fine,” I repeat. “The babies are fine.”

Cole’s eyes pop open and land on me, the intensity in them taking me by surprise. “Lyddie,” he whispers, sending tingles down my spine. A second later he’s up off his feet and closing the distance between us. He stops right in front of me, a question in his eyes. Slowly, I nod, because I can’t deny that I want this too. Cole reaches over and tucks a stray hair behind my ear, then lets his hand trail down my cheek until his palm rests along my jawline. He tilts my chin up to him so that our eyes lock, then he bends down and kisses me.

His kiss is soft at first, like he’s cherishing the moment, but then a groan escapes him, and his arms wrap around me, somehow surrounding me despite my size. And now he’s kissing me like he really means it. My body is alive with longing, but as his hands move down along my sides and over my hips, a burst of self-consciousness hits me, and I pull away.

“Lyddie?” He calls me by my pet name again, the sweetness of it rolling over me like sunshine. “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you?” He looks so worried, and he’s so sexy standing there in his boxers, the hard lines of his muscled shoulders begging for me to trail my fingers over them and I-I’m…

“I-I’m so fat,” I stammer, my lower lip wobbling as ridiculous tears threaten.

To Cole’s never-ending credit he doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. Instead, he slowly moves his hands from my hips up over my stomach sending a thrill through me. His eyes are locked on mine as he whispers, “Lyddie, you are growing our babies, and you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Now tears spill over my lashes, but Cole just wipes them away with his thumbs and kisses me softly on the cheeks, his tenderness flooring me. I reach up and tentatively run my hands over his shoulders, deciding that maybe I believe what he says. Cole sucks in a breath and then, quite suddenly, he’s scooping me up and carrying me not in the direction of my bedroom, but his.

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