Page 80 of Embers in Our Past

“Okay, fine, I give up. Where should I put it?” I relent.

“Put it right at the center there.” He points at the center of the bed. “It will make her laugh.”

“I swear, River, if she knees me in the balls, I’m going to fucking bury you with this. Then I’ll tell Mom, this was all your fault!” I point a finger at him, and he smiles. I want to wipe his smug smile right off with this stupid thing.

I walk into the bedroom and place the item in the middle of the bed, rolling my eyes and wondering why I listen to my brother. I’m about to change my mind when I hear my brother yell, “They’re on their way back. I’m going to head downstairs and sneak out!”

I hear him speaking to Lola, then gathering her leash and heading out with a quick “Good luck” before he closes the front door.

My heart is racing. I’m taking a huge gamble doing this right now. I mean, I haven’t let much time pass since Gabriella was born to let things settle, but I want to do this. I want to unify us again in this way.

River sends me another text; the pieces of my plan coming to fruition.

River

Just got Kennedy downstairs. My Gabby girl thought I was you.

Also, thanks for helping me out today.

River

Always brother.

I stand in place until I hear the elevator ding outside, staying on the inside of our apartment until Abby opens the front door.

The moment she swings the door open, she’s surprised to find me waiting for her. Gabriella’s eyes sparkle when she sees me. She’s in the baby wrap, one of her preferred ways of being carried right now. This week’s freak-out of choice is the stroller, in which she has chosen to scream at a frequency I did not know she could reach.

Abby takes in the scenery of our foyer.

“Clay, what’s going on?” She swings her gaze around, taking in all the little knick-knacks I’ve placed on the walls and surrounding areas.

I go to grab the diaper bag, but she wraps her arms around our daughter, moving her hands up and down, giving her body a little bounce as she smiles and bends to look at everything.

There are pictures from our first dates, some stubs from movies, notes I’ve written, and items I had saved along the way from our years of dating. I had things saved I found when I was cleaning up boxes from the apartment a few months back. It jogged my memory to some items I had left at my mom’s place, and I went there to get a few more things as well.

We move further along, and then, going deeper into the apartment, we find pictures from our engagement, where I printed the photos and lined them up.

“I have loved you through so many stages of life. I couldn’t pick just one,” I say, and she looks over at me, her smile growing.

I grab her hand and plant a kiss on her lips, then place a soft kiss on top of our daughter’s head as well. Gabriella’s legs kick in excitement, even if she has no idea what’s going on.

We continue to move through the hallway as I hold her hand. She knows where this is leading, but we simply smile at one another. I have butterflies multiplying in my stomach as I know what’s coming. I’m nervous about what I’ve put together in our room for her. I continue with my speech in hopes that she understands why I’ve decided to highlight our journey in such a way.

“I know we had some difficult times in our past that we do not love to reflect on,” I say, feeling the nerves skyrocket as I move her closer to the bedroom, “but I still think we can’t go forward ignoring the past hardships. So, we must move through those times together too.”

I can tell she’s unsure where I’m going with this because I’m blocking her view into our doorway, but then I move out of the way and guide her inside.

I wavered on this part of our story when I came up with the plan for our proposal this time around. I bought a ton of syringes representing our IVF struggles. I’ve seen so many people have children after a long journey through IVF, and they surround the baby with their empty syringes.

But has anyone told the story of their marriage after IVF? Because that’s what my story is with Abby. We lost a lot, and we returned together. Our story may have a baby that came out of it all, but IVF took our marriage down a different path the first time. This represents a traveled path that has led to a different outcome. I thought it was poignant to put them in the shape of a heart on the bed to ask her an important question.

I continue to move her into our room. I did something similar when I asked her to marry me the first time. It was outside, near the harbor, on a warm day in June. This is different because we’ve come a long way since that warm summer day. I get down on one knee, pulling the box from the middle of the bed.

She keeps her eyes trained on the center of the bed, and I quickly grab her attention. “Eyes on me, baby.”

“But is that?—”

“No, no, Abby, sweetheart, look here, baby.”

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