A Very Dirty Wedding (33 page)

We're on our way toward the sleighs, when my father, Rose, and Bailey rush up behind us, stopping us in our tracks.

"What's going on?" my father asks.  "Are you okay?"

"She's having the baby," Libby blurts.

"You're not due yet," Rose says.

"I know!"  I yell.  "I'm not sure I'm having it.  I might be…uh…peeing on myself."

"You are not peeing on yourself," Libby says, "Unless you're a camel holding gallons of pee."

"I texted our doctor," Caulter says.  "He's going to call back.  We'll fly him up here to deliver the baby."

"Doctors do that?" Bailey asks.

"Our obstetrician is not going to just fly out here," I say, my voice rising.  "And the airports are probably closed."

"Are any of the guests obstetricians?" Libby asks.  "I'm sure there's a doctor here."

"There's no doctor here with drugs," I screech.  "I want all of the drugs."

"And the baby is premature," Rose says.  "It's important she get to the hospital.  There's one a few miles away.  It's probably only ten minutes by sleigh."

"Calm down," my father interrupts, and I almost lose it right there.

"Calm down?" I squeal.  "A monkey ate our wedding rings and then scared an old woman practically to death while he tried to pick nits out of her hat; some crazy girl Caulter hooked up with years ago had to be physically removed from the wedding; and my water broke in the middle of the whole thing.  And we're here in the middle of a blizzard.  I think I'm actually pretty calm, all things considering."

Caulter takes my face in his hands.  "Look," he says.  "We need to get in a sleigh and get to the hospital."

"I should go change or something," I say.  "I can't show up in a wedding dress."  Then my back starts to hurt, tightening as pain rushes through me.

"That's back labor, honey," Rose says, as I inhale sharply.  "And the baby is premature.  Go with Caulter in a sleigh."

"And me," my father says.  "I'm going too."

"So am I," Ella says.

"Are you hungry?" Rose asks, then waves her hand.  "You will be.  I'll smuggle food in for you.  Hospital food is just…ugh.  Bailey and Libby and I will meet you there."

Before I can protest the entourage of people accompanying me to the hospital, I'm being whisked to the sleigh, my back cramping so badly that I dig my fingers into Caulter's arm.  "This is going to be really embarrassing when we show up to the emergency room and they tell you I've just been peeing on myself!"

"Princess," Caulter says.  "If they tell you it's pee, this is going to be a
hilarious
story."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Caulter

"Everything's okay?" I ask.  Adrenaline pumps through my body, my hands in fists at my side.  I've never been so fucking nervous about anything in my life.  If anything happened to Kate or the baby…I can't even think about it.  "Kate is okay?  The baby is okay?"

"Everything looks fine."  The obstetrician looks at the monitor beside the bed.  "She's in the right position, and –"

"She?" Kate and I ask, at the same time.

"It's a girl," the doctor says.  "Did I reveal the secret?  Well, you'd have known in the next thirty minutes, anyway."

"It's a girl!" Kate says, smiling at me, her eyes teary.

"A girl!"  I feel a lump forming in my throat.

"Are you ready to push?" the doctor asks.

"Now?" Kate squeals.  "Like,
now
now?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" the doctor asks.  "She's not going to stay inside.  Since you've had an epidural, you're not going to feel much, so I need you to concentrate on pushing when I tell you to push."

Kate grabs my hand and motions me close to her.  “Caulter, I –“

I squeeze her hand.  “I know,” I say.  “I love you too.”

“No, I mean—yeah, sure, I love you too,” she says.  “But I was going to say something else.”

“What?” I ask.  I’m waiting for her to say something poignant.  Instead, she gives me a stern look, and as serious as I’ve ever heard her, says:

“Do
not
look below my waist.”

“Shit, Kate,” I say, laughing.

“I mean it, Caulter," she says.  "There's no going back, once you've seen it down there.  Promise me."

"Fine," I say, sighing.  "I won't be squatting down south of your waist."

I'm nervous and excited all at once.  Shit, I've never been so nervous.  I hold Kate's hand through the delivery, silently praying nothing goes wrong.

When the doctor speaks – "Congratulations!  It's a girl!" -- I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then I see her.  Our baby.  And everything is a blur -- cutting the umbilical cord, Kate sobbing as she holds our child -- and hell, I'm not ashamed to admit there are tears in my eyes.

Our baby.

"I want to call her Anne.  After my mom," Kate says, and I choke up again.

"That's good, Kate.  Really, really good."

The doctor says Kate and Anne look healthy.  Even though Anne was born five weeks early, technically premature, she's over six pounds and breathing just fine.  Everything is good.

Scratch that.

Everything is fucking great.  When I hold Anne in my arms, my heart feels full to the point of bursting.  She's so little and the cutest thing I've ever seen.

I love Kate, but this is a whole different kind of love.  It's instantaneous and powerful.

And I'm responsible for her. 
We're
responsible for her.

Holy shit.

Thirty minutes later, Anne is asleep on Kate's chest, content and warm, when our hospital room becomes total chaos as the Senator, Ella, Rose, Bailey, and Libby arrive, a giant collection of "oohs" and "ahhs" and hushed warnings to each other "be quiet or you're going to wake up the baby, damn it!"

I look around, back and forth from Kate and Anne to everyone gathered around the hospital bed, laughing and talking.  Kate is radiant as she holds our child.  Outside the window, snow continues to fall heavily, and I think there’s no place on earth that’s filled with so much love as this place right now.

“Caulter,” Kate says, through the commotion.  “I still want to get married.”

“Oh honey, the minister went home,” Rose tells her.

“We can still do it,” I say.

“You don’t want to just redo the ceremony?” Ella asks.  “We could do it again.”

Kate laughs.  “I’m happy right here,” she says.  “It was a lovely wedding, though, Ella.”

“It was,” the Senator says, and Ella smiles as Libby and Bailey burst into giggles.

“It wasn’t,” Ella admits, laughing.  “It was ridiculous.  It was a total catastrophe.”

Then everyone is laughing and Kate is shaking as she giggles, trying not to wake the baby.  “It was exactly what should have happened,” Kate says.

“We’ll have a great story to tell Anne about her birthday,” I say.

“This is her birthday story,” Kate says.  “And it’s perfect.”

“Hang on,” I tell her.  “I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Kate yells.

“To find a minister!”  I call.

And, as luck would have it, I find one almost immediately.  In fact, I run into him in the hallway.

Literally.

I run right into Santa Claus.

He was stranded overnight because of the storm after visiting kids on the pediatric ward.

“Sorry!” I say, the words rushing from my mouth.  “I’m trying to find a minister.  We just had a baby.  We're getting married.  I mean, we tried to get married today but it got all messed up.  And we had a baby.  Shit, did I say that already?"

“Ah, well, hell,” he says.  “You found the right guy.”

"Huh?"

"You want to get married, don't you?"

“You're saying you can marry us?  Legally?"

He shrugs.  “I’m ordained online.”

I can see my future self telling this story to Anne when she’s older: “And that’s how your mother and father were married on Christmas Eve by Santa Claus.  On your birthday.”

I burst into the room, tailed by Santa, who laughs as he walks in.  “Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas!”

Kate cocks her head to the side.  “Really, Caulter?" she asks.  "Santa?  Are you purposely trying to re-traumatize me?"

"I forgot about that," I say.  "What with all of the excitement."

"Forgot about what?" Libby asks.  "You have a Santa phobia?"

"Not exactly," Kate says.

"Let's talk about something else," the Senator says, clearing his throat.

We need a minister, not Santa,” Kate says.  “No offense to you, Santa.  And Ella, don’t even suggest that a reindeer should carry the rings.”

“A reindeer!” Ella says, her eyes wide.  “Damn it.  I should have thought of that!”

“I’m ordained,” Santa says.

“From the Church of the North Pole?” Kate asks, laughing.

“Close,” Santa says.  “The internet.”

"Well?" I ask Kate.  "I'm afraid we're limited as far as choices here.  It's Santa or nothing.  No offense, Santa."

"It's Gary, actually," he says.

Kate laughs.  "It's fine," she says.  "No, not fine.  It's perfect."

“Where are the rings?” Libby asks.

Bailey laughs.  “When we left, Bryan was telling Joe that he’d better follow the monkey around for the rest of the day and pick the rings out of the monkey poop himself, after what he pulled with the girl from the Celtics game.”

Kate groans.  “I don’t know if we want to wear poop rings.”

I grab a plastic straw from the cup on Kate’s food tray, and the straw wrapper and tie them into rings.  “These will work.”

She smiles broadly.  “They will,” she says.  “So are we doing this thing before Anne wakes up?”

“Do you want me to hold the baby?” Rose asks.

“No,” Kate says, taking my hand while Anne sleeps contentedly on her chest.  “I think everything is perfect, just the way it is.”

“Do either of you have vows you want to read?” Santa asks.

“I think they got lost in the shuffle,” I say.  “But I do have something I want to say.  Katherine Harrison, I effing love you.”

Kate laughs.  “I’m glad you’re learning to censor yourself.”

“I
effing love you
.  More than I ever thought I could love anyone.  And that love was multiplied today.  I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you and with our family.”  He slips the straw wrapper ring onto my finger.

“Katherine?” Santa asks.

“I effing love you too, Caulter Sterling.  I had no idea when we were in high school that I’d be spending the rest of my life with you.  Or that you would have been the father of my child.”

“You’d have probably had a stroke,” I say, laughing as she slides the plastic straw ring onto my finger.

“I probably would have,” Kate says.  “I was pretty stuck up back then.”

“And I was kind of an a-hole.”

“I love you, more than anything.  And I love this little girl.  I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Santa clears his throat.  “By the power vested in me by the Church of the North Pole, I now pronounce you man and wife.  You may kiss the bride.”

I lean over the hospital bed to kiss Kate.  It’s soft and sweet and I feel more content than I ever have.  I whisper in her ear.  “I fucking love you, Princess.”

A little cry erupts from Anne and breaks through the laughter and clapping behind us, and Kate looks up at me with a grin.  “Right back at you, Prick.”

EPILOGUE

Next Christmas

Kate

“Merry Effin’ Christmas Eve, Princess,” Caulter whispers into my ear, mindful of the little one who’s crawling across the hardwood floor in the living room at warp speed.  Anne is one year old today.  Two weeks ago, she started crawling, and now it's like she's a professional crawler.  It's like she's been doing it forever.

“It'll be a merry
fucking
Christmas Eve,” I whisper back, before Anne reaches us. "Happy anniversary."

Our little girl pulls herself up, holding onto Caulter's pants, until she's standing.

"Hey, baby," I say, in the sweet sing-song baby voice that I'd always heard other people use and swore I'd never use with my child, "Who's crawling like a total rock star?"

I bend down to scoop her up in my arms as Caulter gives me a look.  "Do rock stars really crawl?  I feel like that's a bad metaphor."

"Let's ignore your daddy," I tell Anne as I spin around with her in my arms.  She giggles hysterically the way she always does when we airplane her around the room.  "Your daddy just has no appreciation for good imagery."

"Oh, I definitely have an appreciation for good imagery," Caulter says, leering at me as I look over my shoulder.  I'm walking away with Anne in my hands, and his expression makes me laugh, which in turn makes her giggle harder.

"Gaaaaa…daaaaaa…." she gurgles.

"Did she just say daddy?" Caulter asks, his face lighting up. 

"I think that might have been a da!"  I say.  "Did you try to say 'daddy,' little girl?  Say it again: da-deee."

But she just looks at us like we're idiots as we slowly sound out
daddy
several more times.

"It might be in our heads," I say.

"Nope," Caulter says.  "I heard it.  It was Daddy."

"No way.  She's going to say mommy first.  Right, Anne?  Ma-ma."

"You're totally jealous.  Her first word was absolutely
dad
."

"If by
dad
, you mean a random gurgle, then yes," I say, my voice teasing.

"Jealous."

"Never," I say, kissing Caulter on the cheek.  "Should we get this one bathed and ready for bed?"

"Yes.  She's had a long day, and I need some alone time with you," he says.

Today was Anne's first birthday party, and we spent the afternoon with our friends and family here at the lake house in New Hampshire.  Of course, it's our house now.

The day after discharge from the hospital last year, my father told us he wanted us to have the lake house. 
It's always been your place,
he said.  He was going to make his residence permanent in Washington, D.C.  So we moved to Lake Winnipesaukee, to the place that held all of the memories with my mom and I, and memories of when Caulter and I fell in love.

I've been selling my art here at Libby's gallery and Caulter is still running his foundation.  And now, we're going to be able to see Anne grow up here.

Our little girl plays happily in the tub with her bath toys, and Caulter slides his arm around me as we watch her.  Playing with rubber duckies and plastic boats in the tub isn't exactly what I'd have pictured for our anniversary, but I'd honestly not have it any other way.

So it's not a super romantic trip to Bali or crazy sex in a hotel room somewhere.  It's Caulter and I and Anne now.  Our family.  It's richer and more fulfilling than I ever thought it could be.

"One year," Caulter murmurs beside me.  "Can you believe it?  It's been one year already.  It went so fast."

"Everything has changed so much since we first met."

"We're a family now," I say.  "I have a feeling it's going to keep going fast," I say, looking up at him.

Caulter sighs.  "I know," he says.  "Are you sure we can't keep her this age forever?"

"Oh, are you enjoying the two a.m. waking up and the teething crankiness?" I tease.

"What's that?" he asks.  "I'm too exhausted to understand what you're saying."

"It's all a blur."

"A happy blur," he says.  "Can you finish up here without me?"

"Sure."  I watch him leave, wondering what he's up to, but I'm too distracted by Anne splashing and giggling to wonder for very long.  Instead, I bathe her and sit with her in the rocking chair.   Before I've even read to her from one of her baby books, she's out like a light.

I watch her sleep, reflecting on this year and how much everything has changed – not only with Anne growing by leaps and bounds or with Caulter and my relationship deepening, but with everything. 

It hasn't been easy, of course, but things are continuing to improve with my father.  He made a permanent move to Washington, D.C., never really wanting to give up a political career, but he's involved with Anne in a way he never was with me.

It's bittersweet, but I guess that's life.  You can't change the past -- the only thing you can do is work toward the kind of future you want to have.  So my father and I are working toward that.

Ella has stepped up, too.  Despite her "don't ever let the baby call me grandma; I'm not old enough to be a grandmother!" protests, she's absolutely enchanted with Anne.  Her television series is doing well, and she visits from New York all the time.  She and my father get along now like old friends, although they swear there is nothing going on between them.  At least this holiday season we haven't caught them playing Santa and his naughty elf again.

Yet.

Libby and Bailey got married, and Libby is pregnant.  They're giddy and ridiculously happy.

Joe did indeed follow the monkey around last year at the wedding, as penance for bringing what's-her-name to the wedding, until the monkey pooped out the wedding rings twelve hours later.  We decided to get new wedding rings – not straw and straw-wrapper ones – anyway.

Photos from the wedding – the first one, not the hospital one – made their way all over the internet afterward ("Wedding Disaster!"), but Caulter and I were too busy with Anne to care.  It's funny how our priorities were instantaneously rearranged the day of her birth.

Caulter comes up behind me, and stands there silently with me for a moment, watching her.  His arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me tightly against him.  "You look deep in thought," he says.  "She looks so peaceful."

"I know," I say.  "I still haven't gotten tired of watching her sleep, all cuddled up like that."

"Me neither," Caulter says, his voice soft.  We stand there for a minute before he whispers, "Now let's get out of here."

I stifle a giggle as he takes me by the hand and pulls me out of the nursery, stopping in the hallway to immediately bend down and toss me over his shoulder.  "What are you doing?"

"It's our anniversary," he says, slapping me on the ass.  "And I'm taking you into the bedroom so I can defile you."

"I think you've already defiled me," I say, laughing.

"Then I want to debauch you."

"That’s the same thing."

He slaps me hard on the ass, and I laugh, hitting him on the back.  "Put me down," I say.  "You can't spank me just because your command of the English language sucks."

He slides me down the front of him, and pulls me tight against his hardness.  "Oh yeah?" he asks.  "What can I spank you for, then?"

"Our anniversary," I say.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," he says, spinning me around, his hands immediately on the button of my pants, pulling them down in one swift motion.

And I see the bedroom – decked out with candles, rose petals strewn across the bed and trailing along the floor.  And in the middle of the bed, sex toys and lingerie.  And a gift-wrapped object in the middle, rectangular-shaped, something in a frame.

"Is that a piece of art?" I ask, as Caulter yanks my pants completely down my legs.  "First anniversary is supposed to be paper.  And I thought we said we were holding all gifts until Christmas Day."

I leave out the anniversary surprise I'm keeping from him.

"It
is
a piece of art," he says, sliding his hands up my naked ass, then along my back before pulling my shirt over my head.  "Paper just seemed too boring."

"Please tell me that's not a painting of your cock or something," I say, spinning around to look at him.

"Says the girl who drew sketches of my dick and put me in an art exhibit titled 'Prick'."  He brings his mouth down on mine, and my body comes alive as he touches me, running his fingers up my back until he finds my bra and deftly unhooks it.

"There were no actual pricks in that exhibit," I say, laughing.  "Well, until you showed up."

Caulter smacks my bare ass.  "So witty."

"Are you going to let me see it?"  I ask.

"I'm definitely going to let you see it," he says, unbuckling his pants.

"That too," I say.

"Go open it."

I tear the paper from the package like a kid on Christmas morning, and look at the photo.  "Oh my God."

Caulter grins at me, totally naked, his clothes discarded on the floor.  "It's the first photo ever taken of us."

It's
that
photo.  The one of Caulter and I that caused all of the problems.  Caulter and I, standing in the front yard of my father's house in Washington, D.C.

Facing off and giving each other the finger.

That photo was plastered all over the internet.

"I got a copy of the original from the reporter who shot it," Caulter says.  "Told him it was a memento."

"I can't believe you," I say, laughing.  It's ridiculous, yet in a very Caulter way, it's so thoughtful.  I'd have never remembered that that was the first photograph taken of us.

"I know," he says.  "I'm so romantic."

I turn to him, my named body pressed against his.  A thrill rushes through me at the feeling of his skin on mine.  His lips on mine, his hands traveling across my body, send electricity through me.  "You are," I murmur, as he takes me to the bed.

When he runs his palm over my breasts and down my stomach, I arch my back, urging him on.  His mouth is between my legs almost immediately, his hands pulling me against his face.  His tongue meanders slowly, leisurely, as he eats me like he has all the time in the world, and not like we're parents of a teething baby.

I close my eyes, forgetting everything else, as the sensations overpower me.

Caulter pulls away, just when I'm on the edge.  "You're not coming that easily," he says, smirking as he replaces his tongue with a cock-shaped vibrator.  He fucks me slowly without turning on the vibration, pressing the tip of the cock against the place inside me that's the most sensitive, and I groan.

I reach for him, my thumb lightly caressing the tip of his cock, massaging the bead of pre-cum before stroking him from base to tip.  Caulter's eyes go heavy, and it isn't long before his cock is throbbing in my hand.  "Tell me to come," I whisper, brought nearly to the edge already.

"Are you close?" Caulter asks.  His voice is gravely, his words punctuated by short breaths as I work him over with my hand.  My eyes are fixated on his cock, and I want him in my mouth.

"I want to come with you in my mouth," I beg.  "I want you to come in my mouth so I can taste you."

Caulter groans loudly.  "You're not getting off that easily, Princess," he says, letting go of the vibrator and taking my hand from his cock.  "I want you to come with that vibrator in your pussy and my cock in your tight little asshole."

His words make me wet, and my pussy automatically tightens around the vibrator as I watch him roll a condom onto his length.  He gives me a knowing look.  "Do you like that?" he asks.  "Do you want me to have all of you?"

"I want you to have all of me," I say.

"Don't touch that vibrator," he orders.  "Touch your breasts."

I do what he tells me to do, my hands caressing my breasts, fingers pinching my nipples the way he does when he touches me, and a moan escapes my lips.

"Now, I want your legs in the air."

He says it sternly, his voice demanding, and I feel a tingle between my legs at the thought of what he's about to do.  Positioning myself for him, I press the vibrator inside me, my palm brushing against my clit.  "Hurry," I say, even though I know he'll just torment me by taking his time.

He does.  He takes my legs, pulling them up to his shoulders, one at a time.  He takes his time, his hands roaming over my breasts, massaging them, then tormenting me by pushing the vibrator further inside me and flicking it on the lowest setting.  Even that low, the stimulation nearly makes me come, and I have to close my eyes and will myself to wait for him.

When he presses his lubricated cock against my asshole, I inhale sharply through my teeth, anticipating the sensation of him inside me.  "You're going to hold out for me, Kate," he says, as my breathing becomes shorter.

"I don't know if I can," I say, and he spanks my ass.

"You will."