Anywhere With You (21 page)
Authors: Britney King
Amelie buried her head into my chest and then pulled back. “I’m only sure of this,” she said motioning between the two of us. “I’m sure of what’s right here in front of me, willing to let me love him—if only I’ll let him love me back. I’m sure that you’ve always been the person for me—even when it seemed like you weren’t. I just had to grow up a little bit. Or a lot. And maybe you did, too. But mostly, I’m sure that I’m willing to fight for what I have here, in this moment. I’m willing to fight for the rest of our lives to never forget my path back to you. To never forget that it’s always led me back—one-way or another. And I’m sure that I’m willing to fight to hang on to the memory of what we have—what we’ve always had. No matter how rough the road ahead might be.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, testing her. “What do we have?”
She smiled. “Chemistry. Love. Friendship. Hate-ship. Which if you ask me—is just another form of love,” she said, and then she let out a small laugh. She paused for the briefest of seconds and exhaled. “It’s something exceptional—that’s what.”
“I think you’re exactly right,” I told her.
“Of course, I am,” she said without missing a beat.
And just like that, she’d passed the test. Then again, I knew she would. She always had.
Jack
Happily ever after’s do exist. Sometimes, they just take a while.
Three weeks after Amelie arrived back in Colorado, we packed up and moved across the country to a tiny town in Maine. We road tripped it there in a U-Haul filled with only that which was a necessity. Letters, photos, and a bed. Two weeks after we set out, we sleepily pulled into that tiny town and turned down the long drive of a small rundown cottage that Amelie had her heart set on renovating from the moment she saw its photo online.
We spent the next six months turning it into our dream home—complete with a photography studio around back for her, a detached office for me, and a spare room for our future child. We were blissed out happy.
But the best part—aside from falling in love with her for new and different reasons than I ever had before, was being close to Max again. I was able to be a day-to-day father again versus simply a vacation dad.
There was also the factor of seeing Amelie with him. She was a natural. More importantly, she never tried to play ‘Mom’ with Max. She was always a friend first, confidante second, and person of authority last. She let Jane and I handle the parenting side of things, and this is what I believe made our blended family situation work so well.
But this doesn’t mean it was always easy. We had immediately begun trying for a baby. Essentially, starting from the day she arrived in Colorado. By the third month, Amelie began to worry that nothing was happening while I assured her it likely had to do with the timing and stress of moving to the east coast. By month six, just as soon as the renovations were complete, she seemed to go into full-blown panic mode. I chalked it up to the fact that we’d just spent the last half a year of our lives tied up in one project after another. And sooner, rather than later my nonchalance about the lack of conception drove a bit of a wedge between us. I insisted that if she were so worried about it, then she should see a doctor, a suggestion that she flat out refused. I had never, as long as I’d known her, ever seen Amelie so stressed out over something as much as she was about not getting pregnant. Amelie wasn’t a worrier. She didn’t fret over things. She wasn’t a planner, and most of all she was an eternal optimist. Which are all reasons why I fell in love with her. Only, without anything to show for all of our practice (which was the fun part I might add) she became withdrawn and moody and different. She became depressed.
I did my best to love her through the darkness. But the truth was I wasn’t very good at it. In addition, as she often pointed out, I already had a child. So I didn’t—couldn’t—and according to her, never would get it.
By month fourteen, Amelie finally agreed to see a doctor, who after several rounds of tests, found absolutely no reason for our infertility. She added that we could try the more modern scientific methods of conceiving or we could wait it out. I wanted to proceed with in vitro— while Amelie threw all of her energy into Eastern medicine.
Somewhere during our second year of trying, we both decided to proceed with our plans of opening Camp Legacy II. Initially, when we’d arrived in Maine, I wanted to hold off in order to get the house situated and to get settled. Mostly, I wanted to spend some time getting aquatinted to our new lives and to avoid another situation like what had happened when Max was born—where I was simultaneously becoming a father and an owner of a new business.
This remained the plan until one evening I arrived home to find Amelie in her studio, a sobbing mess on the floor, photos spread around her. She missed her job, she missed traveling, and she felt that she’d given it all up for nothing. Despite the fact that I was initially hurt by her sentiment, I couldn’t say that I completely disagreed. I still had my work, for the most part. I was running all things for the Colorado camp, as well as my various business partnerships, and on the side, making plans for the new camp. As for Amelie, she took photos here and there—but mostly, she sat in her studio, day in and day out, thinking about everything she’d given up and all that she didn’t have to show for it. She said she’d had enough. She was done trying for a baby, that it wasn’t meant to be, and couldn’t be forced.
While I didn’t completely agree—I didn’t tell her as much. Instead, I suggested the one thing I knew she needed more than anything. Adventure. So we agreed that we’d proceed with our plans for the new camp, sooner than we’d planned. Amelie threw herself into all things building and overseeing, and at the end of each day, she was spent. We both were. This was probably one of the most stressful times in both our lives. We were attempting to complete a project that would normally take a year in about half the time—simply so we could open that summer. Looking back, it was crazy. But it served its purpose. With a renewed sense of purpose, Amelie came out of her funk, for the most part, and I saw a side of her I’d never seen before. I saw a leader. And I fell more in love with her than I ever thought I could.
Seven months later, in early June, Camp Legacy II opened to its first visitors. Amelie taught photography and a class on poetry while I taught survival skills and ran the business side of things. In late August, Amelie handed me an envelope. It contained a black and white photograph of her hands resting on her abdomen holding a note that read, ‘Finally.’
Shortly before Valentine’s Day the following year, I held Amelie’s hand as she pushed our daughter out into the world. We named her Evelyn, which means ‘long-awaited child,’ but also after the little girl Amelie had seen in the park the day she said the course of her future changed. Having a daughter is different from having a son, in the most difficult to explain way. In short, Evelyn was the most beautiful little thing I’d ever seen.
That is, until her sister, Sadie was born sixteen months later. Amelie and I didn’t think she would get pregnant so easily—given the length of time it took us the first go round. But we were wrong.
By the time the girls were five and six respectively, they’d begun to ask why their parents weren’t married the way their friend’s parents were. So the following summer we said our ‘I do’s’ in a small chapel we’d built on the camp property in front of Max and Molly, our daughters, and roughly two handfuls of people. It was the best day of our lives, we all agreed later.
And it was… then. But there would be other best days. And a few not so good ones, too. Which was ok. Because we had each other, and already, we’d learned a lot about surviving and getting through.
We found out that sometimes you wait seemingly forever for something to happen—something that feels like it never would. But then it does—and it changes everything. And then from there—life has a way of just keeping on giving.
For better or worse.
We learned that the wait is usually worth it—that good will come just as sure as the seasons change. We learned that happily(ish)-ever-afters do, in fact, exist. Even and
especially
when they take a while in the getting there.
Often the road ahead isn’t clear. Life isn’t a straight line from point A to point B. It’s fraught with challenges and detours and things unforeseen. But most importantly, we learned that if you hang on, and you do your best to enjoy the ride—no matter how lost you get or how long the detour—you’ll find you wind up where you were meant to be.
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed reading Anywhere With You as much as I enjoyed writing it.
To be honest, if it hadn’t been for readers asking for a follow up to Somewhere With You, this book would not have been written.
I truly appreciate the push
!
Secondly, I need to ask a favor. If you’re so inclined, I would love to have you review Anywhere With You
. I would truly appreciate your feedback, especially via
Goodreads.
Reviews can be hard to come by these days, and the truth is, you, the readers, have the power to make or break a book
.
Lastly, if you’d like to learn about my other books, you can find them listed here:
http://britneyking.com/books/
Again, thank you so much for reading Anywhere With You and for spending time with me.
With gratitude,
Britney King
P.S. If you would like to learn what’s next, find out about all upcoming releases, and other newsworthy items,
please click here to join my mailing list.
Many thanks to my family and friends, thankfully of which there are too many of you to mention. I’m a lucky girl—and I know it. Your love and support—and what it means to me, leaves me at a loss for words. It’s
that
wonderful
.
Thank you to Rogena Mitchell for editing and polishing my manuscript. Also, for putting up with my shenanigans.
Once again, many thanks to Lisa Jay for her lovely work on the cover.
To Stephanie Lapensee, publicist extraordinaire. And everyone at Inkslinger, thank you.
Thanks to my first readers—you know who you are. You make me better. But namely, Samantha Wiley and Nikki Reeves. You’re the best.
To my tiny street team, strangers who have become friends, and to everyone in the book world who helps spread the word and make life better. Thank you. Truly.
Last, but certainly not least, I want to thank the readers. For every kind note, for every review, for simply reading... as always, you all are everything. I’m grateful.
