When You Make It Home (35 page)

Over the next few hours, Theo brought me clothes from my condo and picked up dinner. He held Grace while I took a shower. I told him to go home and sleep, but he didn’t want to leave us. While I was nursing Grace, he dozed off in the chair watching us. I called Jason to tell him the baby was born.

“Does she resemble me?” he asked.

“Not at all,” I said, laughing because Jason always thought of himself first.

“That’s probably a good thing,” he whispered into the phone. “Tell me about her.”

“She has wise eyes. She looks at me as if we’re old friends and she knows all my secrets. Her skin is the purest pink I’ve ever seen.” I smiled, looking at my daughter. “She has light hair. A tiny little tuft of it. And cheeks. You should see these cheeks.”

“She sounds divine. I’m happy it all worked out.” He cleared his throat. “I’m hiding in the garage. I better get back in the house before she notices I’m out here. But thanks for letting me know.”

I sighed. I had so much I wanted to say to him about everything we’d been through. I looked at Grace and let it all go. “Okay, bye.”

“You’ll be fine. You don’t need me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” I hung up the phone. Theo slept in the chair next to me, his arms hugging his chest. He had delivered my baby and stayed by my side. We both had been through so much in the past year. His eyes opened.

“I love you,” I said.

He smiled. “And I love you.”

The next afternoon, Theo opened the door to the condo, carrying my bag and a vase full of flowers. “You never said what you thought of the baby’s room,” he said. “If you don’t like it, I’ll change it however you want.”

Grace was asleep in the carrier car seat, and I set her on the floor. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

Theo put the flowers on the coffee table and turned to me. “Not even a peek?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t look until you showed it to me.”

Theo took my hand. “Let’s have a look.” He took me to the door I hadn’t entered since those first days he stayed with me, before he moved into my bed. I swallowed the lump in my throat as he turned the knob.

The room was as enchanting as a fairy tale. In soft, muted colors he had painted a castle and a whimsical bridge by a beautiful garden. The mural covered every wall. On a hill, a weeping willow bent in the breeze, surrounded by butterflies, and just past that was a dark and inviting magical forest. From the ceiling hung origami stars made of printed paper.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked, pointing at the stars.

“If you think I folded stars out of the actual pages of a fairy tale, you’d be correct. I found the discards from the print collection in your office.”

“Theo, this room…” I turned around slowly. “This room is perfect.” I sat down in the glider and picked up the e. e. cummings book he had left there. “Your book.” I held it up for him.

“It’s for Grace.”

Not exactly bedtime reading for a child, but I knew the book had special meaning for Theo. “Thank you,” I said, and when I flipped it open I saw he had drawn in nearly every margin. Sketches of me sleeping, my hand draped across my pregnant belly. One of me standing in a doorway, with a slight smile on my lips. A drawing of Theo and me laughing together. Another of me in bed, reading. Theo had created his own love story between the lines. Tears filled my eyes as I turned the pages. “I can’t believe this was here all along and I had no idea.” I looked up at him.

“Remember the night I bought the book, and you traced your hand on a poem? You showed me a part of you, of your love of books, and how you don’t put boundaries on that love. And Meg, I know sometimes you doubt yourself, doubt your ability to be a mother, but when you love, you are fierce in that love. Grace is a very lucky little girl. Come here.” He pulled me into his arms and kissed the side of my face. “We talked when you were in labor, but I have a few more things I need to say.”

He tilted my head, framing my face with his hands, smoothing my hair back.

“I love you,” he said. “I want to be with you forever.” He shifted and reached into his pocket, and pulled out a little box. Theo opened the box and removed a vintage solitaire engagement ring. “Will you marry me?”

I inhaled, ready to respond.

“Before you answer, I need you to know I’m ready to be your husband, and I’m ready to be Grace’s father.” I stood very still, overcome with emotion, as he took my hand and kissed it. “Let’s share this life together.”

I threw my arms around him. “Yes, I will marry you, Theo.”

He put the ring on my finger and we kissed. That was when I was sure that my happily ever after had already begun.

Acknowledgments

Writing a book is a long journey, and I arrived here with love, support, and faith from some very awesome people.

First, a huge thanks to my girl, Kim Aleman. You were with me from day one, always ready to have a serious conversation about these people living in my head. Sure, you kept refilling my glass of wine, but you always took me seriously, so thank you.

Next, my heart goes to everyone at Red Adept Publishing for believing in Meg and Theo’s story. Special thanks to my brilliant editors, Michelle Rever and Sarah Carleton, for seeing my vision and leading me there.

Thank you to my fabulous sisterhood of writers, Brenda Hummel and Elizabeth Buhmann, for reading and rereading my pages. Thank you for helping me tear it down and build it back up. And thank you, Kate Moretti, for your guidance along the way. I am a better person and a better writer for having you all in my life.

Thank you, Steve Kozeniewski, for letting me pick your brain endlessly. You might’ve helped with a few things in this book.

To Alex Horton, you captivated me with your Army of Dude blog. Thank you for taking my call, Alex, and sharing your journey home with me. You are an inspiration.

Throughout the writing of this book, I came across many stories of survival. After reading Bryan Anderson’s
No Turning Back
and his articles in
Esquire
and watching his MTV Documentary, I felt as if I knew him. One day, I hit a point where I had a few questions that I couldn’t find the answers to on my own. I contacted Bryan, and he replied as if we were old friends. Thank you, Bryan, for answering my most intimate questions. You are amazing.

Thank you, Lois and Amy, for your unwavering love, and thanks to Don and Edith for believing in me. I love you all.

To my husband and the wild monkeys: you are my everything.

And finally, to the one person I have to thank twice: Brenda, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You kept me going every step of the way.

About the Author

Claire Ashby was born and raised in the heart of Atlanta. At a young age, she began keeping journals and over time embellished the details of her quiet days. Eventually, she let go of writing reality altogether and delved completely into the world of fiction.

When she’s not reading or writing, she spends her time watching extreme survival shows and taking long walks after nightfall. She has an unnatural love of high places, but still regrets the time she skydived solo. She believes some things are better left to the imagination. She resides in Austin with her family and a pack of wild dogs.