Future Like This: A Small Town

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 Copyright © 2024 Bethany Monaco Smith

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or modified in any manner—including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system—without the
prior written permission of the copyright owner, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, etc. are fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons, locations, businesses, or events are
coincidental.
Any publication/use of trademarks in this book are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
For more information about this book, visit the author’s website.
www.bethanymonacosmith.com
 Contents

About Future Like This

Meet the Characters
Trigger Warnings
Dedication
1. The Most Ridiculous Things
2. Ride This Roller Coaster
3. Pretty Fucking Awesome
4. Uncertainty
5. Come Out Now
6. Christmas Perfection
7. Never Have I Ever…
8. Maybe
9. The Best Valentine
10. Everyone Stay Calm
11. Not a Robot
12. Arcade Games
13. My Future
14. All-nighter
15. Stop and Become
16. The Lovers
17. That Dress
18. Profound Love
19. Futures and Forevers
A Note from Bethany
Bethany’s Books
The Music of Future Like This
About the Author
Acknowledgements
 About Future Like This

Future Like This is book eight of an eleven book series following the lives and love stories of six best friends from late high
school to early adulthood in the fictional small town of Ida, New York. Each book leads directly into the next, even when love
stories and character POVs change
Future Like This is book two of Miles’s and Amelia’s love story, and a direct continuation of the previous seven books. If you
haven’t read those yet, go back to the beginning and jump on the roller coaster in book one, Friends Like This.
Future Like This picks up where the end of Family Like This left off.
Are you ready for Miles and Amelia to get their HEA?
 Meet the Characters

The Main Six Besties

Miles Hyun-Hansen
Mackenzie Montoya
Rae (McKinley) Cooper
Aaron Cooper
Sarah (McKinley) Wilkinson
Joel Wilkinson

The Unicorn Girl

Amelia Davis
Bonus Characters

Hyla Montgomery
Dani Malone
Jesse Wilkinson
Trevor Matteny
Amanda Hamilton
Chelsea Winters
Jamie Henderson
Addie & Jameson Hyun-Hansen

The Parents

Kara & Charlie McKinley (Rae & Sarah)

Bob & Cathy Cooper (Aaron)
Jeff & Janet Wilkinson (Joel & Jesse)
Linda Kaley & Rick Montoya (Mackenzie)
Andy & Katie Hyun-Hansen (Miles)
 Trigger Warnings

This book deals with realistic life issues, including subjects that may be triggering for some readers. By their nature, trigger
warnings may include plot spoilers small or large. If you are concerned about possible triggers, you can view trigger warnings
for this book here.
For all those who have had to wear their strength like a shield, it’s okay to lower your armor and share your beautiful
heart.
 Chapter One

The Most Ridiculous Things

Amelia

“MY MOM… THEY THINK she—she had a stroke.” I choke out the words into Miles’s chest. Then I yank my head back and
look up at him. “I need to get to the hospital.”
“We need to.”
“You don’t have—”
He steps back, cradling my face in his hands as he looks into my eyes. “You’re mine. Mine to love. Mine to protect. Mine to
support. Whatever is happening, it’s we. So, let’s go.”
Even though I should be hauling ass to the car to get to the hospital, I can’t. I can’t move. Except to throw myself against his
chest and hold him as tight as I can with my stomach in the way.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry.” I pushed him away all week—longer than that, really—now he’s here, taking care of me without a second
thought.
“Not right now.” His voice is calm and gentle. “There will be time for that. Right now, we need to get to the hospital.” He
kisses my head, then steps back and shuts off his computer before grabbing his wallet and keys from the top drawer of his desk.
He guides me back to my office to grab my purse and makes sure my computer is shut down as well, then he leads me to the
elevators.
I’m an absolute wreck. I used to be able to handle things like this on my own, but now? Miles is basically maneuvering me to
the car. Guiding me through doorways and making sure I don’t walk into anyone. How did I get this way?
My gut instinct is to say it’s because I’ve let someone take care of me for too long and that has stolen my independence, but I
shut that thought down. No. I’m not weak. I’m finally safe and supported enough to not have to deal with hard things alone. I
don’t have to push myself to the breaking point to survive anymore. I did that for so long, and it’s why I’m falling apart now.
Though it’s hard to push past those feelings, it’s easy to lean on Miles. When I do, I feel sparks of relief shooting through me,
like they’re rushing to heal the cracks that have formed in my heart and soul.
When we get to his car, I wrap my arms around him again, desperate for his warmth and the safety of his arms.
“I’ve got you.” He kisses the side of my head, then helps me into the car and buckles me up. Sometimes that bossy protective
thing drives me crazy. I can buckle my own seatbelt. But right now, it’s comforting to let him care for me.
When he shuts my car door, I close my eyes and let out a long breath, tears trickling down my cheeks.
They think she had a stroke.
They couldn’t give me much information other than she was unconscious. I’m not sure if she was still unconscious or only
was for a bit. The nurse sounded inexperienced which left me more stressed. All the more reason we need to get to the hospital
so I can find out what’s happening.
My stomach flips at the thought. What if I get there and they tell me—
“What if she dies?” I mutter, opening my eyes and looking at Miles.
He’s focused on the road ahead of him, but he says, “Let’s not go to that place. But if that happens… Fuck, Ames. I don’t
know what to say. I know this is scary, and I can’t make any promises about what will happen or find words to make you feel
better. All I can do is tell you I’ll be right by your side. No matter what happens, I’ll be there with you.”
 I reach over and rest my hand on his thigh. I know he’ll be right at my side. Words he said months ago flit through my mind.
After he told his friends I was pregnant, I asked him what would happen if I miscarried. My other hand drops to my stomach,
the mere thought is too much right now. He told me if I did, we’d have the best support system in the world. I know that’s true
now. We can’t control the painful things in life. All we can do is face them. I told him that, then promptly ignored it when I
needed it most. All I’ve done lately is try to avoid painful feelings. It’s hurt me more in the long run.
I have to get my shit together.
Or maybe I need to fall the hell apart before I can pick up the pieces again.
Either way, I have to get through today and whatever it brings first.

When we get to the hospital, Miles parks close and leads me into the building, being my rock.
“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk asks when we walk into the emergency area.
“I’m looking for my mother, Eileen Davis. She came in from Sunrise Nursing Center.”
“Okay…” She types on her computer as I wring my hands together. Miles places one large hand on top of mine, squeezing
gently. It gives me the little burst of calm I need right now. “She’s getting some tests done now. There’s a waiting room around
the corner, and a doctor will come talk with you when they’re finished.”
“Okay. Thank you. Um… was she—is she—” I don’t even know what I’m asking. It’s not like the admissions nurse will
know if she’ll be okay or what happened.
“She was conscious when she came in, after a reported stroke. That’s all the information I have.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. She was conscious. That’s something.
Miles wraps his arm around me and guides me to the waiting room.
I want to vomit as we sit in the waiting room. I hate waiting rooms. I’ve spent far too much time in them. During
hospitalizations and procedures my dad had, and later when my mom was getting diagnosed. I lean forward as much as my
stomach allows, resting my head in my hands. Miles rubs my back.
Today is fucked up. Everything is fucked up. Then our daughter kicks and for the briefest of moments, everything is beautiful.
Why is life like this?
The chair on the other side of me shifts, and a hand brushes my arm. I look up and see Dani’s soft smile.
“Hi. What are you doing here?”
“Excuse me? I’m your best friend. Where else would I be when you need me?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” She pulls me into her arms.
“How did you know?”
She nods toward Miles and I spin around. He shrugs and gives me the sweetest boyish smile.
I have to fix things.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Ames. I told you, you’re mine to take care of. And I know when to call in reinforcements.”
I laugh lightly. “Should I expect everyone to storm the hospital?”
He squeezes my hand. “I didn’t think you’d like that, but my mom’s on her way and Mackie’s on call if we need anything.”
“That’s good. Whatever good is right now.”
“I’m looking for the family of Eileen Davis,” a doctor says, walking into the room.
“That’s us.” I stand and walk toward him. Miles’s arm is wrapped around my back in a second, bolstering me. “I’m her
daughter.”
“Your mother came in after a suspected stroke at the nursing home. The staff found her disoriented and difficult to rouse, and
noticed some muscle weakness and difficulty speaking.” My heart shudders at those words. More of her to be ripped away
from me. “The good news is by the time she got to us, she had very few symptoms. Really only some muscle weakness on her
right side. She was yelling and quite combative, actually. To the point that we may need to give her a mild sedative overnight.”
My mouth drops open. “Really? She’s—she didn’t—” I take a deep breath. Full sentences, Amelia.
“Will she be okay?” Miles asks before I get anything else out. Of course he gets right to the important question.
“She’s being transferred up to our stroke and vascular care unit now, and the therapy team will be in to evaluate her shortly.
They’ll be able to give you a clearer picture, but based on how she bounced back thus far, her prognosis is good. Of course,
we’ll continue monitoring her and make sure of that. With her returning to a nursing home, she’ll likely only be here a couple of
nights as long as all continues to go well.” He gives a gentle smile.
“Thank you,” I whisper, more to the universe than to the doctor.
“Of course. The doctor and therapy team in the stroke unit can answer any further questions you have. As soon as she’s set up
in her room there, you’ll be able to see her.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Miles says.
“Yes. Thank you,” I say again. “Should we go to the other unit?”
“A nurse will call you when she’s all set. Take care.”
And then he’s gone.
“That’s good news,” Dani says softly, coming to my other side.
“It is,” I say. But nothing feels completely good right now. She still had a stroke. It was mild this time. There’s no telling
what the future will bring, though, or how this may affect her overall long term.
I suck in a breath. Force another out.
That’s tomorrow’s problem.
For the moment, my mother is going to be okay. I glance over at Miles, who has stepped away—probably still trying to give
me space. I need to figure out how to be okay. How to move forward. Only I can’t do that here because I have to deal with
what’s in front of me.
Sighing, I sit down in a chair.
I hate waiting.

Waiting is all I did today. Waiting to see the doctor. Waiting to see my mom. Waiting to talk to another doctor and the therapy
team.
I still don’t know exactly what to say. About anything. My mom is doing well enough. She’s sleepy and disoriented—more so
than usual, because her combativeness only increased into the night and they had to give her a mild sedative. It’s for the better,
probably. In some ways, it made seeing her easier. There was a clear reason she couldn’t communicate—the meds she’d been
given. It was still hard to see her looking so pale and fragile. It makes me nervous that there will be more of this in the future. It
wasn’t severe this time, but next time it could be.
The good news is that her speech is mostly back to normal, and the speech therapist thinks it will continue to improve over
the next day or two. She had some mild muscle weakness on her right side and additional fine motor struggles, but that’s
something for the therapy team to work on to improve as much as possible.
It’s still a waiting game.
And I’m still waiting to talk to Miles.
As I sit down in the car, I let out a long breath. Okay. I handled the stuff with my mom as much as I can today. Miles sighs as
he drops into the driver’s seat and wordlessly starts the car.
Now I have to handle this, even though I have no idea how he’s feeling, how I’m feeling, or what to say.
All I can control is…
What I say.
What do I want to say?
I close my eyes and settle in for the twenty-minute drive, praying I’ll find the right words before we get home.

Miles

I’ve grown to hate silence. It’s never comfortable anymore. It never leads anywhere good. Yet silence is all there’s been
since we left the hospital. I don’t blame Amelia. Today has been a lot to process. We thought we’d have a baby appointment
and dinner, not hours upon hours spent in the hospital.
I’m exhausted. I have no idea where we stand with each other. The absolute last thing I want is to leave again.
We trudge into the apartment and slip off our shoes. Amelia sets her purse on the kitchen counter and starts down the hall
toward the bedrooms, but I can’t make my feet move. I plop onto a stool, dropping my head into my hands as I sigh.
“Miles? Are you okay?” Amelia asks a moment later, and I jump, surprised to find her standing next to me.
My sigh is rough as I look at her. “I don’t want to push you. You’ve been through enough today.”
Her eyes flutter closed for just a second, and when she opens them again, they’re glassy. “Please tell me. Whatever you’re
thinking, it’s okay. Just… please.”
 The vulnerability in her voice—her unwillingness to look away—surprises me. It forces my fearful words out. “I don’t want
to pack a bag. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to walk out this door not knowing when we’re going to talk or see each other
again.” Standing up, I splay my hand over her stomach and rest my forehead against hers. “I love you, and I don’t want to be
without you.”
She lets out a shaky breath, her lip trembling. “Good. Because I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to watch you walk out that
door again unless I know I’ll be in your arms later that night.”
My eyes widen in shock as relief slowly trickles in. “Really?”
Her hands come to my chest and she gives me as much of a smile as she can muster. “Yes. I had so much I wanted to say to
you tonight. I thought we’d eat dinner, talk, then I’d have my—shit.”
“What?”
She walks around me and pulls her phone out of her bag, typing furiously. “I had my first therapy appointment tonight, and I
missed it.”
“Therapy?” I ask, happily surprised by that. It seems mean to say someone needs therapy, but the more I learn, the more I
think we all need therapy.
She nods. “I need to learn how to process everything I’ve been through, but also how to break it into manageable chunks, so
everything else doesn’t eat away at me while I do. I don’t want to be overwhelmed every second.” She steps closer again,
running her hand over my cheek. “I don’t want to push you away. I don’t want to hurt you or our daughter.”
I rest my hand protectively on her stomach. “You’re not hurting her.”
“What about you?”
“It hurt thinking you might not want me. Or a future together. But I know I’ve hurt you by acting the way I have. I’ve pushed
you for selfish reasons. Been too controlling.” I laugh. “I made an appointment with a psychiatrist. It’s next week. I need to
work on my shit too.”
“Your shit?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and kiss her forehead. “I want to be your protective, bossy baby daddy. I don’t want to
be an anxious, controlling asshole.”
“You’re never an asshole,” she whispers. “You have the biggest, kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. I’m sorry I’ve been
shutting you and your love out. Everything just felt like too much and the way you love me… you crack my heart open, and it’s
impossible to breathe.”
“Then let me be your air. Feel that rush of pain, then let me hold you through it until you find some peace. I never wanted to
fix things. I just wanted you to let me be your safe space for whatever you were feeling at that moment.”
“I was afraid to feel anything. I thought the pain would consume me, and I’d never make it out.”
“I’m your lifeline. You never have to worry about getting lost. I’ll always be here to pull you to safety.”
“You are my safety,” she whispers. “I’ve been stupidly pushing that away and living in fear instead. I’m scared of my pain,
scared to lose again, scared I’ll become my mother. I’m tired of being scared.” She laughs. “This is why I need therapy.”
I smile at that and pull her into my arms. “We both have things to work on, but we can hold space for each other and love
each other through it. At the end of the day, I want to know I’m safe in your arms, and I want you to feel the same. I’m going to
do the work I need to on myself, but I promise you I’ll stop trying to fix and control things. I’ll sit quietly and listen as long as
you promise to stop shutting me out. Feel whatever you need to, just don’t shut me out anymore.”
“I don’t want to. And I’m going to work hard not to.” She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m starving and exhausted. And…”
“What baby?”
Tears spill out of her eyes, trailing down her cheeks. “You said you’d hold me through it. I need that because I’m coming
apart at the seams.”
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, sweeping her into my arms and carrying her to the bedroom. Food can wait until she’s settled. I
strip her down and get her into comfortable clothes, then tuck her into bed. I yank my work clothes off and climb under the
covers with her, wrapping her in my arms. She collapses against my chest, letting out all the hurt and exhaustion from the day as
I hold her. Emotions ping-pong around inside me, but it doesn’t bother me. No matter how difficult today—and the last week—
has been, I know we’ll be okay, and I’m going to do everything I can to be the best partner for her and father for our child. We
both have our work cut out for us, but I guess this is what Ma meant when she said relationships are work. Now I think work is
the wrong word. That makes it sound negative. It’s tending to and nurturing ourselves, each other, and our love.
“What happens if I forget her one day?”
“Your mom?”
“Our daughter.” She wipes her eyes. “I started writing her letters just in case.”
My heart clenches at those words. It’s scary to wonder if Amelia might have Alzheimer’s some day. It would never stop or
change my love for her. And I hope I’ll be a part of her life for so long she’d never forget me, but seeing the way her mother
suffers—and Amelia in relation to that—I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I hope it won’t be our future.
“In your heart, I don’t think you ever could. But I promise you, our daughter will always know you. She will know how
deeply you love her. I’ll make sure of that.”
“What if something happens to you? My dad… I know he would’ve made the same promise.”
I run my fingers down her arm. “We don’t know how life will unfold, but our girl will never be alone. You didn’t have a
family surrounding you to help you, but we do. She will too. I know you’re scared. I think I’m scared of everything right now.
The world feels scarier than it ever has before bringing this little person into it.” I rest my hand on her stomach.
“I was going to talk to my doctor—and maybe my therapist—about genetic testing to see if I might end up like my mom, but I
keep changing my mind.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure if it would be better to live life knowing it’s going to happen or wondering. People always say it’s better to
know. I remember my parents saying that when we were waiting on test results when my dad had cancer the last time. After we
found out, my mom broke down crying when my dad was out of the house, saying she thought knowing would help but given the
outcome, she wished she could go back to not knowing for just a few more hours. There was still hope.”
“I guess that’s the question you have to answer. Would knowing—if the answer was yes—help you? You don’t need to figure
that out right away, though.”
She looks up at me, letting out a long breath. “I keep alternating between wanting to thank you and tell you I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to do either. We’re going to take this one day at a time and do our best to get stronger. Pregnancy tipped both
our worlds upside down while converging them. We need to put our new world right side up. Everything else will come in
time.”
“I might need you to remind me of that. Daily.” She laughs.
“I probably will too.”
She sighs softly, twining our fingers together. “Do you think we need to go to couples’ counseling?”
“I think we should see how we do with individual therapy first before we decide.”
“That makes sense.”
We sit silently for a few moments. Finally, it’s comfortable silence again. I love comfortable silence. Not everyone can sit
silently with someone else without feeling a need to fill the space. I love it. To me, it’s the height of comfort with someone
when you can do that. I have that with all my friends, but especially with Mackie. I love that I have it with Amelia, too.
My hand is still resting on her stomach when I feel a quake that I assume is the baby rolling around until I hear the loud
growl. My eyebrows shoot up and I laugh. “Damn, baby.”
“I’m starving. I just haven’t wanted to move.”
I kiss her forehead, then pull her upright. “Well, I think it’s time we feed you before the rumbling scares the baby.”
She laughs. “I’m not sure it works that way, but food is probably a good idea.”
“More than probably. Get your sexy butt up.” I reach around and give it a playful smack before climbing out of bed. “Do you
want me to order something?” The nice part about living so close to downtown is that delivery is quick and readily available.
“Uh, no. The fridge is still fully stocked.”
“Right,” I say with a laugh. “Ma mentioned she cooked.”
“Her, Kara, Linda. Garrett sent an ice cream cake. We’re stocked for several more days,” she says as she slips her robe on.
“It’s good to be loved.”
She pauses for a second, then smiles. “Yeah. It is. Sometimes letting it in is so hard because it reminds me how alone I was.
How alone I’m afraid to be again.”
I step over to her and wrap her in my arms. “You will never be alone, Ames. Never.”
“If this last week has been a crash course in anything, it’s definitely that. I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for all the
wonderful people in our lives. And for you.” She gently caresses my cheek. “You never gave up on me.”
“And I never will. I told you, you’re mine, and I meant it.”
“Move your clothes in here.”
A laugh bubbles in my chest. “What?”
“It’s dumb that they’re across the hall. You’re never sleeping in there anyway. Move your clothes in here. Let’s make that
room the nursery.”
My eyebrows go up, but then I smile. “What happened this week?”
“So much,” she says with a sigh. “Let’s talk about it all over dinner. And Gilmore Girls.” I chuckle at that. “Amanda got me
addicted.”
“Sounds right. And also like the perfect night.” Wrapping my hand around the side of her neck, I press my lips into hers.
“Love you. Always.”
“I love you too. Now feed me, baby daddy.”
“Yes ma’am.”
 Amelia

Of all the things I thought might happen tonight, I wasn’t expecting this.
“Do you need any help?” I ask Miles as he grunts, lifting his mattress onto its side. No. The spare bed.
He stops and pins me with a glare. “Lift a finger and I spank that perfect ass.”
I stroll over and trace my finger down his chest. “Sounds like you’re threatening me with a good time.”
His eyes drift closed for a second, and he counts backward from five, then lets out a long breath before opening his eyes
again. “It’s a good time we can’t have if I don’t get the mattress out of this room.” I open my mouth, but he holds up a finger to
silence me. “You moved sheets and clothes and put things in my dresser after I moved it into the master. You can’t help with
this. Everything is too heavy and your stomach, while beautifully big, is at risk of getting hit. So, I’m going to push this mattress
through the door, then you are going to sit down while I finish everything else.” His voice softens, and he brushes his hand over
my stomach. “Then I’ll bring the painter’s tape, and we can start figuring out the layout of the nursery.” He leans down and
kisses me, his large hand wrapping around the side of my neck. When he pulls away, he closes his eyes again and rests his
forehead against mine, his hand still on my neck.
“What’s wrong?”
His stunning green eyes open, meeting mine. His are glassy and filled with emotion. “Nothing. I’m perfect, sweetness. I’m
here with you. This morning…” He trails off, voice turning raw. He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure how to get back to this
place, and I wasn’t expecting to be here tonight, but I’m so fucking happy I am. I love you, baby.”
“I love you too. Thanks for walking through the hard stuff with me.”
“Thanks for wanting me by your side. I’ll always be here with you. It’s a lot nicer when I’m walking next to you and not
behind you like a creepy stalker, though.”
I laugh at that, then kiss him again, a tear trailing down my cheek as I do.
“Today has been crazy. My emotions are all over.”
“I know. Mine too.” He brushes the tear off my cheek and steps back. “Let me finish this up so we can get on to some fun
things. We both need it.”
“Deal.”
He goes back to shoving the mattress through the doorway as I watch him in awe. Life is a roller coaster these days, but at
least I’ve got his hand to grab through the twists and turns.

Miles might be superhuman. He moved all the furniture into the spare room by himself and barely broke a sweat. It’s almost
midnight, and I should be sleeping, but my mind is racing, going over what we’ve been through, the insanity of the day, and the
excitement I feel. Sometimes, it’s been hard being truly excited about baby things. Moving the nursery in here has me beyond
excited, though. After Miles moved everything, we taped out where we wanted the crib, changing table, dresser, and bookshelf
to go. There’s a little nook next to the closet door. It’s a smaller walk-in closet than mine, but enough of one that we can easily
store our extra baby gear in there. The little nook will have the bookcase and a carpet where the baby can have tummy time and
eventually play time. The crib will be kitty-corner from the nook, sitting where the head of Miles’s bed—that he never used—
was. The dresser will be opposite that. And then there’s the cozy rocker. It’s a plush, light gray microfiber rocker with thick,
padded arms. It looks more like a cozy sitting chair that happens to rock. There’s a footrest that goes with it. Together they are
crazy comfortable. I know because it’s where I’m sitting.
We saw it on clearance when we were making our baby shower list, and since it was so comfy, we bought it then. It’s the
only baby item we have in the house. Everything else is at Katie and Andy’s, but I’m ready to have it here. To set everything up.
I rest my hands on my stomach as I rock, looking around the room and seeing the endless possibilities.
“You are stunning.” Miles stands in the doorway, staring at me reverently. He walks over and hands me a glass of water, then
drops to his knees in front of me. “I don’t know how I got so damn lucky.”
He nestles between the footrest and the chair, then glides his hand up my thigh and lays his head on my lap, face inches from
my belly. He rubs his hand over my stomach. “Hey, baby girl. Daddy loves you. Mommy and I can’t wait to meet you.”
I run my hand through his hair as he kisses my stomach and whispers to our girl, and I smile as she kicks his hand.
He stops talking and stares at my stomach, gently caressing it with his thumb, the rest of his warm hand staying protectively
in place.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
 He swallows and takes a long breath. “This last week was hard without you. These moments mean everything to me. I want
to revel in this one.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He looks up at me, that dangerous gentleness in his eyes. “We have things to work through, and I’m trying to embrace all the
uncertainty as we do. It’s not always easy. And I want to make sure…”
“What?”
“Are you sure this is what you want? Where you want to be? I don’t want you to rush.”
“Don’t be uncertain of my love. Please.” I brush my fingers over his scalp, tousling his fine hair as I do. “I asked you to
move everything because this is what I want. It has been, but I shut it out. Now that I’ve let myself feel this joy for our daughter
and let your love in, it’s healing me. I never want to shut any of it out again. I need it. Need you. Our little family.”
“So do I.” He sighs. “I could stay like this forever. Feeling her kicks. Your fingers twisted in my hair. But I’m exhausted. Can
we go to bed? I need to hold you for as long as possible. I’ve got too many nights to catch up on.”
Ugh. This man. He does the most ridiculous things to my heart. Protects it. Saves it. Shows it the love it deserves.
“Yes, please.” I let him pull me up and happily follow him to the bedroom. Our bedroom. He’s right. A week spent not
sleeping in his arms was far too long.
As I settle into bed with him, relief washes over me.
I’ve been so afraid of the pain. Scared of what else is going to happen. Stuck feeling like nothing would ever be okay again.
It’s taken me too long to realize that’s not the point. I can’t prevent what’s going to happen, but I decide how I face it.
Everything won’t be okay, but for the first time in a long time I know I’m going to be okay.
 Chapter Two

Ride This Roller Coaster

Miles

“AMES?” I CALL, HEADING for the bedroom. It was a long weekend spent focusing on each other, the nursery, and getting
things settled with her mom. It’s Monday now, and her mom is supposed to be going back to the nursing home today. Because of
that and everything, we both took today and tomorrow off, though we’ll probably end up on our laptops checking in by tonight.
To some degree, we’re both workaholics. We know when to stop, but neither of us can stay away if we have the time and could
get something done.
I walk into the bedroom and hear Amelia rummaging in the closet.
“Hey,” I say, standing in the doorway. “What are you doing?” She’s on tiptoes and shoving something onto the top shelf of the
closet. She quickly drops back to flat feet and spins around, a sweet smile on her face. I lean against the door frame as I take
her in. There’s a hint of mischief in that smile, and it makes me want to pin her to the wall and question her, but I don’t. She
looks down at the tote.
“I was just moving a couple of things from this tote.”
“What is that tote?”
“My life,” she says, looking wistfully at it.
I step to her and wrap my arms around her from behind. “Yeah?”
“I started going through it last week. I wanted to start working through things before my therapy appointment, and this tote
holds a lot of pain. I didn’t make it far before I went to bed.” She spins around in my arms, looking up at me. “Would you go
through it with me? I want to share it with you. Especially…”
“What?”
“There’s a USB in here with videos of my dad. I want you to see him.” She sniffs. “I want to see him, but not alone.”
I wrap my arms tighter around her, feeling some light thumps as her stomach presses against mine. “Of course, baby. Where
do you want to look through it?”
“Living room?”
“Perfect. The tea’s ready. Why don’t you take our mugs to the living room, and I’ll carry this.”
She leans up and kisses my cheek. “Thank you.”
“I think we need to retire those words from our vocabulary. They’re important, but we shouldn’t have to thank the other for
things we do out of love.”
She gives me a tiny smile. “So, what you’re saying is… I should come up with other ways to thank you.”
Be still my aching cock.
She’s killing me.
We haven’t had sex all weekend because we’ve been focused on the other pieces of our relationship, but we’ve been teasing
each other, and I’m about to explode.
I wrap my hand around the side of her neck and kiss her possessively. “Remember who you’re teasing. That ass is mine to
spank and that pussy is mine to devour.”
“Miles…” she breathes.
With a quick kiss to her forehead, I dial back the horniness, and focus on what she wanted to do. It’s going to be intense and
emotional. Hopefully, healing, too.
 “Later, gorgeous. This is more important.”
She stares at me for a moment, then nods, but she still smacks my ass before she walks out of the room.

“Are you sure you want to do this now? You don’t have to.”
Amelia swallows hard and nods. “I want to. I’m not sure how it’s going to make me feel, though.”
“That’s okay.” I sit back down on the couch next to her. We’d only gone through about a quarter of the tote when we found
this.
She snuggles up to me and my heart melts. I fucking love snuggling with her. I’m always grabbing at her, pulling her a little
closer. I need this girl, and I need her as close as possible. I rest one hand under her shirt on her stomach. I love the warmth of
her skin on mine and the feel of our baby girl’s kicks.
Navigating through the menu of our Blu-ray player, I find the USB section and open it up. Amelia directs me through the
folders until I find the first of a long list of videos.
“Ready?” I ask.
She nods and rests her head on my shoulder.
I push play, and a second later, the video begins.
“Ready?” Amelia’s voice comes through the TV, but I don’t see her yet. All I see are feet. Then the full picture of her father
sitting up in bed.
“Sure am.” His voice is warm and smooth. He pats the bed next to him, and Amelia comes around the camera and sits down
next to him. He extends his arm and she snuggles against him, much like she is with me right now. My heart is in my throat as I
watch this. Even without her in my arms, I would be able to feel her pain. I know what’s coming, and it’s evident in the video.
I’ve seen photos of Amelia’s dad, Max, from his healthiest times. He was around six feet with brown hair, and thin but filled
out for his body shape in those photos. Here you can see his height, but he’s wearing a winter hat, his skin is pale, and he looks
gaunt.
Next to me, Amelia sniffs and drops one hand so it’s resting over mine on her stomach.
“Hey, Daddy. How are you feeling today?”
“Same old, same old. How’s my girl?”
“Good. I missed you today. School was boring. It would’ve been more fun to skip and go to the movies.”
“Our old tradition.”
Amelia takes the remote from me and pauses the video.
“When I was eight, I got a horrible bloody nose at school. It got all over my clothes, so my dad brought clean ones for me. I
was upset, though, and kids can be little assholes sometimes, so I didn’t want to go back to class. Dad signed me out and took
me to the movies. It started a trend, and a couple of times each school year, I’d play hooky or he’d sign me out early and we’d
go to a movie. Just the two of us.”
“That’s sweet.”
“He was my best friend.” She wipes her eyes. “I had other friends as a kid, but the older I got, the closer I grew to my
parents. I loved doing things with them as a family. Then I had my ex-boyfriend around, and that was all I needed.” She sniffs
and shakes her head. “Anyway.”
She hits play.
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Ask away.”
“How do you stay focused on things you don’t care about but still have to do?”
Her father nods. “Hm. Well, don’t tell your mother this, but my personal philosophy is that we shouldn’t do things we
don’t want to do. I mean, of course, some things we have to do. Laundry, dishes, homework—things like that. But if you’re
talking about your daily life and always forcing yourself to do things you don’t enjoy or don’t care about, then you’re doing
the wrong things. Living with passion is important. It may not always be your job, but it has to be something. There must be
things in your life that you’re passionate about and bring you joy. If you don’t have those things, there truly is no reason to
do anything else. Why did I work a boring job most of my life? Easy. It gave me the ability to support your mother and you
and it gave us this beautiful home. Fun family vacations. I was always home for dinner. I could coach your sports teams
and never miss a game. I guess my answer is, you get through things you don’t care about or enjoy because they lead you to
or help you have the things you do enjoy. And if they don’t… stop doing them.”
“So I have to keep going to school because it’ll help me have the future I want?”
“Most likely. Of course, there are always other options. Your mother might kick my butt if she hears me saying that,
though.”
 “What other options?”
“You’re trying to get me in trouble.”
We both laugh at the mischievous smile on her father’s face. They have matching smiles and eyes.
“Never.”
“You need to graduate if you want to go to college. Or at least get your GED. That choice is technically yours. I have no
doubt you could easily get your GED and go on to college sooner.”
“Or explore the world?” Her words catch in her throat.
There’s a long pause before her father responds. “Exactly.”
They sit together for a few minutes before the topic of conversation switches. They joke around and laugh. Her laugh is
nothing like his. His is warm and chuckley while hers is high and shrill. His eyes crinkle at the edges, then a huge smile blooms
on his face.
“What kind of trouble are you two getting into today?”
Eileen appears and sits down on the other side of Max. She cozies up to him and kisses his forehead.
Beside me, Amelia’s breath catches, then tears come hard and fast. I reach to pause the video, but she stops me. “No.
Please.” I let go of the remote and pull her the tiniest bit closer.
“Trouble? Us?” Max’s voice is playful as he regards Eileen. Their love is beautiful and vibrant even on the TV screen.
“Usually.” Eileen bites her lip in an attempt to hold back a smile, but she can’t. Just like my girl.
Amelia laughs through her tears, then pulls her shirt up so she can twine our fingers together where they rest on her stomach.
“Just talking.” Amelia’s voice was a little higher back then and there was a brightness to it I don’t hear as often now.
“Well, I came to see if anyone was interested in some cookies.”
“How dare you ask?” Max’s smile is out of this world. He was dying and yet he lived every second of his life for his
family.
“Can we sit for another minute first?” Amelia asks her mother.
“Of course.”
They’re all quiet for a moment, then Max sighs happily. “My girls in my arms. This is the best place to be.”
My eyes fill with tears. His strength was incredible. Sitting there holding his girls with all his love. I glance down at Amelia
and our intertwined hands. I’d do the same, but I don’t know if I could do it so happily. To know I was being taken from them
would gut me in an unimaginable way.
There’s silence on the screen for a few moments as they sit together. Then Max asks for cookies and they all get up.
Tears are streaming down my face as the video ends. Amelia turns to me, still crying, and climbs onto my lap.
I tuck some hair behind her ear as I stare into her beautiful eyes, which have turned an aquamarine color. “Thank you for
sharing that with me.”
She rests her forehead against mine and nods. “Thank you for your patience.” She laughs. “I know we said no more ‘thank
yous’ but I think these are important. Your love for me is helping me find pieces of me that I’ve missed—that I thought I lost. I
forgot how joyful I used to be.” She wipes her eyes. “It came from him. My mom loved to laugh and have fun, but she was by
far the more cynical one. When I lost him, I leaned too hard into the cynicism. I want to find more joy again. Especially with
you and our daughter.”
“We’ll find it together.” I wipe my cheeks, then drag my thumb over hers. “I’m sorry for all you’ve lost. I know I can never
fill their void in your heart, but I promise to give you so much love maybe that emptiness will ache less.”
“You already do,” she breathes, kissing me deeply. “I love you. So much.”
I kiss her back like my life depends on it. I’m pretty sure it does. Her and our girl. The deeper we grow together, the more I
understand her pain. The family she lost. To lose her or our daughter would destroy me.
“Miles…” Her breath tickles my lips. “I need you.”
“Anything, baby.”
She grinds against me.
“Here?”
She shakes her head. I turn off the TV, then wrap my arms under her and stand up, carrying her to the bedroom. When we get
there, I set her down in the middle of the room and kiss her again.
“I know we like to play,” she whispers. “But I need something else.” Her breath shudders. “Something more.”
“I’ll take care of you.”
Slowly, I strip her down, pulling my T-shirt off her—they’re her favorite thing to wear lately—and then her sweatpants. The
only other thing she’s wearing is a tiny pair of underwear that sits under her bump. I pull them down, then stand up again. She
slides her hands under my shirt and pushes it over my head, then she nudges at the waist of my boxer briefs, tugging them and
my sweats down. I step out of them, then sweep her into my arms again and carry her to the bed.
Laying her down, I climb over the top of her legs and push them up so I can nestle between them. I kiss her luscious lips, then
down her neck, and spend some time sucking on her nipples as I dip my fingers between her legs. She whimpers as I glide them
up her wet center.
I am ravenous for her, but I force myself to go slow. She needs to feel cherished and loved. So deeply loved. When I can’t
hold out any longer, I pull my hand from between her legs and kiss down her navel until my head is between her legs and all I
can smell is the delicious scent of her pussy. I lap my tongue over her, swirling it around, enjoying every taste until I’m at her
clit. She moans as I roll my tongue over it in soft delicate strokes.
I push one finger inside her pussy, just a tiny amount, and swirl it around, occasionally pumping it, but never going too hard
or too fast. I want her orgasm to build slowly until it’s pulsing through her so hard she can barely breathe.
Her moans are music to my ears. Not as hard or forceful as they sometimes are. They’re long and drawn out, filled with
happiness and relief. Like she finally has everything she needs. Since I met her, that’s all I’ve wanted. To give her everything.
This is what she needs. This connection. The attention. The release that’s coming. She needs it all, and I’m going to give it to
her. My perfect girl.
She rocks her hips with the movement of my tongue. It’s slow and controlled, and for once, she doesn’t fight me. She gives in
and works with me.
“Ohmygod…” she whimpers and whines, needy as fuck.
I move my finger fast over her favorite spot while still keeping the pressure light. I flick my tongue faster until her fingers are
curled in my hair.
“Miles.” My name is a whispery scream on her lips as she comes undone. Her orgasm is hard and long, and I don’t stop
moving until she collapses against the bed.
“Such a good girl, baby.” I lick my fingers, then kiss her hard, but I stop when she laughs.
“Oh my god.”
“What?” I sit back and she looks down at her gorgeous tits.
“I think some breast milk leaked. They said it can happen.”
Oh shit. Rock hard cock getting harder.
I dive forward and lap up the few drops around one nipple, then the other, groaning as I do. “Delicious like the rest of you.”
Again, she laughs. “You have a pregnancy kink.”
I tilt my head as I look at her. “Maybe. I can’t help that you’re unbelievably sexy, and the thought—hell, the gorgeous view—
of you carrying our child is a massive turn on. I’m obsessed with you, baby mama.”
I lean down and kiss her again. It’s a shame I’m not someone who wants a ton of kids because I would love getting her
pregnant over and over again. Fuck… I groan again.
“Flip over,” she says, pushing on my shoulders.
Another quick kiss, and I do. She climbs on top of me and sinks down my length, her warm, wet pussy gripping my cock.
“Don’t move for a second, baby,” I rasp.
“Rub my clit,” is her response.
Jesus. This girl was made for me.
Gliding my thumb through the wetness leaking out from around the base of my cock, I move it up and swirl it over her
swollen clit. She shudders and tilts her hips forward and back. Barely any movement at all, but it sets me on fire.
“Okay.” My voice is still raspy. I can barely breathe. I want this to last because I love when she rides me, and the view right
now is fantastic, but I’ve got a few minutes at most before I explode. It’s been too long and I need her too much.
She lifts her hips and I swear I see heaven as she drops them back down. I steady my breathing and focus on her clit, stroking
it and flicking it with my thumb as she rides me.
“I love it when you’re deep like this. It feels so—ah—” She cries out as I thrust up while she drops down. “Fuck,” she
whines.
“Oh, baby. Those noises. Are you close?”
“Yes.” Another whine.
I move my thumb faster. “I need to feel you come again. Need to feel you clench my cock while I fill your pussy. Can you do
that for me?”
“Yes.”
“Such a good girl, baby.”
She rides me harder, and I grab her hip with my other hand, moving with her pace. Our eyes lock, emotion pouring out of us
as we fly toward the edge together.
“Ames, baby. You’re gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. Come for me.”
Her legs shake as she rides me harder, and I shift my hand up, pulling her down toward me. My abs burn as I lift my head to
kiss her, but I barely notice because this new angle allows me deeper, and it’s just what she needs. What we both need.
“Fuck… Miles.” She clenches me hard as she falls apart.
“That’s it, baby,” I groan. “Good girl. My perfect girl.” My abs lock and I moan loudly as I fill her pussy. She milks my cock,
the soft spasms continuing after I’ve finished. She rolls off me onto her side, throwing one leg over mine as she kisses me.
 “I love you,” she whispers, resting her head on my shoulder.
“I love you too.”
We lie together in silence, absolutely spent. I have no idea what time it is other than it’s before lunch, and I already feel like I
could go for a full night of sleep. The last few days have been emotionally exhausting, but in a good way, now that we’re
working through things.
I run my fingers over her back and she nuzzles my neck.
“How are you feeling?” I whisper.
“Grateful,” she says after a moment. “Happy. My heart still hurts. A part of it probably always will, but it’s better than not
feeling anything. The last seven months have been rough, but the beauty in them is irreplaceable, and I want to cherish it more
as I heal. I want to let it help heal me. I want to feel all the vivid, wonderful things, even if that means feeling the pain, too.”
“I’ll feel it all with you. Ride this roller coaster with you.”
“Good. Because you’re the only one I want by my side.”
I tug her closer, kissing her forehead, then a few minutes later, we both drift off to sleep.

Amelia

My computer makes a silly boop-boop-boop noise as I wait, stomach in my throat. Therapy. It’s not a dirty word, but it feels
like one. One I know I need, but that I’m terrified of.
The noise stops as the video call connects.
Why on earth did I think a video call was a good idea? I should’ve chosen a phone call.
Too late now. He’s on the screen.
Smile.
“Hi. Amelia?”
“That’s me.”
God. This is going to be forty-five minutes of pure torture.
“Great. I’m Ken.”
“Hi, Ken.” I put my head in my hands and grumble. “I’m sorry. This feels incredibly awkward.”
He laughs. “Trust me, it’s always a little awkward during the first call, and sometimes after. It takes time to settle into this,
and don’t worry, if for some reason this isn’t a good fit, you can always trade me in with no hard feelings.”
I let out a breath. His easygoing nature is helpful.
“I appreciate that, but I’m going to hope this works because I don’t want to be awash in awkwardness all over again.”
He laughs again and nods. “Understandable. So, should we ease in or jump?”
“I’m a jumper.”
“Okay then. Obviously I read your intake form, but why don’t you tell me a bit about why you decided to start therapy?”
I take a breath and nod, then do my best to succinctly, but clearly, tell the complex path that led me here.
When I’ve finished, he nods in an understanding way. “That’s a lot for anyone. I want to start by saying I’m truly sorry for
your loss. I’ve dealt with the loss of a parent—it’s part of why I became a counselor. Grief is complex. It never really stops.
While saying I like working with situations like this seems strange, I feel the most in my element—like I have the most to
offer.”
“That’s good because I’m going to need it all. Thank you, by the way. I appreciate it. I’m still figuring out how to navigate all
this. Obviously.”
“Is there one place you want to start?”
“I have no idea.”
“Let me rephrase that. If you had a magic wand and could fix one thing right now, what would it be?”
I pause for a moment, thinking that through, trying to find the right words.
“I want to learn how to manage all the trauma and things I haven’t processed so they don’t feel so overwhelming. When I feel
overwhelmed, I shut down.” I stop talking for a minute. That just slipped out, but it’s undeniably true. I’ve known that about
myself in terms of school or work since college. It’s why I always have detailed to-do lists. How did I never realize I feel the
same way emotionally?
“I’m going to encourage you to finish wherever that thought process was or is taking you.”
My eyes snap back to the screen. “I never realized I did that from an emotional standpoint. Rather than just shut down, I shut
people out. I don’t want to keep doing that.”
He nods and we discuss some coping mechanisms—healthy ones as opposed to my unhealthy one of shutting down or trying
to ignore the problem if it feels too overwhelming. He recommends making an emotional to-do list since they work for me in
other ways. Though it’s less to do and more to process, but it makes sense. It’s about breaking what I’m feeling down into more
manageable chunks to hopefully help get me to the primary trigger and allow me to focus on that. It might also help me discover
things about my trauma and triggers that I haven’t put words to yet.
He also suggests journaling as a way to get my thoughts out and help me make sense of them.
“You can even write them to someone if you want. You may find it helpful to write them to your father or mother. It might
make you feel more connected to them.”
“I thought about writing letters to my daughter,” I admit. “Sort of about where I am, but also with advice. Just in case I end up
like my mother.”
“That’s something you’re concerned about?”
“It’s possible the Alzheimer’s is genetic. I’ve considered genetic testing to find out, but it’s not a guarantee. And I’m not
sure… if I want to know.”
He nods thoughtfully. “That might be something else to spend some time thinking of. Making a list. Even a pro-con list might
help you organize your thoughts and help you understand what you truly want and what you can gain—or lose—from that
information. As for writing letters to your daughter, I would say only to do it if it brings you peace. Don’t do it because you feel
like you have to or should. They’ll feel forced. That’s the thing with therapy and coping mechanisms—there’s no right answer.
You have to do what works for you. And often, that means a lot of trial and error and checking in with yourself.”
“I’m ready to do that. Well, I don’t know if I’m ready, but I’m going to do it because I want to have the best possible
relationship with my partner and I want to build a strong connection with my daughter. Both of those things start with me having
a healthy relationship with myself.”
He smiles. “That’s very true. Wanting to do the work is half the battle.”
Tears quickly fill my eyes, but I wipe them away. “Sorry,” I sniff. “That just… reminded me of advice my father gave me
once. Sometimes you have to do hard things or things you don’t enjoy because you want the outcome you’ll get from it.” I know
this won’t be easy. I’ll fight my instincts sometimes, but I want to do this. No, I need to do this for my future with Miles and our
daughter.
“Sounds like he was a smart man.”
“In every way,” I whisper.
“We’re close to the end of our time. Is there anything else you want to discuss tonight?”
I shake my head. “No. Thank you. It’s time for me to dig in and do the work.”
“Good. Well, our appointment is set for the same time next week. We’ll talk more and check in and see where you’re at and
what you need.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course. Have a good night.”
“You too.”
The call ends and I lie back against the pillows. My shirt is soaked with stress sweat, but I feel better. Relieved. I like the
idea of listing and journaling, and though I think journaling might be tougher because it’ll bring out more raw emotions, I want
to try it.
I’m glad I matched with that therapist. Originally, I wanted a female, but his calm, easygoing nature was exactly what I
needed. The session was nothing like I expected. I thought we’d be parsing over intimate details of my past, but I’m realizing
how much of therapy is self-work.
I’m surprised at how optimistic I feel, but having the tools to succeed in any situation is key, and I think tonight helped me
find some good ones.
Sitting up again, I close my laptop screen and climb off the bed. I quickly change my sweaty shirt, digging one of Miles’s
cozy old Ida baseball tees from his dresser. They’re soft and never tight on my bump.
I hope Miles’s therapy appointment on Thursday is as helpful as mine was tonight. And I hope the psychiatrist can find a
balance between talk therapy and meds that works for him.
I would never tell him he needs meds, but I think they could benefit him. Even as we were in a better space over the
weekend, his anxiety came through several times. The worst was when we were reading one of the pregnancy books together
and we got to the time after the baby was born and the book talked about SIDS. Miles went deep into an anxiety spiral, trying to
figure out how long we should keep the crib in our room and what type of mattress was best and all the tiny ways we could
possibly prevent that outcome. It took a lot of calming words from me, plenty of talking, and some deep breathing to pull him
out of the spiral, but he’s still on edge about it.
Feeling helpless and unable to protect the people he loves are his biggest triggers, and I think with the baby, it’ll only get
worse, and that’s where I hope meds might help. Otherwise, I’m worried he’ll have an anxiety attack every time he puts her
down to sleep.
I want him to enjoy the time with our daughter and not be riddled with anxiety.
After another long breath in and out, I’m ready to snuggle up with Miles. My phone goes off before I take a step, so I sit back
down and look at it, finding a text from Aaron.
Aaron: This is me casually checking in to make sure you’re still alive. Both of you.
Me: Why wouldn’t we be?
Aaron: Well, none of us have heard from you guys since late Friday night. We figured you were… reconnecting. But
on the off chance there was a Romeo and Juliet sort of situation, I wanted to check in.
Me: Nope. No warring families or taking of potions that could kill us simply because we’re whiny, lovesick teenagers.
God, that entire situation could’ve been avoided if they weren’t so stupid.
Aaron: 16 year olds aren’t known for being intelligent. Looking back… I was a dumbass.
Me: Obviously, since you didn’t realize you were in love with Rae.
Aaron: You didn’t even know us then. You don’t get to pick on us for that.
Me: Oh, I absolutely do. It’s a benefit to being a member of the cult.
Aaron: Fantastic. So things are good there?
Me: Wow, what a smooth subject change. And yes, they’re good. Reconnecting, getting the nursery ready, and some
therapy for me.
Aaron: Good.
Me: *gasp* Are you saying I need therapy?
Aaron: Everyone needs therapy.
Me: So I’m learning. Anyway, thank you for checking in, but I’m going to ghost you now so I can spend some time
with my man.
Aaron: Not sure it counts as ghosting if you tell me, but have a good night. I’d tell you to use protection, but that ship
has sailed.
Me: [middle finger emoji]
Shaking my head, I flick my phone screen off, smiling to myself as I do. I never would’ve predicted the friendship that’s
growing between Aaron and me, but it’s fun, and I’m grateful for it.
Leaving my phone behind, I stroll out to the living room. Miles is working on his laptop on the couch.
“Hey,” I say, walking around the couch.
He smiles and closes his laptop, setting it on the coffee table. He pulls me close and gives me a firm kiss before asking,
“How was it?”
“It was good.” I nestle against him and pull a blanket over us. “Helpful. Not at all what I was expecting.” I tell him about the
session, and it seems to ease some of his fears about therapy.
“I’m glad it helped you. It’s good we’re both doing this.”
“Definitely. We’re going to do the work on ourselves and build our relationship so strong even a nuclear bomb couldn’t
rattle us.”
He laughs and kisses me. “I like the sound of that. Even if it is a little nerve-racking.”
“It’s worth it, though.”
“So fucking worth it, sweetness.”
He kisses me, long and slow, holding his lips against mine and pulling them away millimeter by millimeter.
I let out a content sigh and rest my head on his shoulder, my hand dropping to my stomach. He places his hand over mine.
“She needs a name,” I whisper.
It’s something we decided to wait on until we knew the gender, then once we knew the gender, we wanted to get a better idea
about her energy before we came up with a name, but I’m ready to figure it out now. I’m tired of calling her ‘baby girl’ all the
time. At least here at home, I want to call her a name. I think it’ll help me feel more connected to her.
“Any ideas?”
“Not really.”
“Any special names in your family? Something to honor your mom or dad with?”
“I’ve always loved my mom’s middle name, but I don’t love it for a first name.”
“What is it?”
“Mae.”
He laughs. “No way. Seriously?”
I look up at him. “Yes. Why?”
“That’s my mom’s middle name, too.”
My heart does a little flip at that. “They would’ve been best friends.”
 “I think they still are. My mom adores your mom, and even if your mom’s grasp on who she is varies by the day, she seems to
enjoy her company.”
“She does,” I agree.
“So, we’ve got a middle name, then? Mae? For her grandmothers?”
I look at him through glassy eyes and nod. “Definitely.”
“Still need a first name.”
“Is there anyone in your family you’d like to honor?”
“I mean, we’re honoring Ma with her middle name. There’s no one I’m that close to in my family outside of that. I love my
grandparents, but my grandma’s name is very Korean, and it doesn’t feel like the right name for our daughter.”
“I always loved my dad’s mother’s name, but it’s longer than I’d like.”
“What is it?”
“Emmeline.”
“That’s pretty, but I agree we’d never call her that.”
“Right?” I say with a laugh. “And I refuse to be one of those parents who names their kid one thing but has an intention to call
them something else. It’s weird.”
“Agreed. But playing off that, hypothetically, if we chose Emmeline, what would be the name we shortened it to? We could
use that.”
“Oh, I like that idea. I hadn’t come up with a specific nickname for it though.”
“Emma, Lina, Linnie, Emily, Emme, Emmie—”
“Emmie. Oh my gosh. My grandpa died when I was pretty young, but I just remembered he used to call my grandma that. She
died when I was twelve, and she was the best. She absolutely adored my mom.” Emotion creeps into my throat. “Kind of how
your mom is with me.”
“Emmie Mae,” he says, and my heart flies out of my chest.
“I love that. It’s perfect.” I rub my hand over my stomach. “It’s her.”
Miles leans down and runs his hand over my stomach, talking to our girl. “How do you feel about that? Is your name Emmie
Mae?” Her kick is instantaneous, and he laughs. “Well, I think it’s decided.”
My heart is light, filled with joy that seemed impossible a week ago. Everything is in a fragile balance right now, but the
more I find joy in these happy moments, the less fragile they seem. I like that feeling.
“What are we going to do about a last name?” he asks.
My eyes widen. I don’t really want to use Davis because I hope one day Miles and I will be married, and I may take his
name. Davis-Hyun-Hansen would be a mouthful. I’m not against Hyun-Hansen, but I don’t know.
“I think that’s tomorrow’s problem,” I say with a laugh.
“Agreed, baby mama. I’m exhausted. Bed?”
“Bed.”
He stands and pulls me up, then gives me a kiss so tender, I swear it heals the little cracks in my heart. When he lifts his lips
away, he stares down at me like he’s the luckiest man alive.
He might be.
But I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Actually, that’s our daughter. Emmie.
As I follow him to the bedroom, his hand wrapped around mine, I’m hit with a wave of intense joy and gratitude.
A year ago, I couldn’t have imagined my life going this way, but now I simply can’t imagine another future. This is where I’m
supposed to be. With Miles and our daughter. Our little family.
I can’t wait to meet you, Emmie Mae.
 Chapter Three

Pretty Fucking Awesome

Amelia

“MM, THIS SMELLS PERFECT. Thank you,” I say to Kara as she sets some homemade hot chocolate in front of me.
“Of course. I’m glad to steal you for a little while.”
“It’s been good for me to take a few days off.” We rescheduled our baby appointment for this morning, so I took today off as
well. I’ll check in at work later, and I have a couple things I want to do for AB Construction, but taking some time to breathe
has been important. I take a sip of the hot chocolate and groan in happiness. Miles would be going crazy if he were here. “Mm,
that’s so good.”
“She makes the best hot chocolate,” Katie says, sitting down next to me at Kara’s kitchen counter. She lowers her voice and
leans in toward me. “That’s why I became her friend.”
“Knock it off or I’ll take your hot chocolate away,” Kara says pointedly.
Katie holds up her hands and feigns innocence. Addie and Jameson definitely get their spice from her.
“How are you doing?” Kara asks, leaning over the counter and looking at me.
“Okay. Better ish? I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m spiraling anymore.”
“That’s good,” Katie says. “It’s a starting point.”
“The girls love to say they spiral up. I think I finally understand what they mean.”
“They’re quite a tribe,” Kara says with a laugh. “After we had Rae, I was set that we were only going to have one. I liked
only having to share Charlie with her. But then she started collecting friends, and we met Sarah. Suddenly I had another
daughter and a bunch of surrogate kids, too. All thanks to Rae’s big heart. She’s so much of my mother.”
Katie puts her hand on Kara’s.
“We get to see her in all the girls in your family. I think that will continue,” Katie says, then looks at me. “No doubt we’ll see
your mom in your little girl.”
Kara looks at me. “I know what I’ve gone through and what you’re going through aren’t the same, but I had my own spiral
when my mom passed. I was trying so hard to keep it all together. I didn’t want the girls to see I was struggling, which is silly.
Of course I was going to struggle, but I wanted them to be able to come to me.”
“As they get older, you have to learn how important it is to lean on them,” Katie says. She’s not usually that forceful with me
about what I should or shouldn’t do. Then again, Dani would be. I think Dani and I are a lot like Kara and Katie.
“I’m working on it.” She laughs. “See? Still a work in progress. That never changes.”
“I’m learning that. How did you get through the worst of it after you lost your mom?”
“A lot of tears. My siblings. Katie.” She smiles. “And Charlie. I wouldn’t be who I am without him and his love.”
“You two married young, right?”
“Nineteen. Had Rae at twenty.”
“Wow.”
“And they planned to have her,” Katie teases. “Crazy.”
We all laugh and Kara playfully tries to slide Katie’s mug of cocoa away, but she latches onto it.
“Hey Momma, you here?” Rae calls from the back of the house.
“Kitchen, baby.”
A moment later, Rae appears in the room. “Oh, hey. It’s a party.” She glances at me. “I can come back later.”
 “What are you talking about? Get in here,” Kara says.
Again, Rae looks at me. “I don’t want to intrude on your time with them.”
“She’s your mom,” I say with a laugh.
“I know, but I’ve had her for almost twenty-three years. I can share her.”
“Enough of that,” Katie says, getting up and hugging Rae. “There’s hot cocoa. Sit your cute butt down.”
“Well, okay then.”
“Sure, you listen to her,” Kara says, stepping around the counter to hug her daughter.
Rae throws her thumb up in Katie’s direction. “Have you met her? You don’t cross Katie Hyun-Hansen.”
“Damn straight,” Katie says with a wink.
Rae sits down next to me and Kara slides her a cup of cocoa. “How are you, baby?”
“I’m good. Just finished outreach for the day. Aaron wanted me to have lunch with him later, so I thought I’d hang out here for
a bit and work on some of my master’s stuff rather than drive back up to the farmhouse.” She takes a long sip of her hot
chocolate. “Mm. Chocolate is so much better than my master’s. I know it’s a means to an end, but I just want to be out there
helping people.”
“You’ll get there,” Katie says. “And there’s no reason you can’t start building a business plan now.”
“The hardest part is going to be finding someone to be the clinical supervisor. It’ll take time for Chelsea and I to become
LCSWs, which we’ll need to be.” She sighs. “Which means finding someone who is as passionate as us who doesn’t care how
low their pay will be.”
“I’ll be on the lookout for you. You never know who might be excited to work on something like this with you.”
“I know. I’m a doer. I want to get things done. I hate waiting.”
I laugh out loud. “Same. Totally same.”
“Why can’t we just snap our fingers and fix things?” she says with a laugh.
“Hey, how’s your sister?” Kara asks Rae. “I can barely get her on the phone right now.”
“She’s crazy busy with her program, but it’s good busy. I saw her last night. Well, I see her pretty much every day. Perks of
living on the same property. She’s in her element right now. It’s busy in a way that fulfills her and brings her joy. She’s crazy
happy. Joel’s been busy, so I think all their spare time has been spent together. Texting her is the most effective method of
communication right now.”
“Not surprising,” Kara says. “Your dad has texted with her plenty.”
“Yeah, they have meme wars,” Rae says with a laugh. Then she looks at me. “See, I’m co-opting your time with them.” She
grabs my hand. “Oh, how was your baby appointment today?”
“Great. I’m healthy. She’s growing like a weed. I’m worried she might break me on the way out, but I’m trying not to think
about that.” I bite my lip, then smile, trying to decide how mean I want to be, but… I need some amusement. “We picked a
name.”
Everyone turns to me, waiting for me to elaborate, but I don’t.
“Are you going to tell us?” Katie demands.
I nod. “When she’s born.”
Rae laughs into her hot chocolate as Katie pins me with an intense glare, that up till now I’ve only seen used on Addie and
Jameson.
“You really are becoming one of my daughters.” She points at her head. “Giving me gray hairs.”
Kara snorts. “Please. You have like six gray hairs. I have more, and I’m younger than you.”
Katie sticks her tongue out at Kara.
Rae and I both laugh at that. Their friendship is adorable.
“We want to surprise everyone when she gets here, but given how long we put it off, it felt like a milestone that we finally
picked a name.”
Katie’s still glaring at me. She sighs dramatically. “Fine. But if someone else finds out before me—”
“You’ll cut them?” Rae asks in amusement, then we both laugh.
Katie points a finger at us. “Exactly.”
I’m smiling so big it hurts, but I love it. Though there’s a touch of sadness because I know my mom would be laughing just as
hard at this conversation, I’m filled with joy, and thankful that I have two incredible women in my life who are happy to step in
and give me all the mom love and laughter when I need it.

Miles
 “When was the last time we did this?” Joel asks, sitting down in an oversized chair in Mackenzie’s apartment. He had some
free time this morning, and since I’m not going into work for another hour, the three of us decided to have coffee together while
my mom and Kara stole Amelia for the morning.
“This combo of us? I don’t know. It’s been a while. We’re a rare combination,” I say, sitting down on the couch.
Mackie sits on the other end from me, laughing. “We’re a collector’s edition.”
“Sky, sit,” Joel says to his and Sarah’s dog. He’s a mixed breed, but he’s got a lot of lab in him with longer hair like a golden
retriever.
Sky climbs onto the couch and sits on Mackie’s lap as she happily laughs.
I laugh too as Joel shakes his head. Sky is very well trained, but also thinks he’s a lap dog.
“Hey, he sat,” Mackie says. “Right where I wanted him to. Good boy, Sky.” He licks her face, and she pets him vigorously.
“You’re the crazy aunt who spoils him,” Joel says.
“Just wait till the baby is born.” Mackie grins at me. “I’m going to spoil her rotten. Then give her back.”
“She will be well loved,” I say. Especially if Sky is any indication. He settles on Mackie’s lap.
“I think I might get a dog,” Mackie says. “But I’ll have to take Sky with me when I do so I can ensure they’ll be best friends.”
“I think Sky could get along with any human or animal. Nothing bothers him. Except squirrels,” Joel says, shaking his head.
“Anyway, how are you? And you and Amelia?”
“We’re good. Getting better. I’m… nervous as fuck about my therapy appointment tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes. I’m familiar with that. You’re in the why the fuck did I agree to this? phase,” Joel says.
“Yeah, pretty much. I also started down the rabbit hole looking at medications and side effects. A couple of the meds aren’t
so bad, but all of them have basic side effects like agitation or sleeplessness or low sex drive.” I mutter that last part into my
coffee mug.
“Way to think with your dick,” Mackie says.
Joel side eyes her, then looks at me. “There’s no guarantee you’ll have that or that they’ll put you on meds. Either way, I think
you can work with lessened sex drive if it means your anxiety won’t be as bad.”
I sigh. “Yeah, I know. But… I like who I am. Minus the more extreme anxiety. Call it egotistical, but I’m pretty fucking
awesome, and I don’t want meds to change me.”
“It’s a good thing you’re going to therapy,” Mackie says with a sweet-as-pie smile. I’d smack her, but Sky would get pissed.
“Thanks. Easy for you to say.”
“Excuse me. I went to therapy before the thought even occurred to either of you idiots.”
I turn and gape at her. “What? Why didn’t you ever tell me that? When?”
“When everything blew up with Hyla and me.”
“Seriously? We didn’t even get to hold an intervention or anything,” Joel jokes.
“Yeah. You’re no fun,” I agree.
“Well, at the time, Rae and Aaron were hoarding all the drama. It was easier to keep it to myself. But also, I mostly went
when I was visiting my dad. I did a few video sessions, but then moved on. Once I got past the worst of the stuff between Hyla
and me, I started feeling better.”
“You know we still would’ve supported you, right?” Joel says.
“Yeah. But I don’t know… sometimes I like to do things outside the hive mind.”
“You usually tell me,” I say.
She looks down at Sky and pets his head. He makes a happy huff noise. “I was figuring my shit out then. It was easier to do
without anyone else knowing. Sometimes, on rare occasion, I’m like Rae. And him.” She nods at Joel.
“Which is why we all need therapy,” Joel says with a laugh. He looks back at me. “Try not to stress. That’s sort of the
opposite of the point.”
“I know. Amelia had an online session and was happy with how it went. I think I’ll get there. I always thought I was good at
self-reflection. This stupidly makes me feel like I don’t know myself as well as I thought I did.”
“You are good at self-reflection. This isn’t about you not knowing yourself, it’s about learning how to work with your own
struggles. You’ll get there,” Mackie assures me.
“I’m ready to do the work. I’m just scared of what the work is.”
“Anxiety,” Mackie whispers dramatically.
“Hilarious. Someone tell me something about their life, because I’m done with mine.”
Joel shrugs. “I don’t know. Having a blast in my master’s program. Sarah’s hyped about hers. Despite working long days
between clinical stuff, online classes, and studying, she comes home bouncy and energetic every night. I reap the benefits of
that,” he says with a sly smile. “We’re enjoying living our best lives right now. So in that sense, I’m pretty boring. Macks?”
“I’ve learned boring can be a good thing.” She laughs. “I’m good. Finally said the big ILY to Mari. It’s been a slow burn, but
I’m really happy with her. She’s sweet and supportive. We’ve discussed maybe moving in together. She spends a lot of time
here, anyway, but it’s farther from the school, so we haven’t decided anything yet.”
 “We are getting old and boring, aren’t we?” I say with a laugh.
“You’re having a kid, and I have a feeling she’ll be the first of many in this friend group. If anything, this is the calm before a
storm of loving chaos headed our way,” Joel says.
“Oh, I’ll drink to that,” Mackie says.
We lean over and clink our coffee cups against hers. I take a long sip, looking out the window at the street I grew up on.
Loving chaos was our childhood. It’s barely ended for us, now we’re starting the next generation. Fucking crazy, but exciting at
the same time.

I want to vomit.
Social anxiety is not my form of anxiety. I’m fairly extroverted but enjoy quiet time too. Sitting in a psychiatrist’s waiting
room has my anxiety running around like a kid at a carnival snatching up cotton candy and bingeing it till they puke.
I’m going to puke.
“Miles?”
I stand up and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants as I walk toward the middle-aged woman with brown hair holding a
folder and waiting for me. Her smile is soft and kind and gives me the slightest bit of ease.
“Hi,” I say, because what the fuck else do I say?
She confirms my last name and date of birth, then leads me back to her office. It’s surprisingly bright. I’m not sure why I
always think of psychiatrists’ offices as dreary or dark, but I do. Probably doesn’t help with the stigma around therapy.
“I’m Doctor Pierce,” she says kindly as she sits down in her desk chair. I sit across from her in a plush, oversized chair. Not
a weird couch like I thought there would be. What the hell kind of TV shows and movies did I watch that depicted therapy as a
kid?
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. Amelia warned me it would be awkward.
“I know it takes some time to get comfortable here. Not in that chair. I picked those because they’re luxurious, and if you’re
going to feel uncomfortable in other ways, you might as well be at peak physical comfort.” I chuckle at that. I like her. She
disarms me in a good way. “I’ve read your file, and it’s your anxiety primarily that brings you in?”
“Yes. It’s something I’ve struggled with most of my life, but usually I could handle it. The last six months or so have been
hard and they’ve brought my anxiety front and center.” I do my best to clearly explain everything that has happened.
“That’s a lot for anyone to deal with in a short amount of time. It’s good that you’ve recognized you need help to work with
your anxiety, especially during this transition.”
“Thank you. I want to be the best partner I can be and I want to be healthy for my daughter. I don’t want her to feel my
anxiety. I don’t want it to negatively impact my experiences with her. Unfortunately, a lot of my anxiety has been around the
pregnancy and health of Amelia and the baby, even though there hasn’t been any cause for concern. It pushes on my trigger
points.”
“Which are?”
“Feeling helpless or like I can’t help or protect the people I love.” I tell her about my mini-breakdown over SIDS this past
weekend. “This is the part where I feel like you should throw meds at me to fix me.”
“First, we’re not here to fix you, so let’s step away from that mindset. Second, I would never prescribe meds and send you
on your way. I always continue seeing my patients when I prescribe medication to make sure it’s helping them and their mental
health. You may be a good candidate for medication to help you manage those bigger spikes in anxiety. But if you’re not
interested in medication, we can wait to discuss that.”
“I am… interested. Just nervous. I read the side effects—”
“Which ones are of the biggest concern to you?”
“Some I saw had aggression and worsened panic attacks as side effects, but I’d assume those wouldn’t be right for me.” I
swallow the lump in my throat. What’s left of my pride, probably. “And I saw almost every kind can have sexual side effects.
I’m sure that sounds shallow—”
“Not at all. It’s a valid concern. Sexual health is important. Especially within a relationship. Here’s the key thing to
remember with medication: just because you take it tomorrow, doesn’t mean you have to take it in a month. We’ll check in. See
what’s working and not. There’s no reason you couldn’t go off it, and you may not need it forever. Sometimes we go through
periods in our lives where we need more help than others. Any medication I start you on will be a very low dose, so the side
effects will hopefully be minimal, but again, we’ll discuss this more as we go on.”
“Thank you,” I say, letting out a rough sigh.
“No thanks needed. This is what I do. What do you do, Miles?”
“I’m a business consultant. Mostly I work with small businesses as they start or grow.”
 “I’d be useless at that,” she says with a laugh. “We all have our strengths. This is mine. Let’s work together to help you be
the version of yourself you want to be.”
“Sounds good.” Relaxing more, I sit back in the chair and settle in for the rest of our session.

When I walk through the apartment door, Amelia is in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove.
“Mm. Smells delicious in here. What are you making?”
“Shrimp with garlic sauce,” she says as I walk over and kiss her. “Seafood and garlic are my flavors of the month. She turns
off the burner and sets the pan aside. “How was your appointment?”
“It was good. I feel like a weight slid off my shoulders.”
She nods. “I feel the same way. We’ve both been carrying too much.”
“Agreed.” I set a small paper bag on the counter. “She set me up with a super low dose medication for anxiety. I’m hoping
it’ll be helpful and not negatively affect me.”
“Still worried about sexual stuff? Because I promise, I’ll do whatever is needed to work with that.”
I chuckle at her wily smile. “Not just that. Everything, but I’m going into this with optimism, and we’ll see what happens.”
“That’s a good plan.”
I sweep some hair from her face and look into her eyes, my thumb brushing her cheek. “I want to be the best man I can be for
you and our daughter. For all of us.”
“You’re already incredible.”
I dip my head down and capture her lips. She’s the only drug I need. I’ll give the others a shot, but I wish I could bottle this
feeling and take it whenever I need it because this heals me. Sets me on fire. Makes me feel invincible.
“I love you, Amelia Davis.” She laughs, and I squat down, lifting her shirt. “And I love you, Emmie Mae.” I press my lips
into Amelia’s belly as she runs her hands through my hair.
“We love you too.”
I stand up again and pull her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I can. I fucking love her giant stomach and feeling our girl
move, but I can’t wait until I can hold her the way I used to.
“Ready to eat?” she whispers.
“Yeah. I’m starving.”
She kisses me again, and I’m home. I’m always home with her. We’ve walked through our share of hard shit lately, but we
made it here, and I know we’ll keep growing together as we build our crazy, beautiful family.
 Chapter Four

Uncertainty

Amelia

PROS:

I can plan ahead

I can make a living will
I can write letters to Emmie
I can prepare the people in my life
I’ll know

Cons:

I’ll overthink it
I’ll worry
I’ll wonder if the test was right
I’ll know

I stare down at the notebook in front of me, tapping my pen against the paper. I’ve spent far too much time thinking about this.
Then rethinking it. Should I get genetic testing done to find out if the Alzheimer’s is genetic?
I still don’t know. I growl and chuck the pen, sending it flying across the room and onto the floor. Miles walks into the
bedroom with his eyebrows raised.
“Everything okay?”
I bite my lip. This is hard for me to talk about. It scares me to think his future could involve taking care of me when I barely
remember him. It makes me want to throw up.
Since I haven’t answered, Miles is now sitting on the bed next to me. Slowly, he slides the list off my lap and looks at it. I let
him take the notebook. It’s easier for him to read my crazy than for me to spill it all out.
After reading it, he sets it down, then pulls me close. “I understand why you’re making that list, but I think it’s neglecting the
bigger issue. How would knowing make you feel? Whatever the outcome?”
I swallow hard, tears filling my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, let’s look at the list again.” He grabs it and goes through it, pointing as he does. “We can plan ahead without knowing.
We can and should make living wills regardless. You can write letters to Emmie no matter what. There’s only so much
preparing you can do. And yes, you’ll know. But will knowing hurt or help? Will it change the way you love me or Emmie?
Will it change what you want out of life? The world could end tomorrow, Ames. We don’t know what will happen to us or how
or when we’ll leave this planet, and believe me, if I think too much about that, it could easily send me into an anxiety spiral.”
“Then don’t,” I say quickly. I don’t want to think about things like that either.
“Will knowing positively change your life?” His voice has that gentleness to it that makes me feel completely understood.
I look down at the notebook again, then close my eyes. Slowly, I shake my head before resting it on his shoulder. “No. I don’t
think it will. I’d rather live my life than worry about when I won’t be able to anymore.” I let out a long breath. “Knowing
would make me focus on the wrong things. But then I wonder if not taking the test is irresponsible somehow. Like maybe you
could prepare more—”
“I don’t care. I want to live every second I get with you. Frankly, I’d rather not know. This is one case for me where
knowledge is not power. Especially because the results aren’t a guarantee. But it’s not my decision to make. It’s yours.”
“For so long, I thought it would help me, but the more I think about it, the more I think it might make me feel worse. I’m tired
of it being a major focus. I want to let it go, but there’s a tiny part of me nagging that it’s the wrong decision.”
He takes the notebook from me and closes it, setting it aside. “So put it away for a few days, then come back to it. If you feel
confident in your decision, then you can move forward. If you still feel uncertain, then we can enlist help with the decision—
maybe a genetic counselor. Either way, we’ll handle it together.”
My lips pull into a half smile. “You’re smart.”
He shrugs, fighting back a smile. “I’ve always been the wise one.”
I smack his chest and he winks at me. Then he leans back against the pillows and pulls me close. “Everything okay with
you?” I ask.
He rests his hand on my bump. I can’t believe it’s only a few more weeks until we get to meet Emmie. “Perfect. I’m always
perfect like this. But Ma just called. She wants to have a family meeting about the Thanksgiving plan since it’s less than two
weeks away now. She gets a little hyped about Thanksgiving.”
I frown and look down. “Oh… well, I always go to the nursing home for Thanksgiving. Family members can bring in food or
order the meal there. I usually order the meal they’re serving since cooking a Thanksgiving dinner for one never sounded
appealing. I don’t want to mess with your tradition, but it’s important to me to be with my mom on Thanksgiving.”
He kisses the side of my head. “Then that’s where we’ll be.”
“I don’t want you to miss out on Thanksgiving with your family.”
“When are you going to learn you are my family?” He rubs his hand across my bump. “The two of you are the most important
people to me. As long as we’re together, that’s what matters.”
“What about your mom? She’s been so good to me. I don’t want to hurt her.”
“Trust me, she won’t be upset about this. In fact, I’ll call her right now.”
“You don’t have to…” But he already has his phone out. A moment later, we’re on speaker with Katie.
“Hey, Ma. I was just talking to Amelia about Thanksgiving plans.”
“Oh, good. How does two o’clock sound? Or should we plan on three?”
“Actually, Amelia was just telling me she usually spends Thanksgiving at the nursing home with her mom, so that’s where
we’ll be.”
“I’m sorry,” I squeak.
“Oh, honey. No. Don’t apologize. I should’ve assumed you’d be with her.” She makes a hmm noise, then there’s tapping and I
think the sound of paper. “Do they allow family to bring in food?”
“Uh, yeah. They have separate spaces set up for families who want to bring in their own food.”
“Is it still possible to set that up?” Katie asks.
Emotion hits hard, making my chest feel heavy. “You don’t have to.”
“Hush. I know I don’t have to. I want to. She’s family, too.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. I wonder if I’ll stop crying constantly when Emmie is finally outside of
me. Probably not. Then I’ll have crazy postpartum hormones to deal with.
“No thanks. Find out about a space for all seven of us, including your mom. Does she have any special dietary restrictions?”
“No. She has to have her food cut up, but that’s all.”
“Perfect. And what time?”
“I believe it’s any time between twelve and three for families bringing in food.”
“Perfect. Let’s meet there at one. That will give me plenty of time to prep everything. Miles, you’re on pie duty.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I—”
“Don’t you thank me again,” Katie commands. “We’re family and we’re celebrating together. That’s what matters.”
“Okay. Do I have any kind of job?”
“Get everything set up and take care of my grandbaby.”
 “I can do that.”
“Good. I’ll make a group chat with Andy and the girls, too. See how much I can annoy them.” I can tell she’s smirking as she
says it. “Love you both. Have a good night.”
“Love you, Ma.”
“Good night,” I say, then Miles hangs up. “Wow. I did not see that coming.”
Miles chuckles. “You should have. We both should have.”
“Probably.”
I lay my head on his shoulder again, and he rests his hand on my thigh. “Is it okay that she’s doing this?”
“Of course. I just keep wanting to say thank you. To you and her and everyone for making me your family. I know that’s silly,
but I’m still getting used to having this much love. Some days it still catches me off guard.”
“You are so loved, and I hope one day, the wounds in your heart will heal and being surrounded by love will feel natural.”
“They’re already healing. Thanks to you. I will forever be grateful I didn’t blow off Sarah and Joel’s engagement party.”
He laughs at that. “Doesn’t matter. Eventually, I would’ve met Dani’s imaginary friend. Hell, we work together. We were
meant to be in each other’s lives. Might not have gone how we planned, but I’m not complaining.”
He slips his hand under my shirt, his warm palm on my stomach as he leans down and kisses me. I turn slightly, putting my
hand over his and deepening our kiss.
I was terrified at the doctor’s office when I found out I was pregnant. Scared I would lose Miles because of it. That shows
how little I knew him at the time and how afraid I was to trust. It ended up twining us together more tightly than I could’ve
imagined.
I move my hand off his, running it up his arm and into his hair. I love the feeling of my fingers twisted in his soft locks. It’s
not long before I’m lost in our kiss. In his lips and his tongue and the comfort I feel. He makes me feel like a teenager again. I
could lie here for hours making out with him. It makes me giddy, and when there’s still so much weight in the background of my
life, that light, floating happiness is something I cherish.
Unfortunately, both our phones buzz at the same time, several times in a row, pulling us out of the moment.
Miles shakes his head as he pulls away. “Ma and her group texts.”
But when we grab our phones, it’s not Katie blowing them up.
“Oh my god,” I say, snuggling against him as we read through the texts.
Amanda and Jamie are having a great time on vacation. At least if this picture is any evidence. They’re standing on the
beach. Amanda’s hair is blowing in the wind. Jamie has his arms wrapped around her, and he’s kissing her. But that’s just the
background. The focus of the picture is Amanda’s hand and the massive solitaire square diamond ring on her ring finger.
The chat fills up with congratulations. I send mine, then scroll back to the picture, smiling. I’m insanely happy for them. I
love having this group of friends, and more than I knew I could, I love cheering them on, seeing their happiness. It brings me
joy.
Miles sets his phone aside and looks down at me, doing that sexy smolder thing before capturing my lips again. This kiss is
more possessive than the last, telling me without words that it’ll be us one day.
I kiss him back just as forcefully, hopefully letting him know that doesn’t scare me anymore. It’s part of a future I’m excited
to have with him.

Thanksgiving is not my favorite holiday. Probably because it’s all about good food and celebrating with family and friends. My
circle was never big, even before my grandparents and my dad died. After my dad was gone, my mom and I didn’t celebrate it.
We were in other countries while we traveled, and no one across the world gave a shit about US Thanksgiving. I didn’t start
“celebrating” it again until my mother was in the nursing home and I wanted to be present for her at the holidays.
I’m wholly unprepared for today. And I’m starting to think this whole thing was a bad idea. This isn’t just my Thanksgiving
—a day I hold little emotional attachment to—to ruin. It’s the whole Hyun-Hansen family’s to ruin now. And those people—
Katie especially—love Thanksgiving.
Not to mention that every time I come here since her stroke, I’m extra aware that it could be my last visit with her. This could
be my last holiday with her. That sits like a rock in my stomach.
No. That’s not right. A rock is hard and unmoving. This is a tornado. Rattling the gates and tearing at the walls.
I suck in a breath as we board the elevator, my shoulders tense. Miles stands next to me but doesn’t reach for my hand, a
surefire sign he senses something is wrong since he’s usually very handsy with me. Which I also usually like.
It’s fine. I’m fine. I will not be the one to ruin today.
As the elevator dings and the doors open, we step off, and I start down the hall, but Miles catches my hand, spinning me back
to him.
 For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me.
“Are you okay?”
There it is.
“I’m fine.” I answer instantly. Because I want to be fine. I want today to be fine. No, I want today to be good.
I squeeze his hand, then spin around and continue down the hallway.
You’re shutting him out, a little voice inside me says. Even though I want to argue, I can’t.
I stop and spin back around, reaching for his hand. He moves to me and takes it, looking into my eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m nervous.” I step closer and wrap my arms around him, and instantly I’m safe in his strong embrace. This is
much better than shutting down.
“Why are you nervous?”
“Because your whole family is coming, and I’m starting to think that’s a bad idea. What if my mom is having a bad day?
What if she doesn’t understand or she’s mean? I don’t want to ruin your family’s Thanksgiving. Your sisters have never even
met my mother. Maybe I should go in alone and spend some time with her. You can go back with your family, and I’ll come
over after.”
I bite my lip and look down, feeling ridiculous as I spill my fears.
“Ames.”
My eyes stay on the wall.
“Babe, look at me.” He rests his hand on my cheek, pushing until my eyes are back on his. “I told you; you are my family.
This is where I want to be. It’s where our family wants to be too. Because they are our family. Not just mine. And you know
that. My mom knew what she was getting into, and so did my dad. My sisters may be sassy, but they have a lot of respect for
you. No matter how today goes, it’s our first Thanksgiving as a big, complicated family. We’re spending it together.”
I stare at him for a moment, taking in his words. He’s right. I know he is. This is just another thing I’m still learning how to
do. I let out a sigh of relief, then smile up at him. “You’re very bossy.”
He leans in close and whispers, “Just wait till we’re alone later.” He winks at me. “It’s all going to be okay, as long as
we’re together. Deal?”
“Deal.”
He kisses my cheek, then takes a half step back, wrapping his hand around mine again as we walk toward my mother’s unit.
The entire unit is adorned with Thanksgiving decorations, from paper turkeys, to cornucopias, to tons of brightly colored
fabric leaves.
“I love this,” Miles says, looking around, and despite how I felt in the hall two minutes ago, I’m smiling. Miles comes off as
an alpha type. Tall, strong, confident, protective, and a little growly. On the inside though? The man is a marshmallow who
worships me, loves his mom, and finds joy in little things like Thanksgiving decorations.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” one of the nurses calls, and we say the same in return. For once, the unit smells good, like sweets
and coffee. Coming here is almost always some kind of emotional whiplash, but today, it might be a good kind.
With Miles’s arm wrapped around my back, we make our way to my mother’s room. We find her sitting up in bed, dressed
nicely and hair combed. One of the aides must have helped her get ready this morning.
“Hi Mom! Happy Thanksgiving.”
Mom smiles up at me. “Thanksgiving.” She nods, then looks around. She’s a little out of it, but in good spirits, which is a
good thing.
“Are you ready to celebrate?” I ask.
Again, she nods, looking out the window at the breeze whirring through the last leaves clinging to the trees.
“Good, because we’ve got some friends coming to celebrate.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. Friends? Who’s here?”
“You’ll have to come with us to find out.” I move around the side of her bed as she pushes herself up and swings her legs
around. “Here, take your walker.”
She glares at me. “I don’t need a walker. I’m not some old lady.”
She does. With the muscle weakness lingering from the stroke, she has to use a walker to get around now, and occasionally a
wheelchair. She still hates it though. Many parts of her have faded. Her independence isn’t one of them.
As usual, Miles swoops in to the rescue. “No, but all the cool people are using them these days. It’s a new fashion statement.
I wish I had one.” Somehow, he manages to look longingly at her walker. This man.
“Oh. Okay.” Just like that, she does it, and Miles steps back, letting her go by, but then walks right behind her. Not so close
that she’ll be annoyed by it, though. “Look at all the leaves,” she says happily as we walk through the halls.
One of her favorite things to do in the fall was take a drive to look at the leaves. Seeing those little facets of her pop out feels
good.
Slowly, we make our way off the unit and into one of the small meeting rooms where Katie, Andy, Addie, and Jameson are
waiting.
 “Hi Eileen,” Katie says walking over to us. “How are you?”
“Good,” she says, looking around, almost bewildered, but still happy. “That’s a lot of food.”
“It sure is. Look good?” Katie asks.
“Delicious,” my mom says, which makes me laugh.
“Come sit down.” Katie pulls out a chair and helps her into it. Then we all sit down.
My mom’s eyes roll over the food. “Is this all for me?” she asks.
“Yep. All for you,” Katie says, but she winks at me, and I know the truth. It’s for me. And Miles and the family that’s
blending together here.
Plates are filled amid laughter and giving of thanks.
My heart fills with warmth as I look around the room. For the first Thanksgiving in a long time, I’m not only filled with joy
but an abundance of gratitude for the love in my life.

Miles

“Today was a good day,” Amelia says with a soft sigh as she changes into comfy clothes.
Despite her initial concerns, everything went well at the nursing home. I think being surrounded by a lot of energy was
actually good for Eileen. She went along with things rather than thinking too much about what was going on or who we all
were. Addie and Jameson had her laughing multiple times, even though I don’t think she knew what they were talking about
most of the time. The best part was seeing the joy on Amelia’s face. Thankfully, my mother took tons of pictures—as usual—so
we’ll have this day to look back on.
After several hours at the nursing home, we all ended up back at my parents’ house for a second round of dessert, some
games, and lots of laughter.
“It was,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around her from behind and kissing her neck.
She spins around and loops her arms around my neck. “I’m sorry I shut you out when we first got to the nursing home. Bad
coping mechanisms die hard.”
I’ll admit, it triggered me when she turned and walked away. My mind went into overdrive. I may be on the anxiety pill, and
sure, it’s helping—as is therapy—but it doesn’t stop that anxiety, especially when it revolves around my biggest fears. Like
Amelia shutting down on me. But proving we both still have things to work on, my anxiety reaction was unnecessary since she
turned around a few seconds later.
It was scary in the moment, but these little tests of our relationship aren’t a bad thing. They build it stronger each time we
choose to be open and connect with each other. Rae’s words about building a relationship come back to me.
People and relationships are complicated. You don’t magically get a good one. You have to work at it.
I was afraid of what that work would be, but now that we’re doing it, I’m proud. Knowing that we’re making our
relationship stronger and healthier every day? That’s special, and it’s something not everyone does. I’m proud of the work
we’re doing on ourselves and for our relationship, but I’m also proud of our love—and how worthy it is to fight for.
“We’re still learning,” I say, rubbing my hands down her back. “Even on meds, my anxiety isn’t magically better. I felt that
spike. Last night, I was up thinking through everything in the nursery and whether we have what we need. Then I went down a
rabbit hole researching the best things to pack in your bag for when we go to the hospital, which led to me digging out the
pregnancy books and reading all the chapters about the last month, labor, delivery, and postpartum care. My one win was that I
avoided the topics about serious complications and conditions.”
She laughs. “See? We’re both making progress.”
“Slow and steady, right?”
“Exactly. So, where did you end up on the mental nursery inventory? Think we have everything?”
“In my current calm space, I know we have far more than we’ll ever need. I’m not sure why I was so focused on the nursery
since she’ll be in our room for a few months anyway.”
“It’s still her space. It’s a celebration of her. I want to read to her in there and do tummy time, and… have a space where
nothing else exists but her.”
I lean down and kiss her. “That sounds perfect.”
“Can we go look at it again?” she whispers.
I chuckle at that. She’s obsessed with Emmie’s nursery, and I’ve noticed her sneaking in there at random times, like she can’t
stay away. We put the finishing touches on it a couple of nights ago, and I have to admit, it’s perfect. It’s warm and cozy and
already full of love.
 I grab her hand and lead her across the hall and into the nursery. When I flick the light on, excitement rushes through me.
Soon Emmie is going to be here, in my arms.
Amelia lets go of my hand and walks around, touching the furniture and picking up stuffed animals before she walks over to
the wall where the crib will eventually be. She traces her hand over the words there.
The uncertainty of life is magic.
Stars surround the words written in a dark gray-blue. It stands out against the light gray walls with light pink and dusty violet
accents.
I walk over and wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my head on her shoulder.
“I don’t want to know,” she says.
“About what?”
“The test. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to take the magic away from life and our future by worrying about what might
happen one day. I want to live the life my dad would’ve wanted for me. I think that’s what my mom would want too. And I
don’t think she ever would’ve wanted to know this is where her future would’ve taken her.” She spins around, looking up into
my eyes. “I’m going to cherish you and our daughter and the life we build together, no matter what. That’s what matters to me.”
Wrapping a hand around the side of her neck, I lean down and press my lips into hers.
Only she can light my heart on fire like this.
“Love you.”
“Love you too,” she whispers, resting her head against my chest.
“C’mon, sweetness. Let’s get some sleep.”
She nods and I wrap an arm around her, guiding her out of the room. Before I turn off the light, I look back at those words.
There’s a truckload of uncertainty coming our way soon, but with Emmie joining our family, there will be plenty of magic too.
 Chapter Five

Come Out Now

Miles

“AMES?” I CALL, WALKING through our bedroom toward the master bath.
“Hey,” she says as I stop in the doorway. She’s fully naked and toweling off, so I happily soak in the view. And the smell. I
walk over to her. “You smell incredible,” I whisper, wrapping my arm around her bump and kissing her neck.
She just got out of the bath, and she smells like honeysuckle and roses. Plus her. I remember learning about pheromones in
biology in tenth grade. For the next month, the guys and I kept lifting our arms and then pulling the girls close so their faces
were in our armpits and jokingly asking them if we smelled good. Pretty sure Rae bruised my rib from hitting me so hard when
I did it to her. Of course, when Aaron did it to her, she just laughed and tickled him.
Looking back now, it’s obvious why. We don’t think about how it plays into our relationships because we like to pretend
we’re more evolved than being attracted to someone’s scent, but I think it’s part of the whole package. I like how my girl
smells and tastes. Why would you want to be with someone who didn’t attract you in that way? I can tell when she’s horny, and
it turns me on more. Like right now. I fucking love it.
She spins around and sucks on my neck. “You smell good too. But you’re wearing too many clothes.”
I pull my shirt over my head with one hand and drop my pants and boxers down with the other. She gasps as my dick springs
free.
“You need something, gorgeous?” I ask, walking her backward to the wall.
“You,” she moans.
“Good.” Wrapping an arm around her low back, I lift her up.
“Miles! I’m too big for this.”
“Shush, baby mama. I’ve got you.”
Leaning back, I lift her up a little more, then guide her onto my cock. This is how I need her. Hard and fast. Right here in the
bathroom.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” With my free hand, I stroke her clit. She’s wet and swollen and needs this. She rests her
head against the wall and closes her eyes.
“I was thinking of you in the bathtub. Wishing you were in there with me. I got out to come find you.”
“I always know what you need, baby. Right now, you need to come so hard your legs shake. Then I’ll carry you to the bed
and do it all over again.”
“Yes,” she cries out, then there’s a sudden burst of wetness. I look down, eyes wide. Amelia has never squirted. She said she
tried for years with toys, but it doesn’t seem to be her thing.
I look back up at her. “Did you just—”
“No,” she says, voice a little panicky. “That wasn’t me squirting. Or… peeing.” My eyes widen. “My water just broke.”
“Are you in labor?” I sputter.
She bites her lip. “I had some mild contractions last night. They got a little stronger this morning. That’s why I took a bath.
Then everything felt swollen down there, and I started thinking of you. I might’ve touched myself a little. Then I was coming to
find you.”
And now my cock is covered in her amniotic fluid.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
 “I didn’t want you to worry before you needed to.”
“That’s why I take the special little pill now. I could’ve been rubbing your back and taking care of you.”
“You did rub my back. And you always take care of me.”
“You still should’ve told me.” She winces and her legs tighten around my waist. “Are you having another contraction?” She
nods. “Okay, this is me being appropriately concerned. It’s time to go to the hospital.”
“Yeah, I think it is.”
I finally pull out of her and set her carefully on the floor. “You clean up. I’m going to clean up. Then I’ll grab your bag and
we’ll go. See? Calm.”
She laughs. I’m glad this is funny.
Even though calm is a bit of a stretch. I’m not freaking out, but I’m acutely aware we’re about to have a baby, and since I
don’t think all the pills in the world would help me stay calm enough to deliver our baby in the car, it’s time to go.
“Hey.” She catches my arm as I walk past her toward the shower.
I spin to face her. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She looks up at me. “We’re going to have a baby.”
I grab her by the neck and kiss her. “We’re going to meet our girl. I love you so fucking much, baby. Now clean up and let’s
go meet our daughter.”
She kisses me again, then we break apart to clean up so we can go to the hospital.
And become a family of three.

“Hey, little girl,” Amelia says, poking her stomach. “It’s time to come out now.”
I heard all the horror stories about women having a baby come so fast they had to deliver in the car or their bathtub or the
lawn, even hospital hallways. Everything made it seem so dire to get to the hospital after she goes into labor, especially after
her water breaks.
No one mentioned waiting nine fucking hours.
Nine hours. It was fast at first, and Amelia dilated to five centimeters. Then her labor completely dropped off. They call it
stalled labor, and for some people, it can safely last days, but since Amelia’s water has already broken and the contractions
have slowed down so much, that likely won’t be the case for her. We’ve tried some basic remedies like walking around and
stretching. After a couple more hours without progress, they started Pitocin to help the contractions start up again, but a few
more hours later, and here we are. Contractions are still slow and she’s not dilating further.
Thankfully, this is still the beginning part of labor. The baby isn’t stuck in the birth canal, which is far more dangerous.
However, the longer this goes on, the greater the risk to both Amelia and the baby, from infection to the possibility of Amelia
needing a hysterectomy.
She’s staying as calm as she can, but she’s upset, and if she could, I think she’d probably bribe Emmie to come out.
I rub my hand over her stomach and kiss a bare spot above where the fetal monitoring band is. “Hey, sweet girl. We really
want to meet you. I know it’s cozy in there, but I promise we’ll make you cozy out here, too.”
In my obsessive researching about the newborn stage, I read about kangaroo care. It’s something done frequently in NICUs to
help smaller babies regulate body temperature and heart rate, but it’s also beneficial for newborns. You take your mostly naked
baby, then rest them on your naked chest. For preemies, they’re often placed right inside a parent’s shirt, but for full-term
infants, you typically rest them on your naked chest, then put a blanket over them. It helps them feel cozy and warm like they
were in the womb. The sound of the parent’s heartbeat is also calming to them because they can supposedly hear the heartbeat
inside the womb, too. I’m fascinated by this stuff and excited.
I can’t fucking wait to hold her tiny body against my chest.
But first, we have to convince her to come out of there.
“I feel like a sideshow attraction. Look at the incredible woman who can’t make her baby come out.”
Everyone’s here—or has been here on and off—since we first called this morning. My parents set up camp in the waiting
room, along with Dani and Mackenzie. Rae, Aaron, Sarah, and Joel have been in and out, checking in and bringing food as
needed.
Amelia is hooked up to an IV and fetal monitoring. She’s not allowed to eat, and she’s exhausted, but as usual, my girl is
powering through, though she did ask for everyone else to get out of the damn room—her exact words—for a few minutes.
“Or everyone wants to support you,” I say, softly kissing her forehead.
She growls in response.
“Have I ever mentioned that I love how feisty you are?”
She gives me a weak smile. “I don’t feel feisty right now. I’m uncomfortable and nauseous. Scared I can’t do this.”
 I sit down on the edge of the bed and run my hand up her leg. “You can do this. You have always been strong and resilient.
And you have me here to support you through it. I won’t let you give up or believe for a second that you can’t do this. You will
do this. And when you do, you’ll get the best reward ever. Emmie Mae.”
“Emmie Mae,” she whispers, relaxing a little.
“She probably needs a last name.”
Amelia takes my hand and smiles at me. “She already has it. Hyun-Hansen.”
My eyes flare. “Are you sure?”
“Some day, I’m going to marry you. When I do, I want all three of us to have the same last name. While I know you’re a
modern man who could probably be convinced to take my last name if I asked, you are not Miles Davis. You’re Miles Hyun-
Hansen. And she’s Emmie Mae Hyun-Hansen.”
My heart thunders as I stare at her in awe, somehow more in love with her now than I was a minute ago. I quickly kiss her,
then pull back and say, “One day you’re going to be Mrs. Hyun-Hansen? You’re sure you’re okay giving up your last name?
Your father’s last name?” My voice fills with emotion as I say that.
“Yes,” she says firmly. “I’ve thought about this. I’ll use Davis professionally, but personally, I’ll be all yours.”
“Damn, baby. You know the words that go straight to my heart.”
“And your dick,” she mutters under my breath.
My eyes widen and I look at her massive stomach. “Close your legs before you talk like that, dirty girl.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Since when do you care about a little dirty talk, Mr. Hyun-Hansen?”
“Since your water broke and there is nothing to cushion our daughter’s delicate ears.”
She laughs again. “Oh no. Are you going to stop talking dirty now? Suddenly it’ll be all vanilla sex?”
I lean up and kiss her, effectively shutting her up. Other than a spanking or an orgasm, it’s about the only way to shut her up
when she’s teasing me.
“I will never stop talking dirty to you, but I will not talk dirty in front of her and scar her for life. She should grow up like
every other kid—assuming her parents never have sex.”
Amelia shakes her head but before she can say anything, the doctor walks in with a nurse to check Amelia’s progress. She
groans as she scoots down the bed. She went on a rant earlier about how she’s tired of people sticking things up her vagina—
unless it’s me and my instrument. Thankfully, no one else was in the room for that. She’s lost all filter, so there’s no telling
what she’ll say in front of anyone at this point.
After the doctor checks her and the fetal monitor, he turns to us with a serious look on his face.
Insert heart attack here.
That lovely little anxiety pill only helps so much, and seeing a doctor look at you intensely when your girlfriend is in labor,
is pretty much a straight shot of anxiety to the heart.
I swallow it all down, though, because I need to be strong for Amelia.
Our doctor—a calm man in his fifties—pulls his stool closer and tells us that Amelia’s progress is still stalled and we’re
hitting a point where she or the baby could be at risk for complications.
Breathe.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Breathe.
I need both my girls healthy.
“This is typically the point where I would recommend a C-section. I know it’s not what you were planning on, and we can
wait a little longer to see if your contractions pick up again and you begin dilating. I don’t want to rush you, but the sooner you
decide, the better.”
Amelia looks up at me, eyes wide and filled with uncertainty.
“If you’d like, we can step out for a moment while you discuss it,” he says.
“No—I…” Amelia bites her lip as she trails off. “What would you do? If it was your wife or daughter? What would you tell
them?”
“I’d recommend doing the C-section now.”
I squeeze her hand tightly, trying to reassure her. If the doctor thinks that’s best, then I think we should do that, but she’s the
one in labor. It’s not my decision. And though my instinct is to control the situation to mitigate risk, I’ve learned that’s not
always the answer—or my choice to make.
“Will I still have a chance at a vaginal birth if I had another child?”
“Yes, there’s a good chance you could have a safe and healthy vaginal delivery after Cesarean.”
“Okay.” She nods firmly. “Let’s do the C-section.”
“Good.” The doctor stands. “We’ll be back in a few minutes to get you both prepped.” He pauses. “Assuming you want to be
in the room, Dad?”
“Absolutely,” I say. I’m fucking terrified, but nothing in this world is going to stop me from seeing my daughter enter this
world.
“Okay. Take some deep breaths. We’re going to do everything to keep you both safe and make this a healthy delivery.”
The doctor pats my shoulder and walks out, followed by the nurse.
I pull the stool he was sitting on over and sit down, still holding Amelia’s hand.
She looks away from me and sniffs.
“Ames, it’s going to be okay.”
She shakes her head as she turns back to me. “I feel like I’m failing. I’m supposed to be able to do this.”
“You are not failing. If anything, you did such a good job she doesn’t want to leave yet.” I kiss her hand and look at her with
all the pride I feel in my heart. “You’re already an amazing mom. I know this is hard for you, but you’re protecting our girl and
yourself. I’m so grateful, because I need you both.”
“Come here,” she whispers. She gives me a soft kiss, then I rest my forehead against hers.
“Ready to meet your girl?”
She laughs lightly. “Please, she’s going to be all yours. You’ll be wrapped around her tiny little finger by the end of the
night.”
I smile at that. I can’t wait to meet her.
Holy shit.
It’s actually time. Within an hour, I’ll be holding Emmie in my arms.
Two nurses walk into the room.
“Okay,” says the first. “I’m here to get you prepared for your Cesarean. An anesthesiologist will be in shortly as well to go
over the spinal block with you. Once everything is ready, we’ll walk down to the delivery operating room, and we’ll get this
show on the road.”
The other nurse looks at me. “You’re going to come with me so we can get you scrubbed up and ready to be in the room with
her. Sound good?”
Amelia looks at me and takes my hand. “Ready for this?”
I laugh as I lean down to kiss her. “Nope. But that’s been our theme so far, so we might as well stick with it.”
“Love you,” she whispers.
“Love you too. You’ve got this. I’ll see you soon.” One last kiss, then the nurse escorts me out of the room. As we walk
down the hall, I catch sight of the waiting room. “Can I go update our family?”
“Of course. I’ll wait here for you.”
I walk over to the waiting room, and my mother immediately stands up, as does Dani. Jesse, Rae, Aaron, Sarah, and Joel are
here now, too, along with Mackenzie and my dad. My sisters didn’t want to bother coming until there was a cute baby to hold.
Probably better for everyone involved.
“Is everything okay?” my mother asks.
“Yes,” I say, coming to a stop in front of them. “But Amelia’s labor wasn’t progressing, so she’s going to have a C-section.
They’re getting her ready now, and I need to go scrub up.”
“But she’s okay? And the baby?”
“She is.” I look to Sarah because she’s so much better at this medical shit than me.
Sarah gives me a soft smile. “In stalled labor, especially once the water is already broken, being vigilant and doing a C-
section before anyone is in danger is the best practice. Everyone should be fine.”
Hearing Sarah say it relaxes me a little more.
“Good,” Ma whispers. “Go, honey.”
I nod. “I’ll be out to tell you more when I can.”
“Love you both,” Rae says.
“Love you all too.” I nod, then turn to go as my mother whispers a short prayer in Korean.
God protect this child. Protect this family. Keep everyone safe.
I swallow hard, tamping my anxiety down. That’s what I need—for both of my girls to be safe.

Amelia

No one tells you what having a giant needle shoved into your spine feels like.
I’m a reasonably calm person. I can handle most things. After all the shit my dad went through, medical stuff doesn’t scare
me too much. But this?
It’s taking everything in me not to vomit. It’s also ice cold in this room. I’m shivering, but I have to stay still. Right now,
they’re only putting the local numbing stuff in, so it won’t hurt as much when the big needle goes in.
I wince as the anesthesiologist finishes. There’s a nurse on one side of me who is half holding my hand and half keeping me
upright. After a few minutes, the anesthesiologist tests me for pain, and when I don’t feel any, he tells me it’s time for the big
needle.
I take in a shaky breath. Okay, I can do this. It’s all worth it to get Emmie safely out of me.
“Deep breath,” he instructs.
God, I wish Miles was here.
But he’s not, so I do the only thing I can think of, and start replaying my favorite episode of Friends in my mind. The
Thanksgiving episode where Rachel makes the terrible trifle.
There’s no pain as he pushes the needle in, but I can still feel pressure and discomfort. Holy discomfort, Batman.
I shut my eyes tight while squeezing the life out of the poor nurse’s hand.
Think of Friends. Think of everyone revealing everyone else’s secrets over the course of sixty seconds. Think of—ah—fuck.
I hate all this.
“Breathe,” he instructs again. “Keep holding still. We’re almost there.”
Friends. Okay. Everyone pretending they love the trifle. Ross’s parents finding out he got high.
“All done,” he says.
Thank God. Though I can still feel it. It’s like an electric shock moving up my spine. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this feeling.
It doesn’t take long for the spinal block to kick in, then I’m lying on the table as they put a catheter in me and clean my
stomach.
I close my eyes and breathe deep as I settle into the strange sensation of not feeling the lower half of my body.
The anesthesiologist, who is standing behind me, says, “Sometimes the numbing can make it feel like you’re having trouble
breathing. That’s not usually the case. The key to remember is that if you can talk to me and tell me it’s hard to breathe, you can
breathe. But we’ll have oxygen here if you need it to make you more comfortable.”
“Okay,” I say. His words are supposed to calm me, but they don’t. I’m not looking forward to having a mental war with
myself about whether I can breathe.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It feels okay for now, but the numbness is spreading upward.
“Hey, baby,” a deep voice says.
I flash my eyes open and stare up at the man who has come to own my heart and soul. Well, co-own with our soon-to-arrive
Emmie. I reach for his hand and hold it tightly as the tingly numbness moves up my body.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Mostly. This is… so weird.”
“You’re doing amazing.”
“I’m just… here,” I laugh. Sort of. Laughing feels strange now too. Okay, little girl, this is your final notice. It’s time to get
out.
He leans down and kisses my head. “You carried our baby for nine months, all while dealing with trauma, loss, and pain that
no one should have to experience. Then you went through labor like a champ and now you’re waiting to have your body cut
open to bring her into this world. You’re a literal superhuman, Ames. I’m in awe of you. If I could do any of this for you, I
would, but all I can do is stand here and hold your hand. Squeeze as hard as you can whenever it feels weird or uncomfortable
—”
“Not painful, though,” the anesthesiologist cuts in. “Tell me if you feel any pain.”
“Trust me, I will,” I say, to which Miles laughs.
Miles looks down at my stomach one last time before they put the curtain up that blocks my view of them cutting me open.
Thank God. Some women want a clear curtain. Not me. Lift her up and show me when she comes out. I don’t need to see my
guts hanging out.
I give his hand a tiny squeeze and take another deep breath. It’s a little more uncomfortable to breathe now, but it’s
manageable.
“Thanks for being the hand I want to hold through this. And everything,” I say to Miles.
“I will walk through every second of this life with your hand in mine. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We’re sharing a quick kiss when the doctors walk in. Apparently two are needed for a C-section. My doctor and another,
who is apparently a general surgeon. Fun. Two people get to see my insides. Well, plus the nurses. So, let’s make that four.
Seriously, kid, it’s time to get out.
My doctor comes to the edge of the little divider curtain of the top and bottom halves of my body and tells us they’re ready to
begin.
 “You’ll feel pressure as we cut in. When we pull her out, we’ll lift her up so you can see, then Dad, if you’d like, you can cut
the cord.”
“I’d love to,” Miles says, and even though I know he’s freaking out about that, he remains cool as a cucumber. A time when
his compartmentalization skills are extremely helpful.
The doctor continues explaining, then finally it’s time to rip my body open.
I squeeze Miles’s hand a little tighter, and he looks down at me.
“I want to enjoy this, but really, I’m ready for it to be over.”
“Soon. She’ll be screaming at us before you know it.”
My heart beats harder. She’s almost here.
Being cut into isn’t actually as strange a feeling as I thought it would be, but once they have me fully opened up, the weirdest
sensation so far happens, like all the blood in my body is in my head. My nose clogs. My eyes are watering. What the actual
hell? I try to breathe deep, but the best I can do is a weird mouth-breathing pattern like I have a cold.
The anesthesiologist checks in with me and reassures me I’m doing fine.
Miles has been mostly staring at me, but occasionally glances over the curtain—because of course he’s tall enough to see
over it—to see what’s happening. This time when he does it, his eyes widen and fill with pure joy.
And then I hear it.
An ear-piercing scream.
Emmie Hyun-Hansen is in the house. Or hospital, but she’s here. Nine months of chaos with this incredible man I didn’t even
know this time last year, and here we are. All three of us.
The curtain drops slightly and I finally see our beautiful, wriggling, screaming baby girl with her head of brown hair.
Tears flow down my cheeks, and when Miles turns back to me, he’s crying too. He leans down and kisses me. “You did
incredible.”
“Ready, Dad?” the doctor asks, and then he hands Miles scissors and instructs him where to cut.
“Holy shit,” he whispers once he’s done his duty and handed the scissors back. I laugh, but then the best thing happens. The
nurse walks over with Emmie in her hands, and holds her tiny head out toward me.
I’m a goner. Head over heels, crazy in love with her. I kiss her head as Miles watches in awe, then they take her to the
warming table to do her measurements while they close me up. All the discomfort fades as I turn and watch. She’s still crying,
but not as loudly, and wriggling like crazy.
My heart is full. Fuller than I ever knew it could be.
I want her back here. I want to feel her little body nestled against my chest.
“She’s beautiful,” Miles says, voice raspy.
“Perfect,” I whisper.
After a few moments, the nurse returns with a still-crying Emmie. “Want to hold her, Mom?”
“If I can,” I say, looking down at the small amount of my body on this side of the curtain.
“We’ll nestle her right in there.”
She plops her on my chest and puts some warm blankets over her. I rest one hand on her back and look at her sweet little
face. Her hair is like Miles’s, and she has his warmer skin tone. Her eyes are a beautiful dusty blue I expect will change in time
like most newborn’s do.
“Hi, Emmie,” I say softly. Her little eyes dart around, then focus on me. Her cries subside, and I have to bite my lip to keep
from crying. I did that. With my voice and my body, I comforted her.
“Hey, sweet pea,” Miles says, resting his hand on her back and dipping his head down to look at her. She looks at him too.
“You are beautiful, Emmie Mae. Daddy loves you.”
“Sounds like we have a name,” the nurse says.
“Emmie Mae Hyun-Hansen,” I say.
Miles laughs, not looking away from our little girl. “I can write that out if you need me to.”
“We’ll have you fill out some paperwork when she goes to the recovery room.”
“Amelia, you’re going to feel some pulling now as we close you up,” the doctor says.
“Okay,” I say, my eyes still on Emmie, whose little mouth is moving furiously, maybe looking for my boobs. I didn’t make
any specific decisions about breastfeeding, only that I wanted to give it a shot and see how it goes.
Whoa. Pulling is an understatement. It’s a crazy tugging feeling that makes me want to jump out of my own skin. I take another
breath and focus on Emmie. I stroke my thumb across the skin of her neck as she mouths my chest.
“I think she’s hungry,” Miles says.
“You can try nursing her in the recovery room,” a nurse says. “Right now, we’re going to pass her over to Dad so they can
get you moved to recovery.”
“Okay,” I say reluctantly. I don’t want to let her go. But as soon as the nurse wraps her up and sets her in Miles’s arms, I’m
filled with joy. Even though I miss her, the pure happiness radiating off him fills my heart.
 When the doctor told me I was pregnant, I couldn’t have imagined this moment or how incandescently happy I would feel. I
thought I was destined to be alone, maybe one day be a single mom, but the universe had other plans, and now I have a family
more beautiful than I ever could’ve dreamed.

Miles

I am in love. Obsessed. An emotional wreck. My heart now lives outside my body in our eight-pound, three-ounce, twenty-
inch-long baby girl.
“Emmie Mae,” I sing, rocking her back and forth in my arms as a nurse settles Amelia in the recovery room. I watch as they
wrap her in a large bubble blanket that is heated to help get her body temperature back where it should be.
Emmie’s eyes are on me as I sway back and forth. She is beautiful. She has an adorable little nose like Amelia’s and the
same big wide eyes. I can’t wait to see what color they’ll end up, though the soft blue they are now mixed with her brown hair
is absolutely adorable.
Yeah, I’m an absolute sucker and head over heels for this little girl.
Now that Amelia is settled in her bubble blanket, her longing gaze turns to us.
I brush my lips over Emmie’s head. “I think Mommy wants to snuggle with you, sweet pea. And you seem hungry.”
“Can I feed her now?” Amelia asks the nurse.
The nurse smiles and adjusts the blanket so there’s room on Amelia’s chest. “We can try.”
I unwrap Emmie’s swaddle, then carefully place her on Amelia’s chest, keeping my hands on her until Amelia has a good
hold on her. Emmie cries for a second, but then the nurse helps position her, and she latches right on to Amelia’s boob.
I get it, kid. They’re great.
Amelia looks down at her in awe and gently runs her thumb over Emmie’s head as she nurses.
She is so fucking stunning. My superwoman. She grew our baby and nourished her for nine months. Now she’s continuing to
do it in a recovery room after having her body cut open. Find me a man who could do that. You can’t. There isn’t one. Women
are fucking incredible and deserve to be worshipped.
The nurse hands me a little card to fill out which will go in Emmie’s bassinet here at the hospital. It already has her date and
time of birth—December sixteenth at 7:42 p.m.—along with her weight and length. I write down her name and our names on
the card and hand it back.
Squatting down, I rest my chin on the bed next to Amelia’s head. “How’s she doing?”
“Perfect. Everything about her is perfect,” she says, voice filled with love.
“And how are you?”
“Tingly,” she says with a smile. “So many weird sensations, but it’s hard to care with her on my chest.”
I kiss her forehead and rest my hand on Emmie’s back. “You did amazing. You’re still doing amazing. That word is not strong
enough. I’m in awe of you.”
She smiles up at me. “Thank you. I know I could do this alone if I had to, but I’m so grateful I get to do it with you.”
“We’re a good team,” I whisper. “All three of us.”
Amelia runs her finger down Emmie’s cheek, then smiles as Emmie’s mouth opens slightly and falls off her nipple. She’s out
cold.
The nurse looks down and laughs. “Good job, Mom.” She helps readjust Emmie so she’s in a more comfortable position for
Amelia.
“Do you want me to take her again?” I ask, mostly because I want nothing more than to hold my baby girl again, but Amelia
shakes her head.
“I need a few more minutes. Besides, you need to go tell everyone she’s here.”
My eyes widen. “I forgot about that.”
“Well, she’s a pretty good distraction,” Amelia says.
“Definitely.” I stare at my girls for a moment more, then kiss them each on the head. “I’ll be back soon.”
Amelia reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “Love you, baby daddy.”
“Love you too, Superwoman.”
I wink at her, then walk out of the room and down the hallway that leads to the waiting room.
As soon as they see me coming, everyone stands up.
“Are you a daddy?” Ma asks.
 “I am. Amelia did great, and we have an eight-pound baby girl named Emmie.”
“Oh my god, I love that,” Dani says.
“Adorable,” Rae agrees.
I step over to my mother and take her hands. “Emmie Mae Hyun-Hansen. For both of her grandmothers.”
Ma’s eyes widen then narrow again. “Both?”
“That’s Eileen’s middle name too,” I say, trying not to choke up.
Ma wraps her arms around me and pulls me close. “You two were meant to find one another. I’m so proud of you both. I love
you.” She lets me go and wipes her eyes. “When do we get to meet her?”
I chuckle at that and so does my dad.
“I’m not sure. Amelia will probably be in recovery for at least another half hour, and when we get settled in our room,
they’ll do some tests on Emmie to make sure everything’s good. You’ll be the first to know when it’s time.”
“I’ll set up a tent in the waiting room if I have to,” Ma says.
“Oh, I know.”
Mackie walks over and gives me a hug. “Good job knocking Amelia up.”
“Thanks,” I say with a laugh.
Rae’s the next to hug me. “Seriously. We’re all crazy happy for you. Do you want us to stay or come back tomorrow? We’ll
do whatever you prefer, but we don’t want to pressure you or Amelia.”
“I appreciate that. Stay for now, and I’ll let you know once we’re settled how much visiting we’re up for tonight.”
“Sounds good,” Rae says.
Sarah hugs me, and then I’m surrounded by my lifelong best friends.
“First one to have a kid,” Joel says. He sticks his thumb out at Aaron. “I definitely thought it would be him. Honestly, I half
expected you two to be teen parents,” he jokes to Aaron and Rae.
Rae shoves him. “Shut up. I think it makes sense that Miles is first. When he does things, he’s all in. All. In.”
“Ha. Funny. Anyway, as nice as this is, I want to get back to my girls, so…”
“Yeah, yeah. We know we’re not important anymore,” Aaron says with a grin. He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Congrats,
man. We’re proud of you. We love you. We’re here however you need us.”
“Thanks. Love you guys too.” I step away, giving my mother another hug and sharing a hug with my dad, too. “I’ll text
pictures when we get to our room.”
“You better,” my mother says.
“Of course, Ma.” I kiss her cheek, then with a wave, I turn and walk down the hallway back to my girls.

“First diaper change is done,” I say, throwing the diaper away and washing my hands. I walk back to Emmie’s bassinet and
practice my swaddling. I’m determined to become a champion swaddler. I’ve been watching videos about it for the last month.
Emmie flails and cries as I wrap her back up. I do it a couple times until it’s nice and snug, then I pick her up and rock her
back and forth. “Shh, sweet pea. You’re okay. Daddy’s got you.”
From the bed, Amelia sighs. She can’t get up and move around yet because the numbing is still wearing off, but she’s eaten
and is doing well. “You’re going to melt me into a puddle. Every time you talk to her, I swear I melt a little more.”
I flash a smile at her. “Fair trade-off since I’m constantly in awe of you.”
“You know, I never understood why people would think a baby would fix their marriage, but I get it now. You enter a space
of complete bliss. Of course, I’m not dumb enough to think it will last, but you’ve literally never been more attractive to me
than you are right now, and that’s a strong compliment.”
I walk over to her, still gently rocking Emmie, who is settling down now. Leaning down, I softly kiss Amelia. I never knew
how full my heart could feel until I kissed the woman I love while holding our daughter. If you had told me a year ago this is
where I’d be right now, I probably would’ve died laughing. Maybe some part of me would’ve believed in the possibility but
not the likelihood. I always practiced safe sex, and I planned on waiting until my mid to late twenties to have kids. Life laughed
in the face of those plans, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
There’s a knock on the door, and I smile.
“Grandma’s here,” I whisper to Emmie, who is mostly asleep now.
“Can we come in?” Ma calls.
“Bathe in sanitizer and you may enter,” I call back.
She and Dad laugh, but stop just inside the door where the sanitizer is and lather up.
“Ready to meet your granddaughter?” I ask as they walk over.
Ma sits down in a chair and grabs a pillow, pulling it onto her lap. “Gimme.”
 Dad laughs and shakes his head as I walk over.
Leaning down, I carefully place Emmie in my mother’s waiting arms. “Meet your granddaughter. Emmie.”
“Hello, Emmie Mae. You are the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. Absolutely beautiful. A perfect mix of your mommy and
daddy. I’m your grandma or halmeoni, but that one might be a mouthful until you get a little older. I’m not a pushover for many
people, but I’ll let you call me whatever you want to.”
Watching my mother meet my daughter is more emotional than I thought it would be. She’s an incredible mother—not just to
me or my sisters, but to all my friends and to Amelia. The way she not only welcomed Amelia but claimed her as her own
means so much to me. I’m grateful I got to learn from her and grow up with her as my mother. It fills me with pride that I’m the
one to place her first grandchild in her arms.
“I’m going to love you for the rest of my life,” Ma whispers to Emmie. I’ve never seen my mother so happy.
My father sits down in the chair next to her as they both fawn over Emmie. I walk back to Amelia and sit down on the edge
of her bed, then give her a quick kiss. I don’t think I have ever been this happy.
I’m thankful my life didn’t go according to plan and led me here instead. Proof that sometimes it’s better when I’m not in
control.

Amelia

“How are you doing?” Katie asks, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as Addie and Jameson sit on the couch together,
baby-talking to Emmie.
“Pretty good. I can almost feel my toes again.”
She laughs at that. “That’s good, but not exactly what I meant.”
I nod. “I’m okay. I’m sad that I’ll never get to see my dad hold her and that my mom can’t be here, but I’m grateful for the
people we have here, and for today, I’m trying to focus on that. I have a bunch of old videos of my dad, and I plan to play them
throughout her life, so she always knows who her grandfather is. Hopefully, I can at least get pictures of her with my mom.”
“You will,” Katie assures me. “I’ll take them myself if I need to.”
“Thank you. And thank you for this. Being here, loving me, accepting me into your family.”
“You’ve always been a part of our family. We just didn’t know it.” She smiles softly at me. “And now you’ve given me my
new favorite person.”
“Rude much?” Addie says.
I stifle a laugh as Jameson says to Emmie, “Enjoy it now. As soon as you aren’t cute anymore—”
Katie cuts her off with a sharp look. Hands on her hips, she marches over to Jameson and Addie, yelling at them in Korean.
Miles snatches Emmie back from Jameson. “Easy, Ma. Little ears,” he playfully chastises.
Katie puts on a sugary-sweet voice and walks over to him, running her hand over Emmie’s head. “It’s a good thing she
doesn’t know what any of those words mean yet. And you never have to tell her.”
Miles smirks at her. “Or I can wait until she’s old enough and make sure she knows exactly what it means so she can make a
special swear jar just for Grandma.”
Katie’s eyes narrow, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You’re trouble.”
“He got it from somewhere,” Andy sing-songs.
Katie pins him with a glare, but he takes Emmie from Miles. “I’ve got the baby. You can’t hurt me.”
Miles shakes his head and sits down on the edge of the bed, watching them.
Katie walks over to Andy, then says something else in Korean, which makes Miles’s brow furrow.
“Ew, Mom!” Addie yells.
“What did she say?” I ask.
Miles looks at me with a grimace. “She said ‘wait till we’re alone later.’” He leans in closer to me and says, “Remember
how I told you Emmie should grow up thinking we don’t have sex?” He gestures to his parents. “That’s why.”
I can’t help but snicker at that. Apparently, Miles inherited his dirty talking genes. Not something I thought I would learn the
day my daughter entered this world—or ever—but here we are.
Though there’s a prick in my chest that my parents aren’t here to see this or join in the silliness, I’m grateful for the family we
have, and I look forward to my mother meeting Emmie in whatever capacity as soon as possible.
Another random document with
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laajassa salissa, joka sisälsi kahdeksansataa tuhatta teosta,
painettuja nidoksia ja käsikirjoituksia.
5. LUKU.

Kuninkaallinen kirjasto.

Pyydettyään heidät istumaan kirjastonhoitaja viittasi kädellään

valtaviin kirjarykelmiinsä, jotka riveihin ladottuina täyttivät kaikki neljä
seinää lattiasta kattoreunukseen asti.

— Ettekö kuule? Ettekö kuule, millaista meteliä ne pitävät?

Korvani ovat melkein menneet siitä lukkoon. Ne puhuvat kaikki
yhtaikaa ja kaikkia eri kieliä. Ne väittelevät kaikesta: Jumalasta,
luonnosta, ihmisestä, ajasta, luvuista ja avaruudesta, tutusta ja
tuntemattomasta, hyvästä ja pahasta, ne tutkivat kaikkea, väittelevät
kaikesta, myöntävät kaiken ja kieltävät kaiken. Ne puhuvat järkeä ja
järjetöntä. Niiden joukossa on keveitä ja vakavia, iloisia ja surullisia,
lavertelevia ja niukkasanaisia; useimmat puhelevat vain ollakseen
mitään sanomatta, laskien tavuja ja kooten yhteen äänteitä lakien
mukaan, joiden alkuperä ja henki on niille itselleenkin outo: ne ovat
kaikista tyytyväisimmät. Sitten on olemassa eräs hyvin ankara ja
kolkko laji kirjoja, — ne käsittelevät ainoastaan sellaisia aiheita, jotka
ovat tyystin puhtaat kaikista aistein havaittavista ominaisuuksista ja
visusti turvassa luonnon oikuilta; ne käyvät taistelua tyhjyydessä ja
liikkuvat olemattoman näkymättömissä ilmakehissä ja juuri nämä
ovat vimman-villittyjä väittelijöitä, jotka puolustavat oleellisuuksiaan
ja vertauskuviaan vallan verisellä raivolla. Sivuutan ne, jotka
kertoilevat oman aikansa historiaa tai välittävät tietoja vanhemmista
ajoista, sillä kukaan ei usko niitä. Kaikkiaan on niitä tässä salissa
kahdeksansataa tuhatta, eikä ole edes kahta, jotka ajattelisivat
samoin inistään asiasta, ja juuri ne, jotka eniten toistavat toisiaan,
tulevat huonoimmin toimeen keskenään. Useimmiten ne eivät tiedä,
mitä ne itse sanovat eivätkä mitä muut ovat sanoneet.

Hyvät herrat, tämän yleismaailmallisen metelin kuulemisesta tulen

vielä kerran hulluksi, niinkuin ovat tulleet kaikki muutkin, jotka ennen
minua ovat eläneet tässä lukemattomien äänien salissa, elleivät he
nimittäin jo tullessaan ole olleet luonnostaan tylsämielisiä, niinkuin
tuo minun kunnianarvoisa virkaveljeni, herra Jääpohja, jonka näette
istuvan minua vastapäätä ja laittavan luetteloja rauhallisella
uutteruudella. Hän on syntynyt yksinkertaiseksi, ja yksinkertaisena
on hän myös pysynyt. Hän on syntynyt täydelliseksi ykseydeksi eikä
ole koko elämänsä ajalla käynyt moninaiseksi. Sillä ykseydestä ei
koskaan kehity moninaisuutta, ja juuri siinä on, johdatan sen tässä
vain ohimennen mieleenne, hyvät herrat, ensimäinen vaikeus, joka
kohtaa meitä etsiessämme olioiden alkuperää: kun ensimäinen
alkusyy ei voi olla yksi, sen täytyy välttämättä olla kaksinainen,
kolminainen tai moninainen, mikä taaskin on vaikeasti
otaksuttavissa. Herra Jääpohjalla on yksinkertainen henki ja puhdas
sielu. Hän elää luettelojen elämää. Hän tuntee kaikkien näiden seiniä
koristavain nidosten nimen ja ulkomuodon ja omaa siten sen ainoan
täsmällisen tiedon, minkä voi ainoastaan kirjastossa itselleen
hankkia. Ja kun hän ei koskaan ole tunkeutunut minkään kirjan
kansien sisäpuolelle, on hän säilynyt siitä selkärangattomasta
epävarmuudesta, siitä satasuisesta erheen tulvasta, siitä
hirvittävästä epäilystä ja kalvavasta levottomuudesta, joiden
kummitukset lukeminen synnyttää hedelmällisiin aivoihin. Hän on
tyyni ja rauhallinen, hän on onnellinen.

— Hän on onnellinen! huudahtivat molemmat paidanetsijät

yht’aikaa.

— Hän on onnellinen, toisti hra Tuliaivo, mutta hän ei tiedä sitä. Ja

kenties ei ihminen voi ollakaan onnellinen muuten kuin tällä
edellytyksellä.

— Voi! sanoi Pyhä-Sylvanus, mitä elämää se on, jos ei tiedä

elävänsä; mitä onnea se, jos ei tiedä olevansa onnellinen.

Mutta Nelilehti, joka ei luottanut järkijohdelmiin, vaan kaikissa

asioissa turvasi kokemukseen, lähestyi pöytää, jonka päällä virui
kasoittain vasikannahalla, lampaanvuodalla, kiilto- ja silonahalla,
pergamentilla, siannahalla ja pahvilla päällystettyjä, tomulle,
homeelle, rotalle ja hiirelle haisevia kirjakuluja ja jonka ääressä
Jääpohja laati luettelojaan.

— Herra kirjastonhoitaja, — sanoi Nelilehti hänelle, suvaitkaa

vastata minulle. Oletteko onnellinen?

— En tunne sen nimistä teosta, vastasi vanha luettelojenlaatija.

Nelilehti palasi vanhalle paikalleen levitellen epätoivoissaan

käsiään.

— Niin, ja kuitenkin, ajatelkaahan, hyvät herrat, jatkoi Tuliaivo, —

me emme varmasti tiedä yhtään mitään. Tietämättömyytemme syyt
ovat lukuisat, mutta olen vakuutettu siitä, että suurimpana syynä
siihen on kielenkäyttömme epätäydellisyys. Sanojen epämääräisyys
hämmentää aatoksiamme. Jos suuremmalla huolella
määrittelisimme käsitteet, joiden avulla välitämme ajatuksiamme, niin
olisivat ajatuksemmekin selvemmät ja varmemmat.

— Mitä minä teille sanoin, Nelilehti, huudahti Pyhä-Sylvanus

voitonriemuisena.

Ja kääntyen kirjastonhoitajan puoleen hän lisäsi:

— Herra Tuliaivo, se, mitä nyt sanotte, ilahuttaa minua

sanomattomasti.
Ja minä huomaan, että kääntyessämme teidän puoleenne olemme
vetoamassa
oikeaan henkilöön. Olemme teiltä tulleet pyytämään onnen
määrittelyä,
Hänen Majesteettinsa palveluksessa.

— Vastaan teille siis niin hyvin kuin osaan. Jonkun sanan

määritelmän tulee olla muoto-opillisesti ja johtoperäisesti perusteltu.
Mitä siis tarkoitetaan sanalla onni, kysytte te. Sana on tietenkin
samaa juurta kuin enne, s.o. suotuisa ennusmerkki, vastakohtana
onnettomuudelle, joka merkitsee alkujaan, että ennusmerkkejä
jonkun seikan suhteen tarkattaessa saatiin hyväksyttyihin enteisiin
nähden kielteinen tulos.

— Mutta, — kysyi Pyhä-Sylvanus, — eikö onnellinen ihminen ole

sellainen ihminen, jolla on menestystä, ja eikö ole olemassa joitakin
ulkonaisia ja näkyviä merkkejä, joista voi päättää, milloin on hyvä
menestys?

— Menestys — vastasi Tuliaivo — on niinkuin noppapelin heittoa,

se on hyvä tai huono, miten sattuu. Jos olen teidät oikein
ymmärtänyt, hyvät herrat, niin te etsitte onnellista ihmistä,
menestyksellistä ihmistä, s.o. sellaista ihmistä, jolle merkit
ennustavat ainoastaan hyvää ja jota noppapelin heitot lakkaamatta
suosivat. Etsikää silloin tätä harvinaista kuolevaista ihmisten
joukosta, jotka jo ovat elämän ehtoossa ja etenkin niiden joukosta,
jotka jo makaavat kuolinvuoteellaan, siis niiden joukosta, joilla ei
enää ole tilaisuutta epätietoisuuteen menestyksensä määrästä.
Ainoastaan nämä voivat kerskua uskollisella menestyksellä ja
pysyväisellä onnella. Eikö Sofokles ole sanonut Kuningas
Oidipuksessaan: "Älkäämme sanoko ketään ihmistä onnelliseksi
ennen kuolemaansa."

Nämä neuvot eivät miellyttäneet Nelilehteä, joka ei voinut sulattaa

sitä ajatusta, että hänen pitäisi etsiskellä onnea viimeisten voitelujen
jäljiltä. Pyhä-Sylvanus ei myöskään tuntenut erikoisempaa
kutsumusta mennä vetämään paitoja kuolevien yltä; mutta koska
hän oli luonteeltaan tiedonhaluinen ja järkeilyyn taipuva, kysyi hän
kirjastonhoitajalta, tunsiko tämä mahdollisesti jotakuta tällaista
kaunista vanhusta, joka jo oli heittänyt viimeisen loistavasti
onnistuneen noppasensa.

Tuliaivo pudisti päätään, nousi, meni ikkunan luo ja naputteli

sormillaan ruutua. Ulkona satoi; asetori oli tyhjä. Sen toisessa
päässä kohosi komea palatsi, jonka kattoreunus oli koristettu
sotaisilla voitonmerkeillä ja jonka otsikossa seisoi
suomushaarniskainen sodanjumalatar, lohikäärme-kypäri päässä ja
roomalainen miekka uhkaavasti kädessä.

— Menkää tuohon palatsiin, sanoi hän vihdoin.

— Mitä! — huudahti Pyhä-Sylvanus hämmästyneenä: —

Marsalkka Volmarin luo!
 — Niin juuri. Kenellä kuolevaisella on ollut parempi onni
taivaankannen alla kuin Elbruzzon ja Baskirin voittajalla! Volmar on
suurimpia sotaherroja, mitä koskaan on ollut olemassa, ja kaikista
heistä yhtämittaisimman myötäkäymisen suosima.

— Senhän tietää koko maailma, sanoi Nelilehti.

— Eikä voi sitä koskaan unohtaa, — jatkoi kirjastonhoitaja.

Marsalkka Survinrauta, Volmarin herttua, joka oli tullut maailmaan
sellaiseen aikaan, jolloin kansanväliset vahingonvalkeat eivät enää
loimunneet aivan ympäri koko maanpintaa yhtaikaa, osasi
ihmeteltävästi korjata tämän kohtalon kiittämättömyyden, rientäen
sydämensä ja neronsa voimalla avuksi jokaiseen maapallon
paikkaan, missä suinkin vain oli sodan mahdollisuuksia. Jo
kahdentoista vuoden ikäisenä hän oli Turkin sodassa ja teki retken
Kurdistaniin. Siitä asti on hän yhtämittaa käyttänyt voitollisia aseitaan
kaikkialla tunnetussa maailmassa; hän on mennyt neljä kertaa
Reinin yli, ja niin hävyttömän helposti, että tuo vanha kaislojen
seppelöimä virta, kansojen erottaja, on tuntenut itsensä syvästi
nöyryytetyksi ja solvatuksi; hän on, vielä taitavammin kuin Saksin
Moritz, puolustanut Lys-joen linjaa; hän on mennyt Pyreneitten yli,
valloittanut Tajo-joen suun, aukaissut Kaukasian portit ja tunkeutunut
pitkin Dnjeprin vartta, hän on vuoron perään puolustanut ja
ahdistanut kaikkia Europan kansoja, ja hän on kolmasti pelastanut
isänmaansa.
6. LUKU.

Volmarin herttua.

Tuliaivo tuotti nähtäväksi Volmarin herttuan sotaretkien

asemapiirrokset. Kolme kirjastoapulaista oli vallan nääntyä taakan
alle. Avatut kartastot peittivät laajat pöydät silmänkantamattomiin.

— Tässä on, hyvät herrat, Styrian, Palatinan, Karamanian,

Kaukasian ja Weikselin sotakartat. Armeijan asemat ja liikkeet ovat
tarkoin merkityt näille kartoille somilla, pienillä lipuilla varustettuina
suunnikkaina ja taistelujen järjestys on niissä mallikelpoinen. Tämä
järjestys määrätään tavallisesti taistelujen jälkeen, ja suurten
sotapäällikköjen nerous on juuri siinä, että he omaksi kunniakseen
osaavat korottaa järjestelmän piiriin sattuman oikut. Mutta Volmarin
herttua on aina kaikki edeltäpäin ottanut lukuun.

Silmäilkää esimerkiksi tätä mainehikkaan Baskirin taistelun

asemapiirrosta, joka on tehty käyttämällä mittakaavaa 1:10000. Siinä
Volmar voitti turkkilaiset harvinaisen nerokkaan asetelmataitonsa
avulla. Taistelua oli käyty jo kello viidestä aamulla kello neljään
iltapäivällä. Volmarin joukot, jotka olivat nihkiväsyneitä ja vailla
ampumavaroja, alkoivat peräytyä epäjärjestyksessä, rohkea
marsalkka seisoi viimein yksinään Alutan yli vievän sillan päässä,
pistooli kummassakin kädessä, ampuen pakolaisia. Hän teki jo
peräytymistä hänkin, mutta sai tietää, että viholliset täydessä
epäjärjestyksessä syöksyivät Tonavaan. Heti hän kääntyi päin, alkoi
vimmatusti ajaa heitä takaa ja sai heistä lopullisen voiton. Tämä
voitto tuotti hänelle viisisataa tuhatta frangia tuloja sekä avasi
hänelle ritarihuoneen ovet.

Hyvät herrat, luuletteko voivanne löytää onnellisempaa ihmistä

kuin Elbruzzon ja Baskirin voittaja on? Hän on muuttumattomalla
menestyksellä tehnyt neljätoista sotaretkeä, voittanut
kuudessakymmenessä järjestetyssä taistelussa ja pelastanut kolme
kertaa täydellisestä häviöstä kiitollisen isänmaansa. Nyt hän kunnian
ja maineen kruunaamana, rikkaudessa ja rauhassa, jatkaa vielä
korkeaa vanhuuttaan ohi elämän tavallisten päätepisteitten.

— Hän on totta tosiaan onnellinen, sanoi Nelilehti. Tai mitä te

arvelette, Pyhä-Sylvanus?

— Pyytäkäämme päästä hänen puheilleen, vastasi yksityisasiain

sihteeri.

Palatsin sisälle tultuaan astuivat he ensin avaran eteisen poikki,

jossa kohosi marsalkan ratsas-kuvapatsas.

Sen jalustaan oli kaiverrettu seuraavat ylpeät sanat: "Isänmaan

kiitollisuuden ja maailman ihailun huomaan uskon molemmat
tyttäreni Elbruzzon ja Baskirin." Kunniaportaat johtivat kahtena
valtavana marmoripykälä-kaarena haarniskoin ja lipuin koristettujen
seinämien välitse laajalle sillakkeelle, ja tämä vei eräälle ovelle,
jonka puoliskoita kaunistivat voitonmerkkeinä saadut aseet ja
liekehtivät granaattit ja yläpuolella riippui kolme kultakruunua, jotka
kuningas, parlamentti ja kansakunta olivat lahjoittaneet Volmarin
herttualle, isänmaansa pelastajalle.

Pyhä-Sylvanus ja Nelilehti pysähtyivät syvän kunnioituksen

jäykistäminä tämän suljetun oven eteen; ajatellessaan että
ainoastaan tämä ovi enää erotti heidät tästä suuresta sankarista,
joutuivat he sellaisen mielenliikutuksen valtaan, että jäivät kuin
naulitut kynnykselle, uskaltamatta mennä häiritsemään niin suuren
kunnian tyyssijaa.

Pyhä-Sylvanus muisteli Elbruzzon taistelun muistoksi lyötyä

mitalia, jonka nurealla puolella näkyi marsalkka kruunaamassa
siivekästä voitonjumalatarta sekä tällainen mahtava reunakirjoitus:
Victoria Caesarem et Napoleonem coronavit; major autem Volmarus
coronat Victoriam. [Voitonjumalatar kruunasi Caesarin ja Napoleonin;
mutta vielä suurempana Volmar seppelöitsi voitonjumalattaren.
Suom.] Ja hän mutisi:

— Tämä mies on kuin sata tavallista ihmistä.

Nelilehti painoi molemmat kätensä sydämelleen, joka pamppaili

haletakseen. He eivät olleet vielä oikein saavuttaneet tasapainoaan,
kun kuulivat kimeitä huutoja, jotka tuntuivat tulevan huoneuston
perältä ja vähitellen siirtyvän lähemmäksi. He erottivat vihaisia
naisääniä ja iskujen läiskäyksiä sekä heikkoa voihkinaa.

Äkkiä tappelijat päästivät irti toisensa, ja samassa muuan aivan

pikkuinen ukko, jonka roteva palvelijatar oli potkaissut menemään,
kellahti nurinniskoin ovelle niinkuin jäsennukke, vieri alas portaita
pää edellä ja putosi vihdoin pahoin kolhittuna, runneltuneena ja
nyrjähtynein raajoin eteisen lattialle, juhlallisten vartioiden eteen. Se
oli Volmarin ruhtinas. He nostivat hänet pystyyn. Mutta hajalla hapsin
ja vaatteet epäjärjestyksessä ulvoi palvelijatar vielä ylhäältä:

— Antakaa mokoman olla! Tuollaiseen ei tarvitse koskea muuta

kuin luudalla!

Ja heiluttaen pulloa:

— Hän tahtoi ottaa minulta viinani! Millä oikeudella? Senkin vanha

romuläjä! Minun puolestani saat olla missä olet, vanha haaska!

Nelilehti ja Pyhä-Sylvanus pakenivat kiireimmän kautta palatsista.

Kun he jälleen olivat asetorilla, rohkeni Pyhä-Sylvanus huomauttaa,
että viimeisessä pelissä näkyi hyvä onni ilmeisesti luopuneen tuosta
sankarista.

— Nelilehti, lisäsi hän, näen nyt, että olen ilmeisesti erehtynyt.

Tahdoin toimia määrätyn ja täsmällisen menetelmän mukaan; olin
väärässä. Tiede vie meidät harhaan. Palatkaamme tavallisen
terveen järjen ohjattaviksi. Ainoastaan mahdollisimman karkeaan
kokemusperäisyyteen nojautumalla voi ihminen suunnata itseään
hyvin. Etsikäämme onnea, tahtomatta määritellä sitä.

Nelilehti purki monin sadatuksin ja haukkumasanoin sisuaan

kirjastonhoitajaa kohtaan, jonka hän luuli tahallisesti vetäneen heitä
nenästä. Mutta eniten häntä kiusaannutti se, että hänen kaunis
uskonsa oli mennyttä kalua, että koko se jumaloiva kunnioitus, jota
hän oli suitsuttanut sielussaan kansallissankaria kohtaan, oli
auttamattomasti romahtanut alas alttariltaan, tullut herjatuksi ja
häväistyksi. Hän kärsi siitä. Hänen tuskansa oli jalomielistä laatua ja
ilmeistä on, että jalomieliset tuskat sisältävät jo itsessään
jonkunlaisen lievennyksen ja niin sanoaksemme oman palkintonsa:
niitä voi kestää paremmin, keveämmin, helppohintaisemmalla
rohkeudella kuin itsekkäitä ja omanvoitonhaluisia. Olisikin
epäoikeudellista toivoa sitä asiaa toisenlaiseksi. Myöskin Nelilehti
tunsi itsensä piankin sielultaan niin vapaaksi ja hengeltään niin
kirkkaaksi, että hän huomasi silkkihatulleen putoilevan sateen
turmelevan sen kiiltoa, ja hän huokasi:

— Taas yksi hattu pilalla! Hän oli ennen ollut sotauralla ja palvellut
silloin kuningastaan rakuunaluutnanttina. Sentähden hänen
päähänsä pälkähti eräs uusi ajatus: hän pistäytyi esikunnan
kirjakauppaan asetorilla Suuren Tallikadun kulmassa ja osti sieltä
valtakunnan kartan ja pääkaupungin asemapiirustuksen.

— Ei sovi lähteä retkeilylle ilman karttoja! sanoi hän. Mutta piru

vieköön, luetaanpas näitä! Tässä on meidän kaupunkimme
ympäristöineen. Mistä päin aloitamme? Pohjoisesta vaiko etelästä,
idästäkö vai lännestä? On huomattu, että kaikki kaupungit kasvavat
länteen päin. Ehkäpä siinä on osviitta, jota ei tule laiminlyödä. Onhan
mahdollista, että läntisten kaupunginosain asukkailla, jotka ovat
suojassa ilkeältä itätuulelta, on parempi terveys ja tasaisempi
mielenlaatu ja että he siis ovat onnellisempia. Tai kenties on parempi
aloittaa noista kauniista kukkuloista, jotka kohoavat tuolla virran
partaalla kymmenen penikulmaa kaupungin eteläpuolella. Siellä
asuvat tähän vuodenaikaan maan rikkaimmat ja mahtavimmat
perheet. Ja sanottakoon mitä tahansa, niin on onnellista etsittävä
juuri onnellisten parista.

— Nelilehti, vastasi yksityisasiain sihteeri, minä en ole

yhteiskunnan vihollinen, minä en ole yhteisen onnen vastustaja.
Puhun siis teille rikkaista kunnon ihmisenä ja kunnon kansalaisena.
Rikkaat ovat kunnioituksen ja rakkauden arvoisia; he ylläpitävät
valtiota samalla kun he kartuttavat omia rikkauksiaan ja ovat
tahtomattaankin hyväntekeväisiä elättäessään suuria määriä ihmisiä,
jotka työskentelevät heidän omaisuutensa lisäämiseksi. Oh, kuinka
yksityisomaisuus sentään on kaunis, arvokas ja erinomainen asia!
Kuinka viisaan lainsäätäjän tuleekaan sitä turvata ja vaalia, ja
erioikeuksin suojata sen olemassaoloa! Ja kuinka toiselta puolen on
kohtuutonta, väärää ja vilpillistä, kaikkien pyhimpien oikeuksien ja
kunnioitettavimpien etujen vastaista sekä turmiollista valtion
varallisuudelle, vahingoittaa pääomaa! On suorastaan meidän
yhteiskunnallinen velvollisuutemme uskoa rikkaiden hyvyyteen ja
suloista on myös uskoa heidän onneensa. Lähtekäämme siis
matkaan, Nelilehti!
7. LUKU.

Rikkauden suhde onneen.

Päättäen ensin kääntyä kaikista parhaimman ja rikkaimman,

Jaakko Felgina-Koburgin puoleen, joka omisti kokonaisia vuoria
kultaa, kokonaisia kaivoksia timantteja, kokonaisia petroolimeriä, he
kiersivät kauan hänen puutarhansa muurien vierustaa, jotka sulkivat
sisäänsä äärettömiä niittyjä, metsiä, taloja ja kyliä; ja jokaiselta
portilta, josta he pyrkivät sisälle tähän valtakuntaan, lähetettiin heidät
jollekin toiselle. Väsyneinä vihdoin tähän edestakaisin kulkemiseen
ja kieppumiseen he, nähdessään erään työmiehen, joka vaakunalla
varustetun ristikon edessä muserteli rikki tien kiviä, kysyivät tältä,
eikö tässä mahdollisesti ollut se käytävä, joka vei herra Jaakko
Felgina-Koburgin luo, he kun tahtoivat häntä tavata.

Mies oikaisi vaivaloisesti laihaa selkärankaansa, kääntäen heihin

kuopalliset, suurilla sankalaseilla naamioidut kasvonsa.

— Herra Jaakko Felgina-Koburg olen minä, sanoi hän.

Ja nähdessään heidän hämmästyvän, hän jatkoi:

 — Sären kiviä; se on ainoa huvitukseni.

Sitten kumartuen uudestaan hän iski vasarallaan kiveen, joka

pirstautui särähtäen.

He lähtivät pois.

— Hän on liian rikas, sanoi Pyhä-Sylvanus. Hänen omaisuutensa

musertaa hänet painollaan. Hän on onneton ihminen.

Nelilehti oli nyt aikeissa lähteä ihan suoraapäätä Jaakko Felgina-

Koburgin kilpailijan, rautakuningas Josef Tykinsuun luo, jonka aivan
uusi linna läheisellä kukkulalla uhkaavasti kohotti hammasharjaisia
tornejaan ja ampumareijillä varustettuja muurejaan, joita vahdit joka
puolelta vartioivat. Pyhä-Sylvanus esti häntä siitä.

— Olettehan nähnyt hänen valokuvansa: hän on surkean

näköinen; sanomalehdet kertovat, että hän on herännäinen, elää
köyhän lailla, saarnaa evankeliumia pikku pojille ja veisaa virsiä
kirkossa. Menkäämme mieluummin ruhtinas Kiiltokilven luo. Hän on
todellinen ylimys, joka osaa nauttia rikkaudestaan, Hän karttaa
kaikkea liike-elämän hyörinää eikä käy hovissa. Hän on innostunut
puutarhaviljelykseen, ja hänellä on valtakunnan kaunein
taulukokoelma.

He ilmoittautuivat. Prinssi Kiiltokilpi otti heidät vastaan antiikkisten

teosten kabinetissa, jossa nähtiin muun muassa paras kreikkalainen
jäljennös mitä tunnetaan Knidolaisesta Afroditesta, tuosta
kuuluisasta patsaasta, joka todellakin on Praksiteleen taltan arvoinen
ja täynnään suloa. Jumalatar näytti vielä meren aaltojen jäliltä
kostealta. Muuan ruusupuinen rahalipas, joka aikoinaan oli ollut
rouva de Pompadourin omaisuutta, sisälsi kaikki Kreikan ja Sisilian
kauneimmat kulta- ja hopearahat. Ruhtinas, joka oli hieno
taiteentuntija, piti itse huolta rahojen luetteloimisesta.

Hänen suurennuslasinsa virui kaiverruskivikokoelman kansilasilla;

sen alla näkyi jaspiksia, onykseja, sardonykseja, kalkedoneja, joihin
kynnen suuruiselle alalle oli kaiverrettu leveään tyyliin suoritettuja
kuvioita ja mahtavalla runsaudella sommiteltuja ryhmiä. Hän otti
hyväilevällä liikkeellä pöydältään pienen pronssifaunin, antaakseen
vieraittensa lähempää ihailla sen ääriviivojen poljentoa ja sen
vihreää vaskihometta, ja hänen kielellinen ilmaisumuotonsa oli yhtä
arvokasta kuin se mestariteos, jota hän selitti.

— Odotan juuri parhaillaan, lisäsi hän erästä muinaisten

hopeaesineiden lähetystä, lautasia ja maljakoita, joiden sanotaan
olevan vielä kauniimpia kuin Hildesheimin ja Bosco-realen aarteet.
Palan halusta saada nähdä niitä. Herra Caylus [Kuuluisa parisilainen
muinaistieteilijä (1692-1765). Suom.] ei tiennyt mitään suurempaa
nautintoa kuin saada tavata kirstuja. Samoin on minun laitani.

Pyhä-Sylvanus hymyili:

— Kerrotaan kuitenkin, rakas prinssi, ettei mikään nautinnon laji

ole teille tuntematon.

— Te imartelette minua, hyvä herra; mutta uskon kyllä, että

mielihyvän taide on ensimäinen kaikista ja että muut saavat
merkitystä ainoastaan sikäli kuin auttelevat sitä.

Hän johdatti vieraansa taulukokoelmaan, jossa mitä erilaisimmat

värit, Veronesen hopeiset, Tizianin ambran-keltaiset, Rubensin
punertavat, Rembrandtin ruskeahkot, Velasquezin harmaat ja
ruusuiset tunnut sulivat kauniisti yhteen, muodostaen laulavine
värisointuineen mitä loistavimman ja ihanimman sopusointuisuuden.
Erään muotokuvan eteen oli nojatuolille unohtunut viulu; se
muotokuva esitti ruskeaveristä naista, jolla oli sileästi jakaukselle
kammattu tukka ja oliivinkeltainen iho; hänen suuret, pyöreät
silmänsä näyttivät anastavan melkein kaiken tilan poskilta; joku
tuntematon, jonka piirteet Ingres oli sivellyt varmalla ja hellällä
taiteilijakädellään.

— Minun täytyy tunnustaa teille hulluuteni, sanoi ruhtinas

Kiiltokilpi. Väliin, kun olen yksin, soitan näiden taulujen edessä ja
kuvittelen voivani sävelin tulkita värien ja viivojen sopusointua.
Tämän muotokuvan edessä koetan saada ilmi piirustuksen lujan ja
kiinteän hyväilyn, mutta epätoivoissani saan aina laskea viuluni
kädestäni.

Eräs ikkuna avautui puistoon päin. Ruhtinas ja hänen vieraansa

nojautuivat kalteriin, katsellakseen ulos.

— Mikä ihana näköala! huudahtivat Nelilehti ja Pyhä-Sylvanus.

Kuvapatsailla, oranssipuilla ja kukilla koristetut pengermät johtivat

verkallisin, kevyenmatalin portain pensaspyökeillä aidatulle
nurmikentälle ja altaille, joista vesi suihkusi ilmaan valkeina
sädekimppuina vedenhaltiain näkinkenkä-koteloista tai luonnotarten
uurnista. Oikealla ja vasemmalla näkyi laaja ruohomeri, joka lempein
mainingein aaltoili aina kaukaisen virran vieremille asti; tämän
hopeinen vana välkkyi poppelipuiden lomitse ruusuisissa usvissa
väikkyväin kukkulain alla. Ruhtinaskin hymyili, mutta äkkiä hänen
katseensa huolestuneena pysähtyi erääseen tämän laajan ja kauniin
näyttämön pisteeseen.
 — Tuo savutorvi!… mutisi hän muuttuneella äänellä osoittaen
sormellaan tehtaan piippua, joka savusi vähän enemmän kuin
puolen penikulman päässä puistosta.

— Tuo piippuko? Mutta sitähän tuskin huomaa, sanoi Nelilehti.

— Minä en näe mitään muuta kuin sen, — vastasi ruhtinas. Se

turmelee minulta koko tämän näköalan, se tärvelee minulta koko
luonnon, se myrkyttää minulta elämän. Ja tuohon pahaan ei ole
mitään parannuskeinoa. Se kuuluu eräälle yhtiölle, joka ei tahdo
luopua tehtaastaan mistään hinnasta. Olen kaikin tavoin koettanut
peittää sitä, mutta en ole siinä onnistunut. Olen aivan sairas sen
vuoksi.

Ja paeten pois ikkunan luota hän vaipui synkkänä nojatuoliinsa.

— Tuo meidän olisi pitänyt arvata jo edeltäpäin, sanoi Nelilehti

noustessaan vaunuihin. Hän on ylen herkkähermoinen ihminen:
luonnollisesti on hän onneton.

Ennenkuin he jatkoivat etsiskelyään, istahtivat he hetkiseksi erään

pienen ravintolan puistikkoon vuoren kukkulalle, josta näkyi kaunis
laakso ja kirkas, polveileva virta pitkulaisille saarineen. Huolimatta
näistä kahdesta epäonnistuneesta yrityksestä toivoivat he vielä
löytävänsä onnellisen miljoonamiehen. Heillä oli vielä jälellä näitä
noin tusinan verran lähistöllä, m.m. hra Bloch, hra Pullonkaula,
parooni Nikolai, valtakunnan suurin teollisuudenharjoittaja, ja markiisi
Suurkannus, kenties rikkain heistä kaikista ja lisäksi kuuluisaa
sukua, jolla oli yhtä suuret kantamukset kultaa kuin kunniaa.

Heidän vieressään istui muuan pitkä, laiha mies juoden maitoa;

hän istui kumarassa kaksin kerroin velttona kuin höyhenpatja; hänen
suuret haljakat silmänsä valuivat puoliväliin poskia; hänen nenänsä
riippui suun kohdalla. Hän näytti vajonneen tuskan valtaan ja katseli
murheellisesti Nelilehden jalkoja.

Parikymmentä minuuttia niihin tuijotettuaan hän nousi synkästi ja

päättäväisesti, lähestyi ylimäistä tallimestaria ja pyytäen anteeksi
tunkeilevaisuuttaan sanoi:

— Hyvä herra, sallikaa minun tehdä teille kysymys, joka on minulle

erinomaisen tärkeä. Paljonko maksatte puolisaappaistanne?

— Vaikka kysymyksenne onkin vähän omituinen, vastasi Nelilehti,

ei mikään estä minua siihen vastaamasta. Olen maksanut tästä
parista kuusikymmentäviisi frangia.

Kauan aikaa tarkasteli tuntematon sitten vuorotellen omaa ja

puhetoverinsa jalkaa, vertaillen molempia jalkinepareja mitä
yksityiskohtaisimman tarkasti.

Sitten hän vallan kalpeana ja liikutuksesta värisevällä äänellä

huudahti:

— Te sanotte maksavanne tällaisista puolisaappaista

kuusikymmentäviisi frangia! Oletteko aivan varma asiastanne?

— Tietysti.

— Herraseni, ajatelkaa tarkasti, mitä sanotte!

— Ohoh! murisi Nelilehti, joka alkoi käydä kärsimättömäksi,

olettepa te lystikäs suutari, hyvä herra.
 — En minä ole suutari, vastasi muukalainen nöyränlempeällä
vaatimattomuudella, — minä olen markiisi Suurkannus.

Nelilehti nosti hattua.

— Herraseni, jatkoi markiisi, minä juuri aavistin sitä;

mielipahakseni huomaan, että minulta on taas varastettu! Te
maksatte puolisaappaistanne kuusikymmentäviisi frangia ja minä
maksan omistani, jotka ovat aivan samanlaiset kuin teidän,
yhdeksänkymmentä. Hinnan suuruuteen en kiinnitä huomiota, se ei
merkitse minulle mitään, mutta en voi sietää, että minulta
varastetaan. Minä en ympärilleni näe, en hengitä muuta kuin
epärehellisyyttä, kavallusta, petosta, varkautta ja valhetta, ja minä
kammoksun rikkauksiani: ne turmelevat kaikki ihmiset, jotka minua
vain lähestyvät, palvelijat, työnjohtajat, hankitsijat, naapurit, ystävät,
vaimon, lapset; tuo kaikki tekee omaisuuden minulle inhoittavaksi ja
halveksittavaksi. Asemani on kamala. En ole koskaan varma, ettei
ihminen, joka seisoo edessäni, ole vilpillinen. Ja kuulua vielä itse
tällaiseen ihmisrotuun, se aivan tappaa minut vastenmielisyydellä ja
häpeällä.

Ja herttua kumartui jälleen maitokuppinsa puoleen huokaillen:

— Kuusikymmentäviisi frangia! Kuusikymmentäviisi frangia!…

Samassa kuului tieltä tuskan huutoja ja voivotuksia, ja molemmat

kuninkaan lähettiläät näkivät kahden koreasti nauhoitetun lakeijan
saattaman vanhuksen, joka valitteli ankarasti.

Tämä näky liikutti heitä. Mutta kahvilanisäntä virkahti kovin

välinpitämättömästi: