Chapter Twenty

Jen

 

Sunday morning, Dylan invited his parents to the wedding while I showered. He looked frustrated when I got out. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing.” Phone in hand, he sighed. “There was just a lot of going on about the short notice and shit until I offered to fly them first class. Of course I would arrange for my parents to come out, anyway. They just had to make it this whole production.”

“I’m sorry.” I hugged him. “It’ll be fine once everyone’s in place.”

Once dressed, he hung the lights on the cabin, then we went sledding. I wouldn’t have minded some relaxed skiing, but the idea made him nervous while I was pregnant. Even in full sunlight, it was really chilly, though, so it was good to have a hearty lunch, then drive to L.A.

When we were close to the apartment, Beth texted me that they had a wedding singer.

“Oh good.”

“What’s good?” Dylan asked.

“Music for the wedding.”

“Bob worked fast.”

“Is this going to be a rock processional?”

He laughed. “Nah. Believe it or not, his tastes are vast and he knows what we want.”

“Now I need to give them a song.”

He squeezed my leg before turning onto his street. “Make it quick in case they need to learn it.”

“Beth also says she sent out e-mail invites to everyone we have that for and paper invites go in the mail in the morning.”

His face scrunched up. “Did we pick invitations?”

“I told her yesterday to print the details on some standard classy stock since we’re short on time.”

“Ah. So, tomorrow, we have the marriage license. What else?”

I consulted the list Beth e-mailed me. “Most of the duties right now are mine. Oh, we still need to pick up my car.”

“Tonight?”

“Preferably.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

“Why the sigh?” I tucked the phone in my purse now we were pulling into the parking garage.

“It’s nothing. I was enjoying the bit of quiet before the crazy.”

“We don’t have to say hello. You have the gate code.”

He laughed. “Of course we have to say hello.” He stopped the truck.

Before leaving the mountain, I packed for longer than a weekend. If I was going to do wedding appointments all week, I couldn’t keep recycling the same three outfits and I definitely would have to do a socks and underwear load of laundry.

Dylan insisted on carrying all the luggage. At this point, I was past arguing.

“Hungry yet?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then we can go by Jake’s and pick up dinner afterward.” He pack-mule-d into the bedroom.

“And decorate your apartment.” I made him bring the artificial tree and ornaments home.

“Yes, milady.” He went right back out to return to the truck.

 

****

 

It was dark by the time we reached Beth and Jake’s compound, the solstice only a week away. Dylan keyed in the gate code and parked next to my CR-V.

“Who’s dropping in?” Jake called out from the farmhouse.

Dylan waved. “Picking up Jen’s car.”

The lead singer jogged over. “I get an alert when someone uses the gate. Hey, mate.”

“Told you,” Dylan said to me. I held up my hands in deference.

“Bethie’s havin’ a ball with this wedding planning,” Jake said, hands in his jeans pockets. “Sometimes I think she misses runnin’ my life on the road, so thanks for giving her a project.”

I laughed. “She volunteered.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but you gave her something to volunteer for. Cheers. Come in, come in.” He turned for the house.

Dylan linked his hand with mine and we followed. Jake opened the front door and the voice of Karen Carpenter poured out. Beth stood at the dining table that was covered in—

“Whoa.” Being one of the newbies to the group, I’d never seen her in this mode before.

Jake and Dylan just exchanged knowing smiles.

“Darling, we have company,” Jake said.

She turned to face us as he closed the door behind us. “Hey! This is perfect. I’ve created a vision board, so tell me what you like and don’t like.”

Dylan nudged me forward. Hey.

“Love, why don’t we let them take their coats off? Maybe offer a beverage?”

She straightened her glasses. “Sure. Of course. Sorry. You probably just came to get your car.”

“Yeah…but it’s early still,” I said. We hung our jackets on the coat rack.

”Da!”

“Sorry, the princess beckons,” Jake said, and detoured for the living room. Aly stood in a play pen. He picked her up with a little bounce before settling her in his arms. “Wanna see Mum’s craft project?”

“Craft project—”

Jake kissed his wife on the cheek and chuckled. “Still so easy.”

“I’d punch your arm if you didn’t have a toddler shield.”

Dylan was already rummaging in their fridge. “Ooo, eggnog.”

“Maria made too much Thursday. Help yourself.”

He poured some in a mug, warmed it in the microwave, then grabbed the nutmeg from the spice cabinet and dusted the top. This was a new side to my fiancé.

“I haven’t seen you drink eggnog all December,” I said.

He sipped and hummed his pleasure. “Because I only like Maria’s. Store-bought is gross.”

“Jen, can I get you anything?” Beth asked.

“I’m fine.” I moved toward the table. “What’s done?”

She’d set up a whiteboard listing the tasks we’d assembled yesterday morning and the table was covered with notes and samples and sketches, including a seating chart. While the boys played with the baby, we went over all the contacts she’d managed to make and finalized the color scheme for the decorations in the barn. I was so beyond impressed.

“This is really happening,” I murmured with a little awe.

She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “It is. But this is your day. I want you guys to be happy, to have a great memory. Promise you’ll tell me if something doesn’t feel right.”

“I will, but I doubt I’ll need to. I’ve trusted you because we get each other.”

She smiled. “We do. Oh, your mom said Shelley’s free to try on bridesmaids’ dresses tomorrow, which Hannah and I can also do, so does that work for you?”

“Yep.”

She made a note of it. “Awesome. Monique will be here Tuesday. Cake tasting Wednesday, and the bakery can also make some great decorated cookies for favors everyone can take home.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“Literally.” She grinned at her mom joke.

I laughed. “Walked into that one. How much happens last minute? When do decorations go in the barn?”

“We’ve already cleared the floor. I still need to get an arch delivered for the altar. Everything non-perishable can start ASAP and Christmas morning the flowers come in. I’ll pressure these boys into manual labor if I have to. The front house sofa will go in the garage and I’ve already reserved tables and chairs to come in for the reception. Your guest list is going to fit easy.”

I nodded, grateful she had a handle on all the moving parts. I’d be a scatterbrained mess right now. “We still haven’t settled the house question,” I whispered.

She nudged me toward the guest room and farther from the men’s ears. “What does Dylan want?”

“He says his work is here and he doesn’t want the long commute. The baby complicates things. I looked at our cabins through that lens and we’d be fine at first, but once he or she is running around? Plus bringing my stuff into his or his stuff into mine…I don’t know.”

She wore sympathy on her face. “Sometimes I feel like baby stuff is everywhere. I couldn’t imagine me and Jacob and Aly in a two-bedroom house.”

“Right? I feel like we have to choose right away. Would you have had the energy to move when Aly was an infant?”

“No. We don’t talk about it for some reason, but your body will need to recover. And then you can read all the books and do all the Googling and get all the advice and you’re still going to have no clue how to deal with this new tiny human.”

“Joy.”

“It helps to have mothers around, but you’re going to have to figure it out by doing. Which sucks because I’m an awesome studier, but I was told over and over every baby has their path and there’s only so much you can prepare for.”

I scowled at her. “This is not reassuring.”

She smiled. “Sorry. My sister-in-law gave me the truth and I’m better for it, so it’s my duty as your friend to pass it to you. But back to the housing—there are lots of nice neighborhoods closer to Dylan’s work. Maybe the Angeles Mountains is a compromise?”

I sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know. Except for college, I’ve lived in two places in my life—my parents’ house and the cabin—and it’s hard to think about learning a new neighborhood and whether the neighbors are friendly and what about the schools…”

“I’m still in denial about school and kindergarten is only three years away.”

“He doesn’t like the small-town pace and I do. How do we reconcile that here?”

She rubbed my shoulder. “I wish I had an easier answer, Jen. You also have to remember they’re going on tour next year.”

I rubbed my forehead. “He thinks he can do both. He said the first concert is in April and he won’t leave home during my last month of pregnancy.”

She laughed. “Oh, that poor naïve man.”

I glanced over there, but their voices were still coming from the far end of the living room. “This pregnancy has the worst timing. I can’t ask him to stay home or the band to find a fill-in. They’re still integrating Lincoln into the group.”

She placed her other hand on my shoulder and turned me to face her. “Hey, I have plenty of room. You and Hannah and Celeste can be here any time it gets too lonely at home. I’ll be glad for the company. It’s been a long time since Jacob and I were apart.”

“He hasn’t asked you to come along?”

She grinned. “Oh, I’m sure he will, but I’m not his PA anymore. I can’t put my business on hold for months.”

I dropped my head. “I’m supposed to start writing my next book in January.”

“People say marriage is compromise, but that rarely means a literal even split in real life. But you know that.”

I nodded. “I learned everything to not do. Dylan is wonderful, but…”

“He doesn’t have the same experience.”

“Yeah.” I stepped farther down the hall. “It’s all happening so fast. We wouldn’t be getting married in less than two weeks or about to live together if it wasn’t for the baby.”

Her eyes widened and I held up my hand to stall that thought.

“We’re not engaged because I’m pregnant. I said yes because I love him. I mean that the speed of all this is because of it. We would’ve had time to figure it all out.”

“Jen, you can postpone the wedding.”

“I don’t think I want to?” My eyes got damp, dammit. “I just can’t plan a wedding and look for a house and have a baby at the same time.”

“Aw, honey, let’s get you a tissue.” Beth hurried me to the guest bathroom.

“Damn hormones.”

She rubbed my back while I dabbed my eyes. “I know, they sneak up on you.”

I blew my nose. “My mother freaked out at the thought of me pregnant in snow. If I shovel my front walk, she’ll probably kidnap me and force me to gestate in my old room.”

She laughed. “My father and brother would’ve done the same thing if Jacob hadn’t stayed home. You can do anything pregnant you did not-pregnant as long as you do it slower and listen to your body. It’s easier to injure your back as your belly grows.”

“My snuggest jeans felt so tight Friday.”

“Aww!”

“Hey, love, we’re going to order a pizza.” Jake’s British voice carried down the hall.

Of course they were. This patchwork family loved pizza, but who didn’t? Melted cheese on hot bread, come on. While I wasn’t hungry an hour ago, I could eat now.

And thank God for waterproof mascara.

Beth hugged me before letting me out of the bathroom. “Any time you want to vent, okay?”

I sucked up a fortifying breath and followed her to rejoin our men and weigh in on toppings. No bell pepper. Or any pig. I liked bacon with breakfast, but any ham and stuff on pizza was gross. Beth and Jake bickered a bit on white vs. red until ultimately deciding on the traditional. So, we now needed a size for four, and a Munchkin.

How did you decide on the pet names for your children? Was it a thing that came to you when you looked at them? With the hormones making my thoughts random sometimes, I wondered what we would use for the baby. Different ones or the same from both of us?

It was a nice dinner, but I was eager to get home and make Dylan’s place more festive.

He took the heavy end of the tree while I guided the tip around corners, and it was an awkward ride in the elevator with it taking up most of the space even wrapped up. At least it fit through his door. His guitar stands sat in the front corner of the living room, so the best spot seemed to be next to the TV, against the wall between there and the kitchen. There was an outlet there for plugging the lights in to. He set the tree down, then slid the dining table closer to the bedroom door a scooch.

While he returned to the truck for the storage tubs, I unwrapped the tree and began shaping the branches. For an artificial tree from the ‘80s, it wasn’t half bad. I’d been expecting plastic, but the wired branches had simulated needles that almost felt like fabric.

Decorated, it would look nice.

He nudged the unlatched door open with his foot and came in carrying everything we’d left downstairs. I took the box off the top. “Thanks.”

“Good thing you didn’t need to see to get here?”

He laughed. Dropped the other two tubs on the coffee table. “Thirsty?”

“Nah.”

“Okay.”

“You can turn on the Charlie Brown Christmas Special, though.”

He grabbed a beer, then kissed my cheek. “Of course.”

Every year I lived at home, Mom and I decorated with a holiday movie in, so it didn’t feel right to do it without one in the years since.

I opened the tubs. He had indoor LED lights, a metallic blue tinsel garland, and lots of…generic ornaments. “Did you only grab ornament sets?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing personalized in here.”

“Ohh. Mom and Dad didn’t do that, buy singles or anything. Just boxes of colors that work together.” The Peanuts music came through the speakers.

Well, that was generic. “Did you ever make ornaments in elementary school?”

“Yeah, but they didn’t live long or something. We’d used these since I was in junior high.”

I suspected his mother might’ve discarded things that didn’t fit her aesthetic. My child would never have to worry about that from me. I put on a smile and grabbed the lights.

Look, I didn’t have anything against colored ball ornaments. I owned the simple kind in various finishes, but they were a complement to my collection, not the star. Next year, when we had time to shop before Christmas, I was going to encourage him to pick stuff he liked.

“At least you know how to evenly space a light strand,” I teased.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have heard the end of that. We don’t have to use the garland if you don’t like it. It’s cheesy.”

I peered around the tree. “Do you like it?”

A shrug. “Kinda. It’s what the tree always looked like, you know?”

I smiled. “I do.” His nostalgia was A-okay with me. I plugged in the light strand and the bulbs turned on. “Yay, that’s one less worry.”

“Yeah, at least these newer types don’t die as often.” He picked up the roll of garland and we went top-down like we did with the first layer.

Tucked in closer to the trunk in spots, it wasn’t so bad. The blue wasn’t gaudy.

The balls came in a rainbow of colors, plus silver and gold, in a few sizes.

Eventually, the tubs were empty, but—

“There’s no topper.”

“Huh.” He scratched his head. “Maybe Mom took it with her. We had some fancy angel that was part porcelain.”

“Wanna pick up a star?” I proposed.

“Okay. But not tonight.”

“Wh—” He pulled my body to his and kissed beneath my ear. “Oh.”