Page 64 of Promise To Marry You
How did I never stop to think about Beckett wanting kids some day? Of course he would, he’s clearly a natural with them. Add in his intrinsically caring nature, and Serena’s right. He’s a man who is destined to have a family someday.
And I’m a woman who is paralyzed by the idea.
It’s one thing to fear losing Beckett, especially now that I’ve admitted to having romantic feelings for him. He could break my heart if he leaves. But a child? To have a child, to know at any moment that precious soul could be taken from me the way I lost my parents; the idea makes me nauseous.
“Hey, are you okay?” Serena touches my arm, a worried look on her face. “I’m sorry if I overstepped with the whole Beckett as a dad comment.”
I brush her off with what I hope is a convincing smile. “No, it’s okay. Just tired, I guess. Vi’s got a lot of energy.”
For a second, I don’t think she bought it, but then Serena’s features relax. “Yeah, she does. Well, I’ll get her out of your hair so you guys can relax. Thanks again for having her. When Leo and I realized we both had commitments today, and Claire and Kat weren’t available, we thought we were screwed. But Beck always comes through.”
Yeah, he does. Good old reliable, consistent, considerate Beckett. The man who deserves everything that I can’t give him.
I plaster a smile on my face as we say goodbye to Violet, my heart melting just a touch when the little girl wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes tightly with a “thank you” whispered in my ear.
Then she and Serena leave, and the house feels weirdly quiet and empty, even though Beckett is whistling to himself in the kitchen. I like hearing him happy and relaxed, but inside my gut is still churning.
I head to my bedroom. Or I guess I should say the room where I store my clothes and shit, since I haven’t used the bed in a while.
But now, I sink back against the pillows and stare up at the ceiling.
Kids.
The idea never crossed my mind, so I guess it actually isn’t that surprising that in all the years of friendship, Beck and I never discussed it. I mean, why would we, when until very recently we were just platonic friends?
But now we’re…married, but also sort of dating? Figuring stuff out? I have paperwork sitting in the drawer beside me that I thought was going to be our fresh start. And now, thanks to one well-intentioned comment, my thoughts are spiralling out of control.
I’m starting to get real fucking sick of feeling so overwhelmed.
Rolling to my side, I open my phone, planning on playing some music to try and get my brain to relax. But when the calendar app opens, another jolt of surprise hits me.
It’s the end of June. I’ve been in Dogwood Cove for over two months now. And in just under a week, it’s the anniversary of my parents’ death.
I let out a shuddery exhale. The date always creeps up on me somehow. It’s as if my brain can’t forget June 29thall year long until mid-month. Then I draw a blank, blocking out the date that changed my entire life, until it’s right upon me.
Every year I’ve spent that day by myself at the cemetery where they’re buried outside Brandon. I pack a lunch and the books my mom used to read to me as a child. I bring a sketch pad and I spend the day there.
And for the past several years, I can’t quite remember when it started, a huge bouquet of fresh flowers is already there. October Sky dahlia’s, the same every year, their pale pink fading to yellow petals staring up at me. I assumed it was Grandpa arranging to have them delivered. I used to wonder why he didn’t just ask me to take them, or drop them off himself, but I never wanted to ask. Instead, like clockwork, I’d show up at the cemetery midmorning and a beautiful arrangement of the stunning flowers would just be there, nestled into the grass in front of their shared headstone.
Tears well up in my eyes as I remember that with Grandpa gone, there’s no one left to arrange the flower delivery unless I do it.
Brushing away the dampness, I switch over to my internet browser. I’m tapping on the keys, searching for flights to Manitoba, when a gentle knock on my door has me looking up.
“Hey babe, everything okay?”
Beckett takes one look at my tearstained cheeks and doesn’t wait for me to answer. He sits down on the bed and opens his arms, and I fold myself into them readily. For a while I let the tears fall silently and selfishly let myself absorb the loving comfort he’s offering.
When I finally stop leaking onto his bare chest, I tiredly pull myself up to sit, sniffling loudly. “Sorry.”
“For what?” he asks, warmth infusing his words as he hands me a tissue.
I just shrug. “Losing it all over you again.”
Beckett just shifts his position so he’s leaning against the headboard, then gently tugs me back into his side. I lie down, resting my head on his shoulder and my hand on his stomach. “You don’t need to apologize, Cam. But I would like to know what made you lose it, so I can see if I can help.”
Goddamnit, I do not deserve this man. Fresh tears start to build, but I swipe them away. “I realized it’s the end of June.” The excuse sounds stupid, but just as I expected, Beckett understands.
“Do you have a flight booked yet? I know you like to be alone that day, but I’ll come with you if you want company. Even if it means waiting at the hotel with takeout and tissues.”
