Page 70 of Beautiful Small Things

“I need you, too,” I tell him as he hovers above me, “but I have something to tell you first.”

“Is everything OK?” he asks with concern in his voice.

“It’s it. It’s good. I think,” I stammer.

Marcus moves to lie on his side next to me, propping his head up on his elbow. “Talk to me,” he says.

I don’t know why, but at that moment, I stare into his beautiful cerulean eyes, and I decide I’m not ready to tell him yet. “I just want you to know,” I pause, “that I love you more than anything. You and Iris have become my entire world.”

I notice the look on his face. It is somewhere between anxiety and alarm. It was a brief flash, but it was there, quickly replaced with that signature Sinclair panty-dropping grin.

“We love you, too, BJ,” he says sweetly before pulling me on top of him and proving it repeatedly.

Chapter twenty-nine

Cake and Chaos

Marcus- Age 31

Today is a big day. Monumental, actually. It’s my daughter’s first birthday. The past year has been so many things. I never pictured myself here at thirty-one years old. I have a beautiful, smart, amazing daughter. And possibly even more surprising, I’m in a relationship. And I’m happy.

James feeds my soul with her beautiful heart and smart mouth. The sex is off the charts, too. The best of my life. We connect on every level, which is why I know something is off.

She’s been her usual amazing self, taking care of both Iris and me, but something is on her mind. When we’re watching television or relaxing, I have noticed her staring into the void and biting her lip in thought. When I ask her about it, she simply smiles and tells me that everything is fine.

We have always been honest with one another, so I know she will tell me when she’s ready. For now, I’m satisfied waiting for her to feel the time is right to disclose whatever is on her mind.

Purple flowers adorn the table and purple and white balloons cover the floor. Callan is currently manning the grill while Colby carries their baby Orion around and shuffles the kids outside. Since Iris is only one-year-old, we maintained a bit of restraint, but still went overboard, honestly. At this age, the party is for the adults, which is fine because I miss these people and wish I could see them more often.

I’m standing at the grill next to my best friend with a beer in my hand, watching our children play with blocks on a blanket when James approaches me. I fight every instinct in my body to grab her in my arms and kiss her in front of our families, but we haven’t talked about officially telling them, so I hold back.

“Marcus,” she says sweetly, “I can’t find a lighter for the birthday cake candle. Do you know where one is?”

“I think we have one in the kitchen somewhere,” I reply. “I’ll go check. I’m gonna grab another beer, anyway.”

“Perfect,” she says, before returning to Iris and the other children and proceeding to take fifty more pictures with her phone.

“Where is it? Where is it?” I say to myself under my breath as I open and close random drawers in my kitchen. Between Bea and James, this place is very organized, but everyone has that one junk drawer with batteries, take-out menus, and screws that don’t actually belong to any furniture. I’m sure there’s a lighter in there. I’m rifling through the drawer when I see a folded letter that looks important and likely misplaced.

Opening it, I read the first few lines and feel like this has to be a mistake. This is from the conservatory that James has always dreamt of attending. She has lived for this moment. Sacrificed through pain and injuries for this.

The letter is dated from last week, and James only has a few days to respond to them. My mind races because this letter was hidden away in a drawer.

Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why is she hiding this from me?

The realization hits me that maybe she didn’t tell me because she doesn’t want to go. If that’s true, I understand. I don’t want her to go either, but we should discuss it.

I’m still standing in my kitchen in front of a drawer that resembles the current state of my brain- complete chaos and disarray, when I hear James speak from behind me.

“Did you find the lighter,” she asks.

I turn with the letter still in my hand and a confused look on my face to meet her eyes.

“I found this,” I reply because I don’t know what else to say. This letter has the potential to change everything.

Her eyes narrow as they lock onto the folded piece of paper in my hand. “Where did you find that?” She asks with accusation.

“It was in the junk drawer,” I reply.