down at the picture, and it’s time to show him the last picture.
“This is the day he was born,” I say and pull out the picture of him wrapped in the white sheet. “He was small but perfect.” He looks like he is sleeping. You would never think otherwise.
He takes the picture out of my hand, and his shoulders start to shake as he holds the picture in his hand. His tears are dripping down his chin. “He’s so beautiful.” He looks at me, and I smile at him. “He looks like you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He looked exactly like you,” I say and then hand him another picture.
He looks at it and gasps. “This is why you had the panic attack?” He doesn’t ask me so much as tells me. The picture is of me holding Gabriel in my arms, my face pale as tears are running down my cheeks with my mother beside me on the hospital bed with her arm around the two of us. Her own tears are on her face. “I want to tell my mother,” he says, looking at the picture. “I want to tell everyone about my son.”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly and put the envelope down. “I haven’t even told my father and Casey.”
“Then we’ll do it together.” He grabs my hand in his. “You don’t have to do anything alone anymore.”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say. “Your mother already isn’t keen on us talking.”
“You gave birth to our child by yourself,” he says angrily. “You buried him all by yourself. Our child,” he repeats. “Our son.”
“Okay,” I say, “I just want to tell my father before anyone, please.”
He nods his head and then looks at me. “Can I keep this?” he asks me.
“Those are for you and this also.” I take out the last paper in the envelope. “It’s small, but it’s his footprint.”
“I’ve never in my life felt so much yet so empty at the same time,” he says to me, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.
“I know the feeling,” I say. “It’s a bit better now that I get to share him with you. That you know him also.”
He puts the pictures down on the table in front of him and then turns to me and pulls me to him. I straddle him, just as I did so many years ago. Just as I’ve remembered all these years. Except he’s bigger, and his chest is wider. When he opened the door without a shirt, I thought for sure my chin would hit the floor. He was just perfect; he was always perfect in my eyes, though. He was always the best looking, always the funniest, always the sweetest. He was always my number one.
“Stay with me,” he asks, and I look at him while he pushes my hair over my shoulder. “Stay with me today, tonight, tomorrow.” He sits up now and kisses my bare shoulder. My arm wraps around his neck, and my fingers go into his hair. “I need you to come with me tomorrow.”
“Where?” I ask, and he just smiles. “It’s a surprise.”
“Okay.” It comes out breathlessly, and I hold his face in my hands now, his eyes red from the tears.
“I love you.” His hands come to hold my face. “I’ve loved you my whole life.”
“Jacob,” I whisper his name.
“Every single part of you is ingrained in my brain. It’s a part of my soul. Everything that you are is in me. Every single piece of my heart belongs to you,” he says.
“You’re my everything,” I say as he leans down and kisses my lips once. I smile. “You’ve always been my everything.” I kiss him now, slipping my tongue into his mouth just a touch. “For eight years, I’ve dreamed of kissing you.” His thumb comes out, and he traces my jaw. “Eight years of you in my dreams. This almost feels surreal,” I say, looking down at his chest. My finger traces the outline of the cross that he now has on there. “It’s always you.” I look back up at him, and he grabs the back of my head now. My hair fisted in his hand, he crushes his lips on mine.
My mouth’s already open for him as he slides his tongue into my mouth, and we both swallow each other’s moans. My hand moves up his chest to his hair, and I crush my chest against his, wanting to get closer