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Randy lifted his eyebrows at me, a clear sign that our skirmish was over. Then Naomi raised her eyebrows inquisitively at me as if to ask, “What in the world is wrong with you?”
I just shrugged, silently communicating my regret and confusion over my own behavior.
Shortly thereafter, Randy returned to the table, but not for long. With a serious expression, he announced that he had a family emergency and excused himself from the dinner. It took every ounce of my self-control not to scoff at his excuse. For some reason, I found it hard to believe him. My mind conjured up scenarios of him rushing off to meet some hot date instead. I convinced myself that he found our small-town company and our mundane dinner party questions too dull.
“Where did you go anyway?” I ask, nestled safely in Randy’s arms as he holds me close in bed.
“That was the day Jeremy’s divorce was finalized. He was having a tough time, so I drove out to Boston to be with him.”
A memory flickers in my mind. “That’s right. You didn’t come in the next day.”
“No,” Randy murmurs softly, planting a delicate, warm kiss on the back of my neck. “But I have something for you.”
I feel a chill as he pulls away; the absence of his warmth is immediate. My gaze follows him to a chic floating dresser. He rummages through the top right drawer and pulls out a folded piece of lined paper.
I sit up, intrigued. “What’s that?”
“It’s my bucket list. The real one.” Randy stands at the foot of the bed, holding the paper. “But before we unfold this, I want to clarify something.” He tilts his head, a curious look in his eyes. “Really? A hot air balloon ride?”
I throw my head back, laughing heartily. “No,” I enthusiastically admit. “I totally made that up. I don’t have a bucket list,” I confess. “I just live in the moment.”
Randy’s knees press into the mattress as he moves closer, his eyes smoldering with intensity. He leans in, and we share a deep, sweet, loving kiss.
“I knew that,” he whispers as our lips part. He then makes himself comfortable next to me against the headboard. “I didn’t have a bucket list either. I never even thought about one until that night.”
I sit up straighter in surprise. “You mean you’ve never been to Marrakech?”
“Yes, I have. But it was to taste food and explore the spices—purely work, not play. But…” He hands me the folded piece of paper. “Read it.”
I carefully unfold the paper, my heart beating with anticipation. Randy’s familiar, hurried handwriting takes up only a small portion of the blank page. I read the only words written on it. “Number one,” I read aloud. “Make Gina fall in love with me. She thinks she hates me. But she’ll fall in love with me, even if it’s by accident.”
A surge of warmth floods through me, carrying an overwhelming mix of beautiful emotions. I turn to face Randy, who is beaming with a hopeful, mischievous smile. His hand rests openly on my thigh, an invitation. I place my palm in his without hesitation. As we gaze into each other’s eyes, a profound certainty fills me—it may have started as an accident, but Randy and I are deeply, irreversibly in love.
Epilogue
6 1/2 Months Later
I groan, unable to keep myself asleep any longer. Today was exhausting. I knew I shouldn’t have been on my feet for so long, but there was so much work to be done, especially ensuring that the kitchen in the new bakery section of The Calypso was set up correctly.
Yes, Randy insisted on incorporating a bakery—my bakery—into The Calypso’s new floor plan. I was hesitant at first, not wanting him to make such a big decision just because I was his pregnant girlfriend. However, he was determined. We went back and forth until he kissed me on the tip of my nose and presented his final argument: he wasn’t adding the bakery solely out of love; it made sound business sense to do it, given the popularity and revenue generated by my pastries. How could I counter that? He had won the debate.
But yesterday, I think I overdid it. I’m still extremely sleepy, yet the relentless cramps stabbing into my stomach force me awake. I have to sit up or do something to ease the discomfort. Just as I begin to gently move Randy’s hand away from my rounded belly, I notice something alarming. Our bedsheets are wet.
“Oh no,” I whisper, realizing what’s happening. This is it! The scariest moment of my life has finally arrived, and now that I’m fully awake, the pain is excruciating.
“Randy!” I shout at the top of my lungs.
“What?” he exclaims, startled awake.
“It’s time. I’m having Jeffrey!” We decided months ago to name our son after Randy’s father.
“All right then,” Randy says, his voice steadier now as he calmly gets out of bed and moves methodically through the room.
I’m grateful that Randy is such a calm presence, always able to handle situations with a cool head. With my birth bag slung over his shoulder, he helps me to my feet, looks me in the eyes, and asks, “Do you remember your breathing?”
Bobbing my head and sucking up the pain, I manage to chirp, “Yes.”
“And your pain-management training?” he asks.
