Page 113 of Fifty First Kisses

“She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen,” I say, looking at my daughter, watching as her nose scrunches as if she might cry, before her face relaxes and she’s back to sleep.

“She really is,” Claire agrees.

“Do you think she’s cursed?” I ask.

She snorts out a laugh. “Probably.”

She’s told me everything: how the curse works and how her mom and Gigi both went through the same thing. She waited until we were engaged—which was only a year after we started dating officially—saying that she needed to make sure I was “locked down” (her words, not mine) before she’d divulge the whole truth.

I don’t know what to think, honestly. But what I do know is when I saw her, instead of Simone, walk into that restaurant three years ago to do the handover, I was gone. Curse or not, she was going to be mine.

It took a bit for us to get there, and for a minute I wondered if it would ever really happen. But she finally realized the error of her ways and came running back to me. That’s how I like to tell the story. Claire hates that version.

“I guess I don’t mind that she won’t have boys knocking down our door for a second kiss,” I say.

“See?” She looks up at me, exhaustion written all over her face, but the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her. “There are benefits.”

“True,” I say. “Or we could just tell her not to kiss any boys ever. Win/win. No curse needed.”

Claire smiles. “Somehow I don’t think that will work.”

“It’s worth a shot,” I say, kind of meaning it. It’s strange how protective I feel for a tiny bundle I just officially met earlier today.

“And anyway, I’ll be there to guide her,” she says, smiling down at our baby.

“Maybe you can guide her into not kissing as many guys as you did,” I say.

She nudges me in the ribs with her elbow, and I give her shoulder a squeeze. I love that she thinks I’m kidding.

“Can I never go back to work and just stay here?” she says, her head falling back on my arm, and I lean in and give her a kiss on her forehead.

“At the hospital? That might get expensive.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You can do whatever you want,” I say, even though I know she’ll be back at it after maternity leave. She plans to scale back her clients and work from home more, but she loves what she does, and her clients love her. She’s become the go-to in the industry for crisis management.

Meanwhile, I’m just hanging out at Pulse. Actually, I’m not doing so bad myself. Most likely because people think they can get to Claire through me. Joke’s on them, though. Our firms are still rivals.

And yes, on rare occasion, we’ve had to go against each other in a he said/she said PR battle.

But it’s a lot more fun to wage war against my wife at work when I get to make it up to her at home.

She would totally roll her eyes at that line. I’d say it now, but she’s fast asleep on my arm.

We don’t have the perfect life. We both work long hours and are stubborn, and sometimes we fight over silly things. But even on the hardest days, being with Claire is my greatest blessing—and never a curse.

THE END