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And it’s then, as the crowd goes wild and he gives me a kiss and pulls me offstage so it’ll be just us, this moment, just ours, that I know.
No doubt, no holds barred, everything, absolutely everything, is going to be okay.
Chapter 26
Emerson
What a past few months.
Italy. Spain. Japan, Australia. Canada, and so many US cities I’ve lost track. A handful of islands.
The only constant thing has been her, Wynona.
My girlfriend. The mother of my child. And so much more.
Even when we miss our flight and have to nap on disheveled 60s-era airport benches, even when my wallet gets stolen, even when we have to sleep in the back of a beat-up rented camper van with my hoodie for a blanket, she makes it all bearable. Better than bearable, she makes it fucking amazing.
Sitting in the airport, she looks so pretty in that red skirt and black turtleneck that I can’t help but kiss her.
“What was that for?” she asks with a giggle when we separate.
I shrug. “Nothing. Everything.”
“Oh.” She nods sagely. “That.”
I put my arm around her and survey the scene. Nolan once said he went to airports to ‘get material’, since you see all types.
People at their laziest and worst. Sweats and shouts. Arguments and overpriced chip bags.
In Lebanon’s airport, according to Greyson, they’ve got a glass pillar filled with confiscated weapons. Guns, knives, an axe or two.
“Emerson,” Wynona says with a scolding tone.
It takes me a few minutes to catch on to why. My hand’s slipped down to her belly.
One of my new habits lately. She claims it tickles.
“I can’t help it,” I say with a shrug. “What kind of father would I be if I ignored the little guy?”
Wynona just smiles, patting my hand a bit absently.
“Game time,” I say.
She groans. “I told you—”
“We’ll know when we see his little face, I know, I know.” I shrug.
“Fine,” she says. “Because I’m bored.”
“Alastair,” I say.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Is this baby going to be born old?”
“Have to be ready for all possibilities,” I return stoutly.
She chuckles. “Fine. Joseph.”
I look at her hard. “That’s one of the most common names in the world. You really want him to be Joseph S. all his life?”
She shrugs. “I just really liked Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat as a kid.”
“Benjamin,” I say.
She frowns. “For our firstborn? Come on. Robert.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “When I was a kid, the school douche everyone hated was named Rob.”
She shrugs too. “Good enough for me. Not Robert, then.”
“What were you talking to Ky about the other day?” I ask.
Out of all the surprises these past few months have brought me, that’s been one of the biggest. Ky and Wynona are getting on famously.
“Oh, girl stuff, you know, engagements.”
“Oh yeah? What about?”
“Just about the type of proposal itself,” Wynona says musingly. “Whether we’d prefer one of those big in-public, maybe-even-a-YouTube-video kind, or something... less so.”
“What was the verdict?” I ask like a man who hasn’t planned to propose at our next concert.
“Private’s best,” Wynona says without a hint of hesitation.
I try to keep my face neutral.
“Public’s too stressful,” she explains. “And my reaction, it wouldn’t feel like mine. It would feel like theirs, like I was doing it for them. I wouldn’t trust my own smile.”
She smiles a little. “That’s just me, though. I’ve seen some that were really sweet, and I think it’s great for most people. I’m just not most people, I guess.”
“No.” I take her hand in mine. “That you are not.”
“So then,” I continue, “hypothetically speaking, where would you be asked?”
“In a perfect world?” Her gaze wanders in thought. “I don’t know, maybe... at home? Somewhere busy and loud, where no one would notice? Sometime when I’d least expect it.”
Something clicks in my head.
I take a look around.
Busy?
—Check.
Loud?
—Check.
“All right.” I get down on one knee.
“Emerson!” she exclaims.
“What?” I say.
“Don’t joke like that,” she leans down to hiss at me.
“Who’s joking?”
“But, you can’t here—”
“Why not?”
“People are staring. This isn’t private.”
“All right.” I get up and pick her up. I hoist her bag onto my shoulder as well.
“Emerson!”
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“Finding somewhere more private. Where people won’t stare.”
Her mouth is caught between a laugh and a grimace. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I say. “Our flight’s not for another two hours.”
I carry her to the door. “Good thing we didn’t go ahead and check in early.”
“Were you planning this all along?” she demands.
“Nah. I had a much better plan. But apparently, it isn’t your style.”
“But now it won’t be a surprise,” she points out musingly.
“I can only surprise you so many times. You missed your chance.”
She chuckles. “I suppose I deserve that.”
“Besides,” I say. “I could change my mind by the time we get there. You are arguing a lot.”
“Jerk,” she says.
“Nag,” I say.
“Menace.”
“Shrew.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going old-timey now? You yellow-bellied cur!”
I chuckle as I carry her out the airport doors. “You still remember that class? Shakespeare 101?”
