Fire Bonus Scene

Micah

It feels like mere minutes after my head hits the pillow that my phone dings with a text— after a twenty-four-hour shift, obviously. I blink furiously, trying to orient myself to the where and when of my existence.

I’m in bed.

Ivy’s at work.

Nell’s at school.

Ringer’s on full volume in case that awful nurse needs to get a hold of me or worse, Nell and Giuseppe get into it again. (Those two find every excuse to get into an argument that leads to someone being called Pee Pee Fingers.)

The phone’s not ringing with a call, so it’s safe to assume the school isn’t trying to reach me and Nell is fine. Most of me votes to pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep, but the obsessive parent part of me worries that maybe, somehow, there’s a problem at school that warranted a text instead of a phone call. Because, you know, that’s what they do.

Grumbling, I swipe the phone off the bedside table and smile when I see a message from my beautiful wife. Though that smile dissolves into a frown when I read what she has to say:

Ivy: We need to talk.

My heart drops into my stomach. Nothing good ever comes from ‘we need to talk.’ It’s the most dreaded sentence in any couple’s relationship. Well, maybe not the most dreaded.

There’s always, “I’ve been seeing someone else.”

And, “I don’t think I love you anymore.”

Or the one that ties my stomach into knots, “There’s no more strawberry ice cream, but there is plenty of butterscotch and you’re welcome to have some.”

Brows furrowed, I glare at my phone, running through all the possible reasons Ivy might be mad at me. After just six months of marriage, there couldn’t be that many. Sure, Nell and I got a little carried away during cannonball practice in the pool last night, but no one got hurt, and that girl does love to fly. There’s no way Ivy could be mad about that.

I scour my memory for anything remotely anger-inducing and come up with nada. I’ve been an exemplary husband.

Kind.

Thoughtful.

Attentive in the bedroom.

(And when Nell’s not home, the bathroom. And the kitchen. The living room…)

Maybe I’m over-thinking this. Maybe Ivy’s not mad. Maybe she wants to talk about something good. Maybe she has news from one of the colleges she applied to.

Another text comes in.

Ivy: Soon. We should probably talk soon.

I scrub my face and sit up, shaking my head to scatter the remnants of sleep adrenaline has yet to chase away.

Me: Sure, Ives. I’m all ears. Everything okay?

Ivy: It’s better if we talk in person.

And just like that, my confidence hits the skids. Nothing about this seems right. In fact, it’s giving off serious “everything is wrong and nothing will be the same again” vibes. Vibes I haven’t felt since Ivy moved to Seattle…

That has to be the exhaustion talking. Things are good between us. Every day is better than the last. The three of us? We’re happy together. My girls are strong and confident and I love being a husband and a father. If there’s bad news, it’s not centered around us. It can’t be. Maybe there’s been an issue with Julian—the douche never did send the stuff Ivy left in Seattle, which was fine because she had a blast building a whole new wardrobe based on her likes instead of his. Or maybe her dad is in town, causing problems for her mom. Whatever reason Ivy has to wake me up for a conversation, it can’t be something wrong with us.

Can it?

She’s waiting on a response, so I type the first thing that comes to mind.

Me: Sure. Okay. When will you be home from work?

A knock sounds at the bedroom door and Ivy pokes her head in. “I didn’t go to work today.”

I yelp in surprise, jumping so hard, my phone flies out of my hands and lands face down on the floor. “Shit! Ivy! What the hell?”

My reaction proves just as terrifying as her arrival. She shrieks, flinging up her palms and throwing some random pen she brought in across the room.

We stare at each other for all of two seconds before she bursts out laughing. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

This is a lot for a man who just crawled into bed a few hours ago. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or go right back to sleep.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Is Nell okay?”

Am I okay? Are we okay?

“I’m fine. And Nell’s fine, too.” Ivy picks up the pen she threw across the room and heads my way, stopping to grab my phone, frowning at the device. “But your phone might not be,” she says, handing it to me with a grimace.

The screen is decimated.

Fucking hell. Could this day get any worse?

“This is so not how I saw this going,” Ivy says, looking sad and serious and oh my God, is she for real? She’s going to wake me up after a twenty-four-hour shift, just six months into what I thought was a blissfully happy marriage, and tell me our relationship isn’t going the way she thought it would?

I stand, propelled into movement, pacing to the bathroom door, then right back to my wife. “How did you see it going?”

“I thought I’d send a text, kind of like the ones I sent when we were kids, right before things went off the rails. You know, before my dad took my phone away for good?”

I can’t read her expression. She looks partly mischievous and a little regretful, but also like she’s enjoying this conversation more than she should.

I stare, struck dumb. “And…?”

Ivy bites her lip. “And then, you know, instead of making you think I broke up with you and then you never getting any of the texts about me being pregnant, I’d show you this.”

As if the morning couldn’t get any more bizarre, she hands me that random fucking pen.

“A pen?” I say, without looking at the thing. “Ives. Sweetheart. I’m too tired for any of this to make sense.”

There it is again. A tiny smile. A glimmer of humor in her eyes. “It’s not a pen, Micah.”

I stare at the thing in my hands. It’s about the length of a pen, but a little thicker. White plastic, with a window showing a plus sign…

The entire world freezes. I can’t breathe. My eyes burn. My chest…it’s full…so fucking full…

I glance at Ivy, but I can’t find my voice. My face asks a question her smile answers and I’m on my knees in front of the love of my life, cupping her cheek, kissing her lips, pulling her into my arms.

“Really?” I finally manage, my throat so fucking thick I don’t know how I’ll ever speak again.

“Really.” Ivy’s pale blue eyes are locked on mine, shimmering with tears. She smooths her fingers through my hair and I place a hand on her belly.

“You’re pregnant?” I stand, pulling her up with me, then stepping back to stare in awe. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as that plus sign.”

Happiness roars to life inside me. I want to toss my head back and howl. Beat my chest. Pick Ivy up and kiss her until Nell comes home then tell the whole damn world and kiss her some more.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Ivy says, her eyes bouncing across my face. “I thought it’d be funny, you know, considering how things went for us the first time. I’d send a cryptic text, but instead of you never knowing about the baby, I’d get to tell you face to face. It sounds so stupid now…”

“It’s not stupid. It’s cute and adorable and ballsy. It’s all the things you forgot how to be after moving to Seattle. All the things I’ve wanted to see in you since you came home…” I pull her into my arms. “I’m gonna be there for everything this time. I’m gonna hold your hair when the morning sickness comes. I’ll be there at every single doctor’s appointment. All the things I missed with Nell…” My mind takes a hard right at the mention of our daughter’s name. “And Nell! She can’t be left out. She should come to the doctor’s appointments too, so she can hear her little sister’s heartbeat for the first time…”

“Micah—”

“You’re right. You’re right.” I hold out my hands and pace. “She probably shouldn’t be at the appointments but I don’t want her to feel like I love her any less than this new little girl. Oh my God, Ivy! A new little girl!”

“Mi—”

“You’re right,” I say, pointing two excited fingers at my wife. “It could be a boy! Oh, Ivy! What if it’s a boy?”

“Micah—”

The full realization of what I just said lands. “Oh, Ivy…what if it’s a boy? A boy just like me? What if he’s trouble wrapped in overconfidence and powered by too much energy? What if—”

“Micah!” Ivy covers my mouth with a slim hand. “Breathe, honey. Breathe.”

I nod, smiling against her palm, which she slowly pulls back after a few deep breaths on my part.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m excited.”

“I know, Mi. Me too.”

And suddenly I’m pacing again. “We’re going shopping. Today. We need a crib and a…well…I don’t know what else, but you probably do since you’ve gone through this once and whatever we need, we’re buying. And Nell can have one of those ‘I’m the big sister’ shirts. Maybe two. No! Three! And maybe she needs some new comic books or something so she doesn’t feel left out and—”

Ivy lifts her hand and aims it for my mouth again, but I clamp my jaw shut, then pull her into my arms and kiss her…

…then kiss her again…

…and again.

After several long moments, I pull back, smoothing her hair and staring into the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen, eyes I hope to see reflected in our baby.

“When I found out you were back in the Keys,” I say, “I told Angela I couldn’t remember being so happy. Then, the night of the fire, the night you could barely stand to look at me, I started to wonder if it was all a big cosmic joke. The day I found out the truth about Nell, I wondered if I would ever be happy again. But here you are. Here we are. The three of us, about to be the four of us and I’ve never been this happy, Ivy.”

“Never?” Her smile is crooked, and her eyes gleam and I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.

I cup her cheeks. “I thought I’d hit peak happiness the day you agreed to marry me. Then I thought our wedding day was the happiest day of my life. And every day since then, I’ve thought to myself, I am the luckiest fucking man alive.”

Tears well in Ivy’s eyes. “Micah…”

I put a finger to her lips. “And I am. I’m the the luckiest fucking man to walk this planet, all because of you. The day we locked eyes in gym class, my life changed for the better.”

***

Later that night, while Ivy and Nell swim, I sit on the deck with a notebook and a pen. After staring at a blank page for a few moments, I start to write.

To my children—

When your grandma and grandpa were young, they made a pact not to fall in love. It was a silly thing to promise each other, because according to family legend, they were already in love.That pact was such a big deal, they named their business after it, and raised me with the knowledge that making a promise is not something to take lightly. When you say you’ll do a thing, you do that thing. The end.

When your mom and I were in high school, I swore I’d love her forever and take care of her for the rest of our life. I wrote it all down on a piece of paper. We both signed it and I put that paper in a box in my closet where it would be safe. There were a few years where it looked like life would make me break my promise, but here’s something you need to know about your dad:

When I give my word, I mean it.

Tonight, I’m making a promise to you.

To Nell, sweet Penelope Michaela Hutton…

To the tiny little spark of life in Mommy’s tummy—a little baby so new we don’t know if you’re a daughter or a son, only that you’ll be loved and wanted and protected.

And to all the sons and daughters we might have in the future… (And if I have my way, there’ll be an army of you.)

I promise you will always be safe. I promise to protect you and love you and teach you how to be the kind of people this world needs. I promise to be the best possible version of myself for you. I know I’ll get things wrong, but I swear it’s only because I’m trying to get it right. I’ll hold you up when you need it, and I’ll step away when you’re ready to stand on your own. And, if you’re anything like me, you’ll think you’re ready before you really are, so I promise to let you try, but catch you before you fall.

I promise to be your parent before I’m your friend, which means you might not always like me because I’m making you do the hard thing instead of the fun thing, but it’s the way my parents raised me, and I swear it made me the man I am today.

A man who wakes up happy and goes to bed happier.

A man whose heart swells every time he sees his wife and children.

A man who knows who he is and what he wants, and trusts himself to make it happen.

I love you now. I’ll love you tomorrow. I promise to love you until the end of time.

And everyone knows what it means when Micah Hutton makes a promise.

“Daddy!”

I look up to find Nell clinging to the wall, goggles on and making a rat’s nest of her wet hair.

“What’s up, Nell Bell?”

“I learned to do a flip in the water. Watch!” She pushes off the wall and flaps and splashes, her little legs kicking wildly until she finally emerges, beaming with pride.

“That was something,” I say, even though I’m not entirely sure a flip actually happened.

“When my baby brother or sister gets here, I’ll teach ‘em how to do it. I’ll teach ‘em so many things. I’ll be the best big sister that ever was. I promise.”

I arch a brow. “A promise, huh?”

“I know, I know. A promise a big deal.” Nell half rolls her eyes and half smiles in that way that means I’ve almost made my point enough for it to stick. “I mean it, Daddy. I’m gonna teach ‘em how to breathe before they say a thing. And how to flip pancakes. And how to make the biggest splash when you jump in the pool.”

“Speaking of biggest splashes.” Ivy gives me a crooked grin that reminds me of her grandma, “why don’t you show your daughter how it’s done and join us?”

“Now that’s a challenge I can’t wait to accept,” I say, before cannonballing into the water while Ivy and Nell shriek in delight.