Everyone works around me, filling their plates, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. When Ash steals Willow from her clutches, she sulks. My smile deepens. She stands, filling Ceecee’s plate, and when she’s done, she places the plate in front of Ceecee, smooths down my baby girl’s hair, and kisses her head. My smile turns into a grin.
Lifting her own plate, she starts piling food on it, and before I realize what I’m doing, I stand, reaching into my pocket. From across the table, I open the ring box and hold it out. Helena continues to fill her plate. Smiling like a damn fool, I ask loudly, “Helena, will you marry me?”
A few feminine gasps, then silence surrounds us. Pausing mid-salad-scoop, she looks over the table at me, stunned. Looking down at the ring, she recovers quickly. With a small shrug, she utters, “Uh, sure.” Then she smiles up at me. “Pass the potato salad, babe?”
I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “Of course, cupcake.” Placing the open ring box on the table, I pick up the bowl of potato salad and hand it to her. She takes it, biting her lip to hide her smile. A small round of applause, some cheers, and then everyone continues what they were doing. We take our seats on opposite sides of the table, smiling at each other like a couple of clowns.
She mouths, ‘Love you.’
I mouth back, ‘Love you more.’
And I do.
I really do.
Later that night, Ceecee and I lounge around on the sofa, while Helena makes our celebratory banana splits. I turn to my daughter and watch her a moment before asking, “You happy, baby?”
Ceecee turns to me, smiling. “Yeah, I am.”
I nod. “That’s all I need to hear.”
We continue to watch in silence before Ceecee asks a hushed, “Am I going to have brothers and sisters?”
My brows rise. Not a question I was expecting. “You want brothers and sisters?” She nods. Hiding my smile, I call out, “Yo, cupcake.”
A few seconds and Helena pops her head into the living room. “Yeah?”
Taking a handful of popcorn, I ask, “You want kids?”
She stands there, dumbstruck. Her eyes dart from me to Ceecee, then back again. Then she smiles. “Yeah, I do.” Without waiting for a response, she heads back into the kitchen. I look back at the TV, but hold up my hand. When Ceecee high-fives me, I grin.
Everything’s looking up.
Epilogue
Helena
I walk out of the store, flicking through the photos, smiling and chuckling to myself. Six months after our engagement, Max and I got married. It wasn’t a lavish affair. It was quaint. We had all the people we wanted there and did it all our way. For instance, even though he wore a three-piece tux, Max wore his black Chucks instead of dress shoes. And even though I shouldn’t have been wearing white, I did, just because I wanted to.
Nik insisted we have the reception at The White Rabbit, and considering it was the place of our first real kiss, I was all for it. Nina decided she would be my maid of honor, because she didn’t live in New York; therefore, she felt she deserved the position as I’d be seeing Nat all the time. Nat and I both agreed, and she and Ceecee were my bridesmaids.
Max asked Trick to be his best man, with Nik and Ash as his groomsmen. My dad cried the entire ceremony, my mom handing him tissues all the while. Mama Leokov dabbed at her eyes, and overall, it was a happy occasion.
Max looked at me like I was the most valued woman in the world, stopping every half-hour to ask, “Have I told you how beautiful you look today, sweetheart?” We ate and danced into the wee hours of the morning, and I smiled all damn night. Even now, a week later, as I look down at my wedding ring, I ache with happiness.
I spot the florist a few stores down and head inside.
***
Mae
As I place the cookies into the oven, the doorbell rings. I open the door, and a delivery man stands there holding an outrageously large bunch of flowers. “Martha Mae…” He glances down at the delivery slip before looking up at me, “I’m sorry; there isn’t a last name here.”
I’m stunned. “That’s me.”
He hands me the flowers with a smile. “Looks like someone is thinking of you. Have a nice day, ma’am.”
I struggle to see over the top of the colorful bunch, pausing to place them on the table in the hall. I take the card and open it.
Dear Mae,
A wise woman once told me love isn’t proud.
Thank you. For everything.
Thinking of you,
Helena Leokov.
Oh my. Inside the envelope is a photograph. I smile when I realize it’s a picture of young Helena on her wedding day. The handsome man by her side with eyes the color of melted honey smiles, looking down at her with pure love. Helena holds hands with a pretty young girl in a wheelchair.
I can’t help but notice the small bump at her belly. The bridge of my nose tingles as I look up at the portrait of my late husband. “Well, how do you like that, Stan?”
I smile up at him, tears filling my eyes. Happiness warms me.
She did it.
She got her sugar rush.
The End.