Draw Me In (37 page)

EPILOGUE

“
Are you excited to go see Uncle Ian?
”
I sang against the round cushion of
her cheek. How a baby could smell so good was beyond me, but Izzy
’
s sweet scent was so scrumptious I
wanted to eat it up. Sometimes at night I
’
d
lay awake, kissing every inch of her sweet face, still not believing she was
mine. My little miracle.

Isabella
’
s cherub eyes flickered with
excitement. She had her daddy
’
s
color, all baby blue.

“
Can you say
Uncle Ian
?
”
I asked, shifting her weight on my hip as we rode the elevator up to the fifth
floor loft. I squeezed her chubby thighs and Izzy curled into my side with a
giggle that echoed off the tight walls. When she laughed, everything in my
world slowed, time dripping by like sweet molasses. Her laughter was joy in
pure, audible form. One of those sounds that hadn
’
t been tainted by a life
’
s worth of worry or stress or
influences or pain. It was innocence personified, and I wanted nothing more
than to keep her like this forever. To slow our existence down and treasure
each second of her little life. To say I adored her would be the understatement
of the century. This little girl was life
’
s
biggest blessing in every sense of the word.

Though
it had been over two years since I
’
d
lived here, the moment the elevator doors spread open to the dark greeting of
the hallway, I was instantly transported back in time.

So
much had happened after the move. The cancer and the treatments. Graduation and
a year later, a wedding, followed by the sudden surprise of two unexpectedly
pink lines. We became a family, the three of us. But truly, we had been one
long before that. And it wasn
’
t
limited to just Leo, Izzy and me. Maybe it didn
’
t necessarily take a village to raise
a child, but it definitely took a lot love, and our Isabella was blessed with
so many people in her life to smother her with that love, to the point of
suffocation.

One
of those smothering family members stood on the other side of the doorframe
tonight, greeting us with a smile and an instant hug, his two arms wrapped
around us both Go-Go-Gadget style.
“
There
’
s my favorite girl!
”

“
Why thank you,
”
I smirked, my eyebrows jumping up
and down teasingly. Joshua scowled at me in mockery and scooped Izzy from my
arms.
“
Oh,
you meant Izzy.
”

“
She
’
s here!
”
Ian
’
s voice met my ears before his figure
came into view. He raced from the bedroom to greet us, and for a moment I
thought an actual tug-o-war would ensue with my baby in the middle. Joshua
relented with a smile and let Ian have his moment with his goddaughter.
“
I
’
ve missed you, Love.
”
Pressing his lips to her forehead,
Ian kissed the crown of her dark hair and Izzy wrapped all five fingers around
Ian
’
s
pinky, squeezing it tight. If it was possible for a grown man to melt, Ian had
just turned into butter. He kissed her again and said,
“
All ready for your six month
photo-shoot?
”

I
’
d figured that was in his babysitting
plans for the evening. Having a phenomenal photographer as a best friend meant
all of our best memories had been captured and documented, and ours adorned
every wall of the penthouse apartment Leo and I shared. From our Villa wedding
to the maternity pictures, and even to the birth of our little girl, Ian had
been there for it all, his camera ready to snap every moment.

And
for a while, I wasn
’
t
sure how many moments we would have. Recording them in that way had been a sort
of obsession for me, and I was grateful Ian readily offered his talents to help
me meet those goals. I could always count on him to humor me, even when it
meant coming to Leo
’
s
treatments to document his progress or staying over late that night to
photograph my labor pains. I had albums that documented it all. I think part of
me needed the tangible evidence of this unbelievable life of mine to realize it
wasn
’
t
a dream. I
’
d
pinched myself to the point of bruising, and those albums were torn and
tattered from all of the times I
’
d
spread open their pages. This was my reality, and it was better than anything I
could have ever created on my own.

“
It
’
s been two weeks since the last photo
session,
”
Ian defended, nodding his head toward his camera like I should expect to see
dust coating the lens.

I
peered around the two of them to glimpse a white backdrop strung from the
rafters, studio lights blaring like starbursts onto the paper. There was a pile
of plush stuffed animals and a box full of Cheerios on a table nearby. Pink
tutus and headbands with fake flowers practically the size of Izzy
’
s head hung from a clothing rod. It
honestly looked like the dressing room belonging to a Broadway actress.

“
You spoil her, you know?
”
I laughed, smoothing my anxious
hands down the length of my black cocktail dress.

“
Like it
’
s my job!
”

Ian
didn
’
t
wait for goodbyes and swiftly carried Izzy into the
“
studio
”
as I handed over the diaper bag to
Joshua and began running down the list of instructions.

“
Her bottle is in the inside pouch,
along with her pajamas and her favorite blankie that she can
’
t sleep without. And she likes to
fall asleep in your arms rather than in her pack-and-play. And she prefers
Row, Row, Row, Row Your Boat
to
Three Blind Mice
.
”
My voice quivered a little at the
end of my words, and Joshua placed a hand on my forearm, slinging the bag onto
his shoulder.

“
She
’
ll be fine, Jules. Promise. You go
enjoy your evening and don
’
t
give us another thought. Stay out as late as you like. We
’
ve got things covered.
”

I
looked over my shoulder. Bursts of white pulsed against the walls and Izzy
’
s squeals of laughter matched the
click, click, click of Ian
’
s
shutter. I wanted to go give her one last kiss, a squeeze, and a
“
Mama loves you,
”
but then the waterworks would start
and I hadn
’
t
figured out how to turn off that faucet. Hormones had never been kind to me
before, and apparently the ones that accompanied motherhood were a whole new
animal, one I had yet to tame.

I
swung my gaze back to Joshua.

“
You
’
ll call me if you need anything?
”

“
Of course. Now get!
”
He shooed me toward the door as
though beating dust out of a rug and I obeyed, slipping back into the elevator
and then out the lobby and onto the concrete walkway. The December air bit my
skin, my breath puffed out of me in white clouds that hung suspended inches
from my lips. I ran my hands up and down my arms, willing the friction to
create some semblance of warmth to layer my body.

I
didn
’
t
have to wait more than ten seconds before our sleek black SUV pulled up to the
curb, the windows a tinted onyx barrier.

Balancing
on my six-inch heels, I stepped off the curb just as Chauncey, our chauffeur,
skirted the bumper of the vehicle and popped open the door to the back seat.

My
heart dropped.

“
No Leo?
”
I sighed, lowering a leg into the
car. The seat cushions were warm and I sank down into them and let the leather
hug my body.

Chauncey
shook his head and said,
“
No,
Mr. Carducci said he
’
ll
meet you at the gala and that he sends his apologies.
”

He
held out a velvet black box that I grabbed from his hands before he shut the
door.

I
supposed the apology was in that box, but what I really wanted right now was
for Leo to somehow jump right out of it and into this backseat to join me. He
’
d been working overtime lately and
tonight would be one of the few nights this week that we
’
d have some one on one time. A little
pre-gala, backseat make-out session had been racing through my mind all day.
Unfortunately, it didn
’
t
sound like that was on the agenda.

I
set the box down and shifted in my seat, my eyes glazed over as the city lights
blurred past in my periphery. My dress was short, hitting mid-thigh when I
stood, even higher when I sat, and I pulled down on the hem to somehow add just
a few more inches to its length. I knew no one would be looking at me tonight
—
Leo was definitely
the man of the hour
—
but
I had to at least be a presentable trophy wife draped to his side.

I
never understood why that term had become something derogatory. Honestly, I
loved being Leo
’
s
trophy wife, because it implied that he was a total winner. And he was. We both
were. We
’
d
fought and won so many more battles than just the one with his cancer. So if
anyone deserved a prize, it was Leo. I proudly wore that title tonight, so
maybe even the slightly skanky dress was actually a good choice.

After
a quiet five-minute drive, Chauncey pulled up to the hotel, the tires fitting
into the grooves of the curb. A man outfitted in a tuxedo with a wool black
coat with tails down to his calves walked up to greet me and he slung his arm
into the crook of mine as I stepped onto the concrete.

“
Mrs. Carducci,
”
he nodded, a half-bow. You
’
d think after two years I
’
d be used to the sound of it, but
every time someone said my name it was like hearing it for the first time.
“
Right this way.
”

The
foyer was glittery gold; crystals and beaded garland draped over every
available surface. Three Christmas trees at least a dozen feet around, all
staggering in height, filled the rotunda, their glass ornaments like huge
reflective bubbles, iridescent and illuminating. Everything was encrusted in a
copper-colored glow.

 
The grand ballroom doors were stretched
open wide at the end of the entryway and I could hear the jazz ensemble inside
playing
God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen
in
a lazy, drawn out piano rhythm. The clinking of crystal and the buzz of
conversation filled in the beats and rounded out the tune.

“
Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Carducci,
”
the man said as he slipped his hand
out from my side. I nodded my thank you and stepped into the room.

There
he was.

Gorgeous
as ever, his jacket fitted over broad shoulders, his bow tie pressed into that
shallow divot of his thick neck. Eyes an intense ocean blue, his mouth a
permanent offering of a smile to anyone that walked up to mingle or to simply
exchange a hello. I could stare at him like this all night, watching him
interact in a way that was so effortless for him. There was so much life here,
all of these people, everyone with their own story. If I had time, I
’
d want to sit down with each one of
them and ask what brought them here tonight. But I knew their answers. Leo. Leo
was the reason for it all.

“
Ladies and gentlemen,
”
a man with silver hair and a ruddy
glow to his skin announced, bending down to the microphone on the podium at the
stage in front. Round tables holding ten or more chairs each dotted the room
and even though they weren
’
t
instructed, the party-goers all began finding their seats.

Leo
’
s eyes met mine and he nodded his
head toward the table at the very front of the room. Excusing himself from
conversation with a couple I
’
d
recognized from our last soiree, he came over to me, his hand grazing the bare
slope of my back. My stomach clenched and I trapped in a breath as his fingers
ran back and forth over the low seam on my dress.