Pretty Little Mistake

October

“I’m not coming out.”

Beckham has been hiding in the bathroom for the past twenty minutes. It’s pathetic really.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” I say through the door, making a silly face at Bee, who watches me from her carrier, since I already have her strapped in, ready to go. “Everyone’s waiting on us to go trick-or-treating.”

“I can’t be seen in this costume.”

“Have you seen what I’m wearing?” I counter, knowing he hasn’t.

“No.”

“Trust me, I look ridiculous. No one will be looking at you. Be a good sport, please. It’s Bee’s first Halloween. She’ll have these pictures to remember forever.”

“Pictures?” He sounds panicked. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned there would be photos, but I thought that was a given. “You didn’t say there would be pictures.”

“Calm down. Just come out here and show me. You’re doing this for Bee.”

“No, Bee can’t talk yet. She didn’t request this. This is all you.”

He’s right. But can’t he humor me?

“If you don’t wear the costume, then you’re not going to match Bee and me.”

He grumbles some more, unintelligible strings of words, before I hear the click of the lock. It swings inward, revealing him in the Sulley costume from Monsters, Inc.

“I look insane.”

I point to my face, painted green to blend in with the giant round one-eyed monster attached to my body. “No, that would be me, but it’s all for fun. It’s Halloween! And look, isn’t Bee cute?” She’s dressed in the monster costume Boo wore in the movie.

He tries not to smile. “She is pretty cute. You know”—he goes to put a hand on my waist and realizes he can’t, so he pulls me closer by my wrist instead, smiling triumphantly at the ring he slid onto that finger just a few weeks ago; I didn’t even have a panic attack this time—“we could always make another one.”

I pat his chest mockingly. “Nice try, but we’re going to give it a few years. There’s no way I can go through a pregnancy that tough again so soon.”

“You never know—it could be fine this time.”

“I’m not jinxing it. Now, quit your stalling. We need to go. Everyone’s downstairs waiting for us.”

He scoops up the carrier and opens the bedroom door. Voices carry up the stairs. I can’t help but smile, happy that our friends and family are together with us. We bought the brownstone less than a month ago, and we’re only halfway moved in, but it’s already been so nice to have people over and have space to move around and not be right on top of each other. Not to mention a full kitchen. Although I was sad to say goodbye to the nursery Beckham had so lovingly decorated. Bee’s room is the only one we’ve fully completed in the house.

Everyone—and by everyone, I mean Beckham’s parents, Laurel and her boyfriend, and my brother with the latest girl he’s seeing—is in the living room and quiets when they see us, hopefully not out of horror, but instead processing the sheer awesomeness of our costumes.

My brother called and came to see me one day, having grown tired of my silent treatment. I gave him Beckham’s address, figuring it was time for me to stop acting petty. We talked for a long time and hashed out a lot of things. We’re working to repair our sibling relationship. I know we’ll never be as close as some siblings, but I appreciate him trying when I wasn’t willing to. That means something. He and Beckham are even getting closer. I think they realize that for all our sakes, and especially Bee’s, we need to set the animosity aside.

My parents, however? I don’t have any plans to try to mend that relationship. I realize now it was never one to begin with. More of an ownership than anything else.

I take in everyone else’s costumes with a smile.

Laurel is dressed as a witch, with Crew as some sort of grim reaper. My brother isn’t in costume, but his date is a sexy angel. I’m pretty sure her bare legs are going to freeze outside, but who am I to warn her? I grin at how much Beckham’s parents went all out with their Morticia and Gomez costumes.

“Your costumes are amazing.” Laurel stifles a giggle, hand over her mouth.

“Sulli as Sulley. Interesting.” My brother tries not to laugh, but I think Laurel’s laughter makes him succumb to his own.

Beckham gives him the finger. “At least I’m wearing a costume.”

I put my hand over Beckham’s, pushing his arm down to make the vulgar gesture disappear. “Not in front of the baby,” I hiss.

“She didn’t even notice. She’s half-asleep.”

Sure enough, Bee’s eyes are little slits. She wants to stay awake so bad but is giving in.

“Okay, then we better go, because Bee is already wearing out, and we haven’t even left yet.”

Our group heads outside to walk down the block to where there’s normally a farmers’ market but tonight there’s a mini carnival for Halloween instead, complete with game booths and food.

“I like your costumes,” one guy compliments my little family of three.

“Great family costumes,” says a woman a few minutes later.

“See?” I bump Beckham with my elbow. “Aren’t you glad you wore the costume now?”

He gives me a reluctant smile. “I guess, Wazowski. But next year, I pick the costumes.”

“Ooh”—I do a little shimmy—“so you’re already planning on participating next year?”

“Only if I get to pick them.”

“Deal.” I shake on it with him. I doubt he can make me dress up as anything too crazy, considering some of the costumes I’ve done in the past. “I like that you’re already thinking of the future with me.”

He chuckles, Bee cradled in his arms since she got a little fussy. “I did put a ring on your finger, or did you forget already?”

“That you did. You must like me.”

“Or,” he says, capturing my chin between his fingers and tipping my head up, “I might even love you.”

I grin like a woman who’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted—my dream job, the guy I always crushed on, and the cutest baby in the world. What more could I ask for?

He kisses me then, and I make a silent promise to myself that I’m going to make this a tradition, that he must kiss me in this spot every year for Halloween.

Bee begins to fuss.

“Shh,” he croons. “Tell Daddy what’s wrong.”

If he keeps talking to her like that, I might be convinced to give him another one sooner rather than later.

I loop my arm through his. “I see some candy apples over there calling my name.”

He comes with me, entertaining all my indulgences on my favorite night of the year. Who would have thought when I showed up at his place a year ago, dressed as a Dementor, that this is where we’d be twelve months later? Life is funny like that: you never know in the moment how things will end up. I guess that’s the beauty of it, the choices we make, and I choose Beckham over and over and over again.