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You pull your dress down at the sides, smoothing out the wrinkles, the material scrunching up every time you move.
Dangly earrings to match the necklace on your chest, a spritz of perfume to your wrists and neck, a slide of gloss across your lips, and a final look in the mirror to see if everything was in check.
“Honey, you almost ready?”
Miguel stepped into the bedroom, eyes focused on the cuff of his shirt.
“Yeah, I just need to put on my heels,” you peer at him through the mirror and turn around. “You look very handsome right now.”
Miguel peered up at you with a soft smile on his face. He walks over to you as you stand, “Thank you and you look stunning, Mama.” He runs his hands over your hips, squeezing the plush skin.
“No, no, no. We said no baby talk tonight!” you chide like you didn’t almost cry leaving your baby at your mom’s house. You gave her what felt like a binder full of notes just for her to lodge it back in your passenger seat with a comment on how she knew what she was doing. When you got back to your house, you wallowed for an hour before realizing that you could finally take a long, long nap without the small cries of Gabriella forcing your eyes open.
“I didn’t say anything!” He holds his hands up. “I’m just saying your name.”
You hum as your head tilts, “Is this just a scheme for me to call you Daddy?’
Miguel pursed his lips before he answered, “No. But, I’m not opposed to that.’
“Of course, you’re not,” you laugh as you move him out of your way.
He follows you as you walk to the closet and grab your shoes, hands never leaving you when you bend down deep.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this,” you sigh as you snap back up and look at him from the corner of your eye. “But we have to make it out of the house today.”
“We’re going, I promise,” he kissed your lips. “Let me put on your heels for you.”
Miguel held your waist as you both walked to the door, taking constant glances at you.
During the third trimester, you had worried that the baby would change your body drastically, a frown on your face as you rubbed cocoa butter onto your stretch marks. Miguel was always there, taking over with steady rubs and affirmations into your skin.
You were doing something magical and remarkable by bringing another human into this world, by having his child. He was going to remind you everyday that you were beautiful.
Plus, the baby weight only made him love your body more. He’s been holding you from the waist down nonstop for a little over a year now.
He let you use his shoulders as leverage as he slid your strappy shoes on and kissed your knee after tying the strings tight. The movement was a habit built from your pregnancy and inability to see your feet.
“Let’s go party.”
The two of you were a vision in coordinating red and black. Miguel’s tiny details from his tie and threading matching the dark velvet of your dress.
Getting to the restaurant is the fun part.
He won’t let you touch a single door handle, running to every door before you can even blink.
He holds your hand as you step into the passenger seat and buckles your seatbelt for you, grinning wide when you peck his cheek.
On the way to the reservation, the two of you sing wholeheartedly to R&B with no fear of waking the baby with the slightest sound.
At a red light, Miguel belts through a long riff using your hand as a mic as you laugh at his antics. When the song switches to something even more romantic, he’s gripping your thighs and rubbing circles into the top of your hand.
When he pulls up closer to the restaurant, you gasp loud.
“Miguel!” your eyes sparkled as you read the large sign. It was a place you were dying to try for over a year, but every time you called, they were booked. “How did you even get a reservation?”
“I have my ways.”
At the valet, he runs around the car and guides you out, holding your purse for you, not wanting to see you bothered with it.
He handled everything tonight, from the place you were going to, to the reservations to the movie tickets. You could only see him as he gave his name to the host at the front.
“Thank you,” you say to him once you both are inside and settled at a table. “Such a gentleman tonight.”
“Anything for you. Don’t want you to worry at all. Just enjoy this.”
The waiter came with complementary bread and water, sliding the menus in front of you both. Miguel ordered a bottle of wine, not even gawking at the price, while your eyes scanned the list of options.
You both settled on an appetizer to share, entrees to split, and a sweet dessert to feed each other.
“It’s so lovely in here,” you look around, the dim lighting making it a more intimate scene. A jazz band was playing softly on a stage and the centerpieces sparkled on the table. “I love it.”
“I’m glad,” Miguel reached across the table, “I know you’ve been eyeing this place for a while. I really wanted to surprise you.”
Your eyes almost tear up taking in his sincere expression, “Thank you, truly. This means a lot that you listened.”
“Listening to you comes easy. It’s only when I can’t do something to help you that I feel like everything closes in.”
“Oh,” you blink fast at his words. You look up and fan at your face, “Miguel that’s-”
He pulls out his handkerchief, not wanting you to ruin your makeup.
“Don’t cry here, baby,” his voice is soft and sweet.
“I won’t. I just love you lots.”
“And I love you lots more.”
By the time the food comes, you both have stated several more love declarations and recounted your younger days together. You helped yourself to glass or two of wine, the smile never leaving your face, but the giggles escaping every second.
Now, Miguel was telling you an old story about how he busted his ass to impress you.
“You don’t get it, cariño. I was so…adamant about getting a certain look because I was certain you didn’t even know who I was.”
“What you don’t know is that a lot of women love nerdy men. I definitely noticed you, I was just waiting on you to make a move.”
Miguel fed you the last bits of a cream puff dessert, watching your lips slide over the fork.
You hum and cover your mouth as you chew, “Do you remember that punk phase you had?”
“Oh, would you look at that,” Miguel glances at his watch and waves down a waiter. “If we don’t leave right now, we’re going to miss the movie.”
You cackle at the peeved look on his face.
He was cute with his uneven mullet and pleather jackets. It definitely wasnt’t his scene, though.
The night continues in a pink, warm haze. The sun is slowly setting as you both head to the theater. Miguel hands you more comfortable shoes and places his tie in the back.
It’s fun to walk into the theater hand-in-hand like a young couple without a care in the world. Buying a popcorn bucket to share and big slushies like you didn’t just eat.
The movie is what messes you both up.
It starts off nice. The two of you are settled on the last row with no one else around, the perfect spot for cuddles, kisses, and more.
Miguel moves the middle arm to bring you closer to him and you slot into his hold like butter.
The main characters are a couple moving into a new home in the middle of nowhere with a teenager, a child, and a baby. It’s sweet and a little cliche with the couple thinking that the change in scenery would help them connect with their oldest daughter.
However, of course, there’s something wrong with the house. It’s a bit too perfect, the area too serene.
You hold Miguel tight as you watch the mom and dad fight for their lives to make sure whatever entity that resided in their house didn’t take their family away from them.
The father is kicking through a bolted door, trying to pry it open for freedom. The mother is holding her daughter by the legs as she tries to keep her brother alive. You breathe easier as she pulls her brother out of the crumbling floorboards. Your heart stops its rushing pace as you see four of the family members rushing outside.
“Where’s the baby?” Miguel’s voice snapped you back into pace. His hands were firm on your skin but his eyes were glued to the screen.
“I, I don’t know,” you whisper.
The scenes that played after had Miguel anxiously moving in his seat. His foot was shaking by the end of the chair, his arms were twitching around your body, and his hands kept fiddling with your jewelry.
The dad traversed his way back through the house, listening for cries. Miguel looked like he was holding back a yell, body leaning forward as he locked in on the scene.
The father made it out alive with his baby daughter in his arms.
By the time the movie was over, the velvet of your dress had his handprints all over.
You look at him as the lights turn on, his face blank of emotion.
The walk to the car is quiet, nothing to be heard but the crickets in the grass and the blast of music from someone’s passing vehicle.
When he slides into the driver’s seat, you lean over the console with a squeeze to his arm, “Are you alright?”
“Is it,” his hand grips the wheel. “Is it ok if we call your mom? To check on Gabriella.”
“Of course, baby,” you rub his shoulders and pull out your phone, your mothers number at the top of your most-recent list.
After a few rings, she picks up. Her head shakes as she takes in both of you with your heads smooshed together in the camera’s view.
“Look at you both,” she fusses. “Just sad.”
The camera blurs for the longest seconds of your lives, and then it shuffles over a sleeping Gabriella. Her chunky belly moved up and down with her soft breaths and her eyelashes long against her cheeks. She was like a little angel, tiny fingers twitching every now and then.
Miguel let out a long breath next to you as if he was holding it all this time.
The camera goes back to your mom who shuffles back to her own bedroom, “Do you two know what the definition of break is?”
“Yeah, mom. Miguel just wanted to check on her. The movie we watched frazzled him a bit.”
“It didn’t frazzle me,” Miguel sniffed. “I’m just a concerned father.”
“Well get unconcerned and don’t call me back! Me and my grandbaby are perfectly fine and you’ll see her tomorrow. Got it? Good.”
She hung up as you let an affronted sound, “I guess you heard that.”
The night ends a little easier. Miguel is more relaxed and decides to take advantage of the empty house.
He prepares a hot relaxing bath filled with bubbles and a flowery aroma, candles lighting the bathroom while you turn on a sultry playlist and bring out some champagne.
There’s a dark glint in Miguel’s eyes as you step into the tub, body open for him to see. You bend down and lay on him face to face.
“This was an amazing date night. Baby-snatcher house and all.”
“We should do it again sometime,” Miguel massages his hands into your back. “While we still can.”
“But for tonight?” your hands run over his wet shoulders, eyes roaming from the curves and turns of him up to his lips to his eyes. “Let’s have fun.”
Miguel groaned as his lips met yours, the water splashing around as his legs move to the edges of the tub.
“Let’s go all night.”