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Every day I wake up and just listen to my husband's rhythmic breathing. I wrap my arms around his muscular chest and wonder how I ever had thought that that other guy was the one.
-
Courtney awoke to the cry of a baby; her baby. The ex-CIT smiled and opened her eyes, grabbing her fuzzy mint green bathrobe from the bedroom door, and walked accross the hall to the nursery.
The walls were painted by an old friend, rainbows and fantastic flowers making a magical design. The floors were carpeted in a forest green, and the ceiling had glow-in-the dark stars glued to it. Courtney crossed the room and scooped up Audrey, her daughter. The tiny girl was almost a year old, and she had a tiny tuft of black hair on the top of her head.
Courtney rocked the baby in her arms while she walked to the kitchen. Her husband was already there, sitting at the table with a glass of milk and an omelet. "There's fresh coffee in the pot, and an omelet for you on the counter."
"Thanks," She opened the refridgerator with one hand and grabbed a bottle for Audrey. "I'm starving." She watched Audrey hold the bottle with her tiny little hands, skin just a few shades lighter than her own.
She waited until Audrey was finished and watched her fall asleep in her arms. She kissed her head and could feel her husband just behind her. "Here, can you put her back in the crib?"
"Sure," He expertly cradled their daughter in his arms and added. "We must be the luckiest parents in the world: our daughter loves to sleep and almost never has tantrums!"
She giggled, then watched him walk back down the hall. She blushed and chided herself for looking more at his butt than anything, but who could blame her? He was so handsome at the age of 26.
She grabbed her plate of food and sat down at the kitchen table, helping herself to her husband's milk. Everything was so perfect.
She idly thought back to her first marriage, which had lasted only two years.
-
Courtney's first marriage had been more fantasy than reality. They, being in the eye of the media constantly (no thanks to Chris), acted far more in love than they were, and that caused them to wonder just how in love they were. They began looking at other people, wondering if all they needed to rekindle the flames was a baby.
They tried and tried, but every time they tried, they failed. There was never a baby, and they began to feel as if they were using each other. Eventually, they divorced, and the press swarmed around them like ants around a half-eaten peach. Courtney hadn't been able to talk to Bridgette, seeing as she was half-way around the world at the time, and she felt like all her friends didn't understand.
So she confided in Trent.
Trent understood her, he made her feel special, made her feel loved. She found herself wanting to be more than friends with him. He would stop by her apartment everyday just to ask how she was.
Then, one night, they'd kissed. It was so automatic, like clockwork. He'd been rushing out the door, late for a gig with his band, and had pecked her on the lips. He'd turned to walk out the door, then stopped, realizing what he'd just done. He'd slowly turned and looked at Courtney's pleasantly shocked face.
"Do you wanna go out sometime?"
"Of course!"
A year later, they'd gotten married. Then Audrey had come along two years later.
-
"Court," Trent whispered. "I have to go, the guys are waiting for me." Courtney looked up at his green eyes. "I love you." He kissed her softly, lips barely brushing against hers.
"I love you, too. Don't forget to call."
Then he left to go rehearse with his band, who still, surprisingly, hadn't released an album.
Courtney rinsed off her plate, rinsed out Trent's glass, and slipped into her home-office. It was a cozy little room with books stacked all over the place and a large cherrywood desk.
Courtney was a writer.
She'd written her first book at age 16 (Total Triumph for Teens), and ever since had been writing. Currently she was working on a novel about four teens on a reality TV show who'd been paired up against their will because the host wanted more viewers. The Goth girl and the Musician, the Punk and the C.I.T. She'd modeled all the characters after the friends and enemies on Total Drama Island, but decided that the C.I.T. (she named her Emilie) would not go for the punk, like she had, but would instead fall for the musician.
She grabbed a pen and began writing the next chapter in which Graham (the musician) and Emilie had a secret meeting in the woods.
Life was good.