"In three words I can sum up everything I know about life: it goes on."
–Robert Frost

April 15, 2022

The previous day, Sam and Mercedes hadn't left their condo. The pizza Sam ordered went untouched after he quickly tipped the delivery boy and left the box on the kitchen counter. Aside from that and using the bathroom, he and Mercedes had stayed by each other's side—phones off—finding comfort in one another until they exhausted themselves into an early night's sleep.

In the morning, Mercedes was the first of the two to wake up. She sat up—her eyes feeling heavier than they usually did in the morning—and looked over to her fiancée. Sam was lying on his stomach with his arm clutching the pillow that his head was resting on. Mercedes cast a weak smile at him; as her body started readying itself for consciousness she stared thoughtfully at the muscular blond. She didn't know why, but for a brief moment she wondered what her life would be like, without Sam. It was not as if she hoped she would ever find this out—she never wanted to go through that again. Rather, it was a reflection of how deep her love was for the man who, for the past ten years, repeatedly made her fall further in love with him. The man who would make her favorite chocolate chip pancakes and randomly shape them like Mickey Mouse's head, just to get a smiling reaction out of her. The man who was fine with escorting her from the silliest to the most important events of her career. The man who knew all the ways to calm her when she got angry, and simultaneously knew which buttons to press. The man who loved who she was on the inside and the outside.

And here they were, grieving together for the child they hardly knew. It was the one truth the inexplicable ordeal that brought Mercedes the greatest comfort—she wasn't going through this alone. Sam had been right there when the doctor delivered the news. He offered to be there when she wanted to be alone, and he respected her space. He held her when she cried, and he openly cried with her.

Being careful not to wake him, Mercedes placed a hand over Sam's bare shoulder; her weak smile strengthened with all of the thoughts that were going through her head. For a moment, she shut her eyes, bowed her head and silently asked God for strength to move forward from the miscarriage. She finished by thanking Him for Sam and his love, and then quietly mouthed, "Amen." When she opened her eyes, they fell on the blond's peaceful face. Her lips pulled up slightly again as she noticed the way his lips pouted slightly while he slept. His hair was cut short in the back again, but the long golden strands on top hung messily in front of his brows. Mercedes bent down to press a gentle kiss on his prickly cheek and then left the bed as stealthily as possible.

While brushing her teeth, she noticed her eyes were still puffy from all the crying she'd done the night before. After clearing her mouth of the toothpaste, she splashed some cold water on her face, patted her face dry with a towel and left the bathroom. Before leaving the bedroom altogether, she grabbed her cell phone and turned it back on; by the time she reached the kitchen, she'd had three missed calls from her publicist and one from her mother. Mercedes ignored the voicemail left from her publicist and made a regular call to her mom. Mentally, she wasn't sure if she was prepared for this conversation but it needed to happen, sooner rather than later.

"Hey Baby," said her mom as soon as she answered. "I was just getting ready to go to the store."

Mercedes took out a medium-sized frying pan to set on the stovetop. While moving about the kitchen to gather up ingredients for French toast—it was Sam's favorite—she listened to her mother tell her about her weekend plans.

"So how are you and Sam? Did you guys already flip your guest room into a nursery?" She chuckled softly, but when her daughter said nothing back she spoke, "Mercedes? You still there?"

"Y-yeah, I'm here…Mom?" Mercedes bit her lip. She felt like crying before the words could leave her mouth, yet her eyes remained dry. Her mother heard the struggle in her voice and asked her what was wrong. And as Mercedes set the loaf of bread in her hands on the black granite countertop, she quietly told her mom the heartbreaking news.

"Oh, Baby," her mom breathed after she finished talking. The former Ms. Jones—now Mrs. Owens—exhaled a long sigh into the phone and asked, "Are you okay?"

Mercedes echoed her mom's sigh, "I don't know. I mean I know Sam and I only knew about this for a week, but… it hurts…and it makes me so mad, not knowing why we only had a week."

"I understand."

"No, you don't," argued Mercedes.

She could easily imagine the look on her mother's face as she said, "Excuse me?" Brows pulled close, nostrils flared—so many of the reflexes Mercedes would express when she was challenged. "Mercedes Charice Jones, you are not the first woman to go through this and you won't be the last. So yes, I do understand."

Chagrined, Mercedes shut her eyes. From her mother's tone she could tell she'd hit a nerve but it didn't keep her from straining, "Mom please don't make this about you right now. Please, I don't need that."

"Mercedes, I'm not," Mrs. Owens sharply insisted. "I'm trying to tell you that you and Sam aren't alone in what you're going through. And I don't want you two to treat it like you are alone in this. Take the time you two need to get through this, but don't shut everyone out. Because if you do, I guarantee you that the anger and hurt and sadness you're feeling will consume you. I know neither of you want that for yourselves."

The singer was staring down at the empty frying pan, letting her mom's words sink in. Mrs. Owens had been right—she usually was. And as always, she knew how to deliver her tough love with support from her faith.

"You and Sam take care of each other. I know you said neither of you were planning for a baby right now…and maybe God wasn't planning that for you right now either. But when it's meant to be, it will be, Baby."

That was something Mercedes could hold on to. "Que sera sera," and one of her favorite song lyrics: "What is meant to be will be."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you more. Call me anytime you want to. And if I need to come out there, I will."

Mercedes' lips formed a hollow smile. "I'll remember that."

April 29, 2022

"Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean…with me bringing Sawyer and all?"

With a light smile, Mercedes answered, "Tina, please—he's only a few weeks old. He needs to be with his Mama. Plus Sam and I haven't gotten to see him yet. And what do you think I'm gonna do—hide out in my home until Sam and I make another baby?" She chuckled once, "Girl, I'm fine."

Ever since her call with her mother, Mercedes had been working hard to let her mom's words and Sam's comfort keep her going. Some days she felt foolish for being so grief-stricken; other days she lingered on the prospect of what it would be like to handle the pregnancy and wedding plans at the same time. Eventually, after Sam's parents were also informed of the news, Sam and Mercedes let the Chang Jr.s and the Andersons know as well.

Neither couple had been told about the pregnancy to begin with, but their concern over Mercedes' withdraw from the wedding plans brought the miscarriage to light. Earlier that week, however something in her had leveled out again and she made calls to Kurt and Tina, letting them know that she was okay. Once Kurt was convinced, he insisted that she get her invitations mailed and suggested that Sam or Tina help her. With Sam being busy for the remainder of the week, she enlisted in her matron of honor's help.

Tina followed her best friend from the front door to the Jones-Evans living room. As they passed through the main hallway, she heard a long, muffled, bending violin note. It didn't sound live, and as far as she was aware neither of her friends knew how to play the instrument, but it was a unique sound that was soon joined by an orchestra of ballad-like notes.

"Mercedes, what is that?" she asked.

"Remember how we turned that third room into a workspace for Sam for his birthday last year? Well he's in there right now. His friend, Jay, sent him a demo for something last night so he's listening to it." As Mercedes set Tina's bags down she added, "Thanks for coming down to help me by the way." She plopped down on one of the large floor pillows and grabbed a pen from the coffee table nearby. The wedding was less than two months away, and she and Sam had yet to send out their invitations. "After some bugging, I finally got Sam to get all the addresses for people he wanted to invite."

"What's the final count?" asked Tina. In her arms, the newborn cooed; each time he did, Mercedes would look to him.

Before she could stare too long, Mercedes tore her gaze away and said, "75 is the final count, but we don't have that many invitations to address."

Tina's face was pinched with concern as she cradled baby Sawyer to her. She offered an uneasy smile to the singer and quietly asked, "Are you sure you're okay with—"

"Yes, yes I'm sure," Mercedes pressed. "I'm fine, Tina. Besides, these wedding invites aren't gonna address themselves." She held up a stack of freshly delivered invitations; cream-colored parchment with the faintest blue hue. Printed on the parchment was the following:

Mercedes Charice Jones and Samuel Dwight Evans
request your presence to witness and celebrate
their step into matrimony on
Sunday, the twelfth of June, two-thousand and twenty-two
at four o'clock in Lexington, Kentucky.

Below the invitation were the address to the Evans' home and the RSVP information.

"Kurt said they should've been mailed weeks ago, with the short time frame the wedding planning's already in."

Tina patted the back of her fussy newborn while saying, "Yeah but don't stress over that. The people who really want to be there for you and Sam will be there, no matter when they get their invitation."

As Mercedes started to respond, Sawyer's soft whines turned into more attention-grabbing cries. She watched as Tina lightly bounced the small babe while quietly shushing him. Something in Mercedes made her ask, "Can I hold him?"

Right away, Tina looked to her friend apprehensively. Whether it was for Mercedes' own benefit or not, she couldn't be certain but she nodded and carefully handed her swaddled son to her friend anyway.

Sawyer's tiny lips quivered as he cried. Mercedes expertly held him in her hands, using the bend of her elbow to support his head while her overlapping palms rested under his bottom. Slowly she rocked from side to side while softly saying, "You're probably sleepy, huh, Sawyer? Yes, I know it was a long trip down here for you and your Mommy. And I bet you miss your Daddy and brother." The little boy cried a fraction less than before as Mercedes went on to ask, "Can I sing you a little song, Sawyer? Is that okay if Aunt Cedes sings to you?"

Smiling warmly, Mercedes continued to slowly rock from side to side while she softly sang, "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder; you get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger. May you never take one single breath for granted. God-forbid love ever leave you empty-handed. I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean; whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens. Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance…and when you get the choice to sit it ouut or dance, I hope you daaaaance…I hope you dance…"

Neither woman noticed that the peculiar music coming from Sam's office had silenced. They hadn't heard his office door open, nor were they aware of him standing at the living room entrance—sleeves pushed up to his elbows, arms folded while he looked on at his fiancée with Sawyer. By the time she finished singing the chorus, Sawyer's cries turned to soft, trembling coos. She proceeded to hum through more of the song as he settled down and eventually, the young boy had fallen asleep.

Tina sat smiling and feeling grateful that her friend seemed to find some solace in calming her son down. And after it seemed like Sawyer was in a deep enough sleep, Tina held her hands out, "Here, I'll go lay him down and then we can get started on the invitations."

Sam quietly excused himself from the scene as Mercedes smiled and handed the babe back to his mother.

With her hands free again, Mercedes swiftly brought her attention back to wedding. The encounter with Sawyer hadn't been as difficult as she'd anticipated, and she was thankful for that. After a deep breath, she started forming an organized bunch of piles for the invitations, envelopes, photos and seals. Back in March, she and Sam had booked a photo shoot and decided to include a wallet-sized image of themselves with their invitations.

Mercedes gazed at the picture—a sepia tone photo of the two of them posed in front of the Napa, California countryside. Sam wore blue jeans and a red plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he stood directly behind her with his arms around her waist. Mercedes wore skinny jeans and a loose, cherry red off-the-shoulder top. With her left hand rested kindly over his, her other hand was touched to the side of Sam's head. Her lightly-curled weave was swept over one shoulder; on the opposite shoulder, Sam was pressing a soft kiss to her skin, and she was gazing affectionately at him.

"Alright!" Tina returned, causing Mercedes to jump as she returned to the present. "Let's get those invitations done. Oh, and Kurt and I have been talking. We were thinking…you know how Sam and the guys are going to Vegas for the Bachelor party?"

Mercedes raised her chin with a skeptical gaze. "Yeeeaah?"

Tina grinned, "Well we wanna take you to Vegas that weekend too. But we'll see if we can avoid running into Sam and the guys!"

"Um…" Mercedes chuckled hesitantly, "I'm cool with going to Vegas and all, but I think you oughta run that plan by Sam first. I don't wanna make it seem like we're just following them there to spy. Plus Stacey's 17; there's not a whole lot to do in Vegas for anyone under 21."

Sam, Mike, Blaine, Finn, Artie and Sam's friend, Jay, were all hitting the Las Vegas strip Memorial Day weekend for the Bachelor Party. Meanwhile, Mercedes hadn't heard a thing about her Bachelorette Party until now, and all she'd told Tina and Kurt was that she wanted to do something fun. Quinn, Rachel, Stacey, Santana, and Brittany were all invited but she left the final plans up to Tina and Kurt.

"Okay!" Tina perked up and turned back around to go back down the hallway again.

Mercedes shook her head, bemused. "I didn't mean right now, Tina!" she called but the fashion designer ignored her. As she heard light knocks on Sam's office door, Mercedes finally got to work with addressing the envelopes.

Sam opened the office door and raised his brows, acting slightly surprised. "Tina, hey what's up? I didn't hear you get here," he lied while leaning out of the door to hug her.

Tina returned the hug. "Hey Sam! Yeah, Sawyer and I got here about twenty minutes ago. He's sleep if you wanna go see him," she gestured down the hall toward the guest room. "But I have a question for you."

He smiled crookedly, "Alright, I have an answer for you."

"Great. How would you feel if Kurt, the girls and I took Mercedes to Vegas for her Bachelorette Party?"

"That's fine," he said, looking suddenly confused as to why he was being consulted.

"On Memorial Day weekend?" Tina added.

Comprehension overtook the blond's confusion, "Ohh I see." He chuckled once and shrugged, "Well…Vegas is a big city. I don't see why we can't share it."

"Exactly!" chirped Tina. "Okay, great! Thanks" she said before returning to the living room with a grin on her face.

Sam shook his head after his friend and then slipped back into his office. Meanwhile the still-grinning Tina plopped down on the floor pillow beside Mercedes; as she pulled her boots off, she looked to her best friend, "Remind me to call Kurt when we're done. Vegas is a go!"

Please leave reviews! More's on the way! PLUS! Are there any pre or post-wedding events you'd like to see happen with Sam &/or Mercedes? Let me know in your review! Thanks for reading!
*Song lyrics mentioned in this chapter are not mine: "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack & "Everything Is Everything" by Lauryn Hill