chapter 2.59

Winter

Gazing at myself in the mirror, I had an almost out of body experience. Not really believing it was all coming true.

My Jackson was going to be my one and only.

My forever after.

My hubby.
I chuckled about it, though. If only my high school self would have guessed how her real six year plan would have worked out, she would have died in her Simmy Choos on the spot.

So...how did the six year plan REALLY go down?

Year one—as written in my pink paisley journal-- High school sweethearts. We were named the most beautiful couple of Newcrest High and made a most gorgeous Prom King and Queen, if I do say so myself.
Year two: Jackson and I did NOT take a year long vacation. Instead, he toured the world as I stayed home, pining away. Result: tears, heartbreak, with Jackson hating my ever-loving guts. And I threw myself into the arms of a narcissistic jerk.
Year three-four: Jackson worked on his band’s image, cranking out hit after hit.
I graduated at the top of my class in business, got engaged to that narcissistic jerk.
Working at SM General as a fundraiser, I realized I wanted to do something more with my life.

Out went the narcissistic jerk.

Year five-six: Slaving on my nursing degree, instead of rising the ranks of the Richardson legacy, I was elbow deep in bedpans and angry old folks. But I didn’t complain because that brought my hubby to me all wrapped up in gauze and broken bones. He was my love and adoration.

And he forgave me.
We were currently just past year eight. I gave up my passion for nursing and went for broke—I was going to be a doctor like my mother. And it worked with Jackson’s schedule since all I could do was study. I didn’t have time for him and was a bit grateful when he’d tour with the band.

I’d never forget the elation we all felt when Patrick (Dr. Yang), told us the news that Jackson would be released from the hospital. I couldn’t believe that was almost two years ago. And that he would heal up nicely as long as he did physical therapy.
That first day on his journey to recovery was hard. But I was there for him.
I would always be there.
He was so cute when he asked me to marry him. I had no idea. We’d been dating for over a year and I was getting ridiculously impatient about it. All of my friends were at least engaged or married. (Even Luci was engaged to Paxton!) But I knew it would be difficult with Jackson. I figured I might have to alter my plans yet again and be happy with the status quo.

Taking me to “our spot” one day, I pulled him along and shouted, “Oh, look, Jackson! It’s a float plane!” I jerked his arm along.

He sighed and stumbled a bit. I’d always forget he couldn’t walk quite as fast as he used to since he had pins in his ankles. “God, Angel, will you stop? I can’t keep up.”
But I didn’t want to stop until he forcefully yanked my hand to him and then I realized what he had done.

I slapped my hands over my mouth. I saw the champagne, food, chocolates, and a tiny black box.

Wrapping his arm over me, he asked, “What do you think? Still want to go to see the plane?”
My body shook as he got down on one knee. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” was all I could splutter.
Jumping into his arms, I cried, “YES!” after he told me how much he loved me and asked if I could be his wife.
It was so mindboggling. The dream I had about us so long ago actually was going to come true.

We spent the rest of the afternoon, talking about how many kids we wanted and where we were going to live.
“That one is pretty,” Luci said, breaking me out of my reverie. “It almost looks like the one I wore.”
Her and Paxton had a whirlwind romance once she got a job with the San Myshuno Times as a reporter a few years back. They were the cutest together. And we became fast besties, picking up where we left off in high school.

My minion.

I laughed, thinking what I used to call her when we were trying to take down Lana.

We never knew what happened to Lana Richardson. There was an open case on the hit and run that almost took Jackson’s life. I thought it could have been her, ordering a professional hit. But there wasn’t enough conclusive evidence and besides. I didn’t believe Lana Richardson was capable of murder. Luci was the scapegoat. Why wouldn’t something bad happen to her?

Trying on another dress, both Celia and Luci sighed together.

“That’s the one,” Celia said.

I glanced up and down at myself in the mirror.
All at once, a wave of nausea pulled at my stomach, but I kept my cool.

Jackson and I were going to have our little family sooner than later.

I could only hope I didn’t show at the wedding.