“Shower time, pip. Let’s go. Get in quick, clean off, and I’ll let you sit on my face before we have to go out and be normal, functioning members of our families.”
I stare at him.
I stare at him because I kind of want that, even though I just came and came hard.
I want to clean off and then sit on Zander’s face and let him make me come again.
He sees that, too.
He moves a hand to my wrist, tugging until I’m standing, pulled up to him with a hand wrapped around my naked back.
Zander's lips are on mine, kissing me deep and long until I’m more than ready for our shower.
Hey, reader!!
In this last section of the epilogue and Zander and Zoe’s story, there is a mention of pregnancy. If you are struggling with infertility, miscarriage, or if for any reason you don’t enjoy reading about that topic, you can skip the last few passages and know that Zander and Zoe have their own happily ever after.
You are loved, you are important, and you are seen.
Love,
Morgan
FIFTY-THREE
THE BEST DAY
TWO YEARS LATER
It’s nearly midnight when Zee walks in the door.
My stomach moves to my heart.
I have no idea how he’s going to take this. No idea at all.
“Hey,” I say, my voice low, my hand in my pocket.
“Hey, you’re up,” he says with a smile, putting his things down and walking right to me.
The way he always does.
Even if I’m in bed, asleep before he comes home (a rare occurrence), he heads to me first, leaning down and pressing his lips to my temple before moving on with his night, whether that’s eating leftovers or taking a shower or whatever.
His arm wraps around my waist, and he presses his lips to mine.
“Late night?” he asks into the top of my hair.
I don’t respond, and his brows furrow.
“Everything good?” he asks.
My eyes are on the clock behind his head.
It strikes midnight, and I take a deep breath, putting my hands to his face, the scruff there, his hair still that longish length my dad hates.
“Can I ask you a question?” I ask, and I can hear my words shake just a bit.
“What—”
“It’s midnight,” I say, as if that explains everything.
And it does for us.
“Yeah, pip. Ask away,” he says. His face still holds concern, but some of it has dropped with the familiarity of this routine.
I breathe in deep, trying to remember the words I practiced for hours.
One hand moves to the pocket of my hoodie, the one with Coach on the back and the Bulldogs mascot on the front.
My fingers wrap around the stick, and I lick my lips, locking my eyes on his.
“If it’s a girl, how do you feel about Taylor?” I ask.
It sounded funny and silly when I practiced the line all night, hours after I took the test, and then ran two towns over to get four more to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.
I wasn’t, of course.
We’ve been trying for six months.
The longest six months of my life, it felt.
But this month seems to be the one, I suppose.
“What?” he asks, confused, but then I pull my hand out from my pocket, wrapped around the handle of the capped pregnancy test.
I give Zee a watery half smile as I hold it between us and shrug.
I had words.
I planned words to say. An entire monologue, even.
But they’re all gone now.
They flew from my mind now that his eyes are wide, locked on my hand, now that his mouth has dropped open.
“Are you . . . ?”
I nod.
“You sure?” he asks, words soft.
I nod again.
And then it happens.
The most gorgeous look comes over my husband's face, a mix of love and joy and awe, and it’s everything I hoped it would be and nothing my anxiety told me it could be.
He’s happy.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispers.
I nod, my eyes watering further, a single tear falling.
And then Zander wraps his arms around my waist, my hands going around his neck as he lifts me off the ground, spinning me as a sound of pure fucking elation comes from him.
I laugh as he spins me, filing this moment in my mind as a core memory.
When he stops, he kisses me, pressing his forehead to mine but not letting go.
“I’m gonna be a dad,” he whispers. I nod.
I don’t think I can speak anymore.
“Know you love her, but if it’s a girl, we’re not naming her Taylor, Zo.”
And then I burst out laughing.
EPILOGUE
Never Grow Up
Seven years later
A sliver of light comes into the dark room, but I don’t look up to see who is there.
I know who it is.
Right now, my eyes are locked on my daughter.
The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
Dark hair and bright blue eyes like her mother, dimples from her dad.
She’s the twin of her older brother, who’s already three.
Her oldest brother, Mikey, is all me, the firstborn and nearly six.
Our middle boy came right after, Joey having just turned four when she came into the world.
But Allison is the baby.
The last one, Zoe keeps saying.
Her entire tiny hand is wrapped around my finger as I rock her in her room.
The fact that she’s already four months old tears something inside of me, something I know from the boys will never repair the right way. An old injury that will ache when she smiles, that will hurt when I flip through old photos.
“She’s dead asleep, Zee,” my wife whispers from the doorframe she’s leaning on. I look up at her, and she’s got a small smile on her lips.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” I whisper.
“Was waiting for my husband to come back to bed.” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“Number four?” I whisper with a smile.
She shoots me a look that could kill.
“Allie’s the baby. Let her have that,” she says, and her argument is sound. My baby girl. The spoiled princess. The first girl on both sides, Luna and Tony having two boys of their own, and Ace living the rockstar life with his girl. “Come on, honey,” she whispers, softer now. “Let's get to bed.” Allie’s nose scrunches in her sleep, my heart skipping a beat as it does.
But then she settles, snuggling into my chest, and I look at my wife.
Her eyes roll, and she shakes her head softly before she speaks.
“Five more minutes. Then you both need to go to sleep.”
I smile and nod and kind of feel like our six-year-old, being given five more minutes to play video games before Zoe makes him brush his teeth and go to bed, but I don’t care.
I’ve got Allie.
The five minutes fly by as they always do. Eventually, I lift my little girl, pressing my lips so gently to the light whisps of dark hair on top of her head before placing her into her crib gently.
“Never grow up, princess. Okay?” I whisper.