Epilogue Oops Emmett
Seven and a half years later
THERE ARE CERTAIN PHRASES WE find ourselves repeating often. Words that seem to leave our mouths day after day, until they become a part of us, embedded in the fabric of our lives.
For me, those five words are simple, each time just as damning as the last, if not perhaps more.
“Cara’s gonna fucking kill us.”
Carter rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Psssh. I can handle Cara.”
Garrett guffaws.
Jaxon shakes his head.
Adam runs his hands down his tired face. “As delusional as he is pretty.”
Carter grins. “So you admit it. You think I’m pretty.”
“You were okay,” I mutter. “And then you started going gray.”
Carter gasps, slapping my hand away when I poke at the silvery strands peppered into all the brown around his temples.
“How dare you. Ollie loves my salt-and-pepper sprinkles. She says they make me look distinguished.” He smooths his hands over his hair, strokes his beard, trimmed and tidy now that we’re a week out of the playoffs, but nothing can stop those silver strands from shining in the sun.
“Right, Ollie girl?” he shouts across the yard.
“Doesn’t my salt and pepper make me look distinguished? ”
She rolls her eyes, the same ones that bulge when she sees what we’re doing. “Cara’s gonna kill you!”
“I can handle Cara!” Carter shouts back. He twists back to us, eyes wide with fear. “I can’t handle Cara. Not anymore. I fear she’s only gotten more powerful with age.” So true. “Someone else is gonna need to take the fall for this one.”
“Emmett’s the reasonable choice,” Garrett offers.
Jaxon nods. “You’re her husband. She has to love you.”
Adam shakes his head, scratching his fingers through the scruff on his jaw. “She threatens to replace him far too often.”
“Adam’s right,” I agree. “He has to take the fall for this.”
“What? No. No, that’s not what I meant. I meant—”
“Yes, brilliant, Emmett!” Carter claps his hands together. “She never stays mad at Adam.”
Adam groans, looking up at the sky as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “For fuck’s sake. Fine, I’ll take the fall. But you know what? She’ll never believe it.” He points an aggressive finger at Carter. “She knows who’s responsible for the shenanigans.”
“Oh, here we go.” Carter stops what he’s doing, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m so tired of you guys acting all high and mighty. As if—”
“Whose idea was human decline bowling?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
“Okay, well, that’s—”
“Who popped the bouncy castle at Ireland’s first birthday party?” Jaxon asks.
“No, but that’s—”
“Whose fault is it there was pony shit on the floor at Ireland’s first birthday party?” Garrett adds.
“Oh, so now I’m responsible for an animal’s bowel movements?”
“Who outed his wife as pregnant at their wedding when the literal only rule he had was to keep his mouth shut?”
“Slander!” Carter hollers, busying himself with his task again. “This is vicious slander!”
“Slander is the act of makin’ false and damagin’ statements about a person,” a loud voice calls nonchalantly from across the backyard, and my six-year-old daughter shifts her heart-shaped sunglasses down her nose, sipping her pink drink. “Are they saying false things about you, Uncle Carter?”
“Well, maybe not false, but definitely damaging.”
“Then it’s not slander, Uncle Carter.” She would know; it was her word of the day two weeks ago.
Carter chucks his tools to the ground, arms overhead again. “Lana! Help me out here!”
“I’d love to, but I’m busy.” She shifts her sunglasses back up her nose, slurps loudly at her drink, and holy fucking shit, she is a carbon copy of her mother.
Lana Olivia Brodie showed up nearly two weeks late on a Thursday morning in September, named after both Mémère and her auntie.
Cara sobbed uncontrollably when she heard our girl’s first cry, and even more so, somehow, when she was placed on her chest. When she was able to speak again, she pressed her forehead to Lana’s and said softly, “Always late but worth the wait.” Still, somehow, it was nothing compared to the way she wept when Abel walked into the hospital room an hour later with a stuffed dinosaur for his sister and a bouquet of flowers for his mom, and whispered I’m so lucky you’re my Lana as he laid his small hand over her belly. That one really wrecked my wife.
All right, maybe we were both wrecked.
Speaking of my wife: “Hurry up, Carter. We only have, like, an hour to get this thing set up, played on, and put back away before Cara’s back from work.”
Carter huffs. “Look, I’m just saying, if she didn’t want us to find it, she wouldn’t have hidden it at Adam and Rosie’s house.”
“Yes, she would’ve!” Rosie calls from the steps of the pool where she’s watching Lily and Iris splash in the water. “She said we were the most mature, and therefore the most trustworthy.” She shakes her head. “Adam, she’s going to be so disappointed in you!”
Jaxon looks at Lennon. “Honey?”
“Cara’s never once used the words mature or trustworthy to describe you.”
Garrett’s gaze finds Jennie. “Sunshine?”
She holds up a thumb. “You’re good!”
I smile at Adam as Carter hands me a power cord and the blower it’s attached to. “Sounds like you’re the only one who’s fucked, buddy.”
Another groan from Adam, and I wait as Carter hands each of them a corner of the nylon material, the four of them spreading it out across the grass.
I plug the power cord in and crouch by the blower. “Ready?”
The boys step back.
Carter smiles. “Ready.”
I hit the switch, and the bouncy castle springs to life, inflating before our eyes, until it’s towering above us, and maybe the house.
Shrieks fill the yard—kind of the way this giant fucking bouncy castle seems to fill every last spare inch of Adam’s yard—as the kids bound over, all eleven of them nearly as excited as their fathers.
I am a little bit scared, though. “I don’t remember it being this big.” I gulp. “Will Cara see it from the street?”
“Don’t be a baby,” Carter says, rubbing his hands together. Ireland runs toward him, and he puts his hand out, stopping her. “Ah-ah. Daddies first. Auntie Cara never lets us play on this.”
It’s true. Every year, we celebrate the anniversary of Adam and Rosie’s camp with a huge fundraiser that Cara plans. And every year, we’re not allowed anywhere near the bouncy castle.
Until Adam accidentally let it slip that Cara needed a temporary storage space for it, and had chosen his garage. He’d barely finished the sentence before Carter, Garrett, Jaxon, and I were sprinting into the house and through the garage door.
“Daddy?”
I pause in my climb onto the bouncy castle, glancing back at Lana. “Yes, angel?”
“You’re gonna be in trouble with Mommy.”
I chuckle, hardly anxious. “Mommy doesn’t scare me.” I wipe the sweat from my brow. “Daddy’s gonna be quick, ’kay? I’m just gonna play for a bit, and we’ll put it away before Mommy gets home.”
“Whatever you say.”
The five of us climb aboard, walking to the center of the industrial-sized bouncy castle. Almost like we don’t know what to do, we stand there, just looking at each other.
“Carter.” Adam rubs his forehead. “I’m sorry, but I feel compelled to ask—”
“No forks, I swear.” He turns his pockets inside out, and an Oreo falls out. “Whoops, forgot you were in there, sweet girl.”
I roll my eyes as he pops the cookie in his mouth, and when he’s done, he starts a slow bounce.
No air at first, like he’s testing it out.
We follow suit, snickering as we get going a little faster, until Olivia yells out, “For the love of God, if you’re gonna do it, do it! Quit being babies about it!”
And so we do. We propel ourselves through the air, bounce ourselves off the walls, and launch ourselves down the slides. We laugh and scream and the kids decide they’re tired of waiting for their turn.
“Dad!” Abel stands below me, grinning up at me in a way that still makes my heart pound, even all these years later. He lifts up little Emmie, Garrett and Jennie’s daughter, and our group’s youngest. “Can we jump with you?”
I scoop up Emmie, and Garrett reaches his hand out to his son, Theo, helping him up.
Lily helps Iris up, and Ireland and Connor help Dylan—Jaxon and Lennon’s daughter—up before they climb up too.
Hunter and Brodie battle it out, and Lana pushes her way between them, beating them up the bouncy castle.
I pass Emmie to Garrett, and hold my hand out to my son.
Abel smiles, placing his hand in mine, the same way he did all those years ago, and I help him up. “Thanks, Dad,” he says, jumping into the air, doing a flip along his way back down. “P.S. Mom is totally gonna kill you for this.”
“You think so? Maybe she’ll go easy on me just this once.”
“Maybe,” he says with a laugh.
“Or maybe not,” another voice finishes.
And I stop jumping.
Carter stops jumping, then Garrett, Jaxon, and Adam. The kids, all of them.
“Ooooh,” Lennon coos.
“Someone’s in troubleee,” Jennie adds.
“Carter,” my wife says. “Unsurprised to see you here. Garrett and Jaxon, interesting choice from you boys…. And Adam.” She laughs, low and scary. “Sweet, angel baby Adam. I trusted you, Adam.”
“I’m so sorry,” he tells her, hanging his head.
I hang my head too. Keep my back turned, and my eyes on my feet. I don’t move a muscle, like somehow, if I’m careful—
“Emmett, just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”
Dammit.
Heaving a sigh, I turn around. An inch at a time, with my head down low. When I stop in front of Cara, she’s checking the time on her phone.
“Oh, good. You’re here.” She grins at me, and let me tell you this: I may be in a fuckton of trouble.
My wife may be more pissed at me than she’s ever been.
I may spend the next year, or more, groveling for forgiveness.
But holy fucking shit, this woman has been smiling at me for nearly twelve years now, and the sight is still powerful enough to bring me to my knees.