Epilogue
Clementine
W e’re at another play again, but this time it’s summer and this time it’s a production of Julius Caesar at Shakespeare in the Park.
I spread the blanket as Dennis asks Grayson a million question.
“So, you swear to God this guy is really going to get stabbed?” he yelled excitedly.
“I do,” said Grayson, sitting down on the ground beside me as I began to root around in the huge picnic hamper for the cold sandwiches and potato salad. Bringing some of the St. John’s Military Prep boys out for an activity always meant enough food for a full infantry division.
“But,” Grayson added, “Baby Esther doesn’t know the ending, so don’t yell about the murder so loudly.”
“Oh, right,” Dennis said, grinning.
Grayson held 1-year-old Esther’s hands as she put her adorable chubby legs on the ground.
“Wow, she’s walking already?” Dennis said, pouting. “I missed it.”
“She’s just starting,” Grayson said. “See, you can help me walk her around.”
“Really?” Dennis cried excitedly, leaping to his feet.
Then he carefully and gently took one of Esther’s hands and Grayson took the other and they took our baby on a walk in the soft green grass, her bright blue eyes shining with happiness.
I watched them walk her around, my eyes lingering on how Grayson’s big form bent over almost double to make sure Esther didn’t have to stretch her arm at all.
My heart felt like it was bursting with joy.
Grayson glanced up, and his harsh face split into a smile.
He’s an amazing father.
A phenomenal costume designer’s assistant.
An excellent FBI agent, now working in national security.
And I was right all along. I do have the best husband ever.
Thank you so much for reading!