Extended Epilogue
OLIVIA
One Year Later
W ith one child on my hip and another in the oven set for release in less than a month, I can’t say I’ve ever truly felt happier than right now. As I drift through the enormous house Victor bought, believing that his four-bedroom apartment was far too tiny to fit the family he plans on building, there isn’t anything else I could ever really ask for.
“There they are,” my husband says as I step into the kitchen, where he’s in the process of preparing our supper. Both an attentive husband and a brilliant father, Victor has done everything in his power to make this process of child-raising and rearing as easy on me as he can.
Today is no exception as he prepares a meal of steak, pickles, sweet potato fries, and coleslaw. It isn’t the strangest request I’ve made from my pregnancy cravings, but no matter the order, Victor’s always here to fulfill it.
“How are my two favorite ladies doing?” he asks, cleaning his hands on a cloth hanging off his shoulder.
“My feet are killing me, and this little lady refuses to take a nap, but otherwise, no complaints.”
“Then how about once we’ve eaten, you take a long hot bath, and I take the little monster for a drive?” he says, making his way over to me.
“How do you do it?” I ask, pressing my forehead against his chest.
“How do I do what?” He slings an arm over my shoulder carefully to hug me without disturbing our daughter, Rebecca.
“Every time I think you’ve done all you can, you pull another trick out of your hat to make me fall deeper in love with you.”
“Hmm.” Victor turns his eyes to the ceiling as if getting lost deep in thought. “You’ve stumped me with that one.”
“Can it be? Have I finally left Victor Valentine speechless?” I tease, nuzzling deeper into his side.
“No. Because I’ve still got the old classics to draw inspiration from.”
“Oh, please enlighten me then.” I stare into his eyes, highly amused by his attempt to stay one step ahead.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” Victor asks, cupping my cheek in his palm. He eases forward to kiss me before his mouth lowers to Rebecca’s forehead for a gentle peck.
“Oh, stop. You don’t mean that.” I roll my eyes at his flattery. “It’s nice to say and great to hear, but my face is swollen, my hair’s a mess, and I’m dressed in a t-shirt made of baby spit and Rebecca’s formula.”
“And yet, you’re glowing so brightly, you could put the sun to shame.” He glides his hand around my cheek and behind my neck, cradling my head against his chest before continuing. “I won’t ever stop thinking you’re perfect, Olivia. No matter how low you feel, always remember that you only grow more beautiful to me each and every day. I love you, my wife. And it’s going to take a lot more than swollen feet, and baby spit clothes to scare me off.”
And there they are again—the warm reminders dripping down my cheek that this man is the greatest thing that has ever come into my life.
“And I love you, my irresistible, insatiable husband.”
Until the end of time.
The End. Thanks for reading!