Epilogue One
EPILOGUE ONE
ZARA
Five Months Later
I hear the door slam and look over to the bedside table, seeing it’s only 10:00 a.m. I get up, which feels like you are hiking up a mountain in high heels when you are carrying twins. “Zara!” I hear Gabriel shout my name as I turn the corner to see him standing there in his jeans and T-shirt in the middle of the living room and the kitchen. He takes the cowboy hat off, scratching his head before tossing it onto the island. “Zara,” he calls my name again, this time louder.
“Cowboy,” I pant, “is there a reason you’re hollering my name?”
“I just saw your father at the barn.” He puts his hands on his hips, and I raise my eyebrows. “Is there something you need to tell me?” Since we’ve been on baby watch, my parents have been staying in Sofia’s house, waiting for me to give birth. My father has even gone as far as walking in the morning and going to the barn with Ethan and Jacob too.
“I’m going to need a bit more context than that.” I put my hand on my stomach, which I think can’t get bigger, but then another week goes by, and it gets bigger. I’m almost thirty-seven weeks, which is apparently really good since usually they deliver twins at thirty-six weeks.
“So the babies aren’t going to have my last name?” he almost hisses, and his jaw goes tight, and I see him clenching his teeth. “Is this what you discussed with him?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer him. “I know we haven’t talked about it, but I assumed.”
“You assumed you would barge in here and not even ask me?” I fold my arms over my chest, which sits on my stomach.
“Is it because we aren’t married?” he asks. “Because we could be married.”
“Aw.” I roll my eyes. “That’s very sweet of you. Just what I want to hear when I’m about to have your children. We could be married.” I put my hand to my chest. “That is just so romantic.” The sarcasm runs off my tongue.
“Do you want to do it this afternoon?” he asks me, and I just look at him with a blank stare.
“You do not think I’m going to marry you when I’m as big as a fucking house, Gabriel.” My voice goes louder. “You do not come in here with this attitude when I slept maybe two hours last night because your children think nighttime is a good time to try out for the Olympic gymnastics team.” My voice gets even higher. “You come in here and you don’t even ask me, you get all high and mighty because you spoke with my father.” His eyes go a little lighter. “Who, by the way, likes to fuck with you by pushing your buttons. Case in point.”
“That’s because we aren’t married,” he points out, and I shake my head.
“Are you listening to yourself? I moved here to be with you. I moved here because I am in love with you. In love with Colson. In love with my life here, and the only thing you see is that we aren’t married?” I throw up my hands. “Incredible.” I’m about to say something else when I feel a gush of water, and my eyes go big. When I look down, I see a puddle around my legs under the dress I’m wearing, that looks like a tent. It’s also one of the only things that fit me. “Oh my God!” I shout, looking down at my feet before my eyes fly up to Gabriel, whose eyes look like they are about to pop out of his head.
“Is that your water”—he comes to me, stepping around the puddle—“or did you wet yourself?”
“Gabriel Jacob McIntyre, you are getting on my last damn nerve.” I turn and feel wetness coming down my legs. “I have to get in the shower.”
“Um,” he says, looking at me, “we need to get you to the hospital.” He takes out his phone and two seconds later looks at me. “Bat Signal has been activated.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask him. “You need to do it after my shower. I’m all gross, and we did it this morning, so it’s like all up in there,” I tell him, making my way to the bedroom, but then stop when a pain rips through me, and I put a hand out to hold on to the wall. “Oh, that hurts,” I hiss as I try to control my breathing like they taught me in the class we went to.
His hand rests on my lower back. “Sweetheart.” He looks down at me. “I mean this in the most sincere way, but if you don’t get your ass into the truck, I’m going to put you over my shoulder and do it for you,” he warns, the last little bit in a hiss.
The front door opens, and it sounds like a herd of horses rushing in. “Where are they?” Ethan shouts.
“They should be in the truck already,” my father says. “He’s supposed to be taking care of her.”
“It’s been one minute,” Ethan defends Gabriel as they walk into the house and spot us standing by the wall.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” my father asks. “Why the hell aren’t you in the truck?”
“ Your daughter,” Gabriel says with clenched teeth, turning to my father, “apparently needs to shower before going to the hospital.”
“Gabriel,” I hiss his name, who totally ignores me.
“I was giving her a minute before I carried her out,” Gabriel declares. The door opens, and I hear heels. All four of us look over to see Emily and my mother round the corner.
“What is going on?” my mother says, coming toward me. “Why are all of you just standing around doing nothing?” She looks at the men. “What is happening?”
“Your daughter”—my father now uses the same tone Gabriel used—“apparently needs to take a shower.”
“What?” Emily shrieks. “Why?”
“Did you guys do it this morning?” my mother asks me, and I close my eyes, wanting the floor to open up and swallow me. I mean, I’m obviously pregnant, so we had sex, but to admit to literally everyone in the room you did it this morning. I want to die.
“Oh that.” Emily chuckles. “Honey, there is going to be so much guck coming out of you. No one is going to notice.”
I want to say something, but then a sharp pain rips through me, this time much sharper than the last one, and it feels like someone stabbed my vagina. “Ugh,” I grunt, trying to breathe but literally holding my breath until it passes.
“You have to breathe.” My mother rubs my back, and I look over, glaring at her. “It helps with the pain.”
“Okay, I hate to break up this reunion,” Ethan says, “but can we get to the hospital, and then we can talk?”
“I’ll start the truck,” my father offers, about to rush out.
“I’ll grab the bags,” Emily adds, “and grab a plastic bag for her to sit on.”
“Wait!” Gabriel shouts, and everyone stops in their tracks. “We need to do something before we go,” he says, rushing to the bedroom. I think he’s going to just grab the bags, but instead, he comes back and looks at me. “This is not the way I wanted to do this.” He gets down on one knee. “But there is no fucking way you aren’t going to be wearing my ring when you give birth.”
“Gabriel.” I put my hand to my mouth, the tears coming down my face, and he just slips the ring onto my finger.
“Now we can go,” Ethan says.
“She didn’t answer,” my father notes, “and he also didn’t get my blessing.”
“Well, he has mine,” my mother says. “So on a technicality that we are a team, he has yours.”
Gabriel gets up from his knee and holds my face in his hands. “Sweetheart, you are the love of my life, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” His thumbs rub the tears away as they pour down my cheeks. “Nothing else in this world I want more.”
“That is so sweet,” my mother swoons, and I just smile.
“I don’t want a big wedding,” I finally say. “Just our close family.”
“So two hundred people.” Emily makes a joke. “That sounds small.” We all laugh, but I close my eyes when another pain rips through me.
“Can we please get the fuck in the truck?” my father urges. I look at him, and his face is pale. “Like now.” I look down and see my white dress has bloodstains on it. Gabriel’s eyes go down also, and his face goes even paler than my father’s. He doesn’t say a word to me; he just walks me to the door. Neither of us says anything as we make our way to the hospital. By the time we get there, half of our family is already spilling out of the waiting room.
I don’t have a chance to say anything because I’m whisked away when we get there. They rush around me as I get into the room. “Are the babies okay?” I ask frantically, trying not to panic but I can’t help it. I put my hand on the bed and bend over when I feel another contraction coming. I try to breathe but then hold my breath more than breathing.
“It’s normal with twins,” the nurse assures me, “but how about we get you changed and see what’s going on.” Her calm manner doesn’t help at all. Gabriel pulls my dress over my head, trying not to show me how worried he is when he sees my blood-soaked panties.
“It’s going to be okay, Sweetheart,” he tells me, kissing my lips. “In just a little while, we’ll have our babies, and everything will be okay.” I don’t say anything to him. I just nod and get on the bed when he tells me to.
“It’s going to be okay,” I repeat his words to him. “We’re going to have our babies.” He bends to kiss my lips.
Everything after that is a blur until the doctor places my son on my chest, and the only thing I can do is sob as I tell him how much I love him. Gabriel hovers over me, his hand over my head as he bends and kisses my temple before bending to kiss our son’s head. It’s a couple of minutes later when they take my son from me, and three pushes later, my daughter is placed on my chest. “My princess,” Gabriel says when he bends to kiss the top of her head. I never thought I could love something or someone as much as I love these two.
She’s blinking her eyes up at me when the nurse comes over. “How about we swap?” she says, handing me back my son while she grabs my daughter.
“Make sure she’s okay.” I look up at Gabriel, who nods and goes with the nurse while I look down at my son, who looks like Colson’s clone. “You look like your brother,” I tell him as he just blinks at me, “and your dad.” I laugh through the tears, watching Gabriel watch over our daughter.
It’s a couple of minutes longer until she, too, is on my chest. Side by side, they look at each other and then at me and all around. “You okay?” Gabriel comes to stand beside the bed, looking at me and then our kids, and I can’t help but nod.
“More than okay,” I say, sniffling back, “so much more than okay.”
He puts his arm above my head, squeezing in there. “You are so amazing.” He blinks away his own tears. “Utterly amazing.”
I look down at our kids, who are perfect in my eyes. “By the way, the answer is yes.” He just smirks at me.
“You bet your ass that it’s a yes.” He bends over our children to kiss my lips. “If it wasn’t, I wasn’t going to stop until you did say yes.” I can’t help but laugh. I can’t even remember what my life was like before this. I can’t remember anything until he came into my life. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love him. All I silently admit is I really was meant for Gabriel.
Two months later….
“Are they down?” Gabriel asks from the bed, opening one eye as I round to go to my side, but stop in front of the bed.
“For now,” I say, climbing into bed and face-planting. “Why didn’t anyone tell you about sleep regression?”
“Because then no one would have kids.” He places his hand on my ass, and I shoo it away.
“That’s what got us into this mess in the first place,” I mumble into the pillow. I don’t even have the energy to open my eyes.
“It was you jumping me the minute I got you into the office,” he reminds me, and I turn my head on the pillow.
I open one eye. “I don’t even have the energy to give you the finger.
“The lights are all on,” I mumble but close my eyes anyway. I’m dozing off when the phone rings on his bedside table. “Why isn’t your phone on Do Not Disturb?”
I get up on my elbow as he leans over to snatch his phone. “It is,” he says, looking at it and then at me. “It’s my dad.”
“It’s almost two a.m.” I look at the bedside clock. “That’s not good.”
“Yeah,” he says to the phone and not me, “what’s up?” I watch him sit up in the bed. “What?” he questions, turning to sit with his feet on the floor, his back to me, his head bent. “Is he okay?” I sit up, watching him. “Keep me posted,” he says, softly putting the phone on the bedside table.
“Cowboy,” I say his nickname, and he looks over his shoulder. I see tears streaming down his face. I spring to my knees, going over to him.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “There was an accident,” he says, and I gasp. “They don’t know if he’s okay or not.” I swallow or at least I try to swallow. “Two dead at the scene.”
“Cowboy,” I say, my neck tingling. “Who?”
His voice comes out in a whisper. “Charlie.”
* * *