Epilogue
Lacey has been quieterthan usual lately. It’s her birthday week and we’re spending it here in New York. Today, we’re going to see the Red Shirt Museum.
When I’m settled on the seat next to her in the cab, I rattle off the address for the driver. Then I turn to her and squeeze her hand. “Are you thinking about running?”
We’ve been together for almost three months and each day feels more amazing than the last. I’m just not sure if she feels the same way. The distance has me thinking that I’ll come home to an empty apartment soon.
“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” she offers with a smile that’s too tight.
“I want to go with you,” I say, running my thumb along the back of her hand. “I was serious when I said you’d never have to run alone.”
Her eyes tear up. She gets weepy at the slightest thing these days.
“I know,” she finally whispers.
I tug her against my chest and hold her. She’s mine now and even if I have to walk away from everything to be with her, it’s a sacrifice I’ll make. I won’t even think twice about it.
When we go into the museum, she tugs on the sleeve of my t-shirt. I finally got used to wearing short sleeves again in public. Sometimes people stare but for the most part, everyone seems to ignore the war injuries.
“I just need to use the restroom one more time,” she says softly.
“I’ll wait for you,” I promise. She’s always afraid I’m going to leave her behind without warning.
When she leaves the bathroom a few minutes later, her whole appearance has changed. She’s grinning like she’s won the lottery. She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me and giggles. “Let’s not be late for the tour.”
Our tour guide is friendly and knowledgeable, sharing little nuggets of insider information about the show and behind-the-scenes facts.
“You’re geeking out,” Lacey whispers beside me.
She’s practically bouncing now, and I can’t figure out why that is. She’s been so serious all week then suddenly, she’s fine.
“I’m your geek,” I remind her, my voice going deep as I remember our first time together. That damn bathroom at the hotel. I can still get off to those images in my head. How it felt to be with her, how hot and tight her body was that night, how I held her for the longest time.
“That you are,” she answers and tugs on my arm while the rest of the tour group continues on without us.
“What’s gotten into you?”
She’s radiant, nearly glowing.
“I didn’t want to give this to you until I was sure. But then I was in the bathroom and I got the call confirming it.” She reaches into her purse and produces a red box wrapped with a white ribbon.
I study the shiny red foil. “This is your birthday. I shouldn’t be the one getting a gift.”
“You’ve already given me the perfect gift,” she answers.
I frown at that but accept the gift. I tug on the ribbon and remove the paper carefully, revealing a tiny cardboard box. I can’t figure out what she could possibly be giving me that she hasn’t already.
Opening it, I pull out a tiny piece of cloth. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s a baby outfit. Printed in a familiar font are the words, “Beam me up, Daddy!”
All of the oxygen is sucked from the room and instantly, I remember that time on the kitchen counter. It’s the only moment we touched each other without protection.
“I’ve been waiting for confirmation all week. But I didn’t want us getting excited until we knew for sure.” She gives me a hesitant smile. “You’re going to be a father.”
The weight of her words hits me. A father.
I pull her into my arms and swing her around the room only to stop and put her back on her feet. “Did I hurt you?”
She grins. “Are we excited about this?”
“We’re so fuckin’ excited, kitten.” I press kisses to her forehead, her mouth, her jaw. Anywhere I can get my lips.
My woman is carrying my child, and it fills me with pride. It erases the shame and pain of my past. The stupid decisions I made and the way I hurt those I love.
From now on, I’ll be a better man. One who stands by his woman and protects his child. I’ll be exactly what they need for the rest of their lives.
* * *
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