Epilogue #2
“Oh!” she gasps, almost dropping the baking tray when she spots me leaning against the doorframe. “You’re sneaky. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I could see that.” I close the distance between us as she places the cookies on the counter. “Pretend I’m not here and do that little shake of your butt again.”
She whacks me playfully with the oven mitt. “Get out of here. You sound like Booth.”
My face falls. “Don’t insult me.”
Her laughter halts, and she sniffs the air. “Have you changed colognes?”
I bring the collar of my shirt to my nose. “Um, no.”
She shakes her head, blinking rapidly before smiling up at me. “Never mind.”
I drop my chin, studying her. “You okay?”
“Peachy!” she squeaks and starts transferring the cookies to the cooling rack. “Would you mind checking if Ethan has finished packing?”
“Sure.”
Quinn’s hand on my shoulder stops me mid-turn.
“He was worried what the girls would think about his glasses. I tried to tell him they wouldn’t care and would probably ask to try them on, but he didn’t buy it.” Her brows furrow. “I think a kid in his class made a comment.”
Fucking kids.
None of his cousins would dare tease him about his glasses. Outnumbered by girls, he’s closest to Everley and Madeline.
I kiss away her frown. “I’ve got it. You finish up here, and we’ll be down soon. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
Taking a sharp turn out of the kitchen, I bound up the stairs two at a time and head toward my son’s room. I rap my fist lightly on his door.
“Come in,” a small voice says.
I open the door to find Ethan sitting in the middle of his bed. He recently got into superheroes, and a bunch of his figurines are scattered atop his comforter.
“Hey, bud. You got your bag packed?” I smile and step inside.
He nods and shrugs simultaneously—whatever that means—his new glasses askew on his face.
At almost eight years old, he’s quiet when he wants to be.
Get him talking about something that interests him, and there’s no shutting him up—the perfect mix of his parents, though he inherited Quinn’s chocolate locks and hazel eyes.
We hoped to give him a sibling, but after struggling to conceive and two failed rounds of IVF, we took a break.
The disappointment and heartbreak took its toll on us both, and Ethan was more than we could’ve ever wished for.
“Your mom mentioned you—”
“My glasses. Yeah, I know,” he mutters, hands twisting. “They look stupid.”
Ethan isn’t a rude kid, so whatever the little shit at school said has clearly gotten to him.
“Hey.” I push my own glasses up my nose in an exaggerated manner. “They’re not stupid.”
He huffs a laugh. “Don’t you have to say stuff like that?”
“No, but I have to say things like ‘Don’t waste your time listening to mean kids.’ And if you’re ever not sure what’s going on up here”—I tap his head—“or in here”—then his chest—“you remember what we talked about.”
His eyes drift to the notebook sitting on his bedside table. I try to not react when I see a pen sticking out of the side and a few jotted words lining the pages.
“Not that anyone asked what Mom thinks,” a honeyed voice says from behind me, “but I happen to think glasses are very handsome.” Quinn wraps her arms around my waist, head peeking out behind my arm to grin at our son.
He rolls his eyes, but there’s no hiding his blush. “Mom,” he groans.
“Ethan,” she parrots. “It’s my job as your mother to be embarrassing. Your dad is the cool one.”
I peer down at her, giving her a look that says Really?
She giggles, skirts around me, and pecks a kiss to my lips.
“Gross.” Ethan gags behind us. “I’m going before you use tongues.”
He scampers toward the door, but before he can escape, I tug him by the collar of his T-shirt and drag him into a group hug. He protests for all of three seconds then wraps his skinny arms around us.
“I love you guys,” he mumbles and squeezes tighter.
Quinn sniffles, and at the sight of his mom’s teary eyes, Ethan makes a break for it.
“Honey, why are you crying?” I pull Quinn flush to my chest.
“He’s so big. And smart. And kind.” Her shoulders quake. “And I’m worried the new baby won’t love me as much.”
My head cocks to the side. Did I hear her right?
Hands on her biceps, I gently pry her away. A wobbly smile and big doe eyes look up at me.
“Quinn. Honey. What new baby?” My voice shakes.
“Surprise.” She cries harder. “You’re going to be a dad again.”
The air gets lodged in my throat. “Y-you’re pregnant?”
Biting her lip, she nods. “I found out this morning. Graham,” she whispers, “it happened.”
I grab her rosy, tear-soaked cheeks and bend down to smash our mouths together. She gasps, hands fisting into my shirt to deepen the kiss.
We pull away breathlessly, a shared look of absolute awe on our faces.
“I wasn’t sure it was possible to be happier than I already was,” I croak, vision blurring. “God, Quinn, how am I this lucky?”
Taking my hand, she presses it to her stomach. “We’re lucky to have you.”
PATRICK
Of course we’re late.
I’m always on time. Johanna is equally punctual.
Our girls, however, are the opposite.
Three equally loud voices argue from the backseat of the truck.
“Maddy, that’s my seat.”
“No, you’re the baby, Olivia. You sit in the middle.”
“Ugh! Shut up. I’m trying to listen to my music.”
Massaging my temples, I count to ten. One. Two. Three. Fo—
“I see you’re scared to approach the lion’s den as well.” A voice snickers behind me.
“Were you and your sister ever like this?” I ask, throwing a hand at the squabble of girls.
“You don’t want to know what we got up to.”
I turn my pitying expression to Johanna, who only laughs at my expense. “Help me.”
“Honestly, you’re too soft on them.” She pushes up on her toes and brushes a kiss to my chest. “I love you for it.”
Then, she goes into full Mom-mode. With her loud clap, the truck goes silent, and three pairs of eyes dart in Jo’s direction.
“Olivia, your car seat is in the middle. Sit your butt down. Madeline, quit shoving your sister. Lottie, we don’t say shut up.” She smiles sweetly at the girls. “Now, buckle up. We’ve got a party to get to, and your father is a second away from a mid-life crisis.”
Jo slams the back door shut, though their cackling laughter can still be heard. My wife turns to me, pretending to dust her hands. “And that’s how you do it.”
“Love, you’re my hero. Now, give me a kiss and let’s get out of here.”
We hightail it into the front seats and peel out of the driveway. Somehow, we make it with two minutes to spare, and once the girls are unbuckled, they dash to the back of Florence and Dex’s cabin.
We’re close behind.
My best friend spies my fatigued face. With his twins dangling off his arms, Dex plucks a beer out of the cooler and passes it to me. “You look like you need this.”
The fucker makes being a girl dad look easy. Jokes on him, though, because once they reach the precious teenage years, I’ll be the one laughing. It was only last week Lottie told me I’d ruined her life.
Apparently, I looked at her funny.
“Nice of you to join us.” My sister smirks while fanning herself with a magazine.
We’re the last ones here, and along with our hosts, we join the others around the small campfire, ready to light once the sun goes down.
The kids splash in the lake then spray the adults with water pistols. We catch up and share memories, and before we know it, the blue sky fades to a deep purple. The orange flames of the fire flicker under the twilight.
In a circle, the eight of us sit around the campfire. The kids are inside, with Lottie watching the younger ones.
Me and my siblings share a look.
Florence is already wiping away her tears, and I touch a hand to her shoulder, telling her to go first.
Dex helps her stand, the letter gripped between trembling fingers. With a shaky breath, she starts.
“Hey, Daddy. It’s me, Florence.”
We all listen intently, not a dry eye in sight.
Today marks fifteen years since we lost our dad. The four of us honored his memory by following in his footsteps and writing him a letter.
Florence tells him about her and Dex’s three beautiful girls, with one on the way. How she’s still making her lists. How every day, she finds something to be proud of, no matter how tough things are.
Booth is next. He talks about all the places he’s visited around the world with Aly, and that at the restaurant named after him, there’s a two-seater table in the corner, always with a sign that reads Reserved for Ted.
Graham shares a short poem then goes on to say how much of our dad he sees in Ethan. He talks about the light Quinn brought into his life and how, even to this day, she finds new ways to surprise him.
Then, it’s my turn.
I tell my dad Our Place is doing better than ever. I share stories of our girls and their different personalities. I let him know Mom’s okay. With Johanna and three beautiful children in my life, the puzzle’s complete.
As planned, we drop the letters into the fire.
Hand in hand, my siblings and I watch the embers float up to the stars and dance in the wind, hopeful our dad hears us.
Our loved ones wait for us with open arms.
“Pat,” Johanna says through her tears. “He would’ve loved that.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” I stare up at the twinkling lights before looking back down at my wife. “Thank you for building this beautiful life with me, love.”
“There’s a lot more left to build.” She smiles.
“You’ll always be mine, right?”
“I’m yours. Forever, Patrick Sadler.”
In a small town tucked between towering pine trees and crashing waves, eight people share one thing.
They’re family.
They’re loved.
They’re happy.
The end.
***
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