Say You Will (Trust & Tequila Book 3)

Epilogue

Icontemplate the man in the chair before me. I need answers. I know he has them. He’s lacking only the right . . . encouragement. “You may consult your notes.”

The young man nods with a look of relief, floppy blond hair falling in his eyes, and scrolls through the laptop located on his desk until he finds what he needs. He clears his throat. “The majority of the universe is composed of dark matter and dark energy. We can’t directly observe them, but their presence can be inferred by their gravitational effects on visible matter and the expansion of the universe.”

“You are correct. You’ll be expected to provide several specific examples of those effects on Tuesday.”

A dark-haired twenty-year-old raises her hand behind him.

“Yes, Ms. Porter,” I say.

“Will we be allowed to use our notes for the exam?” she asks.

I nod. “You will. There are certain circumstances where memorization is critical for success. This is not one of those times. It’s far more important for me to see that you’re capable of compiling information, locating that data, and utilizing it. This means the more thorough your preparation, the better your chance of success.”

I perform my regular scan of the auditorium at Blackwater State University and smile at the gorgeous woman seated in the back row. She’s wearing a black T-shirt-style dress, an oatmeal-colored cardigan, and white tennis shoes. She smiles back and gives me a finger wave, one hand resting on her adorable round belly. She glances at her watch, then says something to the four-year-old boy who stands beside her.

He bounces and waves, calling, “Dad, it’s eight o’clock.”

I grin and check my watch. “That’s it for tonight, guys. I’ll see you Tuesday. Study hard.”

I gather my things and head for the doors as the classroom empties in a flurry of closing laptops and backpack zippers. Feet thud. Clothing shuffles.

Franki rises and moves toward me as I head her way.

Though Franki and Ian aren’t near the door any longer, students send a constant stream of “good nights” their way.

“Good night, Dr. McRae.”

“Lookin’ good, Dr. McRae.”

“Hey, Ian.”

“How soon till the new little professor gets here?”

That’s what happens when your wife teaches several Gen Ed history classes and a language. Even a lot of the math and science majors know her and love her.

She answers in her gentle voice, and then I’m there, leaning in to kiss her and take her bag from her shoulder. “How was your evening?”

She smiles. “It was good. This schedule works for now. How was yours?”

“I’m hopeful for this year’s crop of students. They’re showing promise.”

I crouch down beside Ian and ruffle his hair. “And how was your evening?”

He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Nanny Lisa taught me how to make chocolate chip cookies while you and Mom were working. They’re in a plastic container in the car because it’s not healthy to eat them all at once, and they’re meant for sharing. It’s tedious to be patient.”

“I agree, but some things are worth the wait.”

“I liked your lecture. Dark matter is fascinating. Also, Mom says we’re kidnapping you,” he says.

“Is that right? Is this a short-term kidnapping for the evening or a full-on abduction?”

Franki pats my forearm. “Abduction for the entire long weekend. Resistance is futile.”

The three of us troop our way out of the auditorium and head for the parking lot. Next semester, Franki and I will both be on parental leave. She’s due to give birth the first week of January. We’re both also taking the summer following spring semester to stay at home with our children.

After that, we’ll see. Franki hasn’t decided whether she’ll want to return to work full-time, part-time, or stay at home until Ian and Baby Cassie are both in school. Nanny Lisa is technically retired, with a comfortable nest egg we provided, but she visits often and sometimes babysits.

We’re lucky enough to have flexibility. I don’t need to work, financially speaking. Gabriel is far more efficient in the corporate world than I ever was. He even manages to have a life while he’s at it. I’ve changed direction in my other work now, as well. I act as a consultant and work behind the scenes, but it’s been years since I pulled out a pair of surgical gloves for anything but cutting the cord when Ian was born and carving pumpkins.

I nod my thanks and “good night” to Ryan when we reach the car. Then I open Franki’s door for her and assist her into the passenger seat. When I’ve closed her door, Ian and I walk around to the driver’s side. I open the door to the backseat and give him a boost. He climbs into his car seat in the back, and I watch to be sure he straps himself in correctly.

“Spencer and Dante already have Oliver there, right?” he asks.

“That’s right,” Franki reassures him.

I kiss Ian’s forehead, then I move to my seat. When I’m settled, I reach across and put a hand on Franki’s belly, bending over to speak directly to our baby. “Are you cooperating with your mother tonight?”

She laughs when Cassie kicks out a foot and bumps my mouth. “She loves your voice.”

I lift an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen. She could simply be so irritated by me that she’s trying to shove me away.”

She rolls her eyes. “Not possible.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” I ask.

“Absolutely. I feel great,” she says.

Once she made it past the exhaustion of her first trimester, her energy has been off the charts. Her RA went into remission with both of her pregnancies, which isn’t uncommon. She never had any significant morning sickness or serious aches or pains either.

“It occurs to me that maybe we should strive for a constant state of pregnancy for you. I’m willing to put in the effort that requires. For medicinal purposes,” I say.

She laughs. “No thank you. Perpetual pregnancy is unreasonable.”

I shrug. “The offer is on the table. By the way, you’re not very good at this kidnapping thing. You didn’t steal my phone or my car keys first.”

“How would you drive if you didn’t have your keys?” Ian asks reasonably.

“Good point.” I put the car into gear. “One kidnapping cabin vacation coming up.”

Ian drops off to sleep in the back, while Franki and I talk quietly for the two-hour drive. Then we’re pulling up to our cabin.

Dante steps out onto the porch with Oliver, who sits beside him and thumps his tail with joy when we get out of the vehicle. The cabin has been through some renovations, expanding it to fit a family. We also added a second story observation deck, a fire pit, and a swing set in the back. But it’s still our cabin.

Oliver is getting old, with gray peppering his chin. A dachshund’s life span can be up to around eighteen, and Oliver is nearly sixteen. We’ll pamper him and love him for every year we get. I lean down to pet him. “Hey, little man. You ready for some rest and relaxation?”

He sits up in his majestic wiener dog pose, and I pass him the treat he knew I had in my pocket.

I turn back to see Franki at the back door of the SUV, adjusting Ian as she plans to pick up our sleeping boy and carry him to his bedroom. With my hands on her hips, I guide her away from the backseat. “How about you don’t do that?”

She huffs. “He’s not that heavy, but it’s getting awkward with the belly in the middle.”

“He’s too heavy right now. Let me. You could put on some tea?”

She drops a kiss onto the center of my chin. “Good idea. I’ll meet you on the upper deck.”

I pass Dante as I step onto the porch. “You guys settled in at your place?”

“All settled. Give us a call or send an alert if you need us.” Dante gives a salute and heads for his car.

We built a guest cabin on the other side of the airfield. Dante and Spencer’s place isn’t visible from ours, but it’s close enough that I can have security easily accessible for my family should we need it. It’s worked out well. Bronwyn and Dean bring their kids up sometimes, as do Gabriel and his wife.

I settle Ian onto his bed. He barely stirs as I take off his shoes and street clothes, then dress him in his flannel pajamas. I tuck him under his blanket and gently lift Oliver where he waits on the floor by my feet. Oliver cuddles into the curve of Ian’s arms and, instinctively, Ian pats his back. I kiss them both on the forehead.

Ian doesn’t open his eyes, but he mumbles, “Love you, Dad.”

“I love you, Ian. Happy dreams.”

Then I head off in search of my wife. I find her on the rooftop observation deck, wrapped in a warm blanket and holding a cup of herbal tea in her hand. I lower myself to sit beside her and accept the mug of Earl Grey she passes me.

We sit quietly and soak in the night sky, and the sounds and scents of Pennsylvania in autumn. When I finish my tea, and she’s finished hers, I lean us back on the cushions. My bicep curls under her head, and her blanket covers us both.

She places her hand on my cheek and kisses me. I slide my hand under the blanket, then under her dress. She’s smooth. Warm. Luscious. It’s a clear October night. The stars sparkle overhead. We have the telescopes and camera equipment in a room nearby, but we haven’t bothered with those. Tonight, it’s just us with a sky full of stars and a life full of love.