Epilogue
Abby - Three Years Later
The front door clicks open, immediately followed by the sweetest voice I’ve ever heard.
“MOMMY, WE’RE HOME!” Erin yells at the top of her lungs, and I hear Jack laugh loudly.
“I don’t think she heard you,” I hear him say. “You might try a little louder next time.”
“Daddy, you’re so silly,” she yells over her shoulder as she sprints into the kitchen, colliding with my knees at top speed. Luckily, this is an almost daily occurrence, and I’ve become an expert at bracing for impact.
“Hi, Little One,” I say with a groan, hoisting her up onto my hip. “You’re almost too big for this now, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be strong enough to lift you up.”
“Don’t say that,” she gasps in horror. “I’m ‘Little One,’ mommy, not ‘Big One.’ You just need stronger muscles.” Jack snorts, lips pressed together and trying to hold back his laughter.
“You’re right, angel,” I say, rapidly kissing her cheek until she’s giggling and squirming out of my arms. “I’ll get right on that.”
She wiggles her way to the ground, straightening her dress out before demanding to know where her brother is.
“He’s in the playroom doing puzzles,” I say. “Why don’t you go help him while I make you a snack?”
She doesn’t need telling twice, bolting from the kitchen and squealing, “Bubba, I’m home! Did you miss me?”
“Hi, pretty girl,” Jack says, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle while I slice an apple for Erin. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yes,” I reply, leaning my head back against his. “But it’s better now. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I miss you both every second that you’re gone.”
“Do you want to hear something that’ll brighten your day?”
“Of course I do,” I say, spinning around to face him and locking my fingers behind his neck. “Please enlighten me.”
“Well, today at pickup,” he begins, pausing to kiss me gently. “Our darling girl’s new classroom aide wished me a happy pride month.”
“What?” I ask with a shocked laugh. “Where did she get that impression?”
“Apparently,” he says, shaking his head with a grin. “Erin loves to share, to anyone who will listen, that she has ‘two dads who love her sooooo much’.”
“Oh my god,” I wheeze. “Did you correct them?”
“What was I supposed to say, ‘Oh, I’m not gay, her mom and I are married’? You want to risk throuple rumors?”
“What’s a ‘throuple’?” a tiny voice chirps from behind us. Jack and I both look over his shoulder to see Erin standing there, her tiny brows drawn together.
“It just means three of something, like how ‘couple’ means two of something,” he says smoothly. “Here, your mom made apple slices for you.”
He hands the plate to her, and she looks at him suspiciously for a few moments before deciding that his answer is satisfying enough.
“Oh great, now she’s going to ask for a ‘throuple’ of toys at school,” I mutter, watching her skip from the kitchen down the hall.
“Eh, the teacher can set her straight on that one,” Jack shrugs. “Kids say weird stuff all the time.”
I shake my head, pressing my forehead to his chest. I yelp when he lifts me up and sets me on the counter, stepping between my legs and kissing me deeply.
“Jack Robbit, you scoundrel,” I giggle. “One of these days you’re going to traumatize the children.”
“Good,” he mumbles against my lips. “Payback for all the times they’ve traumatized us. The broken-arm incident still haunts my dreams.”
I scoot forward, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing him back like my life depends on it. We’ve been married almost three years now, and every day still feels like a miracle.
We were married in a simple backyard ceremony a few weeks before Erin turned two, and Easton joined us a year later. Jack has been trying to convince me that we need one more, and despite my initial protests, I can’t help wanting to see him with another little to love.
I was nervous at first when I got pregnant with Easton—would Erin ever feel left out, or like she wasn’t enough for us? But watching the way she loves her brother, and the way Jack loves them both, silenced any doubts I may have had.
I find something new to love about him every single day. If he was steadfast, kind, and patient before, being a father twice over has only increased that tenfold. I will never get over how lucky we all are to have him. And he thinks he’s the lucky one.
He lifts me off the counter, setting me gently back on my feet and spinning me around so I can continue prepping for dinner. He kisses the top of my head, then smacks me on the ass playfully before following the sounds of tiny giggles into the playroom.
I hear Easton gleefully cheer, “Daddy!” and decide dinner can wait. As I walk down the hallway to join my perfect little family, I take time to look at the gallery of photos Jack surprised me with on Mother’s Day this year.
A dozen photos of Erin and Easton hang from the wall.
Holding hands in the car, reaching out to each other from their own car seats with arms stretched across the space between them.
Mouths wide open in screams of delight as Jack pushes them both on the swing set.
Bubblebath beards, birthday hats, couch snuggles–just a handful of snapshots of the beautiful life we’ve built together.
I stop when I get the last frame—the second painting Jack commissioned for me, one I had opened later that night when it was just the two of us.
In it, Jack has Easton perched on his shoulders, his hands held tightly to our baby boy’s waist while Easton’s tiny hands hold his hair like horse reins.
I stand to his right, holding Erin on my hip just like I did in the kitchen earlier.
And next to us stands Aaron, smiling widely with Erin’s hand in his.
A reminder that what she told her teacher, albeit slightly miscommunicated, rings true—that she has two dads that love her very much.
And that I have loved and been loved by two of the best men I’ve ever known.
Some days I still miss him so much that I can’t breathe. On those days, Jack simply holds me, and we grieve him together.
Ten years ago, if you were to ask someone to describe me in three words, they would probably say stubborn, independent, and always right. And I would correct them by pointing out that’s actually four words. There was nothing I loved more than being right.
When I first lost Aaron, and then found out about Erin, I was entirely convinced that I would spend the rest of my life doing everything alone.
I thought I'd be miserable and heartbroken forever.
But as I stand in the hallway, listening to Jack, Easton, and Erin belly-laughing in the playroom, I realize just how much the things I love have changed.
I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.