Epilogue
Reece
Ten Years Later
“But why can’t we come?” Ada whines.
I roll my eyes and grin at my youngest. Five years old and already giving me hell.
Guess she takes after her mother.
“It’s an adult trip, baby,” I explain for the thousandth time. “You and your brother would be so bored. I promise, it’s just going to be a bunch of boring grown ups talking about a bunch of boring grown up things for the whole week.”
A bunch of boring grown ups talking about a bunch of boring grown up things at an all-inclusive in St. Lucia, but my sweet daughter doesn’t need to know that.
Having kids is all about selective truths, okay?
“Plus, you get to spend the whole week at Grandma Jeanie and Grandpa Henry’s with your cousins.
You’re going to have way more fun than us,” I go on as she looks up at me with a pouty lip and round, ice blue eyes.
Her blonde ringlets stick to her face, slightly sticky from the cherry popsicle she just finished, and my heart gives a tight squeeze as I move to wipe off her mouth.
My little girl takes so much after Stace that sometimes I can hardly stand it. Looking at the tiny human I created with my favorite person and seeing my wife’s damn near identical twin will never fail to fill my heart to the brim.
Doesn’t mean I’m not still pumped for our first kid-free trip in three years, though.
Stace and me. Evan and Tashia. Gemma and Drew. Mae and Miles. Five days in the Caribbean to celebrate Evan and Tashia’s ten year wedding anniversary. I can almost feel the sunburn, almost taste the tequila shots that I’m certainly too old for but will be forced to take by Evan and Miles anyway.
“Is grown up stuff kissing on the lips?” Ada interrupts my daydreaming, looking up at me inquisitively as another pair of footsteps tramples down the stairs.
“Someone at school said grown ups sometimes kiss each other’s butts. Isn’t that weird?” My eldest hops onto the barstool next to Ada, all dark hair and green eyes, just like me.
I pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. “Lance…” I warn.
How the hell am I going to survive their teen years?
“I’m never kissing anyone. Even when I’m a grown up,” Ada swears.
“Yes. Good. I like that idea.” I hoist Stacy’s suitcase up onto one of our dining room chairs, tying a luggage tag onto the handle.
“I think you have to kiss somebody if you ever want a baby in your belly,” my son argues. “Right, Daddy?”
“Stace?” I holler towards the steps.
So not a conversation I’m willing to have with my seven year old today.
“Coming!” she promises, followed by excited footsteps. Stacy rounds the corner in a black lounge set and ball cap and my heart stutters.
A decade together and this woman still spikes my pulse when she walks into a room.
I still go weak in the knees when I smell peaches or when she kisses me goodnight.
I definitely haven’t stopped bending her over every chance I get when we have a minute alone.
Having two kids hasn’t stifled my attraction to my wife at all, ten years hasn’t dulled our spark.
If anything, I’m even more obsessed with her now than I was when we were in college.
“Mommy, did you have to kiss Dad to get us in your belly?” Lance asks before Stacy can fully enter the kitchen.
She whips her gaze between me and our kids and I give her a shrug.
We have a curious pair, that’s for sure.
“Uh, no. I drank a baby tea and you two got into my belly that way,” she says, rifling through her tote to undoubtedly check for the passports she’s already checked for twice.
“You drank us?” Ada squeaks, her eyes wide in horror.
Stacy pauses with her hands in her bag before deflecting. “Ready to go see your cousins?”
Ada bobs her head, her terror seemingly forgotten as her and Lance sprint towards our garage to start loading up in the car.
“Your parents are saints for watching all the kids this week,” Stacy mutters to me as we trail behind the kids, making sure the back door is locked and all the lights are off.
I snort. “You know they want even more grandkids. This week will be like Mom’s version of heaven.”
Of course, my parents might be singing a different tune after spending the whole week with five kiddos.
Our two. Gemma and Drew’s son. Evan and Tashia’s twin girls.
At least Mae and Miles have their own grandchild-obsessed parents or I have no doubt their little girl would be at Mom and Dad’s this week, too.
“Mhm,” Stacy hums as we grab our suitcases to roll out to the car. “Maybe we can try and make them another grandkid this week, yeah?”
I whip my head towards Stace, my eyebrows to my hairline. “Yeah? I thought you wanted Ada to be our last.”
Stacy shrugs. “Things have just been so good lately, you know? It feels like as good a time as any. If we want a third, why not?”
A smile big enough to make my cheeks ache unfurls across my face as I take Stacy’s bag from her so she can situate the kids in the backseat.
Things have been good. So good. Stace finally got up the courage to open up her competitive cheer gym for kids and teens four years ago. She was scared at first, scared it would fail, scared she wouldn’t be a good business owner, scared that she’d be a bad boss.
She was, of course, wrong on all accounts.
Then, when Dunn Elite became profitable enough two years ago, she got to hire that full-time, on-site physical therapist that she always wanted.
She really does provide great employee benefits.
Almost eleven years together. Eight years of marriage. Two beautiful kids, a house we’ve made into a home, a loving family, and friends so loyal it makes my heart ache. A business we get to run together, a place where Stacy can finally use her passion and make a difference in young athletes’ lives.
How fucking lucky are we?
I grin over at my wife as I slide into the driver’s seat after loading up the luggage in the trunk. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s see if we can give them one more.”
Stace winks at me while I pull out of the garage and my whole world feels so damn right that I resist the urge to clutch my chest.
Over a decade and she’s still in the pages of my journal.
I’m still her sunshine but she knows when I need to be a rain cloud too.
I still make sure that she feels like she’s my first and only choice, every.
Single. Day. I still make the constant effort to ensure that Stacy Dunn-Taylor knows she’s enough.
With or without me, she is more than enough.
Oh, and she still kills the spiders .