23. Epilogue
Epilogue
Becca: Four Years Later
I squint against the dazzling Cozumel sunlight as I squeeze another dollop of sunscreen into my palm. "Hold still, little man," I plead, trying to pin down our squirming toddler.
Liam protests, his chubby legs kicking in frustration as I attempt to cover every inch of his exposed skin.
"Just a little more on your nose," I say, dabbing the white cream onto his button nose. His freckles—just like mine—are already starting to appear across his cheeks despite my vigilant sun protection routine. "We don't want you turning into a lobster, do we?"
Liam giggles at that, momentarily distracted enough for me to finish the job. At two and a half, Liam is a perfect blend of Clive and me—my dark hair and freckles, Clive's piercing blue eyes, and stubborn chin. And unfortunately, Clive's fearlessness, too.
"Done!" I announce, capping the sunscreen bottle and securing the small life vest around his neck and chest. "Now you can go find Daddy."
Liam doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles to his feet and races across the pristine white sand toward the dock where Clive is preparing our sailboat. I watch as my husband spots our son running toward him, dropping what he's doing to scoop Liam into his arms, tossing him playfully into the air before settling him on his shoulders.
The sight still takes my breath away—this powerful man who runs a global empire reduced to a puddle by our toddler's gap-toothed smile.
"You coming, Bec?" Clive calls, one hand steadying Liam on his perch, the other shading his eyes as he looks my way.
"Just packing up," I call back, gathering our things. I slip my cover-up over my bikini, grab our bag, and make my way down to the dock.
The sailboat gleams white against the turquoise water. "The Rebecca" is painted elegantly across the stern. It was Clive's anniversary gift to me last year—"Something worthy of carrying your name," he said when he presented it to me.
"Everything set?" I ask, stepping carefully onto the boat.
Clive nods, lowering Liam to the deck. "Life jackets are ready, the cooler is stocked, and I've checked the weather three times. Clear skies all day." He pulls me close, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Happy anniversary, Mrs. Bishop."
The title still sends a thrill through me, even after four years. "Happy anniversary," I whisper back.
I lean into his solid warmth for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mingled with sunscreen and salt air. After four years of marriage, my heart still skips when he holds me like this.
"Remember our first time here?" I ask, looking up at him.
Clive's eyes darken with memory. "How could I forget? That disastrous weekend when Kay thought Jack would propose to you."
"And instead..." I trail off, smiling.
"Instead, I finally told you how I felt." His thumb traces the line of my jaw. "The best decision I ever made."
"Boat, Daddy! Go!" Liam interrupts, tugging on Clive's swim trunks with the impatience only a toddler can muster.
"Aye, aye, Captain Liam," Clive says with exaggerated seriousness, making our son giggle. "Ready to set sail?"
I settle onto one of the cushioned seats, securing Liam between my legs as Clive moves around the boat, casting off lines and checking instruments. Something is mesmerizing about watching him like this—so capable, so in his element. The man who once intimidated me with his commanding presence and stern business demeanor now makes silly faces at our son while expertly navigating us out of the marina.
The wind catches the sail, and we glide into the open water. Liam squeals with delight as the boat picks up speed, his little hands gripping the edge of my seat.
"Not too fast," I call to Clive, anxiety fluttering in my chest despite knowing he'd never take risks with our son aboard.
"Just enough to feel the wind," he assures me with a wink that makes my stomach flip.
As we sail farther from shore, I can't help marveling at how much has changed. Four years ago, I was trapped in a relationship with Jack, desperate for approval, checking boxes on a life plan that wasn't making me happy. Now, here I am, married to a man who sees me—really sees me—with a beautiful son and a career I love.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Clive asks, adjusting the sail before coming to sit beside me.
"Just thinking how different life would be if we hadn't come to Cozumel that weekend," I reply, leaning against his shoulder. "If you hadn't found me crying on the beach after Jack and I fought."
"I would have found another way," he says with such certainty that I believe him. "Some things are inevitable, Rebecca."
Liam wiggles free from my grasp, crawling over to inspect a coil of rope with intense toddler focus.
"Careful, buddy," Clive says, keeping a watchful eye on him while still giving him space to explore.
I reach into our bag for my camera, wanting to capture this moment—my two loves against the backdrop of endless blue. The wind tousles Liam's dark curls as he points excitedly at something in the water.
"Fish, Mama! Big fish!" he shouts, bouncing on his little legs.
"Probably a barracuda," Clive says, moving to look over the side. "They like to follow boats sometimes."
I snapped a photo of them leaning over the edge together, Clive's protective arm around our son's waist, their matching profiles silhouetted against the glittering sea. Four years ago, I never could have imagined this life—this happiness that fills me so completely that sometimes it feels like my heart might burst.
"I think I'll frame this one," I say, checking the image on my camera's display. "Maybe for your office?"
Clive smiles, that special smile he reserves just for me. "I'd like that. Though I already have so many photos of you two, my clients probably think I'm obsessed."
"Aren't you?" I tease, setting the camera aside.
"Completely." He doesn't hesitate or joke. That's one thing I've always loved about Clive—his honesty. When he loves, he does it without reservation.
The boat drifts into a calm patch of water, and Clive drops the small anchor. "This is the perfect spot for lunch," he announces, reaching for the cooler.
I help him spread our picnic on the small deck—sandwiches, fruit, and the special bottle of champagne he brought for our anniversary. Liam settles between us, immediately grabbing a strawberry.
"Slow down, buddy," I laugh, wiping juice from his chin. "The strawberries aren't going anywhere."
The sun warms my skin as we eat, conversation flowing easily between bites. This is what I never had with Jack—this comfortable silence, this ability to be without performing or seeking approval.
"So," Clive says, pouring champagne into plastic flutes (a concession to boating with a toddler), "four years. Any regrets?"
This question has become our anniversary tradition. Every year, same question, same answer.
"Only that we didn't start sooner," I reply, clinking my glass against his.
His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. "That would have been divine."
"I agree," I say, reaching over to run my fingers through the silver at his temples.
"Mama, swim!" Liam interrupts, pointing at the water.
"After lunch, sweetheart," I tell him, offering him a sandwich. "Eat a little more first."
Clive watches us, a curious expression on his face. "What?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "Just... sometimes I still can't believe this is my life. That I get to have this."
I know what he means. After his unhappy years with Kay and my relationship with Jack, which left me constantly doubting myself, this happiness feels almost too good to be true.
"I have something for you," he says suddenly, reaching into the cooler and pulling out a small wrapped package that he must have hidden beneath the ice packs.
"I thought we agreed no gifts this year," I protest weakly, but I'm already reaching for it.
My fingers work on the wrapping paper. Inside is a velvet box that makes my heart skip—even after years of marriage, the sight of a jewelry box still makes me tingle with anticipation.
I lift the lid to find a delicate gold compass pendant, small but exquisitely detailed, hanging from a delicate chain.
"It's beautiful," I breathe, lifting it carefully.
"Turn it over," Clive says softly.
On the back, three coordinates are engraved in tiny, precise numbers.
"The first is where we met," Clive explains, his voice low and intimate. "The second is Casa Azul, where I finally made you mine. And the third..."
"Is our home in New York," I finish, recognizing the numbers. Tears prick at my eyes.
"So no matter where life takes us, you always know the way back to what matters most," he says, taking the necklace from my trembling fingers and moving to fasten it around my neck.
Liam watches with solemn curiosity, then reaches out to touch the pendant as it settles against my collarbone.
"Pretty, Mama," he declares.
"The most thoughtful gift," I whisper, leaning in to kiss Clive, tasting salt and champagne on his lips.
"I have something for you, too," I admit, reaching into our beach bag. "So much for our no-gifts pact."
Clive raises an eyebrow, watching as I pull out a slim envelope. "Great minds," he chuckles.
I pass him the envelope, suddenly nervous. "It's not as romantic as your gift, but..."
He opens it carefully, his expression shifting from curiosity to wonder as he pulls out the ultrasound image. He just stares at it for a moment, those piercing blue eyes widening.
"Rebecca," he whispers, looking up at me. "Is this...?"
I nod, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face. "Due in December. Liam's going to be a big brother."
Clive's face transforms with joy—the same expression he wore when I told him about Liam, but somehow even more profound. He reaches for me, careful of our son munching on strawberries between us, and pulls me close.
"You magnificent woman," he murmurs against my hair. "How long have you known?"
"Just two weeks. I wanted to be sure before I told you." I pull back to see his face. "Are you happy?"
Instead of answering, he kisses me, deep and tender, until Liam pats our cheeks with sticky hands.
"Daddy, kiss Mama," he announces, as if sharing breaking news.
"Yes, I am," Clive laughs, scooping Liam up. "Because Mama just gave Daddy the best present ever. You're going to have a little brother or sister."
Liam tilts his head, processing this information with the serious consideration only a toddler can give to life-altering news. "Baby?" he finally asks.
"That's right, buddy. A baby." I smooth his wild curls. "But not for a while yet."
"I want a baby now," Liam declares, making us both laugh.
"Patience, son. You'll have to learn that from your mother because you won't get it from me." Clive winks at me, and I feel a blush warming my cheeks.
The boat rocks gently beneath us as Clive studies the ultrasound again. "I thought you seemed different lately. More tired. I just assumed it was your new project keeping you up."
"That too," I admit. "But mostly this little one." I place a hand on my still-flat stomach. "I'm hoping for a girl this time."
"Boy or girl, it doesn't matter." Clive's hand covers mine. "Another perfect blend of us."
I watch as he carefully tucks the ultrasound into his wallet, handling it like the treasure it is. Four years ago, I couldn't have imagined this—that the intimidating Clive Bishop would become this man, this husband and father who treasures every moment with his family.
Looking at him now, his face lit with joy, I realize how much we've both changed. I'm no longer that anxious people-pleaser desperate for validation. He's softened and found a balance between the ruthless businessman and the tender father who reads bedtime stories with different voices for each character.
"What are you thinking?" Clive asks, noticing my contemplative gaze.
"Just that I love you," I say simply. "And that life has a funny way of working out exactly as it should."