Epilogue
VIVIANA
I’ve been throwing up for the last two weeks, nausea intensifying. Plastered over the toilet lid, Tristan caresses my back as I try to catch my breath.
I know why. The sign points in only one direction. It’s not food poisoning. I ruled that out the moment I realized my period was late this month. For someone who has those regularly, it validated the first proof that my life is going to change—our family will grow by one.
I am going to be a mother, and, just as when I met him, it feels like a dream come true.
It’s so overwhelming I burst out crying, so filled with gratitude and love.
“Mo run,” he whispers lovingly, thrusting higher the emotional roller-coaster I am firmly strapped in.
“I love you so much,” I say through a hiccup.
He sits next to me, pulling me onto his lap and kisses the top of my head. I bury myself into him, knowing nothing bad could ever happen to me. He’d massacre every threat long before it could harm me.
I search his eyes, wanting to see the truth about how he feels about my pregnancy.
He has been counting my bodily changes with me. My nipples are darker, more swollen, and I have cravings in the middle of the night, and I switch moods like I am aiming to win a competition.
The early signs are only the beginning.
We never really talked about starting a family.
It’s been two years since we got married, and thoughts cram into my head, worry nagging at me.
Is it too soon? Did he have enough time to heal that deep-seated wound?
Is he ready? I know I am not. Even without being a preschool teacher, no one truly is, but humanity has reproduced and become parents since our inception.
He places his palm on my belly, eyes lighting up, soothing my anguish while I cry some more. Good God, the pendulum swings from one extreme to the other—emotionally I am all over the place.
“I am a hot mess, and it’s just the beginning. You won’t love me by the end…” I can’t even finish my thought, afraid I will choke on my words.
He chuckles low in his throat and tips my chin up. The love burning in his eyes resembles a flame that nothing could ever extinguish.
“Nothing could ever make me stop loving you,” he says softly. “You are pregnant and your body will go through changes to accommodate my child. The life we created.”
“Are you okay with that? Like, really okay?” I don’t break eye contact, seeking not only confirmation but our deep connection.
His brows furrow, a deep sigh heaving his chest. “I’m not okay with your throwing up. I am not okay with not knowing how to help you make the entire process easier. But what I will always be okay with is you growing a piece of our love.”
“We’re not sure. I have a pregnancy test…”
“I’m sure, but take the test if you wish.”
Helping me up, I open the cabinet and pick up the pregnancy test. After I read the instructions, I sit down and pee on the stick.
My husband hasn’t moved from the spot, posted like a sentinel by my side. The man who would protect me at the cost of his life. The man who makes all my whims a reality.
I sit the stick on the toilet lid and wash my hands.
“And now, we wait,” I say, finding his steady reflection in the mirror.
He wraps his arms around my belly, placing his chin on my shoulder, his eyes softening and his features drawn in delight.
“I know when I got you pregnant. You’ve been showing signs, mo run, even if you didn’t realize.
I simply sped up the process by fucking you even more during your fertile window. ”
A peal of laughter escapes me. I’ve been taking my pills on and off, and on our last vacation, I completely forgot them. I never thought it would happen this fast, but I guess he has some super sperm my egg was keen to suck in.
A smug expression plasters on his face. “And I can tell I got my wife pregnant on the first try.”
I shake my head at him. “Keep bragging, baby. I’ll remind you when you wake up in the middle of the night to change diapers.”
I am about to peek at the result, the suspense killing me, when he turns me around and palms my face, rubbing his nose against mine.
“I know the result. You know the result. We’re going to be parents.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for giving me more than a home, but now you’re giving me a legacy, mo run.
I will do my best. I will love our child with everything in me.
Protect and cherish it, but nothing will ever diminish my love for you.
In this world, the only one I truly need is you. ”
He places a palm on my belly as I fight with tears, the honesty behind his declaration of love reverberating through me, making my insides hum an endless tune of love for him.
“I love the life we created, but what I feel for you is incomparable. My heart just expands to love our baby, but it’s entirely yours.
You’re my home. The one I will die needing. ”
Lifting myself onto my toes, I palm his cheek and he leans into my touch, placing a tender kiss on the inside of my hand.
I forget about the stick. I forget about everything else as I press my mouth to his and kiss him, pouring every wondrous feeling, a love that has no beginning and no end, all my hopes and dreams.
“I am scared.”
“Don’t be, mo run. Together.”
“Together,” I sigh dreamily.
We both sweep our gazes toward the stick, and he stretches out his arm to pick it up. Our eyes stay locked to preserve this moment of just the two of us.
Then our gazes move down where a pregnant sign appears. His hand trembles on the stick, the widest smile stretching the corners of his mouth, emotions clear in his eyes.
They well up the longer he stares at the result. “I’m going to be a father.”
“Yes, cuore mio,” I murmur, elated by his potent reaction.
I wrap my arms around him, kissing the place where I feel his heart beating wildly.
My husband shows the rest of the world no emotion, but with me, he never hides them, making me feel I am the only one who truly knows him. Witnessing how emotional the joyous news made him triggers mine once again, and the smidgeon of fear vanishes.
And then the strategist side of my husband takes over, and he switches to planning mode.
“We need to schedule an appointment with the Ob-Gyn. Make the penthouse child-safe. We could move to the beach house for a while. Should we buy a new home?” he asks, rapid-firing questions, nervous perhaps for the first time in his life.
“We don’t need a new home just yet. And we still have months ahead of us.”
He plucks his phone from his pocket and makes a call. “Find me the best Ob-Gyn in New York. I want an appointment now.”
He hangs up, and I shake my head at him, but I know it’s how he functions.
Planning, making sure everything goes according to said plan. It’s helpful, as I am more spontaneous. Our differences complement each other. At the core, we share the same values and principles, wanting the same thing. Growing old together and being the best at what we do are the perfect examples.
It doesn’t take more than five minutes before his phone rings, and I see the tension easing from his features.
“Good.” He glances at his watch. “On our way.”
After we get confirmation that I am six weeks pregnant, my husband jots down every detail on his phone, and we walk out with the first sonogram of our baby.
“Can we go to the beach house and the farm?”
“You can’t ride, mo run, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with emotion as if he loathes telling me no to something.
He will be an amazing father, just like he is the best husband. Never had a doubt, every gesture confirming it.
“I know, baby. I’ll be careful, okay? Please, don’t stress too much.” I don’t worry at all about my pregnancy, knowing stress is not good for me, but I worry about him.
I got him to sleep longer, but until things settle, he won’t rest as well anymore.
“I just want to be close to Altea. That house means so much to me.”
Sometimes I prefer going there to traveling the world. It has been amazing discovering bits of the globe with him, but no place resembles home. When he said he’ll show and give me the world, he didn’t mean it metaphorically.
Inside the car, he drives toward the beach house, and I open the window, inhaling the soft breeze before a surge of intense love overcomes me and I turn to him.
“You’re the best husband, cuore mio.”
“I am, aren’t I?”
I giggle, loving his confidence. “You’re going to be the best father as well.”
“If you say so.”
“I know so.”
His intense eyes bore into me. “I know just one thing. I’ll always do my best.”
“That’s all we can hope to do.” I rest my cheek on his arm, looking up at him. “Love you.”
“For how long?” he asks, arching a brow.
“I can’t quantify it, but I know deep in my soul that as long as there are traces of me left, you’ll inhabit them.”
He nods, his features softening, my answer pleasing him.
“I’ll find you in every life. Make you mine. Again, and again, even if you have enough of me, mo run.”
“That will never happen.”
He winks at me. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”
I sigh dreamily, “I found my purpose, and that’s you. You’re the center of my life, and I will always gravitate toward you.”
The End