Epilogue
EPILOGUE
E MERALD
I shift on the couch, trying to find some relief from the ache in my back. The all too familiar stab of pain I’ve felt all day squeezes once more. It’s annoying but manageable. It’s just a false alarm. That’s all. It’s nothing to get worked up over.
The memory of my first panic a few weeks ago pops into my mind. When the hospital had informed us that it was just Braxton Hicks, I’d been mortified when Saint held a gun to the doctor’s head until he checked a second time. I’d apologized profusely to the staff, but they reassured us that it happens a lot with first time pregnant moms—well, the Braxton Hicks thing does, but not the gun to the head thing.
I try to distract myself with something else and start to wonder how Jacquetta is doing. I wince as I think about her wedding just a short while ago which ended up with her being jilted at the altar. But that wasn’t the worst of it—because all the other things that happened after that were utterly horrific. I shudder just thinking about it all, and I resolve to call her later today to check in and see how she’s doing. She had the world at her feet. Brains, unrivaled beauty, and an impeccable background from being the Capo’s niece. I still don’t understand how it all went so wrong for her.
My eyes flicker to the clock on the wall in the den. The kids should be home soon, and then we’ll be off to have dinner in celebration of Saint’s birthday.
He told us we didn’t need to do anything, but how could we not? A rook-shaped cake—a demand from Jaspar because of the chess connection—sits in the fridge for after we get back from the steakhouse for dinner.
Another stab of pain hits me, and I bite my lip, noting for the fifth time how closer they seem to be, my breath a shallow pant as I ride the wave of it out.
I push up from the couch as I hear the door open.
“Em?”
“In the den!” Taking one step, then another, I feel something low in my stomach and a warmth between my legs. My body freezes. My eyes drift down in disbelief at the puddle on the floor. “Saint!”
Nothing.
“Saint!” I call again, a little more frantically.
His body fills the doorway, his brow pulled down in concern. “What’s wrong?”
I look down at the puddle again, then lift my eyes to him. “I think my water just broke…”
“What? Now?” Saint stares at me, and I stare back, reality seeming to sink into both of us at the same time. “Fuck,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, fuck,” I agree.
“Do…I mean…” He shakes his head quickly to clear his panic, and I watch that calm and collected mask fall into place. “Alright. Can you walk?”
“I think so.”
“Perfect. Just remember that breathing.”
My lip twitches because he might seem calm and unruffled on the outside, but there’s that spark in his eyes. The one that tells me he’s anything but. He’s freaking out, and I relish the look just a few seconds longer before taking a small step forward.
“This is it. You’re doing great already.”
“Saint.”
“Yeah, Em?”
“I’m just walking. I don’t need a pep talk yet. Just take a breath and grab the bag. I’ll have Jacquetta bring the kids once we get to the hospital.”
“Right. Yeah. That’s what I was going to say.”
“Uh-huh.” I reach where he’s standing, and I look up at him. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“For trying to hold it together. Because you freaking out will only make me freak out more.”
He breathes out and drags a hand down his face. “Noted, but I’m reserving for later the right to really freak out.”
Another contraction surges through me, and I gasp at the pain, breathing through my mouth with a sharp hiss. The thought that this is real, this is happening, sinks in.
Our baby is coming, and there’s no going back.
Saint’s hand presses into my lower back as he ushers me toward the door. “Ready, Em?”
“I think it’s too late for that question.”
And his laugh is a deep warmth that soothes some of the nervousness that’s building inside of me as we slowly make it to the car.
* * *
My hair sticks to my temples as I pant. My knuckles are white from where I clutch Saint’s hand, and all I want to do is scream, cry, and sleep. But it’s the shrill cry that has my heart lodged in my throat. Saint’s lips press to my temple as he murmurs something I don’t quite hear.
And my chest is still heaving as I lift it slightly from the bed, my entire focus on the perfect little baby the nurses are gently swaddling.
“Did you folks pick out a name?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Without knowing the gender, we decided to just focus on the other stuff. Like fixing up one of the spare rooms as a nursery, getting all the essentials, and going to prenatal classes. Picking out a name felt so important that I decided we needed to meet the baby before bestowing some name like Bambi or Buster on it forever.
“We’ll just call her Baby Girl Veneti for now,” the nurse replies.
“A girl?” It’s the first thing I’ve heard Saint manage to say since the baby came out.
The nurse smiles. “Yeah, a girl.”
And a sound of satisfaction leaves me as I watch Saint tentatively and carefully cradle our baby in his arms as if she were as precious as the rarest gem. The look on his face is so open and so raw that my heart does a flip just at the sight of it.
“She’s perfect,” he murmurs. His voice is thick. And then I see a tear roll down his cheek, followed by another and another.
And I’m totally floored.
He gives me a smile through the tears. “This is the first time I’ve cried since…” His voice drifts off.
“I know,” I whisper. It’s the first time he’s cried since his parents’ funeral. I put my hand on his arm and smile up at him. “You were saving it for something special.”
He keeps on looking down at our baby girl with wonder in his gaze.
“Can I?” I ask, reaching out for her. With the utmost care, Saint and I make the swap, and I feel a beaming smile on my face as I look down at the fragile little angel in my arms. And the tightness in my chest is not born of anything but something raw and wonderful. Happiness. Contentment. Love.
Saint kisses my temple again, and I look up at him. “Not really the birthday present I had in mind, but it’s the best present I’ve ever had,” he says, laughing through his tears.
And in that instant, I decide. “Liliana.”
“What?”
“Her name. It’s Liliana.”
Saint hums and nods. “A beautiful name for a beautiful little girl.” Then he’s quiet for a few long moments.
“Saint?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you…okay?”
He laughs, kissing my temple yet again as he nods. “I’m perfect, Em. She’s the best present I could have asked for. It’s a new way to look at my birthday. Something special…instead of something broken and damaged.”
I lean into him a little.
“That was my wish that day, Em.”
My brow furrows. “Huh?”
“When you made me make a wish before blowing out the birthday candles on the ice cream.”
“You mean the day we first met? When I thought you were a cop?”
“Yeah. I wished…that my birthday would stop being so painful. That I could stop being sad every year for the months running up to that date. I should have guessed that you would be the one to make that happen. Because from now on, my birthday is going to remind me of the most special day of my life—when I first held our beautiful baby daughter in my arms.” We watch as the baby’s teeny tiny fingers wrap around his finger. “You know, before I wasn’t really sure if wishes could come true. But now I know that they definitely can …”
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“I was always cold and didn't allow emotions. But that day, when you wanted me to have a birthday wish, it made me crack a little... You saying such a small thing shouldn't have mattered to me, but it did. Because no one bothered about my birthday when I was young since it was the anniversary of my parents’ murder.”
I give his hand a squeeze.
“I can’t believe how far we’ve come since that day, Em. I mean, you in that stolen dress?—”
“You lying that you were a cop?—”
“Me running after you down the sidewalk?—”
“You chasing after me because you couldn’t just admit how attracted you were to me?—”
And we both burst out laughing. “Ours wasn’t a conventional meeting, but it sure as hell was one wild ride,” Saint whispers. “Because you, Emerald Veneti, always give as good as you get.”
I smile back at him, and we sit there, just staring down at our baby girl before the nurse wheels her away with the parting words to get some sleep. I can feel the exhaustion in my bones. Saint carefully reclines back onto the bed beside me, and I lean into his chest.
“I know this doesn’t erase what happened to you, Saint, but I’m glad you’re taking this as a new start.”
Saint’s fingers drift through my hair, and he sighs. “I didn’t think I’d ever see a day like this, Em. I didn’t think I deserved it. Today is something beautiful, like a miracle. But one look at Liliana, and it’s like the past is now just a faded memory which doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?”
“I mean, it matters, obviously. But I don’t think my mom or dad would have wanted me to think of anything other than what’s here today.”
I squeeze his hand. “I think you’re right,” I say softly.
“It doesn’t mean I’m forgetting them or what happened. It just means that maybe today doesn’t have to be something sad. How can it be when it’s the day our baby girl was brought into our lives?”
I smile at him. “I’m glad, Saint, really. You deserve to celebrate your birthday and be happy.”
“I’m happy, Em. I really am. And that hollow spot in my chest, the one that’s been aching and hurting for over two decades, is slowly starting to fill. It’s filling with bright, glorious, radiant sunshine. And that’s all because of you, Emerald. And I wouldn’t have it any other way .”
* * *
TWO YEARS LATER
Saint is still just like the man I first met, but at the same time, he’s also very different. For one thing, he lies a heck of a lot less. Plus, he lets himself show his emotions more—he even cried again the first time Lili called him Dadda. And he’s carried on coming to the support group with me, and I can tell that it really helps him. He still enjoys killing way too much, but, hey, nobody’s perfect.
I haven’t stolen again since the onesie incident. The group says it’s an issue I might have to deal with for the rest of my life, but the most important thing is to keep working at it and not let myself spiral out of control again.
For my part, I’m loving being a mom and taking care of the kids. I’m working part time at the boutique and doing the accounts at home while I look after Lili. It has really helped my self-esteem, knowing that I’m capable of these things and knowing I have a way to support us if things ever go south again. Everything I’ve learned from my bookkeeping course is getting put to great use in the boutique, and buying all the expensive stock for the business fulfills some of that high I used to get from when I got my hands on all those beautiful dresses I stole.
I even paid back every single store I ever stole from, sending them a check for double the dress cost and interest, plus a letter of sincere apology. I know my letters and checks don’t absolve me from my wrongdoings in any way, but at least I was able to let them know that I was genuinely sorry.
I still have to pinch myself at times to believe how far I’ve come. “You’re kicking ass, Em,” Saint tells me. “You already were before I met you, and you’ll keep on doing it. You’re a force to be reckoned with, and I knew that the first time I met you.”
Liliana sits on Saint’s lap, looking in awe at the mountain of presents that have somehow made it to the table in front of us. We expressly told everyone just a few gifts. And as per normal, they chose to have selective hearing about that.
I watch as our little girl snuggles into Saint’s chest and looks up adoringly at him, as ever a daddy’s little girl.
There’s leftover frosting from her smash cake on her outfit. Explaining the purpose of that to Saint took a whole week, but I think he realized its purpose about two seconds before she pummeled her tiny fists into it, smearing frosting all over his cheek and nose. It was such a success that Jaspar is demanding one for his next birthday.
“What?” Saint asks as he catches me staring at him.
“You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look is that?”
“You know, Saint, that dopey grin.”
“I’m just…happy.” And he squeezes my hand before bringing the back of it to his lips.
“Me too, Saint. And from the giggles, I would say Lili is as well.”
“Happy birthday, Lili!” Jaspar and Giulietta squeal for about the twentieth time. They’ve been so excited in the run up to Lili’s second birthday.
Saint’s rumble of laughter, not such a rare thing to hear lately, fills the space as he pulls them into him as they plant kisses on Lili’s cheeks. My gaze bounces around the room at the smiling faces of our friends and family.
“Open mine first!” Giulietta says, pulling her present out of the pile.
“No, mine!” Jaspar argues. I can already tell by its shape what he’s chosen for her—a stuffed crocodile.
“How about both of them?” Milena suggests.
Jaspar giggles. “At the same time? That’s just silly.”
“Then how about we let Liliana pick?” I suggest.
The kids nod as they coo and fawn over the little girl who’s soaking up all the attention from them. They’re always so affectionate and protective of her, and I love this unconventional family unit we’ve become.
After the presents have been opened, we all move into the kitchen, and I smile as I look down at the second cake. A homemade masterpiece created by the kids and me.
With a quick flick of Saint’s Zippo lighter, the candles on the cake are all lit and glowing in the darkened room.
And everyone begins to sing happy birthday. Not just to Liliana but to Saint as well. Because over the last two years, we’ve made it a new Veneti tradition to celebrate both their birthdays together.
Saint holds my gaze as I take my seat beside him. “Make sure you make a good wish,” I say softly to him.
“But tell nobody about it!” Jaspar warns.
“Or it won’t come true,” Giulietta adds.
Saint nods, that smirk on his face making an appearance and still causing as many butterflies in my stomach as it did the first time I met him.
With a dramatic pause, Saint and Lili blow out the candles together to a round of applause and cheers.
“Happy birthday,” I say, kissing his cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Em.” He turns to look down at Lili in his lap. “And I love Lili and the kids.” He gives a big, genuine smile. “Because this is my family now—it's our family.”
* * *
After hours of laughter, conversation, and cake, I stretch out on the bed, feeling the exhaustion from the day pulling me under.
Saint slips into the bed beside me, pulling me onto his chest. “You know, Em, I’m super proud of you for still going to the group.”
I smile up at him. “And I’m glad that you’re still coming to the group as well. I can tell that it helps you with your stuff as much as it helps me.” My OCD has much improved, and that’s something I’m happy about. It can still flare up if I get stressed, but the CBT has been really helpful for managing it.
His lips brush against my shoulder, and he lets out a small sigh.
“Good birthday?” I ask in a drowsy voice.
“The best so far.” He reaches down and kisses my neck.
I smile and turn to face him. “Did you really have a good day?”
“Yeah, I did. It was perfect. That was my wish…that everything will just stay perfect like this. I don’t know what I did to get this kind of life, but I’m damn glad it happened. You. Lili. Jaspar, Giulietta, and Milena.” He is silent for a few moments, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “For the first time since I was five years old, I have what I’ve always wanted and always needed. Because you guys are it for me.”
“We were meant for each other, Saint.”
“Yeah, we were, Em.” He kisses my forehead, and I press closer.
“I’m just glad we get to give Lili a better upbringing than my siblings got.” I still shudder a little when I think about the lack of stability and what they went through with our parents and in the years before I married Saint.
“Em, you’ve done great with them. You’ve given them what they needed. Love . They have what every kid needs.”
“I know but…”
“But nothing. Trust me, as someone who missed that in his childhood, it made it fucking hard to recognize love when it finally happened to me. None of your siblings are going to have that problem. What you’ve done for those kids is amazing, and they are beyond lucky to have you as their sister.
I caress my fingers over the side of his jaw. “You know, Saint, you’re not so bad at this love thing now,” I tell him.
“You’re just being nice because it’s still my birthday. We both know I was—am—fucked up. I almost missed out on being with the one person who was meant for me. I didn’t have an example of what love was supposed to look like. But now I see it every day when I’m here with you and our family. I love you, Em.”
“I love you too, Saint.”
“Good, because you’re stuck with me until death do us part.”
I laugh as I snuggle into him.
“I love this feeling when I’m with you, Em,” he murmurs.
“This feeling?”
“It’s like you’re perfection.”
“Perfection?” I huff softly in a disbelieving tone. “Hardly…”
“Emerald Veneti, every damn bit of you—the gold dresses, the chess, the sunshine smiles, all of it—is goddamn perfection.”
“My dresses are not gold,” I giggle. I still have a thing for shiny and sparkly dresses, but now I always pay for them.
“I don’t know if I realized it when I first met you, Em, but you’re everything I need in my life. Because you’re my favorite addiction — and you’ll be that foreve r.”