Epilogue
. . .
Jake - Six Years Later
The backyard is madness in the best possible way.
I’m standing at the grill, flipping burgers and trying to keep track of all the children running around the pool. My pool. In my backyard. With my wife inside getting more drinks and my daughters somewhere in the pack of kids screaming with laughter.
Forty years old. Never imagined it would look like this.
“Dad! Watch me!” Isla’s voice cuts through the noise. She’s standing at the edge of the pool in her purple swimsuit, goggles already on. Six years old and fearless.
“I’m watching!” I call back.
She jumps in with a spectacular cannonball that soaks Hazel, who’s sitting on the edge with her feet in the water, scrolling through her phone. At sixteen, Hazel’s too cool to swim with the little kids, but she’s good-natured about getting splashed.
“Nice one, Isla!” she calls, brushing water off her face.
Wyatt appears beside me, beer in hand. “You need a refill?”
“Not yet. How’s Ruby doing in the deep end?”
“Like a fish. She and Isla are trying to teach the younger ones how to dive.” He takes a sip of his beer. “June’s convinced she can do it, but she’s only five, so Blair’s hovering.”
I spot Blair in the pool, keeping a careful eye on her middle daughter while also managing Ivy, who’s three and determined to swim without her floaties. She’s managing three kids as efficiently and competently as she runs a talent agency.
“Where’s Brandon?” I ask.
“Kitchen, helping Nat with the drinks. Or trying to. You know how Natalie gets about her kitchen.”
I do know. Over the years the kitchen has become her domain. Not that I’m complaining, the woman can cook.
Stella emerges from the house carrying a tray of lemonade, Brandon right behind her with a tray of adult beverages. Their son Beckett is attached to Brandon’s leg, riding along.
“Drinks!” Stella announces. “And before anyone asks, yes, the lemonade is fresh-squeezed, and yes, Nat made me do it the hard way.”
Natalie follows them out, laughing. “I didn’t make you do anything. I just suggested that fresh is better than powder.”
“Suggested very firmly,” Stella says, grinning.
Natalie catches my eye across the yard and smiles. Six years of marriage and that smile still does things to my chest. She’s wearing a sundress and her hair is up in a messy bun, and she looks exactly like home.
“Mommy!” Sloan’s voice rises above the pool noise. Our three-year-old is paddling toward the shallow end in her mermaid floaties. “Look! I’m swimming!”
“I see you, baby! You’re doing so good!”
Sophia and Grant finally make it out back. Sophia’s carrying a bakery box that I’m hoping contains the chocolate cake she promised, while Grant has Violet perched on his shoulders. At five, Violet is tiny and fierce, just like her mom.
“Sorry for the delay,” Sophia says, kissing my cheek. “Someone decided she needed a wardrobe change right quick.”
“I wanted the sparkly one!” Violet announces.
“And you look beautiful,” I tell her.
Grant sets her down and she immediately runs to join the other kids in the pool. He shakes my hand. “Happy birthday, man. Forty. How’s it feel?”
“Like I’m responsible for too many people.”
“Welcome to the club.”
Jess and Lucas arrive moments later with their boys, Finn and Theo. Finn makes a beeline for the pool while Theo, being three, needs more convincing.
“Come on, buddy,” Lucas says, crouching down. “You love the pool.”
“Want Daddy to come,” Theo says, grabbing Lucas’s hand.
“Okay. Let’s do it together.”
I watch Lucas walk his son to the shallow end, patient and gentle, and think about how far we’ve all come. Lucas went from being the guy who never wanted kids to being completely wrapped around his sons’ fingers.
Jess joins Natalie and Sophia on the patio, and within seconds they’re deep in conversation. Probably about work. Jess’s podcast is bigger than ever, Sophia’s production company just green lit three new projects, and Natalie’s in post-production on season five of Spellbound.
“Food’s ready!” I call out.
The kids descend like locusts. Isla leads the charge, wrapping herself in a towel and getting in line. Ruby’s right behind her, with June and Violet close behind. Sloane needs help, so Natalie scoops her up, toweling her off while she chatters about her swimming.
We fill plates, find spots around the yard. The adults cluster on the patio while the kids spread out on the grass, a mess of wet bathing suits and ketchup-covered faces.
Wyatt raises his beer. “A toast. To Jake. Forty years old and still somehow younger-looking than me.”
“That’s because you have three daughters,” I point out. “They age you.”
“Fair point.” He grins. “But seriously. To Jake. Best friend, coworker, fellow exhausted dad. Happy birthday.”
“To Jake!” everyone echoes.
I look around at all of them. My friends. My family. The people who showed up when Natalie went into labor early, who helped us move in together, who’ve been there for every birthday and holiday and every milestone since.
Natalie appears beside me, sliding her arm around my waist. “Good birthday?”
“The best.”
“Wait until you see what I got you.”
“Is it another tie?”
“It’s not another tie.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “But you’ll have to wait until later. When the kids are asleep.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
Isla runs up, still dripping. “Daddy, can we do the cake now?”
“Let people finish eating first, pip.”
“But I’m done eating.”
“You had half a hot dog.”
“I’m full!”
Natalie laughs. “Why don’t you go play with Ruby for a few more minutes? Then we’ll do cake.”
Isla considers this, then nods and runs off.
“She’s so much like you,” I tell Natalie.
“Stubborn and impatient?”
“Determined and strong-willed.”
“Nice save.”
The cake comes out eventually, a chocolate masterpiece with “Over the Hill” written in frosting because Stella thought it was funny. The kids gather around to sing, their voices loud and off-key and perfect. Isla helps me blow out the candles while Sloane tries to stick her finger in the frosting.
As the sun starts to set, the younger kids begin to fade. Theo is asleep on Lucas’s shoulder. Ivy’s curled up in Blair’s lap. Beckett is lying on a towel, staring at the sky.
“I think that’s our cue,” Jess says, gathering their things.
The departures are gradual. Hugs and promises to do this again soon. Kids being carried to cars, still in their bathing suits. Wyatt and Blair live close by now, so they walk home, Ruby holding her dad’s hand while Blair manages the younger two.
Finally, it’s just us.
“Best birthday party ever,” Isla declares, yawning.
“Agreed,” I say.
We get the girls bathed and into bed. Isla wants a story, so I read her favorite while Sloane falls asleep to the sound of my voice. When I’m done, I tuck them in and kiss their foreheads.
“Love you, Daddy,” Isla says.
“Love you too, pip.”
Downstairs, Natalie’s cleaning up the kitchen. I wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder.
“Leave it,” I say. “We can deal with it tomorrow.”
“It’ll take five minutes.”
“I don’t care. Come sit with me.”
She turns in my arms, looking up at me. “You sure you’re okay with forty?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got you, two amazing daughters, a job I love, amazing friends.” I kiss her softly. “This is everything I ever wanted.”
“Even when the kids are throwing tantrums?”
“Especially then.”
She laughs and pulls me toward the couch. We sink into it together, her head on my shoulder, my arm around her waist.
“Remember when we found out we were pregnant?” she asks.
“How could I forget? You looked like you were going to pass out.”
“I was terrified.”
“So was I.”
“And look at us now.”
“Yeah. Look at us now.”
“Ready for your gift?” Natalie asks, sitting up.
“Now?”
“Now.” She stands and holds out her hand. “Come on.”
I let her pull me off the couch and lead me through the house. When she opens the back door, I’m confused.
“We’re going outside?”
“You’ll see.”
The backyard is quiet now, the pool lights glowing soft blue in the dark. She walks me to the edge of the pool, then turns to face me.
“Close your eyes.”
“Natalie, what are you doing?”
“Just trust me.”
I close my eyes. I hear the rustle of fabric, the soft sound of her sundress hitting the deck. Then her bra. Her underwear.
“Okay,” she says. “You can look.”
I open my eyes. She’s completely naked, standing at the edge of the pool with that mischievous smile I fell in love with seven years ago.
“Your gift is a reminder,” she says, “that we’re not too old for a little fun.”
Then she dives in. I’m already stripping off my shirt before she surfaces.
My shorts and boxers follow, and I dive in after her.
The water is warm and when I come up, she’s waiting for me, treading water in the deep end, her hair slicked back and shining in the pool lights.
I swim to her, pulling her close. Her legs wrap around my waist.
“Best gift ever,” I tell her.
Tomorrow, we’ll clean up the mess. We’ll go back to work, to school drop-offs and soccer practice and the million small things that make up a life. But tonight, it’s just us. Just this moment. Just the life we built from a one-night stand and a little hope.