Epilogue
Maeve
Three Months Later
"I still think your statistics are made up."
"They're not."
"They absolutely are."
Keaton doesn't even look up from the instruction manual spread across our kitchen island. "They're peer-reviewed."
"They're Keaton-reviewed."
He adjusts his glasses. "Which is considerably more reliable."
I laugh, balancing the small box against my hip as I make my way toward the garage.
Buying a house hadn't exactly been part of the plan.
At least...not mine.
The moment Keaton found out I was pregnant, he'd disappeared into his office for three hours before emerging with a spreadsheet.
He'd calmly explained that children raised in detached homes generally experienced lower noise exposure, increased outdoor activity, and statistically fewer complaints from downstairs neighbors when they inevitably discovered jumping.
I'd pointed out the baby wasn't even the size of a peach yet.
He'd nodded. "Which gives us adequate planning time."
Two weeks later we'd bought a house.
Three doors down from Matt and Rachel.
Coincidentally. Or at least that's what Keaton claimed.
I step into the garage, setting the box onto the workbench just as music drifts through the new speakers mounted overhead.
I freeze. Then smile. Everlong fills the air.
Of course. I lean against the workbench, letting the familiar song fill the garage. It takes me another few seconds to notice it. A small black camera tucked neatly into the upper corner near the exterior door.
I stare at it. Then slowly look back toward the door leading into the house.
A laugh slips free before I can stop it. "You know..." I fold my arms across my chest. "...I was going to pretend I didn't see it."
Nothing. I smile up at the camera.
"It's facing the outside door." Still nothing.
"Which means..." I tilt my head thoughtfully. "...you're only watching the bad guys."
A tiny movement. Barely noticeable. The camera dips once. I laugh harder.
"Okay, Taibhse." My hand instinctively settles over the gentle curve of my stomach. "You can keep that one."
The camera nods again.
I shake my head, smiling to myself as I turn back toward the house.
Some people said love was grand gestures. Others thought it was flowers. Jewelry. Expensive dinners.
Mine...Mine looks like a man who installs one camera in the garage because he wants to make sure his family is always safe.
And somehow...That was my favorite kind of love.