27. Epilogue
Twenty Seven
Epilogue
Two and a half years later
Mike
I wake up with a foot in my ribcage and a tiny hand smacking my cheek.
“Mama said no kicking.”
I crack one eye open. Our daughter is sitting on top of me like she’s the queen of Misty Mountain, curls wild, pajama shirt inside out, grinning like she just won a fight.
“She also said no waking Daddy up at six a.m.,” I mutter.
“But pancakes.”
Christ.
I glance over.
Shanay is still half-asleep, curled up in the sheets, bare shoulder peeking out, lips parted.
Even now—two years, one kid, and a lifetime later—she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
And our daughter? She’s her twin.
Same warm brown skin, same sharp little smirk. Except smaller and louder and sticky at all times.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Let’s make pancakes.”
—-
Fifteen minutes later, I’m shirtless in the kitchen with a toddler on my shoulders and pancake batter in my beard.
Shanay walks in wearing my flannel shirt and nothing else, eyes still heavy with sleep.
My brain shorts out completely.
She tilts her head. “You’re staring.”
“Always.”
“You’re still hopeless.”
I nod. “Completely.”
She grins and kisses the top of our daughter’s head. “He’s gonna let you get away with murder, you know.”
“Only if you’re the accomplice,” I add, flipping a pancake.
Our girl shouts, “MURDER!” and I sigh into the spatula.
—-
Later, we walk into town for the library picnic.
Shanay’s on my arm.
Our girl’s skipping ahead, holding a book and threatening to read it aloud to the ducks.
Everyone stops to smile at her. Comment on how big she’s getting. Ask if we’re having more.
I just growl and say, “Working on it.”
One guy says, “Damn, Costa. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
Shanay laughs.
I don’t.
But I do glance at the gazebo and picture burying a body under it.
Just for fun.
—-
I tug her away from the crowd for a minute.
Slide my arm around her waist, press my mouth to her ear.
“You know I still dream about the first time I saw you in that damn library.”
She laughs. “You mean when I dropped a book on my foot?”
“You were so fuckin’ beautiful I forgot what the roof looked like.”
She leans into me, warm and soft, eyes sparkling.
“You think she needs a little brother?” I murmur.
She arches a brow. “You volunteering?”
I don’t answer.
I just pull her behind the stacks and kiss her like I’ll never stop.
Because I won’t.
Not ever.