Epilogue
CAMERON
TWO YEARS LATER
“You’re going to be late,” I call out in the empty space.
“Not my fault. I told you we didn’t have time, but you insisted. Then you left a mess I had to clean up.”
A sinister smile breaks out on my face. “Didn’t hear you complaining,” I mumble, packing the last-minute items.
It’s our final day in the townhouse. We’re not moving far—into a house on the beach on the other side of Whispering Tide.
One that has nearly identical views but more space.
Lots more space. I’m not sure we’ll need all the space, but my wife insisted.
I tried to reason with her, to argue we didn’t need it all, but she shot me down.
Pulled the whole “let me do this for you” card, and I caved.
Her graphic design business has skyrocketed her into a higher tax bracket in the past year. Us, I guess I should say, because we get to file jointly now that we’re married.
It took me a good year to let go of all my hang-ups about money.
When you spend your entire life worrying about money, it’s hard to wake up one day with the worries gone.
Even if your significant other can provide for you.
Which was another pill I had to swallow, coming to terms with it quicker, otherwise she wouldn’t be my significant other.
And I wasn’t letting that happen. The mere thought of losing her, of letting someone else make her theirs?
Nope, wasn’t happening on my watch. So I sucked it up and pretended I was okay with it.
Each day, it got a little easier, to the point I didn’t have to pretend anymore.
Juli appears in the doorway, her blond waves hanging loose around her face. Tentative steps lead her into the room. “I didn’t think I’d be doing this again so soon. Promise me this move is it for a long time?”
“Scout’s honor. I have no desire to pack and move for a very long time.”
A smile lights up her face. “Just what I needed to hear.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Eh, you probably don’t want to know.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“You asked because it’s what you do. To show your love,” she challenges, hand on her hip.
Thank goodness I convinced her for one last quickie. Otherwise, her sass would definitely need to be dealt with.
“Still haven’t answered my question, cutie. Maybe you want to remedy that?” I’ve learned how far I can push her. Our personalities complement each other well. She’s the yin to my yang, the salt to my pepper—and man, she can be salty—the Rita to my Tom.
“I’m trying not to think about it. If I don’t think about it, maybe today will be a puke-free day.” She closes her eyes for a brief moment and breathes deeply. “Happy now?”
“Only if you are. I can’t be the only happy one in this relationship.” I move toward her, drawing her into me. Pushing unruly strands out of her face, I stare deep into her eyes. Today they’re the color of sunlit sand, warm and endless as summer. “What can I do to make it better?”
“A foot massage. On the balcony. At sunset.”
I laugh. “That’s very specific. What else?”
She peers back up at me, her smile not waning. “As if you have to ask.”
“You’re going to turn into a steak fry.”
“Would that be the worst thing in the world?”
My chuckle is hearty. Leave it to my wife to want to be a steak fry.
“Then I’d have to eat you.”
Her eyebrows waggle suggestively. “As if that’s any different from what you do now?”
She’s not wrong, but that’s only her pussy. I’d very much like to keep the rest of her.
She falls into my arms. “After dinner, I’m going to bed early. Want to join me?”
“I’d say yes, but are you going to sleep this time?”
Pregnancy and Juliana don’t quite mesh well together.
She’s been sick almost every day since the stick turned pink, she’s got horrible insomnia, yet she’s tired all the time, and her cravings are bizarre.
The other night—at three a.m.—she wanted fettuccine carbonara.
I found her sitting on the island in the kitchen shoveling it into her mouth like it was a normal, everyday kind of thing.
“I make no promises, k?”
“I won’t say no.”
“I know.” Her lips quirk into a smile against my chest.
My watch buzzes, and she grabs my wrist to check it out. She has her own Apple Watch so she doesn’t always have to ask me what time it is, but she’s yet to take it out of the package from Christmas six months ago. Gift fail on my part.
“Movers will be here soon. Guess that means we better get cracking.”
With only a slight waddle, she walks over to the couch, her spot to “supervise” the movers.
“Why do I need to be here again? You can handle this on your own. Can’t I go see Preston and the babes?”
“How are you going to get there?”
Her mouth opens, then shuts quickly. “Maybe they can pick me up. What do you think?”
I shake my head from side to side. “Should have gone when you had the chance. Could have gotten a ride in your dad’s swanky new wheels.”
She pouts, looking simply adorable. “And miss the orgasms you insisted on doling out? Not a chance.”
It’s only been a few weeks since she’s felt up for sex.
The first trimester and a half were difficult on her body and her emotions.
Not even yoga helped keep her calm. We thought the tide had turned once she cleared the first fourteen weeks, but pregnancy got the best of her.
She’s been diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum and still not one hundred percent herself, even though she’s well into her sixth month.
I’d say she takes it all with a grain of salt, but some days, that’s not the case.
Whenever she’s the tiniest bit like herself, I try to capitalize on it. Selfish? Yes, but again, she hasn’t complained. It’s because she wants to feel like herself. At least that’s how I justify it in my head. However, unlike before she was pregnant, anytime she says no, I don’t push her.
To say the past six months have been stressful would be an understatement. Especially because we added buying a house and moving to our plates. It gives us a few months to get the new house settled before complete chaos ensues.
“I’ll put the order for steak fries in and tell the movers the couch is the last piece of furniture to load.”
“Extra salt.”
I grab a bottle of water from the otherwise empty fridge. We moved the rest of the contents to the new house yesterday. “Drink this.” She doesn’t even argue.
Three months ago, she would have told me to go fuck myself—pregnancy broke out a fluency in cursing—but by now, she’s learned to drink the water. She’s more miserable when she doesn’t, especially when salty steak fries are involved.
The doorbell rings.
“Let’s do this thing.”
Again, I chuckle. As if I’m going to allow her to lift a finger.
Five hours later, the townhouse is packed and loaded onto a moving truck.
Juli did a great job supervising from her perch on the couch, eating her steak fries and brownies.
The new chef also included a salad, which she ate almost half of.
She may have even dozed for a short while.
I’m not sure how with all the racket, but stranger things have happened lately.
The space devoid of our personal stuff, I do a walk-through.
It’s been a great place to call home for the past five years.
Once Juli moved in, we made it a home rather than a dwelling to store my stuff and a place to sleep.
In some ways, I’m going to miss it, even though I’m ready for more.
A bigger place. A home in every sense of the word. And with the baby on the way, more so.
Juli folds herself into my side as I stand in the empty living room. “Why am I so emotional about yet another temporary residence?”
“Ah, cutie. For so many reasons.” I don’t point out the obvious about her being a highly emotional pregnant lady.
“I’m going to miss it, too. It’s the first place we called ours.
Where I asked you to marry me. Where we conceived Munchkin.
It’s got a lot of memories.” Shit, why am I so emotional over this place?
As she said, it was always supposed to be temporary for me. Lately, it’s felt like more than that.
“I knew the first time I came to visit you here, it was a place I wanted to end up. When we were supposed to be casual. I wanted more then. Even if you weren’t prepared to ask me. I wanted to live on the beach with you.”
“We were never meant for casual, Jude. Never in this life was that the plan for us. I’m glad it didn’t take us long to see that.”
“Same. Thank goodness Elisa had the wherewithal to put me on that plane.” She looks up at me, tears caught in the corners of her eyes. “Are we ready for the next step in our journey?”
I pull her closer to me, my arm splaying across her rounded abdomen. “We are,” I confirm. “We definitely are.”
Her hand to her mouth, she wiggles out of my grasp, taking off for the bathroom at a speed that’s not quick but speedy for the state she’s in.
She appears at the doorway a minute later, fallen tears on her cheeks.
“One last time,” she exclaims in a watery tone, laughing through her tears. “All set. We can go now.”
“The golf cart’s gassed and ready. You’re settled enough to make the ride?”
“It’s only up the beach a little ways. I’ll be fine.”
I stare pointedly at her. Multiple times during her pregnancy, she’s assured me she’s fine, and several times I’ve had to hose down the golf cart. “I’d say we could walk, but I’m not in the mood to deal with the sand. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I can’t promise anything,” she starts, “but what’s the alternative? Take it slow. I’ll try to give you a heads-up.” She offers a faint smile. It’s not her fault, but cleaning puke isn’t fun. Even if it’s hosing it down and letting it dry in the sun.
“A heads-up would be much appreciated, cutie. And if not, at least turn your head to the side of the road.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
In truth, it is. She has no control over it, and sometimes little warning. I can only blame myself for knocking her up. If I hadn’t . . .
Nope, not going to finish that thought. Drunk on Bushwackers, it was a fun night. A really fun night.
The pregnancy took us both by surprise, mostly because we weren’t trying.
We were barely married a month and hadn’t discussed when we would start.
And then it happened, and the minute she showed me the positive test, my world stopped.
All the plans we had made for enjoying married life flew right out the window, but we both embraced the gift we’d been given.
Besides, it’s not like we were getting any younger.
She had mentioned something early in our relationship, right after she moved to South Carolina, about not wanting to wait to have kids.
It was the universe’s way of telling us we were ready. Ready or not, it was happening.
“I love you, Juliana Fairbanks.”
“Even if I puke—again—in the golf cart?”
I swallow down anything I might say that might upset her. “Always.”
“Ah, I love how you wanted to say something else. And I love you, Cameron. It’s been a long time coming.”
“That it has.”
I loved my life at Whispering Tide before she came crashing back into it. Every day was fun, and I couldn’t wait to wake up and get back to the resort. As much as I still love it now, life is way more pleasurable as Juli’s husband and a father-to-be.
Finally time to say goodbye, we walk out together. Sliding my glasses over my eyes to avoid the early evening sun’s glare, I lock it up for the last time. Juli handled the selling of it, so I don’t know who bought the place, but I hope whoever did makes memories of their own to cherish.
The townhouse was the first place I bought with my money.
Sure, had Juli not put up the capital for my share in Whispering Tide, I never could have done it.
But that’s in the past, and I’ve paid her back in non-financial ways.
Rather than argue, we compromised on the down payment for the house.
I often joke I’m a kept man, but there’s a lot of truth to it.
At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who has the most money.
The important thing is spending this life side by side.
“This place served us well, but it’s time to start our family in something that’s ours.”
“Hear that, Munchkin? We can’t wait to have you as part of our family. Only three months to go. Anytime you want to take it easy on me, I’m all for it.” She climbs clumsily into the golf cart. “Glad you ultimately agreed to give up the pretentious life.”
I climb in next to her, starting it up, letting it idle. “I saw the errors in my ways. It’s what’s inside that counts.”
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if one of us had tried to track the other down after our one night together.
Would we be together? Would we not have worked out?
I believe things happen for a reason. Why I initially attended the STEM camp and met Preston and the others.
Why I was invited to stay with his family.
Why Juli and I only shared one night as young adults.
We weren’t ready for each other then. That night proved it.
In some ways, it was over before it started.
We needed to come into our own first, gain more life experience before we settled down.
Because once we got together, life moved pretty fast, and it doesn’t seem like it’s slowing down anytime soon.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined life with Juliana all those years ago. Thank goodness, too. The life we’re building is better than any teenage fantasy could ever be.
How does parenting in paradise work? Check out this bonus scene for a peek into Cameron and Juli’s future.
Curious about Jackson and Everly Smith? Keep reading for a sneak peek of their book, The Magic of Her.