Epilogue – Three Years Later . . .
“Serenity House has the vote,” Larry says.
Larry’s the big man around here at Goldman Sachs, the one who calls the shots as far as philanthropic issues are concerned. He’s one of our most senior employees and has a passion for all things women’s issues, having three daughters of his own.
And one of the big reasons I took this job.
After days of researching which company’s philanthropic efforts make the most impact and have the biggest budget for sponsorships, I applied for the top three. The universe must agree with my strategy, since I landed the job at Goldman Sachs.
I mean, I’m still helping people. But now I can do that and ensure bigger concerns like the safety of our women and children have the funding they need. At the rate my wife is expanding Serenity House and the services it provides, they’re going to need it.
Carlie took over the House a year after we started.
Serelle handed over the reins, metaphorically, at least. She still makes her guest reappearances every few months.
But Carlie is killing it as CEO, and Nadia is her new PR exec, having learned from the best. Rubes is busy running every event for the House, now four times a year.
The Christmas gala, the International Women’s Day Luncheon, Summer Evening Under the Stars, and my favorite, the week-long women’s retreat that takes place at R I’ve been leaving baby hints everywhere every time Millie comes over. The odd parenting book. A rattle I picked up from the shit-and-glitter shop, as Carlie calls it. I slide a hand to her belly. “I’m not teasing her, Mrs. Rawlins. Just giving her hints. She’s old . . .”
The shit-eating grin wrapping my face hardly falters when she slaps my shoulder hard.
“Mills may be many things, but old ain’t one of them.”
I know thinking about Millie getting older scares Carlie. And I guess at one point that little old lady was all she had. I understand, I do.
“Come on, stop procrastinating, or I’ll install a car seat in the Chevy and insist on chauffeuring her and Henry everywhere they want to go.”
“You’re just cruel. You know that, right?”
“You love me.”
“I hate you.”
“Not anymore, Princess.”
I kiss her. Hard. Deep—longingly so.
Fuck me. The thought that our child is growing in her belly fills my chest with warmth. Another version of this incredible woman is more than the world deserves.
She pushes her palms to my chest and breaks the contact. Her bottom lip worries its way between her teeth.
I press my forehead to hers. “Tell me, baby.”
“What if I can’t do both?” she breathes.
I slide my arms around her waist. “I have a plan for that.”
“You do?”
“Uh huh.”
“What is it?”
“Nope, you’re going to have to wait and see.”
“Ugh, tell me already.”
I smile, pecking a kiss on her lips. “That’s my line, Princess.”
Millie sits on the sofa, holding Henry’s hand, her worried gaze alternating between us.
Carlie smiles, but she’s nervous. So I dig into her bag and pull out the ultrasound picture.
The small apartment that used to be mine and is now Millie and Henry’s looks much cozier than it did when I lived here.
Carlie takes the image from my hand and passes it to Millie.
“Huh, will you look at that, Hen. They’re having a baked bean?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I think it’s a baby, my love.”
She holds the picture back, squinting. “Ah, so it is.” She places the sonograph on the coffee table.
Carlie’s face falls. “You’re not excited?”
“Oh honey, I am. But, once again, you’re the last to know about this.”
“What?” Carlie glances at me.
I hold my hands up in defense. “I didn’t breathe a word.”
Well, apart from the clues . . .
“He didn’t have to, sweetheart. I’ve known you so long, I can read every expression, every little gesture. There’s no secrets between us.”
Now Millie’s smile wobbles. “Congratulations, my girl.”
Carlie huffs a strangled laugh, wrapping her arms around Millie. Henry holds them both. In this moment, they are more like her parents than either her uninterested mother or her absent father ever were.
I mouth ‘thank you’ to Millie.
She takes my hand, squeezing it. “You are welcome, my boy.”
I chuckle and fold my arms around the three of them, as if they will fit. As if I can accommodate my entire world in one hug.
I’ll be trying my hardest to keep every single person in this little apartment safe and loved for as long as possible.
Save, I have something to atone for.
Luckily, I did once. Because without the sentiment that gnawed at me, propelling me to work at Serenity, the fine line we walked between hate and love never would have been traveled.
I, for one, am glad for every step we took along the way.
“I hate you,” Carlie insisted repeatedly when we first met.
And life took those three little words and twisted them until they sounded like ‘I love you.’
“Laws? You okay?” Carlie’s looking at me, and I realize the expression that must be etched over my face. So I school it to the reverence I have for this fiery little woman and say . . .
“Yes ma’am.”