Epilogue Poppy
TWO YEARS LATER
“Oh, my God. I need to sit down.”
Dylan, with a type of super-sonic hearing that picks up every hint of my being tired or sore or hungry or achy, appears like a superhero at my side, takes my hand, and with a protective touch on the small of my back, guides me toward one of the Silver Leaf Day Spa reclining chairs.
“I can’t rest here,” I whisper as he presses me into the soft leather cushions.
“Yes, you can.” Dylan rushes to rearrange the billowing bouquets of pale pink and white and silver balloons that fill the foyer of the building, decorations for today’s grand opening celebrations. “There’s nobody here but us.”
By us , he means anyone who’s ever had Davenport for a last name, plus Mona, plus Violet’s dad Luke, plus half a dozen Silver Leaf staff, plus Annalise, who, as promised, was front and center for today’s event.
That puts the headcount at twenty. And I’m not mad about it.
I sink back into the chair, drop my head back, and close my eyes. The hum of conversation, underscored by the easy beats of relaxing music, fills my ears, and I sigh with relief.
We did it. We launched the new business before the babies came.
I crack an eye open when Dylan settles himself on the stool at my feet and hauls my swollen ankles into his lap. And when his magic fingers start to rub away the aches, I close my eyes again with a groan.
“Oh, that feels so good,” I tell him.
“Do you feel okay?” There’s a tone of tightly controlled concern in his words.
“I feel great,” I assure him with a lazy smile of contentment. “A little tired, but really freaking great.”
“I’m so proud of you, Sunshine,” he says as his hands massage up my ankles and over my calves. “You’ve worked so hard these last couple of years. You’ve done so much.”
“ We’ve done so much,” I correct him.
And I don’t mean just the two of us. I mean all the Davenports.
Silver Leaf has grown. A lot. The second dining room at Dylan’s restaurant is fully functional now and booked solid seven nights a week. Violet’s studio is up and running, and starting today, so is the spa I’ve been working night and day to build. I’ve spent so many hours poring over every little detail to make sure it’s all perfect, with Charlie overseeing all the business details as well as mentoring me while I studied and everyone cheering from the sidelines.
Everyone , I think with a smile. My family .
I lift my head a little to get a good look around the room. It’s all white walls and glass windows and sleek tiled floors. The scent of soap and cream and nail varnish fills the air-conditioned air, along with so many balloons it’s hard to work out who’s who as our family laughs and talks and picks at the last hors d’oeuvres on trays being cleared away by waitstaff in Silver Leaf black.
And behind the front desk, on the wall in silver frames that Dylan hung himself, are my associate degree in business and three different certifications in cosmetology.
I relax again with a sigh, then wriggle my shirt up over the top of my enormous stomach. Clothes are the enemy these days. Everything in my closet feels too tight and too hot, and too annoying . If I could, I’d live the next three weeks naked.
I trace the shapes and colors on my skin, now stretched and pulled to make them almost unrecognizable. All the old ones I’ve been looking at for a decade and the ones I’ve added more recently. A chef’s knife for Dylan and a blue butterfly for Izzy to match the one Dylan already has. I got those the same day Dylan added a golden dragonfly to the dandelion on his back. It was the week before we got married in the Davenports’ backyard.
“How are our girls?” Dylan asks as he moves his hands from my feet to my stomach, splaying his fingers out wide to try to catch a kick or a nudge or one of those insane body rolls that make the whole world spin.
“They’re good,” I tell him. “Snug. Happy.”
Dylan grins and drops a kiss on my tummy. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
“I can’t—” I cut off with a gasp.
Dylan’s brows shoot up, then down, and he falls off his low chair to kneel beside me. “What is it? What happened?”
I frown as the pain, low in my abdomen, passes like it was never there. “I’m not sure. Nothing. It’s gone now.”
The dull ache in my lower back, the one I’ve been living with for a week now, is suddenly extra uncomfortable, and I shift in the chair to try and ease the pain.
Dylan’s eyes narrow, and his fingers tighten around mine. “Izzy?” he calls across the room.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just relax.”
“I am relaxed. You’re overreacting.”
I hiss in a breath and hold it as another pang grabs me low in the stomach. I watch Dylan’s throat as it bobs with an anxious swallow, though his eyes remain steady on mine as he waits for me to exhale.
Izzy springs up at our side as I release the breath. “Did you call me, Daddy?”
“Yes, Little Bee.” Dylan keeps hold of my hands with one of his as he scoops Izzy in close with his other arm. “I think it’s time to take Mommy to the hospital so she can have your baby sisters,” he says.
“Really?” Izzy bounces on her toes, her eyes falling to my stomach, then darting to my face as she searches for confirmation that I am, in fact, about to give birth.
“I don’t know, sweetie.” I shoot Dylan an accusatory glare even as I wriggle to find a position that doesn’t make my back hurt. “I’ve had two little pains, and there’s still a few weeks until my due date. Daddy might be worried for nothing.”
“Twins come early all the time,” Izzy says, repeating information we’ve given her to prepare her for the possibility that I could go into labor at any moment.
“That’s right,” Dylan says with a pointed look my way.
And, of course, it’s that exact moment I’m struck with a pain twice as sharp as the two before it, sharp enough that I grab my stomach and cry out.
“Izzy? Listen to me.” Dylan’s voice is urgent but in control. “I need you to go find Aunt Daisy and tell her to get the truck and Mommy’s overnight bag from the main house. Tell her to meet us out front as soon as she can. Okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” Izzy flings her arms around his neck in an excited hug, then does the same to me.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispers in my ear.
“I love you too, baby,” I whisper back.
Then she’s tearing across the room, calling out at the top of her lungs. “Aunt Daisy! Mommy’s about to have the babies! Quick! Daddy needs the car and the bags!”
And in that brief moment before all hell breaks loose, Dylan catches my eye as he blinks back tears.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
So much more than those three words pass between us then. A lifetime of memories behind us. Another lifetime of love to come. “I love you too.”
Daisy skids to a stop beside my recliner, eyes wild and her smile wide. “Is it true? Are you really in labor?”
“I—” I double over as a contraction hits me, and my stomach tightens past the point of tolerance. “Ah… shit . Yes. I think I’m in labor.”
“I’ll get your car,” Finn says as he strides past, a set of keys already in his hand.
“I’ll go with you,” Daisy adds. “I know where the bags are.”
“Can I come too?” Izzy begs, bouncing around us as Dylan helps me up and out of the chair.
“It could take a long time for the babies to get here,” Dylan tells her. “It’s better if you stay here until they arrive, and then when they’re here and happy and healthy and ready to meet you, I’ll come back to take you to the hospital. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Izzy pouts a little, and I throw Annalise a grateful smile as she comes over to take Izzy’s little hand in hers.
“I know it’s not my weekend,” she says, “but I can stay an extra day or two if you need the help.”
“We appreciate that,” I tell her. “And it might be a good idea. Thanks.”
Dylan gives Izzy a glance, noting the way I do how hard she’s holding onto Annalise’s fingers, then nods. “Thank you. That would be great.”
“Penelope?” My mom maneuvers her way to my side so she can wrap me up in her arms. “I’m so proud of you, honey. And so happy for you. You deserve all these good things.”
My throat tightens, and I blink back tears. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Now go!” She laughs through her tears as she takes a step back. “I can’t wait to meet my granddaughters.”
In the end, Dylan is very wrong, and it doesn’t take a long time for the babies to get here. Not even long enough for me to get to the hospital and request the epidural I’ve been dreaming about for months.
Within an hour of being admitted, our daughter Ivy Davenport arrives in the world kicking and screaming and with a head of reddish-blonde hair. Twenty minutes later, her sister Lily follows, quiet and content to take it all in, looking a little like her big sister Izzy with her brown-colored curls.
And I’m an exhausted but happy mess of emotion and relief, tears streaming down my face as Dylan cradles a tiny wrapped-up bundle, and I clutch a still-hungry baby to my bare chest.
“Oh, Dylan,” I say with all the disbelief and wonder I’m feeling inside. “They’re here. We did it.”
He lowers himself onto the chair by the bed, and we ignore the bustle of midwives and doctors around us as they do what it is they do after they help bring life into the world. Nothing outside of this miracle matters.
“You did it,” he says. “And you did it so well. You were amazing, Sunshine. A force. For as long as I live, I’ll never forget how terrifying this was or all the awe and love I feel right now. There’s nothing like watching the woman you love give you a child. Nothing.”
My husband’s eyes brim with unshed tears as he holds Ivy inside those large, protective arms, and I don’t know how it’s possible to love him more. But I do. And when Dylan kisses me and I start to cry, it’s enough to push him over the edge, too, so we’re both sitting there adoring each other and our babies with damp cheeks.
“The twins are already a few hours old,” I say as Lily dozes against my breast, and a nurse arranges my blanket to keep us both warm. “Izzy needs to be here.”
“I know. Something’s missing without her.” Dylan twists to drag his phone from his back pocket, and then dials Daisy’s number and puts the call on speaker.
“Hello?” Izzy’s voice says. “Are the babies here?”
Dylan shoots me a proud grin. “Yes, Little Bee. The babies are here.”
“Yes!” she says, and I can picture her now, with her fist in the air, the same as she’s always done. I know she’ll grow out of it one day. I’m just glad one day isn’t today.
Voices sound in the background of the call, growing louder and more excited until Daisy calls through the phone. “Is Poppy okay? Are the babies healthy?”
“Mom and babies are doing well,” Dylan confirms.
“Can I come see them?” Izzy asks at the same time Daisy shouts, “What are their names?”
“Ivy and Lily,” I speak into the phone, triggering a chorus of oohs and aahs on the other end of the line.
“And yes, Little Bee,” Dylan says to Izzy. “I was just calling to tell you I’m on my way to pick you up. Are you ready?”
“Am I ready?” Izzy says with a conspiratorial little giggle. “I’m already here!”
Dylan and I exchange a confused glance. “You’re here?” he asks. “Where?”
“We’re in the waiting room,” Daisy explains.
“Who’s we ?” Dylan replies.
“All of us!” Izzy shouts. “We’ve got flowers and teddy bears and salami and sushi!”
The look on Dylan’s face—a mix of alarm and amusement—makes me laugh. My empty stomach feels odd when I do it, and I wonder how long it’ll be before my body feels like my own again. But even now, in the aftermath of birth, with all the pain and the mess and the changes, I’ve never felt so lucky or so loved.
“Maybe Izzy can come in here to meet the twins first, and then you can take them all down to the cafeteria for coffee while I clean up and get settled in my room?” I suggest.
“Are you sure?” Dylan asks. “I can send everyone home. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“No,” I say. “I want to see them. I want us all to be together.”
His shoulders drop, and he kisses me again. “I’d like that too.”
I shift up higher on the pillows and try to cover myself before Dylan hands me Ivy, and with the help of a nurse, I learn how to cradle my two babies at once. My two beautiful, incredible daughters.
And when Dylan returns, Izzy on his hip so she can lean over to marvel at the pink, squishy faces of her new baby sisters, and enough adoration in his expression to make tears catch in my throat, I revise my earlier thought about never feeling so lucky or so loved.
I get luckier every day. More loved every moment. I feel safer and more hopeful with every breath I take. Because there is no end to a real-life happily ever after.
Thank you for reading Sunshine !