Epilogue
Eight months later
Ani
“Have you seen my sock?” Adam asked as he trailed a wobbly Rosie who was wide-legged-tightrope-walking her way across the family room while I stood capturing it all on video. Arnold and Jaxson stood right near her too, sentinels to protect her from falling.
“I don’t think Jaxson ate any today,” I said, trying to recall if I’d caught him sneaking one away from the laundry basket. He was very good at sorting through things to find exactly what he needed to support his habit.
“Yet,” Adam added. “I’d really love to find a sock to wear to work, though.”
The sock was quickly forgotten as Rosie’s first few steps turned into her first big walk. She left the couch behind and entered uncharted territory. So exciting.
On hearing his name, Jaxson’s ears drooped.
Guilty as charged. He was an in-and-out visitor to our home, often staying over.
Arnold, a genuinely kind spirit, took right to having him as a doggie pal.
The Russes genuinely loved Jax, even Mr. Russ did, it turned out, and we made sure to walk him every day.
And the Russes enjoyed our little family. Win-win.
Adam had his shirt rolled up to the elbows as he bent over, ready to stabilize Rosie if she needed it, which, despite one-sock-on, one-off, had to be the sexiest look on a man I’ve ever seen. The forearm muscles, the watch, the beautiful hands. I was done for.
But then I had to put down my phone because I had to get to work.
“Whose mom is coming today?” Adam asked. He was scanning everywhere for that missing sock.
“Mine, I think.” Lucky us—our moms had each begged to babysit a day a week, and Adam often watched Rosie when he had days off.
I was back at work three-fourths time. Dylan had stayed on, which was a good thing because Pen had started working in hospital administration while pursuing her MBA.
And she’d begun teaching new mom classes at the hospital.
Helen had finally admitted that she wanted to retire, and we were currently looking for another associate.
Pen and Dylan were a thing, and I believed that both of them were truly smitten. They meditated together daily. The best part, in my opinion, was that Dylan had helped Pen get into therapy, which had reduced her anxiety and helped her to make some hard but good life decisions.
But I’d warned Dylan that if he hurt Pen, I’d personally make sure he had no Zen for the rest of his life.
Rosie crossed the room and pulled herself up to the couch. “Dada,” she said, pointing at Adam.
“I’m your favorite,” he said in a smug tone, making her laugh. But when he went to pick her up, she cried and held out her arms for me. It was a game she played, sometimes Mom, sometimes Dad, but honestly, she secretly did prefer me. For now, anyway.
After all, I was her mother.
I kissed her on the cheek and told her how smart and beautiful she was, as I always did.
I thought of her birth mother, as I often did, and hoped and prayed that she was okay, and that one day, if she ever returned, she might learn what happened in this town to her beautiful daughter and understand that I’d kept my promise.
A feeling welled up inside of me. That I was the luckiest woman on the planet to claim this man and this baby as my own.
My heart was overflowing with happiness and relief—times two.
I felt that my life was truly beginning right now, that everything up until then had been a rehearsal.
This was the real show, and I was loving every minute of it.
Later that night, we were enjoying a glass of wine, both dogs on the rug in front of the roaring fire, wrapped up in the Packers blanket, the lights dim.
All was silent except for the occasional pop of the fire, crackling and lively.
My ring sparkled in the firelight. My grandma Rosalie’s diamond, with a tiny vine pattern and two little diamonds on either side, symbolizing our ready-made family. Woven together forever. Adam had given it to me in a Santa bag, of all things.
We’d gotten married at the courthouse a few weeks after I was officially named Rosie’s foster parent.
I’d told Adam that I was fine with taking things slow, but he’d said the hell with slow.
He’d wanted to be Rosie’s adopted father, not her stepfather, which he would have been if we were unmarried at the time the adoption was official.
We were planning another (but still small) wedding for the coming summer, officiated by a Christian minister and a rabbi, blending both of our traditions. Meeting halfway, as we always did.
All was quiet, an unusual moment. I think we both got lost in the magic of it, with the flickering fire, the soft snores from the dogs, Rosie’s occasional stirring. Adam’s soft brown eyes lit up with the firelight. “I loved you on that plane, I love you now, and I will always love you.”
“I love you too.” I met him halfway now, tumbling into his arms, kissing him thoroughly, wrapping my arms around his neck.
I tangled my hands in his hair, feeling the familiar softness of his lips moving over mine in a way that sent warmth flooding everywhere, leaving me breathless and dizzy. As he always did.
A log on the fire suddenly popped extra loudly, causing us to stop kissing. Nothing was amiss. Rosie was still fast asleep, the dogs dreaming no doubt of chasing squirrels (or whatever dogs dreamed of).
“I feel so peaceful,” he said. “Like everything has finally settled down.”
“There’s just one thing,” I said as the fire softly crackled and popped. “I mean, it’s probably not anything.”
“What is it?” He looked at me with concern.
“I’m probably not pregnant.” His entire body stiffened below me. “I mean, the morning nausea is probably from the stress. Going back to work thirty hours a week, balancing everything, yada yada.”
His expression was one part, What have I just gotten myself into? And another part, This is what life is like around here.
“I’m kidding,” I said. At least, I thought I was.
And then he tackled me down on the couch. Between laughs, I looked tenderly into his eyes. “But you do want more, right? I mean, maybe not right away, but…down the line?”
He kissed me solidly and said, “I can’t wait to spend my life with you. Have babies with you. Do all the things with you. But for right now, maybe we can just shoot for that slightly peaceful thing for a little while.”
I was more than okay with that. We could always negotiate what a little while meant, right? Like maybe next month, when we were headed back to Turks and Caicos for a long weekend. Either way, I was certain we would negotiate it, because I was getting really good at telling people what I wanted.
Then he kissed me again, deeper and more seriously. One of the dogs might have twitched a time or two, and Rosie sighed in her sleep, but then I missed anything else because I got very busy focusing on him and me.