Epilogue
Rory
Nine and a Half Months Later
He woke without the assistance of an alarm, reaching into the space beside him. The sheets were cool, which meant she’d been up for a while. He wondered who had woken first—his woman or his babe.
Before the birth of their son, Sawyer was not what he would have called a light sleeper. In the month since they’d brought home their little one, it was as if she slept with one ear open—always in tune with every breath of the newborn. Sometimes, Rory swore they were in sync, Sawyer anticipating when he might need her just a moment before he started to cry.
Having slept through the night, Rory didn’t linger between the warmth of their sheets but got up, slipped into a pair of sweatpants, and went in search of his loves.
In the very beginning, he’d offered to help out with night feedings, but Sawyer wouldn’t hear of it. While it was true she was breastfeeding, and she cherished the bond that existed between a mother and her babe while he fed, that wasn’t the only reason why. Rory knew, without her having to say it, how important it was for her to show up for their son. She wanted him to know she was there, that she would never abandon him, and he was unconditionally loved.
He didn’t fight her need to prove herself. He’d learned there were some battles he couldn’t win. Rather, he made sure to help in any other way he could, ensuring Sawyer could nap whenever and as often as she wanted.
Rory didn’t bother checking the nursery before he headed down the stairs.
Their little family of three lived in the flat above Tattered Edges. It was a decision they’d made before Sawyer completed her first trimester. They decided above a bookstore was quieter than above a pub and better suited for their needs. In the months that followed, they made her place theirs—complete with a nursery fit for a king. But it was the new sofa they’d purchased only a couple of months ago that Sawyer loved to frequent with their boy. She’d curl up with him in the corner, both of them tucked beneath a blanket near the tree with all its sparkling lights.
When Rory reached the kitchen, he stopped when he caught sight of them and admired them for a moment.
He thought he loved her before—and then she’d born him Tiernan.
There was nothing he loved more than watching the two of them together. She’d been so afraid she lacked any sort of maternal instinct; but from the moment the doctor placed their son in her arms, she’d been the most loving, tender, and attentive mother he’d ever seen. When it was just the two of them, and she didn’t know Rory was watching, Sawyer would get lost in the baby’s blue eyes. Rory had seen her fall in love with Tiernan over and over—and he swore, he’d never get tired of it.
“Daddy thinks we don’t see him watching us, but we do. We do, don’t we? Yeah, that’s my sweet boy,” Sawyer cooed playfully
Rory smirked, raking his fingers through his hair as he continued into the next room. Sawyer looked up when he came to a stop in front of them.
Speaking through a smile, she said, “Merry Christmas, baby.”
He bent to press his lips to hers before he replied, “Happy Christmas, sweetheart.” He kissed her once more, then turned his attention onto their boy, his eyes alert and curious. “Happy Christmas to you, too,” he murmured, kissing the soft, red hair atop his head.
“You want him? He probably has a good twenty minutes left.”
Rory didn’t hesitate but lifted Tiernan into his arms.
“How long have you been up?”
“Maybe an hour. He slept for five straight last night.”
“Look at you, already gifting mummy the best presents.”
Sawyer hummed a quiet laugh as she got to her feet and stretched. “I think I might grab a quick shower. Diane and Brady said they’d try to be here by ten, and your parents won’t be long behind them.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding toward the stairs. “Go ahead. We’re good here.”
Sawyer
I hurried through the kitchen, then stopped before I reached the stairs and looked back at my guys. Rory gazed down at our boy and rocked gently from side to side as he paced slowly around the coffee table. I smiled to myself at the sight. I told him Tiernan might last a good twenty minutes—but if he kept rocking him like that, I gave him ten. Tops.
It had been almost a year since I moved to London, and my life wasn’t at all what I expected it to be.
The bookstore was doing great. It still was, and would always be, a magical place to find well-loved books—but we featured a few new titles on rotation, and we had a section dedicated to local indie authors, too. Tattered Edges had become what I hoped it could be—a place to gather. We hosted book clubs, book fairs, and signing events every month. We even had enough business that I was able to hire on another employee.
Sylvie was a huge help, especially as I had taken a step back in order to spend some time figuring out how to be a mom.
Tiernan was five weeks old, and it still felt surreal being called a mother, but I loved it.
“Mummy thinks we’d don’t see her watching us, but we do,” Rory hummed teasingly. “What’s that you say? Mummy should go get in the shower? I couldn’t agree more.”
Rory looked over at me and winked. I took the hint, hiding my smile as I turned on my heel to go.
When I got in the shower a couple of minutes later, I thought about the day ahead. Diane and Brady had already been in town for a couple of days. Having my best friend next door for the week was a gift in and of itself.
Since Rory and I moved in together, we’d been renting out his flat for short vacation stays. It was actually quite popular. But when Diane floated the idea of visiting for the holidays, we immediately blocked those dates for our special guests.
I couldn’t put into words how much I was looking forward to the day’s festivities. To have my family and Rory’s together for Tiernan’s first Christmas was going to be amazing. The common space in our flat was a bit smaller than that of Rory’s place, but I didn’t care. I wanted it to be crowded and cozy—like the kind of Christmas dreams were made of.
Confident my baby boy had a full belly and was likely drifting to sleep in his daddy’s arms, I took my time under the water. I shaved and washed my hair, which I considered greater than a small victory. Still a bit self-conscious about my post-partum body, smooth legs and shiny hair went a long way.
After twenty minutes on my own, I was already longing to sneak a peek at my sweet boy’s face. I couldn’t get enough of him. He was changing and growing so much so fast, I could hardly believe he’d been out in the world for an entire month.
I was halfway dressed—donning an old favorite, red, oversized sweater and a pair of black leggings—when Rory entered the room, his arms empty.
“Is he down?”
“Without even a murmur.”
“Do you mind if I blow dry my hair before you grab a shower?”
“Not so fast,” he insisted. He took hold of my hand and pulled me close. “This might be the only moment I get you to myself all day.”
“You might be right,” I murmured, propping myself against his chest.
He was still as handsome as he always was.
Sexy bed head. Pale, marble-like body—sculpted like a statue, but warm to the touch.
I wasn’t quite the same, but he still looked at me like I was more than enough, and I loved him for it.
“I’ve got a present for you.”
“Oh. You want to do gifts now? I have one for you, too, but it’s downstairs.”
“We’ll worry about what’s under the tree later. I want you to have this one now, before everyone gets here.”
“Okay.”
He reached into his pocket and said, “You and me, we’re all or nothing, yeah?”
My stomach clenched as I dropped my gaze down to his pocket. His hand was still tucked inside. Very few things fit inside of a pocket, and it suddenly occurred to me why he wanted me to have this gift now—when it was just us.
I lifted my eyes to find his once more, and he was still looking at me—his question echoed in his pretty blue eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“How about always and forever instead?”
He took the small box out of his pocket and held it between us.
A wave of astonishment crashed through me as I gaped at him.
Months ago, he promised me I was not alone—that I would never be alone, not ever again. We’d talked about getting married someday , but we’d been so focused on preparing for Tiernan, I genuinely didn’t see this coming.
“Really?” I breathed.
“Yes, really,” he chuckled through a half smile. “Darling, I love you. I want you to be my wife. Marry me.”
The word got caught in my throat, stuck behind the knot which had formed there as my nose tingled, a warning of my bourgeoning tears.
Rory’s half smile grew into a brilliant grin. “I anticipated your tears. You can let them go, sweetheart, so long as you say yes.”
I nodded, sending a tear cascading down my cheek as I whispered, “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
Before he could move to open the box, I practically leapt at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as I tried to combat my tears.
He circled his arms about my waist, dropping his forehead against mine. “Don’t you want to see the ring?”
“Kiss me first.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Tilting his head slightly, he lined his lips up with mine and muttered, “With pleasure.”
Thank you so much for reading Tattered Edges!