Epilogue #2
“Oh, excellent. I want to make the bed up first.” Then I see Dani step out from inside the house, with her brand new baby in her arms. “But not before saying hello to the newest little Foster!”
“Do you want to hold her?” Dani asks.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I coo, taking her sweet, soft, fresh-smelling daughter in my arms. “Oh, how sweet are you?”
“You’ve had a long drive. Maybe a baby cuddle might be a good excuse to take a minute to yourself while you let the family unload?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, but I’ve already buried my nose against the top sweet newborn scalp.
Then, arms happily full, I follow Dani inside.
“I filled your fridge a bit,” she says as she leads me into my own kitchen.
“You just had a baby!”
“I was on and off bedrest for six months. As soon as this little one arrived, I vaulted back to life. And I wanted to cook for my family, so I was just making extra.” She leans back against the counter after making sure we’re alone. “And now we can hide here while everyone else brings in boxes.”
Many hands do make light work—my mother was right—and in less than an hour, all the boxes are in their designated rooms.
Jules tries to start unpacking, but Garrett stops her and corrals her into the kitchen.
“I’m just trying to help,” she protests. “I came all the way to be useful!”
“But it’s beer and pizza time now,” I tell her. “Come and sit with Dani and me. Tell us about your fancy bosses. Where are they spending the summer?”
“He’s staying in Toronto. She’s filming on location, so I’m flying back and forth with the kidlet.”
“First class?” I tease.
“Of course.”
Dani and I look at each other.
“Of course,” we repeat, both of us deadpan.
Jules rolls her eyes. “Can I go back to unpacking now?”
“Just sit with us,” I tease, knowing it will rile her up more. “I’m kidding. Sure. If you want to be really helpful, you could set up my bed!”
Garrett’s head lifts from the conversation he was having with his cousin.
“We already set up the bed frame,” he says over the din of chatter. Then his gaze falls to the baby in my arms, and he gets this stupidly goofy smile on his face.
My tummy flutters.
Nearby, Jake has finished eating his slice of pizza.
“Hey, Dad, time for you to hold your daughter,” I say, pretending like I don’t want to snuggle her all night long.
But I should probably supervise my sister.
He takes the little one into the crook of his arm, and I dart for the stairs.
There are three rooms up here, two of them big enough to be bedrooms, the last one more of an office—or a nursery.
Right now, it’s completely empty. But because of our breakup, we have two beds, so we’re setting up our bedroom and a spare room.
The biggest bedroom also has a gorgeous big window that overlooks the quiet backyard, and I stop in the doorway, appreciating the lovely calm of it all. My mom must have been up here, too, because the bed is already made.
Jules is going through boxes efficiently, hanging stuff up in the closet. I open the last box and laugh when I see the little plastic bundle of my bedroom toiletries right on top.
I set it on my pillow, since we don’t actually have the bedside tables up here yet, and carry the rest of the box over to where my sister is standing in front of the closet. “This stuff needs to be put on the shelves in here.”
“I’ll get out of your way and start next door,” she says.
“Are you girls up here?” my mom calls out, climbing the stairs again.
“I’m in the bedroom,” I say. “We’re almost done in here.”
“Spare room next, Mama,” Jules says, twirling away from me.
I grin at her. “Isn’t this fun? Don’t you want to move home, too?”
“Some of us are meant to—”
An ear-shattering scream next door cuts Jules off.
We both race into the spare room just in time to see my mother lob the eggplant dildo in the air. Jules catches it, then realizes what’s in her hands, and wings it at me.
I clutch it to my chest.
“Aurora,” my mother says reproachfully. “Why did you make me touch that thing again?”
Jules snickers under her breath.
“Shut up,” I snap at her. “Mom, I didn’t make you touch anything. That was in the Christmas box! You didn’t need to open it!”
Jules schools her features into fake sincerity. “Why is your dildo in a box marked Christmas?”
“Don’t use that word,” my mother says.
“Christmas?” Jules and I say at the same time. And then, “Oh, dildo.”
“Girls!”
“Relax, Mom,” I say, because I’ve had six months to reconcile myself to the fact this is simply funny and not mortifyingly embarrassing. For me, anyway. “I’m planning on giving it back to Garrett this Christmas as a joke. We haven’t, uh, used it.”
“I should hope not.” She shakes her head as I grab the Christmas box, tuck the dildo away, and put the whole thing in the closet. “That’s doesn’t look comfortable.”
“You know it’s modelled after—”
I cut Jules off. “She doesn’t need that reminder, Baby.”
“Nobody needed that reminder, Mini, but here we are!”
“Okay, time for you to go back to your jet-setting ways.”
But Jules is on a melodramatic roll now, enjoying our mom’s discomfort. “I shouldn’t have to see, much less hold, my brother-in-law’s eggplant facsimile more than once in my life!”
“Juliana Minelli, that’s enough.” My mom lets out a watery laugh. “But also, same.”
I give her a rueful smile. “Hey, maybe let this be a warning that you shouldn’t use your key uninvited.”
She gasps, and then we’re all laughing so hard our sides hurt.
The last box to get opened is a small one for the kitchen. It literally says Kitchen: Last Box to Open on it, and Garrett has it in his hands when the last of our excited guests leave. We wave goodbye from the porch, then he hands the box to me and ushers me back inside.
“Want to do the honours?”
I carry it back to the kitchen. A stack of flattened cardboard boxes is on the table, but it actually looks like a home already.
“I can’t believe we’re basically fully moved in,” I say as I slice the tape open. “What’s left?”
“The most important part.” Garrett wraps his arms around me from behind, nuzzling my neck.
Inside the box is the partridge timer, sitting on top of Garrett’s green flannel shirt.
“Oh, of course,” I whisper. “It needs to go in a place of honour, doesn’t it?”
“I was thinking…” He takes it from the box and moves around me, twisting it to start a ninety minute countdown before setting it on an open shelf. “Right in the heart of our home.”
“Nice.” I lean against the counter. “What do you want to talk about?”
His eyes crinkle. “Anything you want. How was your drive?”
I laugh. “Yeah, pretty good. Had a fun convoy partner. Yours?”
“Easy. Spent the whole time thinking about this.”
“Unpacking?”
He grins. “The whole thing. Unpacking. Watching you snuggle a little baby, and then turn all pink when I caught you sniffing the top of her head. Hearing the inevitable Minelli shrieks of laughter.”
“They found the dildo again.”
That makes him groan. “Oh, God.”
“Yeah. But on the upside, I don’t think my mom will be letting herself into the house. I suggested she might find us using it right here on the counter.”
His eyes light up.
“Not exactly,” I hasten to add.
“But we should.” He draws me close and kisses me hungrily. “We will.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, eager for more. But then I remember. “Hey, you re-packed my eye drops and lip balm!”
“I told you I was going to.” He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I think what you mean to say is, you were right, Garrett.”
“Doubtful,” I mutter.
“I want to hear it.” He’s laughing.
“I had to put it on my pillow because the bedside tables weren’t upstairs yet.”
“The horror,” he mocks.
And I can’t pull away, because the partridge is clucking. So I tighten my arms around his neck and kiss his stupid right mouth until he stops laughing.
I love the way his whole body gets into kissing me. He curves over me, surrounding me with love so warm it feels like a cozy blanket, and he gathers me close.
He tastes like beer and pizza, and he feels like home.
When he turns me and picks me up, putting me on the little kitchen island, I think it’s because he’s going to wedge his big body between my legs and do some more kissing.
Instead, he breaks away, his chest heaving, and gestures to the box. “Now put on that shirt.”
I blink at it. We both love this shirt, and we take turns claiming ownership over it.
“Okay.” I’m laughing softly at him as I tug it out of the box, but my giggle dies as a velvet box tumbles out, too.
Garrett catches it with ease.
My hands go numb.
“The shirt, Roar,” he nudges.
I nod, but I don’t move.
He helps me, sliding my arms into the soft, familiar cotton. He adjusts the collar around my neck, then tugs the front, making sure it’s all around me before he sinks to one knee.
I already can’t breathe.
I’m perched on the kitchen island like a princess on a pedestal, and he’s bowing before me like a knight in my court.
“Aurora Minelli, I have wanted to ask you this question since the first time you kissed me. But I was a skinny little teenager then, and you were the smartest girl in school. I didn’t know that you’d let me tag along as you set off to pursue your dreams.
“But being a part of your life ever since has been the second greatest gift you’ve ever given me. Getting a chance to win you back is the only thing that nudges it out of top spot. I will follow you to the ends of the earth, but tonight, it feels like we’ve come full circle.
“So tonight feels like the right time to finally speak these words out loud, the words I’ve held in my heart since I was a boy.” He takes a deep breath, and holds my blurry gaze.
I swipe at my cheeks and try to smile, but it’s so hard because my lips are wobbling.
“Will you marry me? Will you be my wife? Will you let me be your husband in every way, on every day, for the rest of my life?”
“Yes,” I whisper. And then louder, “Yes, yes, please.”
He opens the ring box, and the prettiest diamond I’ve ever seen sparkles up at me.
Behind me, the partridge clucks in approval.
“Oh, Garrett.”
He stands up, and now he wedges himself between my legs. He takes my hand and kisses my fingertips, my knuckles, before sliding the ring onto my finger.
“It’s so beautiful,” I whisper.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs back.
“This is a dream.” I kiss him.
“My dream,” he says in between that kiss and the next. And the next after that is so deep, so long, that we’re still kissing when the timer goes off.
Breathless, we both turn and look at it.
He takes a firm grip of his flannel shirt, wrapped around me, and says, “Stay right here, my wife-to-be.”
“Staying,” I manage to breathe.
He looks huge as he grabs the timer. All of his muscles are flexed, his whole body tense. He’s gorgeous. And mine, all mine, again. For always this time. Forever.
Instead of just stopping the timer, he cranks it around, all the way. “That was a pretty good start,” he says, setting it back on the shelf. “Let’s see what we can do with another ninety minutes.”
Rory and Garrett do eventually use the eggplant facsimile!