Epilogue
Jess
“River! Myles! Let’s go!” I yell, zipping closed the bag of orange slices.
Myles comes sliding into the kitchen in his new shoes. “River’s in the potty.”
I groan, glancing at the clock. It’s going to be another thirty minutes. Minimum.
“Guys, let’s go!” Logan calls, stepping inside from the backyard. Bell trots in behind him.
“I told you to get the dogs in the car,” I snap.
“Well, she wouldn’t go in,” he shoots back.
“I’ll do it, Daddy!” Myles says, already sprinting outside. “Let’s go, Bell!”
Dutifully, the dog follows him.
I give Logan my was that so hard? look.
He throws his hands up. “Maybe if you’d set the alarm like you were supposed to, we wouldn’t be rushing.”
My mouth drops open. “Forgive me if I was tired after the client meeting you were supposed to take.”
“For the last time,” he says, grabbing his keys, “I got stuck in traffic coming back from my dad’s. Something that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t pushed me to fix our relationship.”
I blink at him.
Pushed him?
Before I can respond, there’s a honk outside.
I shove the orange slices into the picnic basket, toss a, ‘get River’ over my shoulder and head outside.
I may have suggested Sean check on Logan after he stormed out, the day of Penny’s christening. But push? Absolutely not.
I stop short on the driveway, nearly colliding with someone.
“Brad?” I press a hand to my chest.
He stands a few feet from my car, hands shoved into his pockets. Bell and Tyson have their noses pressed against the back window, staring at him like he’s a raccoon. Myles is in the driver’s seat pretending to steer.
“Hey,” he says awkwardly. “Cute dogs.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask carefully.
“I… uh…” He shifts his weight. “I guess you’re Team Bronwyn too.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He glances at the ground. “After what happened with you and Logan, I thought… if anyone would understand…”
I cross my arms. “You think you and I are the same?”
He shrugs, giving me a look I’m guessing works on most women. “You cheated on your husband. I cheated on my wife.”
I laugh. I can’t help it.
“You had an affair with the woman carrying your child,” I say evenly. “Behind your wife’s back.”
“It wasn’t an affair,” he says defensively.
“Was it more than once?” I ask.
He hesitates.
I nod once. “It was an affair.”
His jaw tightens. “I thought you’d get it.”
“I don’t,” I say calmly. “What I did was stupid and impulsive.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “You fucked your surrogate and then blamed your wife for it.”
He flinches.
“I am definitely not on your side,” I continue. “And now I’d like you to leave so I can be with my family.”
He looks around like he expects someone to jump in and defend him. After a long second, he nods and walks back down the driveway.
“What’d he want?” Logan asks from behind me.
I nearly jump out of my skin for the second time in five minutes.
“He wanted solidarity,” I say, taking a steadying breath. “I guess.”
“Seriously?” Logan asks.
I shrug, picking up the basket and heading toward the car, avoiding his eyes.
We may be good now.
But of course, Brad had to show up on a day that was supposed to be easy.
I decide I’m not letting him steal it.
So, I don’t.
I run with the boys. I throw the football when they ask. We tackle Logan in the grass. I beat everyone at tag and gloat about it.
By the time all four of my children collapse onto the blanket, sweaty and dramatic about how they’re “literally dying,” I feel lighter.
Almost.
But Logan knows me.
He always has.
The boys are arguing about who ran faster when Logan pulls me into his arms and slides his hand along my cheek, turning my face toward him.
His thumb brushes just under my eye.
“I love you,” he says.
My heart nearly stops for the third time that day.
But this one is good. Not panic or fear.
Just happiness.
I look up at him, at the man I almost lost. The man who almost let me go.
“I love you too,” I whisper.