EPILOGUE
HAZEL
TWELVE YEARS LATER
“Daaaaad, stop it,” I groan for probably the thirtieth time today.
Why do parents have to be so annoying? Well one of my parents anyway. The XY chromosomes run strong in this house and it’s all our dad’s fault. My mom on the other hand, she’s as cool as can be. I have some friends who absolutely despise their moms, but I wouldn’t trade mine for the world.
My mom isn’t my birth mother, but I never cared.
She has never treated me as anything but hers because she chose me when she fell in love with my dad, and I think that’s pretty fricking awesome.
She didn’t have to accept me, but she dove into the deep end of parenthood with no floaties on.
What started out as her babysitting for me while my dad worked the summer after I just turned four, grew into an instant family that we all needed.
She came to visit my aunt the same day as my fourth birthday and never left.
Twelve years and three little brothers later, I’m now sixteen and sitting at the dining room table, getting ready for my junior prom. Mom is curling my hair while shooing all of my brothers and dad away every time they get too close.
Dad says I’m too young to go out with a boy without a chaperone.
Mom volleys back that the limo, restaurant, and school gym will be teeming with the parents of several classmates and friends, many of which are people he knows.
He tried to sign up to be one of those chaperones, but mom put her foot down and said no.
I’d like to think it was the puppy dog eyes I was batting at her that made her side with me, but deep down in my ‘eww, I don’t need to know that’ brain, I know it was purely selfish on her part.
My brothers are leaving right after I do to spend the night at Auntie Beth and Uncle Michael’s house with the cousins, so mom and dad are getting a very rare kid free evening to themselves.
I don’t know how it is in other homes, but very few of my friend’s parents look at each other like mine do.
Their love for one another is a bit mushy at times, but I really hope to find someone who loves me like that one day.
It may not be Tristan, my prom date, but maybe it will be, you never know.
But one thing is for certain . . . I can’t wait to find out!
THE END.