BONUS EPILOGUE

River

SERENITY

[1.5 Years Later]

I rub my hands over my face and groan. My eyes land on the coffee pot, spritzing out my drink that I’m far from perfecting. I snarl at it.

My favorite thing used to be slurping multiple cups of coffee during work, but for whatever reason, pregnancy forced my tastebuds to hate the only drink that pushes me through my shifts.

I grab a pile of envelopes next to the coffee pot while it struggles to complete its designed task. Each envelope is open and discarded, left to be taken care of another day, because even Lake can’t keep things spotless lately.

I beam my smile at the top letter. It’s information about Lake’s new bonus. Brooks made him partner at the real estate agency. My husband does everything he fibbed to my parents about two years ago. He’s not just a successful real estate agent, he’s now the boss of many agents, and he has a proper degree he worked his butt off to get.

He also moved me into a better home, as he promised to do. We stayed in our apartment for a few months before deciding on a house. Lake plopped us down in Belmont.

One night, I woke up to him not next to me, so I tossed on my robe and wandered over half-unpacked boxes to find him. He was in our spare bedroom, a pencil tucked behind his ear, planning out measurements for a nursery long before I got pregnant.

He even bought me a car to help me commute to work. It was almost as sexy as him building nursery furniture from scratch. My husband truly pulled through. All he needed was support and love to get here, and to accept the love he deserves.

I jump back at a loud noise, flying my hand over my chest and then exhaling a breath when I recognize the sound. It’s our garage door. A few seconds later and Lake comes into the house. I can’t see him yet, but I hear those grouchy footsteps.

He doesn’t shout for me, and I don’t call out to him. He knows where I am. These late night coffee breaks have become a usual thing I do. Then complain about doing, because coffee sucks.

“It’s okay, everything is all sunshine, isn’t it?” he whispers, and he comes into view. His dark circles are as shadowy now as they were the night I met him, but the bright grin on his face cancels it out.

He holds up our son in his car seat. Our baby is still wide awake. His big brown eyes stare right at me, and he does not seem impressed with the way his sleepy dad drives at three AM.

“There’s mommy!” Lake exclaims. “Tell mommy that daddy drove around the neighborhood eight times, but you’re still not snoozing.”

Nine months ago, I had our son, and he’s never been a great sleeper. He looks like he’s pondering world domination most of the time, but he’s cute. Those are both traits he gets from his father.

Lake brings up his other hand, showcasing my current read in his palm. “I found it. You left it in the car.”

Reading. I read again. “Thank you, honey.”

When I’m overwhelmed, I ask my husband and my friends for help, and I take care of myself by indulging in things I enjoy, like reading. It’s still crazy to look back and remember the chunk of my life where I could not get through a single page.

Our son sinks into his adorable double chin. Then he folds his little lips together and side-eyes his father.

“He’s giving you that dirty look again.” I point with my finger and almost lose the hold on my coffee mug. As if I’d care about the coffee dripping.

Lake glances down and pretends to act shocked. “Watch the attitude, baby Phoenix.”

I giggle. “I wonder where he gets that from.”

“No idea, Angel.” He drops my book on the counter next to him and lowers my baby to the floor. “Come on, River.”

River continues his scowl, even as Lake unclasps the belt and lifts him up. Lake ignores the silent threat and smiles. He strides over to me, blending with our new, freshly redone kitchen. We wanted a splash of color, while still keeping the modern vibe. Our cabinets are white, but we have bright blue walls and tiny daffodils painted on the backsplash.

Lake gives me a gushy smooch on my forehead, then grazes my lips, but our son doesn’t appreciate that. He makes little noises and reaches out his arms, clawing his chubby fingers in the air for me.

“Can’t believe this kid,” Lake grumbles, passing him to me.

I kiss the little blonde hairs on his head. “What’s wrong, River? You wanted mommy? Cause your daddy is so big, burly, and grumpy?”

“You flirting with me, Mrs. Phoenix?”

I tuck in my bottom lip, shrugging my shoulders. When am I not flirting with my husband? I’ll be still be flirting with him decades from now.

River digs his forehead into my chest, muffling his baby noises. I kiss his head a few more times, but then I capture my husband’s capsizing gaze, and it sucks me right into his eyes.

My body reacts like it’s on the coast, relaxing by gentle waves.

Those scars that Lake has, the one that broke my heart when I revived him, they are all faded, and none of them are new.

He’s been sober for two years. Healing is never linear, and he still has his bad days, but the lessons we’ve learned from breaking to our foundation and rebuilding again, it’s making healing a lot easier, because we choose to be better. Four ourselves and our marriage. Now, for our son.

It’s why Lake is on ADHD medication, and I’m finally recovering after being diagnosed with panic disorder. It wasn’t easy to find a doctor that listened, but it was harder to hear one that did. I cried on the daily when I got my diagnosis, because I was afraid of never finding stability in my head and body.

My husband stuck with me. We got through it, and we kept growing.

That growth came with countless trials and endless setbacks. We haven’t communicated with our parents in two years, which is heavy, but growth. We’re both in therapy, so we don’t pass on generational trauma to our child. That’s growth. Nobody is perfect. All of us are different, but that doesn’t make change impossible.

Mine and Lake’s biggest lesson is that no matter how much we grow, we are still incomplete. We’re still maimed with flaws and have burdens on our backs, but we see one another like our reflection in the mirror. We choose love, even when we feel like we’re not enough for it.

“Serenity.” Lake holds his hands on my hips. “I’ve said this to you before, but when I look at you and River, all that negative crap in my head gets pointless.” He shakes his head, still smiling. “Nothing on earth is greater than this.”

“Phoenix, if I start crying, River will never sleep,” I croak.

“Yeah, but then it’s just the three of us a little longer, and that’s peaceful enough.” He drags me closer. “Angel, we gotta get married again.”

That makes me snicker instead of bursting into tears. “You wanna have a proper wedding?”

He reaches across from us and dims the kitchen lights. “Yup, and we gotta practice our first dance right now.”

“Oh, do we?”

We pause for a moment as River groans. He’s not even a year old, and he can barely understand us, but he’s already done with our shenanigans.

Lake holds my hips tighter, his two arms displaying his countless tattoos. It’s safe to say he’s become the tattoo guy he always dreamed of being. Although I still go with him to his appointments because he cannot stop twitching no matter where he gets a tattoo done.

Along with his scars, his first tattoo has faded into his skin. The once vibrant black ink is less pigmented, and my tattoo has done the same, but breathing on my own is something I’ve learned to do. And living, knowing River is safe and resting, is something Lake’s accomplished.

I sway with him, gently flowing around the kitchen. The wind breezes outside, and I feel the hushed stroke of an invisible paintbrush on my skin. Another moment, a timeless memory, being painted into existence.

Lake hums under his breath, and I match the soft tone. We’re humming Wheels On The Bus at a slower speed. It’s all we listen to, or River isn’t satisfied.

River doesn’t mind the swaying. He uses my boobs as pillows, drooling all over my shirt. The soft dancing seems to somehow be soothing his plans to blow up the planet. His tiny, lengthy eyelashes drift shut.

“Guess this is better than the car rides,” Lake whispers.

“I guess so,” I say, lifting onto my neck and meeting Lake halfway between our heights to secure our lips together. I can breathe on my own, but his oxygen fills me up.

Our want to change began with us. It continues with us.

He brings his arm around me and nuzzles my head into his chest, leaving enough room between our bodies for River and his snores. I sink into the feeling, safe in my warm home, with a family I always dreamed of having, a love I always wanted to feel.

The words leave me without a single thought. “I love you, Lake.”

“My beautiful wife.” A hand leaves my hip, and he uses it to tuck my hair behind my ear. “I love you more than anything.”

Complete on our own. Whole together.

This is all anyone would ever need.

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