Epilogue
Tia
Six Years Later
"This is all your fault!" I practically scream at Briggs, sweaty strands of hair dripping into my face. I'm so hot and so tired. I just want to go to sleep.
"I know, sweetness," he rasps, looking as if he might pass out. The guilt in his eyes is devastating. "I know. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I won't ever do it again. I swear, I won't."
Another contraction hits, and I squeeze his hand, as if I can transfer the pain from my body to his. He's bigger. Surely he can handle it, right?
"One more big push," Dr. Nellis says. "One more, Tia."
I think she's lying, but I grit my teeth and push anyway. Briggs holds my hand the entire time, a slew of apologies flowing from his lips. I know he means them. I also know he'll forget how much he means them as soon as our daughter is in our arms. He always forgets.
Truthfully…so do I. Pain is temporary, but the way I love our kids? That's forever. And so is the way Briggs loves all of us. I feel it every damn day.
This man is my rock. He's my safe place, my best friend…my world. And somehow, despite the way things started between us—back when I was adamant that I'd never give him a chance—my life is a million times better because he's in it.
I scream his name through the pain, clinging to his hand as our daughter finally decides to stop being stubborn and join the world.
"That's it," Briggs says, his eyes damp when I fall back against the bed, exhausted and panting. "That's it, sweetness. You did it."
"Briggs," I sob.
He cups my cheeks, wiping tears and sweat. "I love you. I love you so fucking much."
I know he does. I knew it long before he uprooted his entire life to move to Minnesota with me. And I've known it every day since.
My trust issues didn't break us. Neither did his mother. It's been a long time since we've had to deal with either…a really long time.
Sometimes, things work out the way they're meant to work out, and the people who caused the scars for people who didn't deserve them simply…
stop mattering. His mother and Daniel Jordan stopped having any place in our lives a long time ago.
Wherever they are now, and whatever they're doing, I'm sure they're miserable.
But we're not.
"I want to see her," I say, craning my head when our daughter lets out a fierce wail. "Please. I want to see her."
"I've got her for you, Tia," a nurse says, immediately stepping up beside the bed to lay her on my chest.
I peer down, my entire body just…going still. She's so tiny, so pink and perfect.
"She looks like you," I whisper to Briggs in awe. Her sisters look like me, but not her. She's got his hair, his nose. She's perfect.
He chokes out a breath, his hand covering her whole back. His damp eyes meet mine, brimming with emotion. "Thank you."
I sob his name because I know he isn't just thanking me for what I said. He's thanking me for her, for her sisters…for the life we've built together.
He always says it's his fairytale.
It's mine, too. And it's been worth every damn second.