Epilogue 2 - Rowen
Iwasn’t a good man. I ruined everything I touched. I broke the woman I loved again and again. I wasn’t capable of anything soft without spending every ounce of my focus on it.
But there I was, holding the smallest, most fragile thing I’d ever touched.
Our daughter.
She was sleeping in my arms, a tiny, warm bundle against my chest, wrapped in a light pink blanket like a present. Her fingers twitched, eyelashes fluttering, the only sound in the room was Ginny's quiet breathing.
And her mother’s.
Avery was out cold, needing sleep after the birth. She’d more than earned it.
She was a fucking champ. She didn’t just give birth, she conquered the whole damn thing.
I’d never seen anything more brutal, more beautiful, than her face as she screamed through hours of labor, refusing to let go of my hand.
I still had nail marks from the way she’d held on to me, voice hoarse as she screamed.
I wasn’t sure how she did it, but she did, and when our little girl screeched for the first time, Avery cried tears of joy.
I didn’t know I was capable of loving her more, but sitting in the chair, holding the little life we’d brought into the world together, watching her sleep…I was falling for her all over again.
She looked so peaceful.
Damp strands of hair stuck to her temple, her lips slightly parted. Her arms were still cradled the way they were when she’d fallen asleep with Ginny in her arms.
My eyes fell to the ring on her finger, the one I’d picked out for her after we found out she was pregnant. It wasn’t because she was pregnant, but I wanted—needed—them both to have my last name.
Avery insisted on a courthouse wedding. We had no one to invite anyway.
She wore a short, white sundress that made her pregnant belly look so cute, and I wore my leather jacket. She’d never been more beautiful than that day, but she looked angelic now.
I had the urge to kiss every inch of her skin, to whisper how fucking proud I was over and over, to tell her I loved her more than anything, more than life, more than myself.
Ginny squirmed in my arms, and I watched her eyelids blink open. She had blue eyes, but the nurses told us they’d most likely change as she got older.
“I hope you get your mother’s beautiful brown eyes,” I told my daughter, brushing a finger over her soft cheek, her fingers, in awe of how tiny she was. How beautiful she was. “I’ll never let anything happen to you or your mother. Ever,” I promised.
We were meant to be.
Avery. Me. Ginny.
I’d chased her down, hurt her, and fucked her until she forgot how to walk, until her body learned to crave mine the same way mine did hers. I lied to her, obsessed over her, even slipped supplements into her food and bought her fake birth control just to make her stay with me.
And she did for some reason.
Not because I forced her.
She stayed because she loved me.
I didn’t understand why, but I wasn’t going to take it for granted.
I looked back down at Ginny, chest tight, like I couldn’t breathe.
“You weren’t an accident. You weren’t a mistake,” I told her, her eyes unfocused and cloudy but looking up at me, nonetheless. “You were always the plan, from the very beginning.”
She made a small, sleepy sound like she approved, and I couldn’t help but smile.
I looked back at her mother, still managing to look heavenly despite everything she’d been through in the last sixteen hours.
I adjusted Ginny in my arms and leaned back in the chair, letting my emotions settle into me.
“Hey…” Avery’s sleepy voice broke through the silence.
Her brown eyes were exhausted but shining. She smiled, slow and lazy, like the world was perfect.
Mine sure was.
She looked at our daughter then back at me.
“I love you so much…husband,” she breathed, a tear rolling down her cheek.
I got up, put the baby back in her arms, and kissed her softly.
“I love you too, my beautiful wife,” I whispered back. “More than you fucking know.”
And I meant it, with every twisted, fucked-up inch of my soul.