Epilogue One
SHAW
One Year Later.
“Mooooooo.”
I swear that fucking cow is going to drive me to drink. If my wife didn’t love her so damn much, I’d sell her for beef and be done with her.
That’s a lie I keep telling myself.
Marilyn the cow is eccentric and loving. A beast who was dealt a shitty hand and will likely haunt my dreams long after she dies of old age in my damn backyard.
“Mooooooo.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn in my office chair to see what’s up her ass today, only to find my wife on the ground.
“Son of a bitch!” I rush out of the room, startling Rita, Marcus, and Allison as I go. “Monroe!” I yell her name as I clear the porch doors, and she waves her hand at me like it’s nothing. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, Shaw,” she pants.
“You sure as hell aren’t.” I drop beside her. Sweat beads her brow, and her hands cover her belly.
“I think…I might…be in labor.” She breathes arduously through each statement.
My mind blanks for a split second before refocusing. “How many minutes apart?”
“How many minutes between moos?” She’s got jokes.
“Maybe two.”
“Then that many. Ohhhhh…” Her body damn near folds in half with the next contraction.
“Moooooo.” Marilyn experiences it with her, and suddenly, I have a completely new appreciation for the damn beast.
“Is it time?” Marcus asks from behind me, and I confirm. “Then, let’s get her inside.”
How does that man stay so fucking calm?
“Don’t forget to breathe,” Allison encourages as she and Rita join us.
“She means you, darlin’.” At that jab, Monroe glares daggers at me.
“Right. I’ll just shut up.” As we help her inside, I hear Rita on the phone with the paramedics.
Her contractions are so close, and we’re too far from a hospital for me to drive her.
“Over here,” I suggest. After helping Monroe onto the couch, I crouch beside her. “What do you need me to do?”
We took Lamaze classes, and I’ve birthed plenty of livestock before.
Hell, I’ve battled in war. But when it comes to the birth of our first child, I haven’t the faintest idea how to make it easier on Monroe.
The first time I believed she was pregnant, she was right; she was late due to all the stress at that time.
When a test finally came back positive a couple of months later, I might have become even more protective of the love of my life.
“Shaw,” Allison’s stern voice calls my name. Thankfully, she's a maternity nurse and knows what to do. “Sit up behind Monroe. Help her breathe and keep her comfortable.”
I nod and do as she says.
The baby was supposed to be here three days ago, and Monroe was scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning. Guess our little one decided to throw a wrench in the plans.
With the Marilyn Foundation set to open in three months, her parents have moved to their own slice of the Crazy Mountains, Montana, and my parents are coming next month. They’ve decided to make my dream into a family affair.
At this moment, I don’t mind one single bit.
I watch while Rita and Allison help Monroe remove her clothes and change into a long nightgown while Marcus continues to talk to paramedics. The contractions grow closer together, and before I know it, Allison tells us the head is crowning.
Monroe screams.
Marilyn moos.
“You got this, darlin’. You are so fucking strong.” I watch in awe as my wife brings a miracle into this world, with a full head of dark hair, healthy lungs, and endearing perfection.
Monroe
The sun set hours ago. Shaw is asleep in the recliner next to my bed, and our sweet, sweet little boy is suckling at my breast.
I should be exhausted, but I’m wide awake. Thrilled to have my intimate little family right here beside me.
I should be in pain, but I feel as though I’m floating on air.
My heart is in this room, and I’ve never experienced anything closer to nirvana.
Minutes after Allison delivered our son, the paramedics arrived to help with the placenta and to clean me up before transporting us to the hospital.
On the way here, we decided on a name—Marcus Callan Remington. And when we told my parents, they cried, never expecting us to name our son after mine and Shaw’s fathers.
The last year has been an emotional rollercoaster, filled with highs and lows I never thought I’d experience again.
My mother and Claire were given probation for their part in my stalking, and Mother has been ordered to pay back the money she stole, though I don’t see that happening and couldn’t care less about it.
Alton was given a couple of years for deadly intent, and more secrets than were dug up at the Alamo were brought to light throughout the many court hearings.
Yet through it all, Shaw and I got married, began renovations on the ranch for the Marilyn Foundation, and started the family we’ve both been privately wanting since the day I showed up.
My life had always been one pageant after another. One strut after another across the stage until my feet hurt and my smile dimmed. My first real choice came the day I met Shaw, and I haven’t regretted it for one second.
Feeling little Marcus unlatching from my breast, I sit him up to burp him, only for Shaw’s masculine hands to take him from me.
“Let me.” He leans down to kiss me before laying the baby across his shoulder, gently rubbing and patting his back. Never in my wildest dreams have I seen a sexier sight. Watching how tender Shaw is with our son reignites my baby fever, and we’ve only had this precious one for a few hours.
I relax against the pillows behind me, close my eyes for the first time today, and listen to my husband softly sing. Shaw and baby Marcus have consumed my entire heart and soul, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“You’re perfect, just like your momma.”
Shaw’s words follow me into slumber, filled with dreams of the future and nothing but happiness on the horizon.