Epilogue
LIZZY
ONE YEAR LATER…
Zoey holds up the onesie I scoured the internet to find. “Oh my God, this is so cute. Auntie’s Girly Pop.”
Amira wanted a matching one and wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Amira helped me and now has one of her own.”
“Amira wanted a onesie?” Zoey glances at Amira, who is giggling.
“No, Zo. My shirt says the same thing. See?” Amira lifts up her sweatshirt, showing Zoey her T-shirt underneath. “Now, Indigo and I can match.”
Indigo. Something about that name makes me smile. I thought the baby looked more like an Ethel, but that’s because she has the newborn wrinkles.
Mason takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Are you doing okay?” he asks Zoey, concerned about his cousin. “Hunter told us the labor went long.”
“Is there such a thing as a short labor?” Zoey asks, glancing up at my brother. “Was Amira fast?”
Hunter shakes his head. “She was long too.”
“Maybe you’re the problem,” Zoey replies.
I chuckle, but I don’t think she’s wrong. “He’s always been an issue, and I guess his sperm is too.”
“What’s sperm?” Amira asks, glancing between her father and me.
Hunter’s face pales. “Um…”
“It’s a seed,” I tell her, keeping it as simple as I can, even though I’m very, very wrong.
“Does the stork drop it?” she asks.
“Yes,” he tells her with a very quick nod.
“Oh. Okay,” Amira says before she goes back to staring at her new little sister.
“Someday, I want one of those,” Mason tells me, as if he’s looking at a new piece of furniture.
“Those,” I tell him, pointing at the sweetest little baby, “are a lot of work, and I’m getting too old to be pregnant.”
“Bite your tongue, woman,” he says. “We’d better get on it as soon as possible.”
“Get on it?” Amira asks, always picking up on the shit she shouldn’t.
“Ordering the seed,” I tell her, covering for the innuendo.
“Order two so you can have two babies,” Amira replies.
The very thought makes my stomach turn. I don’t know how I’ll handle one infant, let alone two. “That’s a sweet thought, but I’d prefer one at a time.”
“So, you’re ready?” Mason asks.
“Shouldn’t we get married first?” I ask him flippantly.
“Yes. Right away.”
I gape at him, my mouth hanging open as I blink a few times. “What?”
“Right away,” he repeats.
“Do it,” Zoey says. “Amira and Indigo need a cousin.”
“They have plenty of cousins,” I tell her, because the family is already bursting at the seams.
Mason takes both my hands in his. “Let’s do it. We’ll elope. Go to Vegas and tie the knot.”
“Eh. I don’t love Vegas,” I say.
“Where, then?”
“The Bahamas, on the beach.”
“Sold,” he says quickly. “I’ll get it all booked, and we’ll leave as soon as Zoey’s back from maternity leave.”
“Just the two of us,” I tell him, because I want to have the honeymoon right after.
I have no reason to say no to him. Me from a few years ago would’ve had to plan everything, but Mason’s flipped my world upside down. I no longer need to be in charge all the time.
We’ve talked about marriage a few times, but never beyond casual conversation about it being a possibility in the future.
But like everything else with Mason, I jump in feetfirst with very little thought. He is my future, and I know that deep in my bones.
“We’re doing this.” Mason leans forward and plants his lips on mine.
“I’m so happy.” Zoey sniffles. “And these hormones are killing me.”
“Hello,” Tate says as she, Amelia, and Iris walk in. “We’re here.” But when Tate’s eyes land on Zoey, she stops dead in her tracks. “Why are you crying?”
“They’re getting married,” Zoey says, but it’s barely audible with her sobbing.
Iris’s eyes shoot to us and widen. “You are?”
“Yep. In two months in the Bahamas.”
“Oh, I love it there,” Tate says. “I’ll mark my calendar.”
“Sorry, sis. This one is just for us,” Mason tells her.
Tate’s shoulders slump a little at his statement. “It’s okay. It’s not a good time anyway with the kids. It’s harder and harder to get away lately.”
Amelia takes a seat across the bed from us. She’s unusually quiet, and I’m not the only one who notices.
“What’s the face for?” Mason asks.
“What?” Amelia says, dragging her gaze across the bed to Mason.
“You look like someone broke your favorite toy,” he explains.
“They kind of did,” she whispers.
“What the hell does that mean?” Zoey asks her as she wipes her cheeks.
Amelia covers her face with her hands. “I think I’m pregnant.”