Epilogue Angie
One year later
“Happy birthday!” I pull the end of a popper and spray glitter and streamers all over a glum-looking Rowan as she sits in front of her cake. She bends over the seventeen candles Danielle painstakingly placed in a perfect circle and blows them out.
“That’s my girl,” Cathal says, hugging his daughter, who only squirms under all the attention.
“Me! Me!” Addie reaches for the popper and takes it from my hands. She waves it around, propping herself up in the grass.
“That’s my girl,” Connor says, bending down to scoop her up in his massive arms. It still amazes me, seeing him hold her like that, with pure reverence in his eyes. “Already loves a good explosion.”
“Dada,” Addie says, pawing at her father’s face and mouth, making him laugh.
“You better not teach that girl how to shoot,” I say, elbowing him as Danielle and Cathal start giving Rowan her presents.
It’s a small gathering, only the core family. We’re out in the yard of the mansion on Malba, back on the edge of the water again. It took a while for the work crews to get the place in a livable state and it’s still not finished, but we moved back in a few weeks ago.
The halls still smell like smoke and sawdust. Sometimes I wonder if I can hear Colm laughing or taste his blood when I walk down the stairs.
But most days, it’s a stupid house.
“Give me that baby,” Rowan says, reaching out for Addie. My daughter squeals as Rowan props her up and gives her some cake. “Good, huh?”
“Rowie, come on, you should ask first,” Danielle says.
“It’s fine. Let the girl eat.” Connor kneels beside them and takes a piece for himself.
“Oh my god, is my son eating sugar right now?” Cathal looks at me in shock. “Who is this man?”
“I swear, a girl came out of me and it changed him forever.”
“Careful,” Connor says, looking up with a wicked smile. “Or else I’ll put another baby in that belly.”
“Oh my god, stop it,” Rowan says, hugging Addie. “It’s my birthday. I don’t want to hear anyone talk about making stupid babies. You excluded, lovie.”
“Me, me, me, me,” Addie says, her favorite word.
Lisa comes out to help slice what’s left of the post-toddler cake.
She refills glasses and laughs at jokes.
I don’t know what we’d do without her. The scar on her cheek is a living reminder of what she went through and how she earned every single cent of the obscene mid-six-figure salary she earns every year helping around the house.
The small celebration lasts for another hour or so until Cathal insists on driving back to their townhouse. “I keep saying we can get you a place around here,” Connor complains as they get into the car.
“And I keep saying the distance is good for everyone. See you tomorrow.”
Connor watches them drive off. Addie teeters around the front lawn and falls once right onto her butt. Connor scoops her into his arms and holds her tight.
“It’s cute, you know. How badly you want everyone under the same roof again.”
He scowls at me. “It’s not like that. I hate Dad moving around too much. You know his leg still bothers him.”
“Yeah, but you also miss it.”
“I can keep everyone safer if they’re together.” Connor carries his daughter back to the house. Men lurk at the edges of the property. Guards in black. They keep a respectful distance. We’re not at war, but my husband still insists on having protection at all times.
Back inside, Lisa takes the little girl to get changed. I sit in the kitchen and flip open my laptop, sliding glasses onto my nose. There are a few texts from Nadia and a gif making fun of Connor from Rowan on my phone.
“Don’t tell me you’re working.” Connor fills a glass of bourbon. “Angel, I keep saying you don’t need to do that.”
“I like my job.”
“It’s WashCo.” He tosses back the rest of the glass. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Someone’s got to do your books and it might as well be someone who knows how crooked they are.”
“Not a bad point.”
“Besides, I’d be bored out of my mind if I weren’t working.”
He grunts approval and kisses my neck. “You know, I was thinking. About earlier?—“
“No.”
“It’s good timing. We shouldn’t wait?—“
“Connor.”
“Baby, please.” He turns me to face him. “We’re ready.”
I look at the floor. He’s ready, that’s for sure, but I keep thinking about what happened last time. The eight-hour delivery. The swollen feet. The weight I could barely drop. I feel like I have my body back at last, and he wants me to do it all over again?
But he’s right. It’s time. It’s past time. I want to fill this big house with laughter and noise, and we can’t do that unless I’m pregnant.
“I’m afraid, that’s all.”
“I know.” He breathes out and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be here always. You know that.”
“You really think we can do it all over again?”
“Well, we might hire another Lisa.”
“Connor!”
“But yes, of course we can.” He kisses my lips. “I love you so much it fucking hurts. I want more of you. I want so much more. And that means a dozen babies rolling all over the place.”
“Can we settle on three?”
“That might be acceptable.”
I chew my thumbnail, check my phone, look at my computer, and groan. “Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Fine!”
“Fine.” He bites my lower lip. “Shall we get started?”
“No!” I push him back weakly. He nibbles at my ear. “Maybe. Ah, stop it!”
He laughs, gripping my ass. I wriggle from his hold as Lisa appears with Addie in tow. I take my daughter in my arms, dismiss the nanny for the night, and force Connor to come for a walk with us.
We’re trailed by three big men in dark suits, but that’s fine. Connor pushes the stroller and I hold onto his arm.
“You never told me, is Rowan definitely going to Blackwoods next year?”
Connor grunts his confirmation. “It’s not official yet, but that’s the plan.”
“Is she nervous?”
“Don’t know. I swear that girl’s turning into a difficult goddamn teenager.”
“I wonder where she gets it from.”
“Easy, angel.”
I look out at the water, smiling to myself. My baby babbles happily and my husband strolls by my side, a hulking and beautiful man, cooled and tempered by fatherhood, but nowhere near dimmed.
It’s good, living like this. I don’t know how I found this piece of myself after all that happened. I was so afraid of turning into my mother that I refused to let myself be myself.
I take care of people. That’s what I do. And now I have a husband and a daughter to dote on.
Why not make more?
“When we get home, I want you to knock me up.”
Connor tenses. “You’re serious?”
“We might as well enjoy the process.”
“Angel, you don’t know how happy that makes me.”
“The prospect of a baby? Or having sex without protection?”
“Both.” He pauses, lips curling. “Mostly the sex.”
“Bastard.” I slap his shoulder and we continue our stroll, and I’m anticipating what’s next, but I’m also content with what we have.