Bonus Epilogue #2
I can’t help but watch her as she sways back and forth rocking the infant.
Willow and I have talked about kids only once since the first night at the cabin.
When it’s the right time and she’s ready, she’ll let me know, but until then, I don’t want to pressure her.
Hell, if she tells me she never wants to have a kid, I’ll accept it without a fight, but part of me will always want one.
Especially as I stare at the small tufts of dark hair sticking up over the pink blanket.
“What’s her name?” I ask trying not to make it obvious I’m daydreaming about Willow and me having our own someday.
“Melody Grace.”
“That’s beautiful,” I say, smiling.
“Thank you. We named her after both of our mothers. Would you like to hold her?” she asks, and my eyes snap up to hers.
“Really?” I ask, trying to keep the shock from my voice.
No one’s ever asked me if I wanted to hold their child. Then again, I don’t have many people in my life who have had children and I have no siblings or younger cousins, so I hesitate.
“Of course. Just don’t drop her,” she jokes as she smiles and lightly laughs at me while adjusting the infant in her arms.
Drop her? Oh, God. I didn’t even think about that.
I hold out my arms awkwardly, suddenly realizing I don’t know what the fuck to do.
David chuckles before adjusting my posture, having me lean lower and let his wife place the little girl into my arms. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves as Amanda takes a step back fully trusting me with the infant.
Her eyes are closed and she looks so peaceful. She has a lot of dark hair and long, dark lashes. I always thought most babies were born bald, but I guess I was wrong on that as well. Jesus. If we do have a kid, I’m going to have to take a class or something.
“Just support her head. She doesn’t wiggle around too much yet, so you don’t have to worry about that,” David says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“She’s beautiful,” I say.
“Thanks. She looks just like her mom,” David says.
“No. Everyone says she looks like you,” Amanda argues, but I barely hear her.
I’m completely in awe as I stare at Melody. She’s so tiny. I knew babies were small, but she’s so small that it looks like I could hold her with one hand. I’m not even going to try that because it sounds terrifying, but she definitely looks small enough.
“Do you have any kids?” David asks, and I can’t help the ache creeping into my chest.
“No. Not yet. Hopefully someday,” I say with a hint of sadness in my voice.
My voice is a bit too loud, and Melody starts to stir.
She lets out a small whine as her eyes start to open.
She squints, fussing and making small cooing noises before her eyes open fully, and she looks up at me.
She doesn’t cry, she just stares at me, and I can feel the ache growing heavier in my chest.
What if Willow never wants to have kids? I guess if Jeremy has kids, I can be the best uncle ever and spoil them rotten. Birthdays, Christmases, presents just because it’s a random Tuesday. Spoil them all.
Melody starts opening and closing her mouth before letting out a shrill cry. It startles me, and I suddenly feel like I did something wrong.
“Oh, she’s probably hungry. Here, I’ll take her,” Amanda says, gently scooping the infant from my arms.
“Thank you,” I say stupidly.
She just looks up at me nods and smiles knowingly before walking away with the baby. It’s as if she could tell from the sadness in my voice how badly I want my own. Damnit. I guess baby fever is a real thing.
*Ding*
My phone goes off, and when I pull it out, I can see that it’s the security app notifying me of movement in our bedroom. When I play back the video, Willow is running into the bathroom then the sound of her violently throwing up comes through the speakers.
I can’t be here anymore. She needs me. I’ve been watching the feed for the last couple of minutes to see if she comes out, but she doesn’t. I can hear her still gagging, and my nerves can’t handle being away from her any longer while she’s in this condition.
“Hey. I’m heading home,” I say to Jeremy as I tuck my phone back into my pocket.
“What? The party’s barely gotten started,” he groans.
“Willow is violently throwing up. I’m not leaving her alone.”
“Fuck. What did she eat? Oh God. What if it’s the flu? You could be carrying it too. I have court on Monday. I can’t be sick. Dammit!”
“Goodbye, Jeremy,” I say as I turn my back on him, wave goodbye to the few employees near us, then take off toward the exit.
I’m only fifteen minutes from home, but I manage to get stopped at every light.
I have the feed open on my phone sitting in the dash mount as I watch our bedroom, hoping to see her walk out feeling better.
When I’m at the next red light, movement catches my eye as I watch Willow come back into the bedroom and grab one of the packages off the bed.
She tiptoes over to the bedroom door and sticks her head out before I hear her call my name. She waits a few seconds before calling my name again then shuts the door.
I don’t think she realizes I have a camera set up in our bedroom. I make a mental note to show her where every camera is when she’s feeling better, but right now my focus is on the package in her hands as she walks back into the bathroom and shuts the door.
What is she hiding? Why would it matter if I were home?
I race the last five miles to the house. I disable the house notifications for the gate opening so that she won’t be aware that I’m home yet. I park the truck out front and quietly make my way inside. Even from the front foyer, I can hear her on the third floor throwing up again.
I quickly run up two flights of steps and open the door to our bedroom. I can hear her sobs from the other side of the bathroom door, and my heart breaks. Another wave of nausea hits, causing her to dry heave before cursing and hitting her fist on something hard.
“Willow?” I say softly as I knock on the door.
“Noah? Are you home already? How was the party?” she asks nervously.
I turn the handle to open the door, but she quickly throws her body against it and grabs the handle.
“Don’t come in here. It’s disgusting. I’ve been throwing up since you left.”
“I know. That’s why I came home,” I say, turning the handle again.
“You know? How?”
“The camera in the corner of the bedroom,” I confess.
“The…Oh.”
“Yeah. So, will you please let me in?” I ask, barely nudging against the door.
“It’s gross though.”
“Willow, I was with you when you threw up from being hungover when we went out after the bastards retired. I was the one who held your hair back, remember? A little throw up doesn’t bother me.”
“But…”
“Willow, what’s really going on?” I ask with genuine concern in my voice.
What if it’s not the flu, but something worse? What if she’s really sick, but she doesn’t want to tell me because she’s worried how I might handle it? My mind is spiraling into the what-ifs that it always does concerning her when suddenly the door opens.
Her eyes are bloodshot and her face is red.
Tears are flowing down her cheeks and her shirt is soaked as if she’s been crying for a long time.
I take a step forward pulling her into my arms. She rests her face against my shirt and sobs, collapsing against me.
I carefully lower us to the ground and pull her into my lap as I lean against the door.
“What is it, Little Rabbit? Talk to me,” I beg, but she just continues to cry holding onto my shirt.