Epilogue One Year Later
Nico
‘It was nice of Frankie to give us the same room,’ my wife says, standing by the enormous window that offers a spectacular view over Las Vegas.
‘Well, you only get one second, first wedding anniversary.’ I wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her against me.
She trails her fingers over the tattoos on my forearm, the daisy and the bee inked in swirling black lines. A perfect set.
‘As opposed to our first, second wedding anniversary in three weeks’ time?’ she laughs. ‘This is going to get confusing.’
‘Nah,’ I kiss her cheek, ‘we should be celebrating as much as possible. Want to get married a third time? Maybe we could have an anniversary in the spring, too.’ I’d like that. I want to fill our house with daisies and promise her my whole life over and over again.
‘I don’t think we need any excuse to celebrate,’ Lee murmurs, and I can’t argue with that.
There’s been plenty to celebrate over the last year: putting several stamps in Phoebe’s passport, including a family trip to Norway to see the Northern Lights; Jack and Cynthie’s wedding; Gran’s continuing good health (who knew the woman would become best friends with Cynthie’s terrifying personal trainer?); Phoebe’s first ballet recital, with her entire family in the front row; Tara and Luke getting engaged after six months of long-distance dating; my photography exhibition at a local gallery; breaking ground on our house extension, complete with a separate granny flat for whenever Gran comes to stay, and – Lee is adamant – a library ladder of her very own.
But for all the big things there have been a million tiny, perfect inconsequential moments with my wife that matter even more.
Cleaning up the kitchen the morning after we had our friends over for New Year’s Eve, bickering over the grocery list, watching Lee teach Taco how to roll over on command and acting like they were ready to take Crufts by storm, pouring her a glass of wine when she stays up late working at her laptop, becoming a regular fixture at Darlene’s line-dancing night.
A whole album full of family photographs already, with the promise of more to come.
I hold her for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her in my arms. It’s been the best year of my life, but sometimes it still takes me by surprise – the way I feel, the happiness I didn’t even know I was capable of.
‘Tell me the truth,’ Lee says after a moment. ‘Should we be worried about Phoebe?’
‘She’s with Gran and Frankie.’
‘Exactly,’ Lee sighs. ‘I’m fairly certain she said something about learning how to count cards on the internet. And she is very good at maths.’
She can’t quite keep the pride from her voice. Boasting about Phoebe is one of Lee’s favourite hobbies.
‘Sounds like Frankie’s problem to me.’
‘You can be the one to bail our daughter out of jail,’ Lee huffs.
‘I’ve already got a savings account earmarked for that inevitable occasion,’ I smile then, my teeth closing around her earlobe.
She shivers against me. ‘You know I can’t resist you when you’re being fiscally responsible.’
‘That’s good news because last time we were in this room I wasn’t allowed to touch you, and I have a lot of plans for that giant bed next door.’
Lee turns in my arms, her eyebrows raised. ‘Interesting. I have some thoughts on the subject, too. Perhaps we should compare notes.’
I lean in, my nose nudging against hers. ‘When you say compare notes… there’s an actual notebook, right?’
She smiles, and the glimpse of her dimples has my heart racing. ‘Of course. As you might remember, I have a lot of opinions about physical intimacy.’
‘Maybe you should show me, Daisy.’ My voice holds a challenge. ‘Kiss me like you mean it.’
And she does.