17. Aspen
Epilogue
I t’s amazing what love can do for a person.
Rick sleeps through the night. I always thought he didn’t sleep because he didn’t want to dream or have nightmares, but he doesn’t, and I don’t think he ever did. He was just so well trained that he couldn’t make his body cooperate. I also don’t think he ever felt properly safe, and having an expensive security system and a huge, fairly impenetrable house had nothing to do with it.
Once he first started to open up, there was no stopping him. Rick is marvelously kind. He’s one of the most brilliant people I know, and he’s generous. He still cares very much about this country, even if he’s not serving it officially, and he cares about the wider world too. He loves being a part of our family. Nothing is more important to him.
I once claimed him because he needed to be claimed. He needed to know he belonged to someone, that he mattered and was a part of their heart. Ever since that day, though, he’s been claiming me in little ways, and now we belong to each other.
After we did finally confess to my parents that we got married and then got an annulment, they made us promise to save a real marriage for when we were absolutely certain. Love can be just as strong without a ring. There are always vows and promises involved when you truly want to be with someone. So, we waited. We waited, and we made it official last year, two and a half years after we got the annulment.
“Patrick McDonald, what do you think you’re doing?” I blink sleepily into yellow, watery sunlight. At least the sun is up before Rick. Or maybe not. He has a habit of rising at ungodly early hours, but that means he goes to bed early, too, and I’m not going to complain about that. Often, we don’t get to sleep until late.
He tugs on a fresh T-shirt and shakes out a pair of jeans from the dresser drawer. He’s so neat with his folding, and I swear nothing ever has even a fold line in it when he’s done with it. I hang most of my clothes, but I’ve seen the marvel of nature that is his shirts and pants and even his boxers and socks.
“Your dad’s fishes. I need to make sure they’re okay.”
I smile softly at him while blinking my poor, tired eyes. It must be five in the morning. The sun gets up early in June. I pat the empty spot on the bed and run my palm over the creased sheets. They’re still warm. “Sweetheart, I think they can wait an hour. Dad doesn’t even get up until seven or seven-thirty. It’s like, what? Five now? They can wait a few hours.”
“I promised I’d take care of them while they’re gone.”
My parents are in Scotland for a month, taking a honeymoon sort of trip that they never took when they were younger because they didn’t have the money. Back then, when my dad met my mom, not expecting to find love again, he was helping to support Jace and his mom, so he didn’t have a lot of extra cash. My parents also both worked, and it was hard for them to take any amount of extended time off. Then, I came along a few years later, and they really didn’t have any time or extra cash to go away for an extended vacation.
Rick made it possible for them to retire. Last year, he finally got his grandpa’s finances sorted out. He was able to sell the house in San Jose, which he had been renting out until he could get it free and clear. Then, in the interim, we bought the house down the street from my parents because he did have some cash on hand. And we fixed it up. After he really came into his money, no one wanted to move. Yet . We’ll get there someday. We just haven’t picked a place or a country, and no one needs a mansion. We might even buy a big house with a basement suite and have my parents live there, with us on the top floor, or switch it around if they want, but nothing has been decided yet.
We truly fell in love with Atlanta, but maybe that’s because we fell in love with each other in Atlanta. We might have been falling before that, but the real deal happened after we got here. We got married just a few months ago, in April, in Atlanta. The city won’t hold us forever, but it will hold a great big part of my heart for the rest of my life. Rick’s too. Atlanta is also the place where we found out we were starting our own family. We’ve been trying for months, and three weeks ago, I got the very early first positive test.
It’s still so early, but I’m definitely pregnant, even if I don’t feel tired or sick yet. Even if that never happens for me, in a few months, there’s going to be a tiny little bump, and that bump will grow, and then our son or daughter will make their way into a world that I hope will be wonderful like the one I grew up in. For them, it’s going to be a world completely different from how Rick was raised. Our child will be loved. He or she will be wanted beyond measure. Our child will be adored and have family, always.
Rick was so scared when we first started trying for a baby. I went off birth control over six months ago. We talked about it. He said he’d be a shit father, not ever having had one of his own, but it only took a few days to convince him that he’d be the best father in the world. My dad was probably the most responsible for that because after he told Rick that he did indeed have a father now, Rick came to me and said it was never too late to learn. He said he’d do everything in his power to be a good dad. He was so shy when he confessed to me that, secretly, some part of him always wanted children.
I push the sheets off and slip to the edge of the bed. Instead of getting out, I pull my T-shirt over my head and wriggle out of my shorts. “Now, can I convince you to stay in bed for another hour?”
Rick can’t hide how his pupils become enormous. “That’s devious, Mrs. McDonald. That’s cheating. Those poor fish. They’re going to be neglected. They were already neglected. I can’t let them return to that state.”
They’re rescue fish. My dad didn’t end up having an ant or a worm farm, but he did run across a coworker who was genuinely distressed about what to do with a tank full of fish that his son no longer wanted to look after. Dad offered to take them, and so started the rescue fish mission. He now has ten tanks, all set up in the basement, and it’s been a real source of joy for him. For Rick too, honestly. They sometimes spend hours in the basement together, talking about life, cleaning tanks, and learning about how to give those fish the best life they can have.
“The fish will be fine for another half an hour if I can’t convince you to stay the whole hour. But if you give me enough time to shower with you, I can go over with you, and while you feed them, I’ll make us blueberry pancakes.”
“Your parents cleaned out their fridge,” Rick points out.
“I’ll pack a picnic.”
He doesn’t tell me that it’s impractical when we live so close. He doesn’t tell me we can just slip back here after. Instead, he grins at me like that’s the most romantic proposition he’s ever heard. He slips back into bed and takes me in his arms. It’s my favorite place in the world. Wherever we go, wherever we move, and whatever adventures we have, he’s always going to be my home, and I’ll always be his.
“You tend to get a little wild when we shower, darling. Are you sure half an hour is enough time?”
“I’m the one who gets wild?” I squeal. “Goodness. I think you might have misremembered things. I might have to show you video evidence to prove that you’re wrong.”
Rick pinches my bottom lightly. “You don’t have video evidence.”
I wink at him. “Don’t I?”
“Naughty. And for that, you shall be punished most thoroughly.”
“I don’t, I don’t,” I exclaim with a laugh, squirming as his fingers sweep over my side, getting ready to tickle me. “But I’ll give you a play-by-play in real time if that helps jog your memory.”
“You know…” He lowers his face to mine, ready to kiss me. “That might just help.”
“Would it help if I told you that I love you? That I’m always going to love you? That the letter Jace wrote was the best one in the world? That you’re my entire heart, and having you here is so much better than being pen pals?”
He gives me a mock-serious look, but his eyes light up the way they do every single time I tell him that I love him. Saying those words is so wonderful, and I’ll never stop, especially because I know how much it means to him to hear them after an entire lifetime of thinking no one did and no one ever would.
“In all seriousness, I love you with every part of my soul, even the messed up parts,” Rick says softly.
“I know. I know, and it’s the most beautiful thing. All your messed up parts are perfect too.” I kiss him hard and deep, holding him to me. I’m not done being playful yet, and loving each other is serious, but we’ve found so much healing through humor. “If I weren’t already pregnant, I’d tell you that you should try, but since I already am, we might have to skip it. It does seem rather pointless now that we’ve accomplished our objective.”
“Skip it, my ass,” he growls, sliding a leg over mine and flipping himself effortlessly on top of me.
Whatever we do with our lives, wherever we go from here, we’ll do it together. We’ve already come so far. I don’t know if we’ll buy a cabin and do the bushcraft thing, travel the world, or keep a house here in Atlanta—probably always that because I don’t think my parents will ever leave. Rick already teaches self-defense classes on a volunteer basis every single day except the weekends. He goes to one of the local community centers from Monday to Friday for hours in the afternoons. He teaches everyone, from kids to seniors, how to protect themselves. And me? I’ve spent the last two years getting my Masters, and even if it is in business, and I have no idea what I want to do with it yet, I know I’ll get there. I just finished, so I have time to figure out how to put it to the best use. Since Rick started his volunteer work, and after all the money he’s donated, I think it would be great to work at a non-profit. I want to go back to work and help to make the world a better place for everyone, including the little person we’re soon going to be raising.
Or maybe we can start our own company, something that Rick and I will get to do together. I just don’t know yet, but maybe it’s okay not to know. Back when I was taking my Masters, Rick told me every single day that it was important, and I was brilliant, and I’ve already done great things because I’ve changed his world. I don’t need to immediately jump into having a hardcore career immediately after finishing school. If we do something together, like start our own non-profit and maybe help veterans, which we’re both so passionate about, then we can work from anywhere and can set our own hours. We can have time for our family and still have very meaningful careers. I like that we’ll have the freedom to be creative in the way our souls were meant to be. I was never meant to be chained to a desk, giving someone a mindless nine to five, and Rick was never meant to be used as a weapon. Creating a foundation will put all our talents to the best use they can ever possibly be put to.
I grasp Rick’s broad, strong shoulders, marveling all over again at how soft his skin is over all that hard muscle. I believe he mentioned my favorite part of his anatomy, so I can’t let that go unanswered. “Oh good, we’re going to talk about your bottom. That’s one of the best topics. I think about it a lot, you know. I daydream about it pretty much constantly.”
“You’re a wicked woman,” he grunts as I slip my hand around a part of him that is definitely not his bottom.
I treat him to my most dazzling grin. “I know, Patrick McDonald. I know.”