Epilogue
ETHAN
I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed anybody devour a slice of mango like this before. She’s just inhaling it like a shop vac. If she doesn’t slow down, she might choke. I know CPR. But I’m afraid I might do some damage and crush her ribs if I have to perform it—
“All right, Ethan Hawk.” Barbie’s voice pulls me out of my train of thought. She comes to a stop beside me, holding a paper bag filled with donut holes in her manicured hand. “It’s official. Your job has made you too paranoid.”
“I don’t want to see her choke.” As an EMS helicopter pilot, I’ve seen some things. I’ve heard plenty more from my team, some of which I don’t ever want to think about again.
Barbie, who’s observant as ever, squeezes my shoulder. There’s an earnest intensity of concern in her eyes as she reaches up and soothes away the frown lines on my face. “You wanna see something in the shower later?”
A quiet laugh escapes me. She spares me a half-smile.
“Offer still stands, Pilot.” She moves away from me, crouching low to pry the mushy remains of a mango slice from Cameron’s sticky little hand. “Okay, Ronnie, how about we—” Before she can finish her sentence, our toddler presses her palm across Barbie’s cheek.
Barbie blinks, then turns to level me with a grumpy, unamused stare.
This time, it’s a louder snort that escapes me.
“You’re supposed to be on my side. What happened to in sickness and in health?” she deadpans. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to wash my face and pick myself up a little treat.”
“You’re going to get a pistachio ice cream scoop, huh?”
“Shh.” Barbie presses her finger to her lips.
Only one person loves pistachio ice cream more than my wife, and it’s the little menace in the stroller reaching for the donut holes while opening her mouth like a baby bird.
“I’ll be right back.” Barbie rises to her feet and passes me the paper bag, sneaking a kiss on my cheek. “Guard this with your life.”
The moment she’s out of sight, I scoop Cameron out of her stroller, who giggles and slaps her sticky palm against my neck. Right. I’m holding the messiest eater in the world, and she’s already making grabby hands for the donuts while I reach for the baby wipes.
It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to wipe her face and fingers clean, along with my neck, before she can cause any more damage.
Then she hits me with the puppy-dog eyes. She got it from her mother. Honestly, she got everything from her mother. She’s practically a carbon copy, but Barbie insists her dimples came from me. And my supposed unphotogenic-ness, which Mom and Lara agree with wholeheartedly.
“All right,” I concede, prying the donut bag open. “One can’t hurt, right? This will be our little secret.”
“Kitty,” she chirps.
“Kitty is with Auntie Bell,” I remind her. Bell is cat-sitting Pie for us while we finally go on our honeymoon—three years after we’ve tied the knot. We just flew in last night after visiting my mom in Texas first.
Barbie was busy with her conservation project. I was busy racking up more flight hours and getting all the certifications I needed to land an EMS job.
The heartbreak in Ed’s voice when I told him I was resigning from QA is something I’ll never forget. It was time. Joe was a nightmare who threw people under the bus—still is, according to Aaron. The only person I ever worked well with at the company had been gone for a year when I quit.
Even though my current job can be twice as stressful and then some at times, I get to do what I love and hopefully create some positive impact on the world. More importantly, my line of work doesn’t have me flying constantly. I’m on call. I have more free time than I did at Green Checks.
“Kitty,” Cameron repeats, louder this time. She thrusts her tiny hand and nearly decks me in the ear.
“Kitty is with—” I turn around and immediately twist my torso, shielding my baby girl with my body. It’s not a cat. It’s a damn raccoon.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it’s the same one from five years ago. They both have the same collar. And the one in front of me has clasped his grubby little paws together.
“I wanna play—”
“We’re not playing with wild animals,” I choke out. Good God, wrangling a two-year-old who wants nothing more than to slip out of my arms is an experience I never want to go through again.
Especially when I can recognize the signs of an incoming tantrum as she fights for a chance to play Disney princess.
With a weary sigh, I mutter, “How about…” I hate myself for what I’m about to say next. “We give him a little treat, yeah? Only if you understand we’re not supposed to feed wildlife.”
I hesitate. I don’t want Cameron anywhere near the animal. So once she’s strapped into her stroller, which I strategically nudge back, I fish out a donut hole and stare down the critter as if we’re about to have a western showdown.
“This isn’t from me. This is from Cameron.” I pause. “And my wife, who’d try to sneak you one even though she knows better.”
He scurries over, halting when I put my free hand up.
“You stay there,” I warn, slowly setting the donut hole on a nearby fence.
When his ears perk up, I squint. “Are you… the same raccoon from last time? If you are, sorry I called you rabid all those years ago. I’m surprised you’re still alive.
” The reality of the situation hits me. “I’m talking to a raccoon. ” I pause again. “I’m gonna go now.”
I rise to my feet and turn around, just in time to see Barbie doubling over as she bursts into laughter.
“You of all people should know better,” she cackles. “You fed Nemo.”
“Christ, that was the same one?”
“I can’t believe you fed him.”
“Only as a screw-you to the sheriff,” I say. “For making you feel bad all those years ago.”
Her eyes glitter with amusement. “Oh my God, you are such a dork.”
“That’s your favorite thing about me, baby,” I say without missing a beat. “Well, third thing. One and two are my arms, of course.”
She huffs out a quiet chuckle, glancing at Cameron, who’s staring at the raccoon with such wonder and awe in her eyes. For a moment, all I can think about is how this must have been the look on a young Barbie’s face when she saw penguins and otters for the first time.
My two girls are such animal lovers.
“You are such a clown,” she teases.
“Hey. I’m the circus clown who married you the day after we finally met in person, remember? Apparently, I proposed to you on the plane ride.”
Amusement filters into her warm eyes. “Oh my God. That would have been a better proposal than the one I got.”
A frown creases my brow. “What do you mean? I thought mine was fairly romantic.”
“You woke me up at seven-fifteen to propose.”
“It’s our thing.”
She gives me a playful scowl. “I was barely awake. My hair was a rat’s nest.”
“You were the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“I should hope I was the only lady in our bedroom.”
We both snort. A warm, beautiful smile graces her lips. She’s probably reminiscing about our engagement. I know I am. It’s up there as one of the best moments of my life—marrying her and having Cameron round up the top three in no particular order.
“I love you.” Like every other time she’s said it, it always elicits an answering tug in my heart.
“I love you too.” I pull her close to me, my hands low on her hips. “Who would have guessed that seven years ago, on this very day, when we connected for our very first touch base, I’d be meeting the love of my life?”
Her eyes go soft. “I don’t think anyone from our teams saw it coming.”
“Or our families,” I say. “But the moment I first saw you on the plane, anyone would have seen it coming from miles away.”
Like the kiss I press to her lips.
And the next one, and the one after that. Along with the one that causes her to drop her ice cream, which she pays no attention to as her arms loop around my neck, and she melts into my embrace and kisses me back just as ardently.
The End.