Epilogue
One year later
Iinched his office door open, army crawling over the carpet. Based on how his computer camera was situated, I knew his client wouldn’t see me coming into the room. But, given my current state, I would take no chances.
His client droned on and on. “You kids have no problem-o, but I am struggling with all the technology. Why can’t things be just pen and paper anymore?”
I rolled my eyes. That seemed like an insensitive thing to say to a CPA who wasn’t able to read plain old pen and paper, but most of Peter’s clients had no clue he was blind. So I had to cut the old man some slack.
“Yep. I totally get that. There’s definitely a learning curve.” If Peter was aware I entered the room, his voice gave no indication. My eyes flicked up to my husband, quickly soaking in his professional attire—a light blue oxford, black slacks, and a black tie.
When we returned to Colorado last November, Peter took on a client, easing in slowly.
But then Chip offered him another and another, until he was back to working a full schedule.
His income blessed my tired bones and allowed me to downshift my schedule to a much more sustainable pace, providing me some much-needed time to relax, binge parenting books, and decorate the nursery.
IVF went well. Before we even began, Peter and I agreed to attempt implantation of every viable embryo. We were a bundle of nerves as we waited to hear the results because we had no idea if that commitment would mean many or just a few.
But we got four.
Four.
Oh, the way I wept when they told us. I knew that didn’t necessarily guarantee we’d be a family of six one day.
But the opportunity to try was everything I’d ever wanted.
Peter put a heavy emphasis on my health as we embarked on our journey, so I joined a wellness club, rested plenty, and carefully managed my stress levels.
I even started seeing a therapist. Turns out, I had some untended childhood trauma to sort through and my therapist helped me learn the difference between loyalty and codependency.
Between toxic people and struggling people.
Between the way Mom loved Dad and I loved Peter.
She also helped me pinpoint my learned tendency to enable and helped me build safeguards against it.
And Peter went back to therapy, too. This time, he was much more forthcoming about the fears he struggled with and Dr. Bates helped him realize that fear is physiological and psychological and having an imbalance in one or the other can exacerbate the problem.
Dr. Bates talked to Peter’s neurologist and together they made tweaks in his medication schedule.
We didn’t realize Peter’s meds were making his journey even harder than it needed to be.
His mental health improved month by month.
And mine did, too.
Butterflies erupted in my belly as I looked up at him. When I think back to those early days when we walked the school halls with stars in our eyes, I laugh at us. We thought it was so good then, didn’t we? Like we’d peaked in our love.
How foolish. How young.
The cycle of endless night and day had weathered us and fused us together. Time had softened our edges like the fraying creases on a special letter—familiar, comforting, and so very beloved.
All of the trial and darkness had taught us what real love really looks like and made us brighter somehow.
Butterflies erupted again and a soft gasp escaped my lips. Wait—maybe that was the baby. I was twenty weeks gestation now, so that could have been baby flutters.
I suppressed a squeak of excitement.
I’d have to tell Peter.
“How about this, Tim?” Peter sat forward, propping his folded arms on the edge of his desk. “If it’s easier for you, you can take all your paperwork to Becky at the firm and she’ll scan it in so I can access it there. That might feel less daunting than using the portal.”
I smiled at him, warmth blooming in my chest.
He was the best CPA in the world. I would fight someone on that.
“Well, that is a fantastic idea,” Tim said. “What’s the firm’s address again? I’m gonna write it down real quick.”
As Peter rattled off the address, I enacted my plan.
Crawling forward, I lifted my hand to drop a special item on his lap, making sure my hand stayed below the desk so Tim wouldn’t see.
But when my fingers brushed Peter’s thigh, he startled and grabbed my hand, his voice staying surprisingly steady as he listed the city and zip code.
My other hand slapped over my lips, frantically stifling the giggle that leaked through my nose.
When he realized it was just me, his grip loosened and I left my gift for him.
Tim started talking about a form he still needed to fill out.
Peter’s hand dropped to his thigh, his fingers meeting the tiny strips of lace on said gift. For a second, he rubbed them between his thumb and index finger, a slight frown touching his brow.
When he realized what it was, his face exploded with scarlet heat, and his voice caught on an unbidden laugh.
I buried my forehead in the carpet, wheezing helplessly into the fibers.
With blurry eyes, I jerked my head back up, needing to see how this played out.
My Peter was suddenly antsy, scratching his forehead and rubbing the back of his neck. He pressed his lips together, fighting for his life not to disintegrate with laughter. “Yeah, Tim—uh huh. Well, I need to—”
“Oh, one last question for you.”
Peter’s jaw feathered, his fist clenching the precious fabric in agitation.
My eyes leaked tears.
I wanted to scream, Okay, Tim. Wrap it up. Email your questions to Becky!
As Tim drug out the goodbyes, Peter’s eyes glazed over. His heel started bouncing against the bottom of his chair. The angst this was causing? I couldn’t have asked for better.
“Alright. Sounds good, Tim—yep.” Peter reached toward the disconnect button. “Cool—we’ll talk soon.”
When the duh-dun indicated the call had ended, Peter whirled his chair toward me and held up the lace. “Sarah Thompson—is this what I think it is?!”
I giggled uncontrollably, finally releasing my glee. “Why do you look so shocked?”
“Because I was in a meeting?” He gave an incredulous laugh.
“I just thought you might want to have those.”
“Oh, trust me, I do.”
“Good,” I said, standing and moving toward the door.
“But what I want to know is why you wanted me to have them.”
“Well, I tried them on and they were a little too tight. So I thought I’d go without.”
He sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the arm rests. “Anything else you’re going without?”
“Perhaps.”
“Want to tell me about that?”
“It might be easier to just tell you what I do have.”
Peter waved a hand, indicating I continue. “By all means, proceed.”
“I have some cowgirl boots on.”
“Okay…and?”
“And some socks.”
Peter swiped a hand over his smile, his eyes sparkling. “And?”
“Your cowboy hat.”
“Strong choice. And?”
“And?” I pretended to be confused. “And what?”
Peter dropped his chin to his chest, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “What else, Sarah?”
“Oh! I don’t know. Maybe something. Maybe nothing. You might have to come find out.”
As soon as he stood from his chair, I bolted down the hallway and into the living room. We played this fun game we named hiding in plain sight where I would find an obvious place in the room to stand and he’d have to come find me.
In the living room, I picked a corner right against the wall and the bookshelf.
From my vantage point, I could see the small sectional couch we’d had for several years and our books on the coffee table.
Mine—paper and bookmark. His—an accessible tablet.
My eyes flitted to the canvas I had developed after we returned from Meadowbrook.
Of course, Cooper had majorly undersold himself as a photographer.
As soon as I had opened the file he emailed us, chills erupted over my body.
They were moody and magical. And, of course, my favorite was me reaching into the sky with my eyes closed and Peter’s hands around my waist. The light was uneven, harsh in places and soft in others, but somehow Cooper had edited it to make it look smooth—intentional.
Peter talked to Cooper regularly, and he seemed to be doing well.
The two of them had had many long talks on the phone and Cooper opened up to Peter about a lot of things.
Their friendship strengthened, despite the distance.
And when we went back to Meadowbrook in June to meet Jesse and Hollie’s baby boy, Peter followed Cooper around the ranch while I held the baby.
Meadowbrook gave their cowboys a week of paid vacation, and in all the years Cooper had worked there, he’d never taken it. He said he didn’t have anywhere to go, so what was the point?
That changed this year.
Cooper would spend his vacation in Colorado. We were picking him up from the airport the second week of December. The two of them were counting days.
“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Peter called, cajoling me. “I know you’re on this side of the house.” Footsteps padded into the living room. Peter strode to the empty space in front of the couch and put his hands on his hips, falling quiet with a thoughtful frown on his face.
If I could figure out how to pause my heartbeat and transform into a cold-blooded animal, maybe I would become invisible to him and win this game one day.
But, I’d never be invisible to Peter, would I?
The thought made my chest squeeze with adoration.
Slowly, he turned toward the bookshelf.
I pressed my lips together, straining to not laugh.
How? How did he always know?
He came closer, closer until he was inches away.
We were toe to toe, face to face.
I stopped breathing, stopped blinking.
He lifted his hands, bracing one on the bookshelf behind me and one on the wall, caging me into the corner. My heart tumbled in my chest like someone had pushed it off the top of a hill, the falling sensation making a tiny exhale escape my lips.
He smirked. “Gotcha.”
I grabbed his tie and yanked his mouth to mine.
And a flutter took off in my belly—again.