Epilogue
Parker
Christmas Day
“Y ou have one more gift to open,” I say.
We spent the morning at my mother’s house, having breakfast with her, her boyfriend, and my sisters, who were home from college. Then, we had Christmas dinner at her parents’ house with all her aunts, uncles, and cousins. It’s been a great day. Full of family and joy.
We’ve put a lot of work into our relationship over the past month. Once Audrey let go and finally decided to let me in, we spent several long nights talking through our past. It was hard, but also cathartic. Still, it wasn’t enough. I wanted to start anew, and in my haste, I asked her to move into the condo. However, we can’t begin living our future until we’ve reconciled our past. I don’t want to rush it; we have the rest of our lives to love each other and build our family. So, we decided to take the time to work on our relationship. We agreed to give ourselves six months before making any major decisions—six months to truly get to know each other again.
We started seeing Audrey’s therapist, both together and separately. I realized that I could benefit from counseling as well. I’ve been able to identify and deal with the resentment I have for my father and the guilt I feel over losing the baby, as well as the decisions I made when I was just a kid and my role in Audrey’s journey. I’m working on forgiving both my father and myself. It was a heavy weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying. Audrey is learning to forgive and trust me more every day, and I’ve seen her walls come down, brick by brick. Watching her heal and blossom has been my greatest gift.
That’s my wife. I know it, and she knows it. When the time is right, we’ll make it official. Until then, I’m trusting the process and loving her with everything I have.
I reach into my nightstand and hand her a black velvet jewelry box.
“What is this?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
“Don’t worry. It’s not a ring. Not yet anyway,” I assure her. “Open it.”
She lifts the lid and immediately bursts out laughing.
She tugs the delicate platinum chain loose and turns it over in her hand. Then, her eyes flit up to mine.
“You like it? I had Anson’s mother make it just for you.”
“I love it. Help me put it on?” she asks.
I take it from her fingers, and she extends her hand.
I clasp it around her wrist before dipping my head to kiss the pulse point just below her palm. Then, I turn it over and finger the five silver metal beads I took from my birthday gift and the tiny silver heart, inlaid with our birthstones. Then, I kiss her wrist.
We end our first holiday together in an oval bathtub, full of rose-scented bubbles.
The beauty and her Sasquatch.