Epilogue #2
As soon as I step through the front door, I’m met with the sound of laughter, the smell of takeout, and the sight of every piece of my heart somewhere running around amongst all the chaos.
“Dad!” Jackson screams all high-pitched and excited, and then he’s barreling into me like a linebacker in a tiny body.
I catch him, lifting him up, as his arms lock around my neck. “Hey, Bud. You been good today for your mom?”
“Yeah!”
“No!” Simone shouts from the kitchen, pointing a large spoon in Jackson’s direction.
I laugh, moving him up to sit on my shoulders. “What did he do today?”
“What did he not do?” she says, adjusting the straps on her shoulders. “He’s been into everything! I had to get Easton to come down here and do a puzzle with him just so I could start a load of dishes without having a panic attack or mental breakdown because of that little boy.”
I look down at the floor by the couch, where Easton is lying out, looking up at me with a grin, knowing how much trouble Jackson is around here.
“I’ve been trying to distract him,” Easton tells me in a voice that’s way too low for my liking.
Puberty was something I was not prepared for with those two.
“Go faster!” Nash squeals from down the hall.
Simone throws her head back in exhaustion. “Please tell me you are not speeding down my hallway in your wheelchair like this is Need for Speed, Ash!”
“He made me!” Asher shouts in an innocent tone.
Simone throws her hands up in defeat. “Great. No, that’s fine. You both can just match each other in wheelchairs for the rest of your lives.”
I let out a laugh that I try to cover up with a cough.
I still get a glare from Simone, but it only makes me smile, which makes her smile, even though she looks like she’s trying to be pissed right now.
Asher comes around the corner with Nash in his lap, positioned like he belongs at the center of everything, like the world can adjust around him.
One thing that the boy has never done is let his injury define any part of his life or personality.
After the spinal cord injury he suffered from Scott dragging him out of the car when he was just seven and slamming him onto the pavement, everyone wanted to treat him like he was so fragile and would break if he did anything slightly risky and fun in life.
He hated it. I did too. I knew I couldn’t be overprotective of him forever.
I had to let him be a kid and figure out how to navigate this new life he was living inside of now.
Especially after having something so traumatic happen to him and then simultaneously losing both his parents.
Once the police started to dig deeper after the accident, they found more than they bargained for. And they found everything they could, thanks to the large sum of money I put into hiring all the best lawyers and investigators—fraud, embezzlement, fake contracts, shell companies, the whole nine.
Scott and Rose thought they were untouchable. Turns out the universe loves receipts, and now they’re both behind bars. I own everything they built on a foundation of lies, and have had full custody of the boys for the last eleven years.
I swallow hard as Asher looks up and meets my eyes.
He’s so stubborn, and it makes me so proud.
Those two boys might be my brothers by birth, but in every way that matters, they’re my sons too.
I couldn’t be more blessed with the family God gave me.
The one I’m so determined to fill with love and happiness, and all the things I didn’t have.
I put Jackson down and cross the room, squeezing his shoulder. “Hey,” I murmur.
He smirks up at me. “You look like you got punched in the soul.”
“Pretty much.”
“I know you hate going there,” he says, lifting Nash up and putting him on the ground. “Was it bad?”
I shake my head. “No.” Then pause, cause I don’t lie to them. “Yes. But it needed to happen.”
He just nods, understanding.
And I know he does. He’s extremely smart and is much wiser than I was at almost eighteen. He’s going to do big things in life, I just know it.
Neither of the boys have wanted to see their dad since the accident, and I don’t blame them. I also don’t discourage them if they want to, and I don’t pressure them if they don’t. That’s their choice and a part of their stories.
They visit their mom—who they only refer to as Rose now—once a month together still, and I’m proud of how strong they’ve been through all of this.
Several years back, they both started calling Simone Mom—or Ma as they love to call out—and me Dad…well, they’ve actually been calling me Dad fully since I took them in during college, actually.
No matter how old they’ve gotten, it still makes me emotional.
I make my way over to the kitchen, where my two favorite girls are, and I press a kiss to the top of my wife’s head, then to the top of the tiny head bundled up in the carrier on Simone’s chest.
“I see that everyone is in one piece,” I tell her, smiling. “That seems like a pretty successful day.”
“Barely,” Simone laughs out.
From the living room, I hear Asher yelling at the boys. “I’m not an Uber!”
Nash and Jackson both scream, laughing, as they try to climb up him.
Simone’s mouth twitches as she shakes her head. “I’m sending you two to your grandmothers this weekend!” she yells over to them.
I step behind her. “Hold baby,” I instruct.
She presses her hands to the baby’s back as I unclip the carrier. “Now, hand her to me and go sit down.”
Simone looks up at me, relief filling her eyes.
I hold my baby girl in my arms and lean back against the kitchen counter, watching Simone still try to tidy up now that the baby isn’t strapped to her.
“Girl, if you don’t go sit down and stop trying to do everything. You need to rest. I’ve got all that.” Simone opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. “No back talk.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but smiles, walking over to me and lifting up onto her tiptoes to give me a kiss.
“Are you ready to go back to work yet?” I ask with a knowing smirk. “Ready to escape all this and go back to being a kick-ass lawyer?”
Her eyes widen. “Watch your language, Mase!” she scolds automatically.
Lord, I’m trying to get better with my tongue. I really am. I’m sorry. It’s still a struggle some days, though. I’m just focusing on not using it when I’m angry.
Simone’s shoulders slump a little. “And no. Not really…not at all, actually. I thought just getting my career started in the last couple of years would make me want to keep the momentum going, but…I feel so full being home lately. No matter how hectic it is some days.”
I walk over to the couch with her and sit down next together, baby sound asleep in my arms. “You know you don’t have to. You just had our third child—”
“Technically, our sixth.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Well, you just pushed out the third one.” I nod toward the living room. “Those first two knuckleheads over there were our practice run.”
Simone glances out at all the boys, her expression softer now as she smiles.
“And our baby up in heaven,” I say, my voice going a little quiet, “is still patiently waiting to meet all of us.”
Simone’s gaze lifts to mine. “Do you still want more?”
I look down at the tiny baby in my arms, and at her cute little bow that Simone changes ten times a day to match every single outfit she has. I look at her tiny hand, clenched into a fist, at her itty-bitty feet poking out of the blanket on top of her, and all I can feel is…complete.
“We finally got our little girl,” I say softly. “I think that was God saying…this is enough.”
Simone lets out a watery laugh, reaching out and stroking her finger along the baby’s cheek. “You wanna be the baby of the house, don’t you, Nichole?” she murmurs.
My heart stutters every time I hear anyone say her name. A little piece of my mom lives in this little girl, and the name couldn’t fit any better.
Just as the moment feels too perfect—
Nichole wakes up screaming.
Simone instantly goes into mommy mode, trying to grab her, and I swat her hands away.
“Girl, if you don’t stop. Daddy’s home,” I tell her, sticking my tongue out at her. “Let me work my magic.”
I stand up with her, walking into the kitchen, and of course, Simone follows. I just laugh, giving in and handing her Nichole as I go to the fridge and grab one of her bottles of pumped milk.
“I’m feeding her,” I tell her. “Don’t try to fight me. I’ve been at work all day, and then…the prison. I need some baby cuddles.”
Simone rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
“And once she’s asleep,” I say, walking back over to her, “I need wife cuddles.”
I watch her cheeks flush.
“I guess I can make that happen,” she tells me, smiling.
I walk over to the sink to fill a cup with hot water so I can warm the bottle, then stare out the window, getting lost in my thoughts.
Thinking about how grateful I am to be standing here, in this kitchen, in this house, with the most amazing family, and with the most amazing woman I still don’t deserve.
I’m distracted from my thoughts when I see movement outside the window.
I swallow, my throat getting tight with emotions all of a sudden. “Simone,” I call out, voice low. “Come here. Quick.”
She steps toward the sink and looks out the kitchen window to where I’m looking.
Three butterflies.
Not one.
Three.
They circle each other like they’ve got nowhere else to go.
Simone bounces Nichole, talking in a baby voice, trying to make her look at them, and I set the bottle down in the water, then step behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. I kiss her shoulder and then rest my chin there.
“My mom,” I say, pointing at the reddish one.
Simone looks at me, giving me a soft smile, then back at the window.
“Thor,” I say, pointing to the blue one flying hectically around.
I hear Simone laugh softly.
“And…baby Sinclair,” I say lastly, pointing at the smaller yellow one resting on the windowsill, slowly fluttering its wings.