Epilogue
REID
Reid pushed the stroller along the wide, smooth curve of concrete and watched his son’s fist wave lazily at nothing in particular.
“Yes,” Reid said. “Exactly. Very good assessment.”
Miles blinked up at him.
“This is your mother’s fine work,” Reid told him.
A man walking a small dog gave Reid a passing glance. Reid ignored him. He had stopped being embarrassed by public one-sided conversations somewhere around the third week of fatherhood.
He glanced down at Miles. “You’re too young to appreciate this, but this is an excellent path.”
The stroller moved without catching, without bumping.
“Your mother,” he told him, “is the most extraordinary person I have ever known.”
His son yawned.
Reid nodded. “You’re right. I am a broken record about this.”
He slowed as they approached the main plaza.
Ahead of them, his wife was standing with some contractors. Maya was speaking. Everyone else was listening. Reid watched them nod in agreement. Maya had that effect on people.
Their son kicked his legs.
“Your mom,” Reid told him, “is magnificent.”
Maya looked up then.
For one suspended second, the focused accessibility consultant disappeared, and his wife shone through.
Her whole face changed and Reid felt it in his chest.
She said something to Naomi, handed over the plans, and crossed the plaza toward them with quick, eager steps.
“Well,” she said, bending over the stroller. “There’s my favorite man.”
Reid lifted an eyebrow.
Maya glanced up at him, smiling. “One of my favorite men.”
“Too late. I heard it.”
Their son made a happy, startled sound when Maya lifted him. She settled him against her chest, kissing his round cheek once, twice, three times.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Were you telling Dad all your important thoughts?”
“We were reviewing the path.”
Maya cuddled her son. “And?”
“He approves.”
“Excellent. I value his opinion.”
Reid stepped closer, unable not to touch her. His hand settled at her back and Maya leaned into him immediately.
That still undid him sometimes.
The ease of it. The trust.
Their son reached one damp hand toward Reid’s tie and caught it with surprising force, yanking Reid’s head down a few inches.
“Yes,” Maya said. “Get him.”
Miles gurgled. Maya laughed. She looked up and caught him staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re my favorite thing to look at.”
Color moved into her face, just as it always did.
Their son made an impatient sound and tugged Reid’s tie again.
“Your son is jealous,” Maya said.
“My son is my other favorite thing to look at.”
She stepped closer, until Reid had no choice but to wrap his arms around both of them.
As if he needed any persuasion.
Maya tucked herself against him. Their son was warm between them, one hand still clutching Reid’s tie.
Reid pressed his mouth to Maya’s temple. He held his wife and his son, standing on the path she had helped build. He had thought once that the law made his world make sense.
He knew better now.
It was family.
Reid bent and kissed Maya properly, their son squished safely and indignantly between them.
Later, they would go to the Merritts' for dinner, and Miles would be placed on the rug beside his cousin. Jenny and Owen would be insufferably happy. Reid and Maya would be just as bad.
And next week, Reid would visit Julian in prison. He would enjoy it, as he always did.
Then he would leave Julian there and come home.
To Maya. To Miles. To the people who were his whole world.