Epilogue
VANESSA
FIVE YEARS LATER
“Mommy.”
I feel the blanket being tugged off my body and groan as I open my eyes. It’s Saturday, which means Mateo’s in charge of breakfast. Every other day, that’s on me.
“Hi, kiddo,” I say to Victoria, her light brown hair and green eyes filling my view.
“Daddy made breakfast. Are you hungry?”
I push myself up. “Yeah. I’m going to get your brother, and I’ll be down in a second.”
“Okay,” she says, already running out of the room and down the stairs.
I head down the hall to the nursery and find the youngest bouncing in his crib. After the twins were born, we had two more kids. Our daughter, Marisa, came almost exactly nine months after Mateo got home. Then, six months ago, we welcomed our son, Dominic.
I lift Dominic from the crib and carry him out of the nursery. He has Mateo’s dark hair and looks more like him every day.
When I walk into the kitchen, all the kids are sitting at the bar. Marisa, with her blonde curls, and Julian, with his dark brown hair, both have their backs to me.
“Good morning,” I say.
Three little heads turn at once, bright smiles lighting up their faces. They all say together, “Good morning, Mommy.”
Mateo turns and smiles at me. He walks over and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I reply, looking up at him.
“Eww,” Victoria calls out.
I giggle as Mateo looks over to them.
“What?” he asks, huffing out a laugh.
“You’re always kissing mommy. Uncle Gino says you act like teenagers, and he says it’s gross. So that means it’s gross.”
“Well, you tell your Uncle Gino what he says is bull—”
Before he can finish, I cover his mouth with my hand.
“What’s bull mean, Mommy?” Marisa yells.
I look over to Mateo.
“Nothing, Risa,” I say quickly. “You know what? That is a great question for your uncle.”
We both laugh. I buckle Dominic into his high chair and take a seat at the bar beside the kids. Mateo sits next to me, and we eat breakfast together as a family.
The rest of the day passes like any other Saturday. We watch TV, spend time outside by the pool, and enjoy the rare luxury of slowing down.
After all of the kids are in bed, Mateo and I sit out on the deck. I sip a glass of red wine while he nurses a beer.
“So, I was thinking,” Mateo says.
I smile at him. “You do that a lot.”
“Okay, smartass,” he snickers. “I was thinking maybe tomorrow we drop the kids off at your brothers and the two of us do something fun.”
I raise a brow. “You really want to send all four of them over there? That seems like a lot.”
He shrugs. “Eh, it’s nothing. He loves having them over.”
Then he grins. “And I may have already asked him.”
“So you’re more telling me than asking what we’re doing tomorrow?” I say, smiling at him.
“Sure. We’ll go with that.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“You’ll see.” He winks.
I snort. “If it involves another kid, that’s not happening. Four is more than enough.”
He smirks. “You said three was enough, and look at us now.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, we both agreed no more planning around kids.” I air-quote the word, remembering how the last time we talked about having another baby, I ended up pregnant within three months.
He lifts his beer, eyes dragging over me. “This is me not discussing it, then.”
I laugh and shake my head.
The next morning, after breakfast, we walk the kids over to Gino’s house. I open the door and herd all four inside.
“Gino? You in here?” I yell out.
“In the kitchen,” he answers.
We make our way down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Hi, Uncle Gino,” Julian calls out.
Both girls race ahead and throw their arms around him.
“Hey,” I say, smiling at him.
He takes Dominic from my arms and slips the diaper bag off my shoulder. “Well, you two have fun at—” He pauses, glancing at Mateo. “Whatever you’re doing.”
Traitor. He knows and won’t tell me.
“Seriously? You won’t tell me either?” I ask.
“Nope.” He makes a show of sealing his lips.
I groan.
“We’ve got a reservation, so we need to head out,” Mateo says.
We say our goodbyes, and as we walk out the door, I hear Marisa ask Gino what bull means.
As we head back toward our house, I glance at Mateo. “A reservation, huh? You’re not giving me any hints?”
“Nope. And stop trying to get anything out of me,” he says, playful but firm.
Once we’re home, he takes my hand and leads me straight to his car.
After we buckle in and pull onto the road, I can tell he’s working overtime not to give anything away. About an hour later, he exits the freeway.
“This is going to sound horrible,” he says, slowing the car down, “but I need you to close your eyes, baby. If you don’t, it’ll ruin the surprise.”
I close my eyes, and we drive for less than two more minutes before I feel the car stop.
“You can open your eyes now,” he whispers.
It’s the summer festival. The one I told him last year I wanted to go to, just the two of us, before bringing the kids another weekend.
Mateo gets out and walks around to my side, opening the door. He’s dressed casually for him, jeans and a button-down. He takes my hand and helps me out of the car.
Together, we head toward the entrance, stepping into the crowd and weaving past the booths, the afternoon stretched wide in front of us.
It’s a warm day, and my lavender sundress is perfect for the weather.
We grab drinks from the stall right by the entrance.
I get a lemonade, and he gets an iced tea.
We spend the day walking hand in hand, and I probably buy way too many things for the kids.
Mateo doesn’t complain, though. I catch him doing the exact same thing as we move from booth to booth.
The last five years feel like a blur. I decided to never go back to the hospital, even though there was a time I seriously considered it. Instead, I keep working for Gino, patching up the guys whenever they get hurt, which happens more often than anyone likes to admit.
Mateo stays out of the blood after everything he’s been through, but he’s back to being what he calls the family lawyer.
Most of our time is split between our house and Gino’s.
Somewhere along the way, Gino and I grow closer than I ever thought possible.
After spending my whole life without a brother, he becomes the person I turn to for advice.
There were times growing up when I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. But this family, the one I didn’t even know I had, has become the family I couldn’t imagine living without.