Epilogue
Kourtney
“ W hy is this pillow so flat?” Emily complains, hitting the same throw pillow over and over again as she tries fluffing it for good measure.
I giggle at her antics, and Tiny shakes his head. Even with one arm still pressed across his chest in a sling, he takes the pillow from his mom’s hand and flings it across the house. “Fuck the pillow, Ma.”
“Nathan! Kourtney’s parents are coming! Today! We need to make sure this place is presentable!”
Somehow, Tiny went behind my back and contacted my parents. He orchestrated a whole trip for them to come visit me. All he had to do was tell my dad that I was missing him. I think Tiny underestimated my dad’s devotion to my mom and me because my dad booked a flight two days later. They land in an hour.
“Mom. We’ve done this with the fucking spoons, and the flowers, and now pillows. I doubt Kourtney’s parents are going to give a shit that one throw pillow is a little flat.”
“Spoons?” I ask, watching the interaction between mother and son.
“Oh Jesus, please don’t get her started.”
“Nathan Michael!” Emily shouts.
“Nathan Michael?” I question, giggling. Tiny turns a sinister grin on me, and I press my foot against his chest to stop him as he comes towards me.
“Nathan has seven different types of spoons in his drawer. They are all different! How do you accumulate seven different types of cutlery?” his mom mumbles as she arranges the pillows on the couch once again to make them work without the one Tiny threw across the room.
Tiny plops down next to me, dragging my legs into his lap as we watch his mom.
“What’s the story with the spoons?”
“The first time you were coming to dinner, she realized I have all different spoons.”
“Why do you have different spoons?” I ask with a giggle. That giggle turns into a moan as he massages my thigh with his good hand.
“There’s no real story. When I first bought this place, I would just pick up a single pack of cutlery as I needed it. I was by myself. I didn’t need a fifty-six-piece cutlery set. Apparently, that is barbaric to Emily Hayes.”
“I wouldn’t say it's barbaric. I’d blame it more on being a bachelor. I can bring my silverware here.”
That night, while we were together in the hospital for Tiny’s gunshot wound, I confided in him that I didn’t want to ever step foot back into my house again. By the time Tiny was discharged, Meatball was sitting on Tiny’s couch, and half of my clothes were shoved on the previously empty side of Tiny’s closet.
I’m choosing to tell myself that one of the ladies went through my delicates drawer. Otherwise, one of Tiny’s brothers would know exactly what type of panties I prefer.
Tiny’s soothing massage and the soft thudding of Emily rearranging the pillows lull me to sleep.
I’ve been so exhausted lately I could fall asleep standing up if I tried hard enough. I even fell asleep at my desk yesterday. I put my head right down on the keyboard and took a nap. I woke up with small key squares imprinted on my cheeks.
“Nathan, I’ve heard a ton about you. Oliver Walker.” The sound of my dad’s deep timbre pulls me from sleep.
“Charlotte,” at my mom’s small voice, my eyes fly open.
My parents. They’re here!
I jump off the couch and slam my body into my parents before breaking out in a sob as they envelop me in a group hug. I don’t even know where the tears come from. I talk to them nearly every day, and I really did just see them a few months ago. But with everything going on lately, I don’t question the emotion welling up in me. I just soak it in and revel in their presence.
My dad’s strong hands grasp my face as he looks down at me. He kisses my forehead, hugging me to him. “Ah, my angel. I’ve missed your beautiful face.”
“I’ve missed you too, Dad. So much.”
I turn, and my mom’s glassy eyes match my own. She kisses my cheeks and squeezes me. “My baby girl, you look stunning. Why are you crying?”
I shake my head, laughing. “I don’t know!”
After another few minutes of them fawning over me, Tiny guides us into the living room, where he introduces my parents to his mom. Evie’s been locked in her room for the last two weeks, only coming out to eat and for the therapy appointments Emily forces her to go to.
To my and Tiny’s amusement, my parents settle on the couch without even a second glance at the damn throw pillows Emily spent so much time arranging.
My heart is so full as I watch my parents and Tiny’s mom get on perfectly. I tuck myself into Tiny’s side and wallow in the absolute bliss of having all of these important people in one room. The only thing that will make this better is tonight when Reggie, Owen, and Emma come for dinner.
All of the most important people in the world to me will be in one room.
Emily fusses over my parents, and I think my dad is low-key enjoying it. He’s usually the one fussing over my mom and me. Even when they would come to my house in Phoenix, Dad didn’t let me lift a finger. But Emily really isn’t giving him a choice as she pulls out a beautifully arranged charcuterie board and pours everyone a glass of wine.
I smile to myself as I realize that when I first met Tiny, I never in my life would have imagined he’d be sitting on a plush couch with throw pillows, eating a charcuterie board, and drinking wine with his girlfriend's parents.
“Something amusing?” his deep voice rumbles against my ear.
“Just happy,” I admit, looking up into his eyes. He presses his lips to mine.
Pulling away, we both turn to our audience, who are now very quiet. Our parents stare back at us with pure awe in their eyes. I roll my eyes, blushing.
Later that night, while my dad and Emily work in the kitchen, my mom and I sit at the counter and watch. Tiny excused himself to get some work done. He’s been working from home since he got shot. It's a little harder to code with one hand, but somehow he does it– even though he keeps complaining how slow he is now.
Resting my elbow on the counter, I drop my head against my closed fist and yawn.
“Tired, honey?” my mom asks, brushing my hair behind my shoulder.
I nod. “I’ve been so exhausted with everything going on. I just can’t get enough sleep.”
“Hm,” my mom eyes me curiously in that assessing way most moms do.
“What?”
I yawn again, causing her to laugh. “Well, with how tired you apparently are, I’m surprised to say you’re also positively glowing.”
I scoff, grabbing my wine glass and pulling it closer to me to finish it. I frown at my mom as she swipes the glass out of my hand and polishes off the last swig of my wine. “Hey!”
“Have you noticed anything else going on with you, Kourtney?”
I eye her curiously. What is she getting at? “Like what?”
She taps her finger against her chin, thinking. “It’s not like you to cry when Dad and I come to town.”
“Yeah? So? I’ve had a pretty emotional past few weeks if you ask me.”
“I don’t doubt that, my dear. Just odd for you.”
“Mom, I feel like you’re trying to get me to solve a riddle. You know I was never good with riddles.”
“Oh, I have to hit the lady's room really quick.” She hops up and spins on her heel.
Just as she goes to pass me, she stops and leans down. “Do you, by chance, have a panty liner or a pad? This dwindling cough from that cold I had and my old bladder are not getting along.”
At the mention of a pad, all the blood drains from my face. I shake my head at her. “I, uhm, I haven’t had to buy any in a while.”
“Hm,” Mom hums with a look of absolute triumph covering her face.
Mom winks at me on her way to the bathroom, leaving me to put two and two together and nearly have a full-out panic attack at the counter while my dad and Tiny’s mom prepare dinner.
I stumble off the stool and end up in Tiny’s office.
This is one room I haven’t had the courage to enter. It’s like a fortress. He has an entire wall made up of monitors with different views of Desert Rose. It’s amazing and scary at the same time.
I enter in a daze, closing the door behind me.
Tiny spins in his chair and smiles wide when he sees it’s me. Opening his arms, he pulls me between his legs, eyeing me curiously when he notices my expression.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Not feeling the need to beat around the bush, I blurt, “I think my mom thinks I’m pregnant.”
Tiny’s eyes widen, pulling his lip between his teeth. I search his eyes and try to read what he must be thinking.
“Do you think you’re pregnant?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I don’t know what that feels like.”
“Why does your mom think you’re pregnant?”
I clear my throat and tuck my arms across my chest. “I’m exhausted, like all the time. She said I’m glowing or something.” I wave off that comment and glare at Tiny as he chuckles.
“You always glow to me, but my mom did comment the other day about how shiny and clear your skin was.”
“I’ve been crying a lot.”
“We’ve been through a lot.”
“Yeah, but I’m not a crier.”
“Okay, what else?”
“I haven’t had to buy tampons in a few months.”
Tiny’s brows rise at that. “Months?”
I shrug. “I guess I’ve just been so busy I haven’t even paid attention.”
“When is the last period you remember?”
“I don’t think I’ve had a period the entire time I’ve lived here.”
“Shit.”
I bite my lip, waiting for him to show me how he feels about this revelation. For all we know, it could just be stress. Stress affects periods, right?
“Can you say something?” I whisper.
“I’m waiting for you to tell me if I’m supposed to be happy or not.”
I search his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” he tugs me closer by the backs of my thighs. I rest my hands against his shoulders. “If you tell me we’re happy about this, I will no doubt express to you how fucking happy the thought of you having my baby makes me.”
“But?”
“But if you’re not happy about this yet, I will hold your hand and do whatever you need me to do until we are.”
Tears pool on my lids. All this damn crying! I must be pregnant.
I drop my forehead to rest against his while we breathe the same air. “Why are you so perfect?”
“I’m far from perfect, baby. But I’ll live every day to be perfect for you.”
After a few beats, he wraps his arms fully around my waist and pulls me down into his lap. Gripping my cheek in his hand, he forces me to look up at him. “Now. Are we happy about this?”
It takes me no time at all to answer him. Just the thought of a small baby resting in his big hands against his burly chest makes me melt. The image of him pushing a little blonde girl on the swings makes butterflies erupt in my belly. I smile wide at him and nod. “We’re happy about this.”
A woosh of breath fans across my face, and he squeezes my head to his chest. “Oh, thank fuck.”
I laugh as he presses kisses all over my face.
Tiny is a dominating male ninety percent of the time, but my ol’ man turns into a soft teddy bear just when he needs to, and I can’t imagine a better man to raise my babies with.