52. Epilogue #2
I laugh, all of my worries forgotten. Raven always has that effect. She pulls joy to the surface like she has a magnetic field that only attracts happiness. "He's growing. Doctor says he's right on track."
"Course he is." Raven drops into a chair at the kitchen island, already reaching for a cracker. "Strong genes. Gonna be as intimidating as his father."
Sean sets the cider on the counter and says, "I'll start his combat training at two. He'll be Special Ops by five." The three of us laugh and then Sean kisses my cheek, waving today's book at me. "I'll be on the beach if you need me."
"Running away from girl talk," Raven teases. "Typical bloke. Too scared to sit around while we discuss the miracle of childbirth in detail."
"Terrified," he agrees solemnly, though the glint in his eye gives him away. "Have fun."
"You too, hottie," Raven says to his retreating back.
He shakes his head as I watch him go, slipping out the patio doors and down the wooden steps that lead directly to the beach.
This house is our little slice of paradise, perched on the edge of the world, where the land surrenders to the Southern Ocean of Australia.
Where I've finally learned to let go of the past.
Mostly.
I laugh and give Raven a pointed but playful look. "Will you stop flirting with my future husband?"
"Not flirting. Just stating facts. And it's funny that he blushes every time."
I smile because she's right. It is a fact that he's a hottie and he does blush from compliments. It's very cute.
"How'd the theater thing go?"
I grab some grapes from the fridge and then set them next to the cheese on my board. "Oh, well, I did the audition but they don't want a pregnant woman for the role. I knew that. I only did it so they'd have my headshot on file. We'll see. I'm a little rusty."
"I'd love to see you on stage someday. I'll be first row, cheering you on and making too much noise. They'll probably kick me out. And I'll tell 'em, 'Don't you know my best friend is a super famous Hollywood actress? Get your hands off me.'"
I laugh. "Yes, you would totally do that. But I've never been super famous, so please don't. I actually can't remember the last time someone recognized me."
She sneaks another cracker. "I'll still cheer you on."
"Let's go sit," I tell her. She grabs the attempted charcuterie board and I grab the cider and some glasses.
She settles down on the fuzzy rug in the living room while I have to perch myself on the couch. If I sat on the floor with this belly I'd never get back up. We use the coffee table for food and drinks and dive into some gossip. Well, she's the only one who ever has gossip.
She pours our drinks while simultaneously launching into a story about her neighbor-turned-boyfriend. "Mark decided we should go surfing at dawn. Yeah nah, as if I'm the type of person who functions before coffee."
"When was this?"
"Yesterday. I was half-asleep on this bloody surfboard, and what happens?" She leans forward, eyes wide with dramatic anticipation.
I take the glass of cider she hands me and shrug. "Okay, what happens?"
"He gets knocked off his board by this massive wave.
And his swim shorts—those ridiculous board shorts with the little flamingos that I bought him as a joke—they just…
" She makes an explosive gesture with her hands.
"Gone! Ripped clean off! He's there, starkers in the ocean, and this family with little kids shows up on the beach. "
I laugh. "Oh, no."
"Yeah. We couldn't find the shorts so the poor bloke had to hide behind his surfboard." She gestures with a cheese knife for emphasis. "You know what he said? 'At least the water was warm.' As if that's the concern when your bits are on display for all of Bondi Beach."
I laugh again. She starts telling me how they eventually made it back to their car, but my attention drifts toward the window.
Through the glass, I can see Sean's figure moving along the shoreline.
His bare feet leave temporary imprints in the wet sand, evidence of his life that the tide will soon erase.
The book in his hands is already open, but he's not looking at the pages.
Instead, his gaze is fixed on the horizon as he's lost in thought.
Is his mind heavy with worry?
Or is he thinking happy thoughts about our family and meeting our baby boy soon?
"And then he had the nerve to suggest—" Raven stops mid-sentence, following my line of sight. "Oh for—" She sets down her glass with an exaggerated sigh. "I've lost yah already and I just got here!" Her smile softens, all irritation dissolving. "I'll wait."
"Huh? For what?"
She nods toward the windows. Sean has now settled on a piece of large driftwood, his book balanced on his knee.
"For you to stop making heart eyes at your sweetie.
You do this every time, yah know. Get all dreamy.
So I'll wait while you have a moment. But come back because I'm ready to drink.
" She pats her oversize bag. "Non-alcoholic for you. But I brought the good stuff me."
"I'm not—" I start to protest, but my eyes drift back to the colorful outside world beyond the window. The world that holds Sean. Even from this distance, I can see the easy grace of his movements, the strength in his shoulders, the way he looks casual, but I know he's ready for anything.
"Fine," I sigh. "Be right back."
Raven grins like she won something. "Tell Romeo to stay far enough away that he can't hear me tell you about my sex adventures."
I'm already moving, pulled by the invisible thread that connects me to Sean.
I open the patio door, passing beyond the windows into the life all around me.
The wooden deck is warm beneath my bare feet, and the salt air fills my lungs.
I take the steps carefully, one hand on the rail, the other cradling my belly.
The sand is hot between my toes, then cooler as I approach the wet line where waves gently crest and recede.
Sean turns before I reach him; that sixth sense of his is always aware, always alert.
His face breaks into a smile that makes the air catch in my lungs, and in this light, with the endless blue of the ocean behind him, he looks like something from a dream.
He's a fantasy I conjured during those all years of isolation.
But he's real. So magnificently, beautifully real.
I run the last few steps and he catches me. His strong arms lift me into a gentle spin and we're both laughing, faces tilted toward the sun, breathing in the salt and each other.
When he sets me down, his hands linger on my waist. The book is abandoned in the sand, pages fluttering in the sea breeze. His eyes are so warm, so present. No shadows lurking now. Just Sean, my Sean, gazing at me like I'm the only woman in the world.
I rise on my tiptoes to kiss him, my fingers threading through his hair. "You're my purpose too," I whisper against his lips.
Whatever comes next, we'll face it together.
For now, this moment is perfect. And I've learned that perfect moments are rare enough to be treasured, rare enough to sustain you through darker times.
So I hold on tight, feeling the steady rhythm of Sean's heart against mine, and I choose to believe in the future we've fought so hard to deserve.
~
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