Epilogue
Eight Years Later
Shelley
"Daddy, can you fix my braids?” Janie runs into the living room with a crocheted bunny rabbit in one hand and a coloring book in the other.
Jordan picks her up and spins her around, blowing raspberries into our four-year-old’s belly until she dissolves into a fit of giggles.
Then he takes a seat on the couch and sets her on his lap, expertly redoing the pigtails that have come undone from her roughhousing.
As he secures the second elastic, my husband kisses the top of our daughter’s head and says, “Should we stick some waffles in the toaster for breakfast?”
“Can we put sprinkles and whipped cream on them?” Janie’s eyes widen in delight.
Jordan smiles and nods. “And we’ll fill all the squares with blueberries.”
“Chocolate chips,” Janie counters. She’s a tough negotiator, like her mom.
As she scrambles off his lap, Jordan stands and I make my way over to wrap my arms around him. “I hate to say I told you so, but do you think after all these years you can finally admit toasters are a must-have?”
He looks down at me through his glasses as his arms circle my waist. “Oh, I think you love telling me that. But I concede. This time you were right, Counselor. How do you feel about the brief?”
I was up late last night working on a new case, and I need to head out soon if I’m going to beat the traffic on the way to the courthouse. It’s a long commute from North Bay into Fredericksburg, but totally worth such a small sacrifice for our children to grow up surrounded by family.
Sighing, I shrug. “It’s as good as it’s going to get. I really do need to get moving. Have a great day with Janie.”
“Always do.” He smiles. “Will we see you for dinner?”
“I hope so, but it might be a late one for me. Don’t wait if she’s hungry.”
He smirks and kisses my neck, his beard tickling my skin. “I’ll feed her, but I don’t mind waiting for my dinner.” The mischievous tone in his voice hints that he’s not talking about food at all.
I swat him away, playfully. “Maybe. We’ll see how I’m feeling.”
He puts a hand over the small bump in my belly and runs his thumb over the fabric of my blazer. We haven’t shared our latest news with anyone else yet, and I love having a fun secret between us again. It reminds me of how everything started.
Jordan likes to joke that I once offered him my first-born child in exchange for helping me move, and he decided to take me up on it.
He still works part-time for Davis’s company, doing inventory and serving as an extra set of hands if someone on the regular crew calls out sick.
But for the most part, he’s right here with us, which is exactly how we like it.
Jordan’s told me a thousand times he will never take our family for granted, and he wants to be the kind of dad he always wished he had.
So far, I’d have to say he’s knocking it out of the park.
He loves being a stay-at-home dad, and Janie is equally obsessed with him.
I love that I know she’s in the best, most capable hands while I’m in the office.
And even when Jordan can’t be here, someone always can.
Our house is only a mile away from Mike and Danielle’s place, and Janie is constantly over there playing with her cousins.
Honey watches their three kids regularly, and she also helps take care of Janie on the days Jordan is working.
She charges us an arm and a leg because, in her words, “all this life experience doesn’t come cheap,” and our toddler has picked up a few colorful phrases during their time together, but we all love it.
My parents have also decided to retire, and they’re looking into buying a vacation home in North Bay so they can split their time between here and Idaho.
It will be nice to be close to them again.
Jordan kisses my nose. “Don’t forget the Carvers are coming over tomorrow for the barbecue.”
When he retired from baseball, Jordan was worried he wouldn’t see the Carvers much, but that turned out to be an unfounded fear.
Once he was no longer constantly traveling for work, he had a lot more free time available to schedule visits.
He actually sees them much more often than he did when he was playing.
They’re another set of honorary grandparents for Janie.
“It’s in my calendar. Do you need me to stop and pick up more hot dog buns?”
“Nah. We’re going with chicken wings.” He winks at me. Wings have been my biggest pregnancy craving, and at this point I could give Stacy Haverson a real run for her money.
“Yay! Grandma and Grandpa Carver!” Janie squeals. “Can I show them my new paint set? The one Uncle Jake and Aunt Alice gave me?”
Jordan’s eyes soften as he turns to her. “I’m sure they’d love to see it. Now let’s go get you those waffles. With chocolate chips and blueberries.”