EPILOGUE Sophie #2
And the something old was something I will always cherish—a delicate scrap of fabric from Maeve’s dress from her wedding to William.
For their special day, they had gone to the courthouse to get married.
Maeve wore a thrifted, vintage white lace dress, and William had told her that he had never seen anything more beautiful.
I was in awe as she explained where the fabric came from.
Maeve tied the fabric around my bouquet of peonies.
It was such an intimate, precious gift to give me.
“I wish he could be here,” I choke out, gently dabbing my eyes with a tissue to not ruin my makeup.
“He is,” Maeve assures me, squeezing my hands.
“When you walked into the store, I knew you were destined for us in some capacity,” Maeve murmurs, gently brushing an errant curl away from my face.
“I am only grateful it ended up being for my son. You have changed all of our lives, Sophie. Thank you. I love you, my little dove.”
“I love you too, Maeve,” I collapse into her waiting maternal embrace, hearing the click-click of a camera, and I knew that this photo would be cherished forever.
Bailey transformed our backyard into a dream.
Twinkling lights hung from the tree branches, one long table for our family to sit, dine, and celebrate, and delicious food catered through the Salvatores' connections.
April had taken on our wedding cake, baking and designing it for us down to the very last detail, even making little cupcakes with fondant books on the top.
Rows of chairs faced our mighty Maple tree, and as the sun dipped toward the horizon, it bathed the world in gold.
Then there was Callum, waiting for me at the end of the aisle. Tears already shimmered in his eyes, tracking slowly down his cheeks the second he saw me.
My breath catches in my throat as I take him in, looking so devastatingly handsome in a dark suit. Callum’s beard was only trimmed slightly, his hair neatly pulled back, but with a couple of those pieces hanging loose across his forehead, just like how he knew I liked.
Parker plays his keyboard, accompanied by his friend Kia on violin, as the two create a melody while I walk down the aisle.
As I walk, I can’t help but smile when I pass our friends. Bailey and Michael, Jane and Atticus, with little Leo nestled protectively into Jane’s side. April mouthed, “You look beautiful.” Donna and Rich stood together, Donna crying happy tears and Rich smiling proudly.
Claire and Grant had even come, sitting beside Bailey. Claire presses a gentle hand to her chest as she watches me pass them, and there is a look in her eyes that says she understood the journey—the loss, the rebuild.
Tess stands at the very front, discreetly wiping away tears she will never admit to. I had thought about asking her to walk me down the aisle, but in the end, I realized I wanted to walk toward Callum on my own because Tess wasn’t giving me away.
I was choosing Callum myself.
Tonya is at the front with Callum, having gotten herself ordained online to marry us. She looks incredibly sharp in her crisp dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top and rolled up to reveal her tattooed arms, and fitted black pants.
I can tell that my sister appreciates the sight from the looks she kept shooting at her. Tonya winks at me when I finally get to them, and I place my hands in Callum’s.
“Hi,” I whisper to him, voice trembling from the adrenaline coursing through me.
Callum’s eyes trail all over me, like he’s trying to memorize this moment forever. He swallows hard and shakes his head as if he can’t believe that I’m standing here, in white, ready for forever. He leans down to kiss my cheek while whispering, “My beautiful girl.”
My cheeks burn from the desire and reverence dripping from his rumbling voice before I squeeze his hands and we both turn to a waiting and amused Tonya.
She clears her throat dramatically and opens, “Mawwiage..."
Laughter erupts at her very dead-on impression, and Callum groans while muttering. “I knew you were going to do it.”
I giggle and squeeze Callum’s hands, seeing his mouth curving into a very happy smile.
Tonya smirks triumphantly. “Mawwiage is what bwings us togeder today.”
I think it hits me at that moment.
We’re getting married.
Overwhelmed with affection and with tears pooling in my eyes, I mouth to Callum, ‘I love you.’
His gaze softens, and he lifts my hand to his mouth, kissing it before he replies, ‘I love you.’
Tonya clears her throat again, trying to pretend she is serious. “Okay, I’m done. We are gathered here today..."
Callum cried when he first saw me. He cries through his vows with a trembling voice. He cries again when Tonya finally declares us husband and wife, then loudly calls out, “What are you waiting for? Kiss your wife, Callum!”
Without another word, Callum wraps his arms around me and dips me back like in an old romantic movie, and kisses me deeply as our family cheers loudly for us.
Tonya announces, proudly and with unmistakable joy, “I now present Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes..."
Now, a couple of hours later, the sun has set, and the lights above us and the lights from our house keep the world bathed in a warm glow. I’m wrapped up in the arms of my husband—my husband!—as we stand under our Maple and watch our family dance together, laugh together, and celebrate.
“Are you happy, Mrs. Rhodes?” Callum murmurs in my ear, pressing a kiss to my temple.
I’m buzzed, I’m full of good food and cake, I’m with my friends and family.
I am safe. I am cherished. I am adored.
I’m married to Callum.
“I’m your wife. I’m the happiest girl in the world, Mr. Rhodes.”
◆◆◆
May
“So, how have you been? Anything new or concerning that you want to talk about?”
Dr. Ramirez helps me guide back, placing my feet into the stirrups and scooting back further on the paper-covered table. She grabs a soft and warm blanket and tosses it over my lap to give me a little warmth. This paper gown offers no warmth in this freezing exam room.
It’s my annual checkup, and another year without a baby.
Callum always eases my worries, constantly telling me that he’s happy with it being just us two, that a baby would only add to our family, not complete it.
But it doesn’t stop the jealousy and longing that burns me whenever I hold Bailey’s adorable baby girl, Angelina.
Or Jane and Atticus’s son, Forrest. Or when Bailey and Michael’s oldest, Mateo, runs over to me yelling, “Aunt Sophie!”
Or when I dream of Callum holding a baby with my eyes and wake up sobbing when I realize it’s not real.
Callum just holds me through it, gently rocking me in his lap and whispering how much he loves me.
And I love him, still, even all these years later.
I love him more than anything on this earth, and our life is so wonderful.
Callum and I have been married for almost four years now.
I’ve been free and clear of cancer for five years, and stopped taking my chemotherapy pill two years ago under Dr. Rajab’s approval.
After I stopped taking the pill, we decided to just not take any measures to prevent a pregnancy.
I stopped my birth control, having switched from the copper IUD to the pill, and Callum and I have a healthy sex life, so it should have happened by now.
But it hasn’t, and I don’t think that it will.
I wouldn’t trade Callum for anything, including a baby, so our next step we could look into adoption or IVF, as Claire had spoken to me about before.
She had dealt with infertility with her previous marriage, but her doctors had concluded that it was most likely an issue with her husband, not herself, as she was able to conceive her twin boys relatively easily with Grant.
She had even offered to fund the rather expensive treatments, and while I thanked her greatly, I told her we would look into other options first.
She did give me great advice, though, to keep faith and hope alive, and to always remember that Callum loves me for more than my babymaking ability.
This helped tremendously with easing some guilt that I had, with the feelings of failure that would arise when I would take a test and it would come back negative.
I know Callum wanted a baby, specifically only with me, as he says all the time, but he would be happy with being the best aunt and uncle we can be to the kids in our family.
He always knows just what to say.
“No, everything seems fine. My period has been irregular lately, but it’s been like that ever since I finished chemo,” I say casually, “I’ve been thinking about going back on birth control.”
Dr. Ramirez pulls on a pair of gloves, sits in her chair, rolls over to the exam table, and then gently lifts the blanket to examine me. I wince as she probes and pokes and prods, as usual, before snapping off her gloves and tossing them in the trash.
She pulls the blanket down over my legs and moves up to stand at my hip, opening my gown to access my abdomen.
“How have your cycles been?”
“Irregular,” I shrug, the sheet crinkling below me from the movement. “But they’ve been like that ever since chemo. I thought by now it would be regulated, but maybe birth control would help it?”
She gently presses on my lower abdomen and then pauses, brows knitting together.
“When was your last period?”
“Two..." I frown, trying to think about the last time I bought pads.
Around Valentine's Day, I think. I got my period right on the romantic holiday and thought the color red was appropriate.
It was like the lack of frequency made my body angry, and it took it out on me, with painful cramps and fatigue.
Thankfully, Callum was used to this by now and bought me my favorite chocolate-hazelnut candy, then placed his big, warm hand on my tummy like a human heating pad. “Or three months ago..."
“And you’re sexually active?”
I blush and mutter, “Very..."