Epilogue
FINN
Three years later…
I rub out another line, my frustration growing. Why can’t I seem to make this idea work? I massage my temples, but the pressure doesn’t seem to dissipate. I try again, marking the curve and the steel beams that go across the roof of the extension.
“Will you ever be happy with this house?” My wife’s voice drifts over from behind me and I smile to myself. Her hands slide down from my shoulders over my chest, her emerald engagement ring and silver wedding band glinting in the summer sun.
(Come on, I’ve been waiting fifteen years; you didn’t expect me to wait long to pop the question, did you?)
I managed to go all of three months dating Oakleigh before I set a competition before her—one that I knew she’d win.
At the end of it, she found her engagement ring and me behind her on one knee.
I’d had the ring ever since we started dating for real, hidden behind two pairs of underwear in my bedside table.
The only reason we waited so long to get married was because Oakleigh was adamant she wanted to do it at our new home.
If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it was because of the cherry trees I had planted at the side of the property; her own little orchard.
There’s a wide path going through the middle of the orchard and so the aisle kind of designed itself.
She also wanted to make sure that her mom and sister could fly over from Australia, something that I made sure was all paid for.
You’d think that after two years of marriage, that spark of possessiveness would have dissipated by now, replaced with a feeling of protective contentment, but no. Now, more than ever, a fire burns within me when I see our matching wedding bands sit side by side when I hold her hand in mine.
I kiss the back of her hand and press it back to my chest, holding her tightly as if she’ll disappear the moment I let go.
“At some point, I’m sure,” I reply.
The house has been finished for all of a month from the last modification I made to it, and yet I’m already thinking of adding an extension. Call me crazy, but here is the only place I really have complete free rein to add any crazy ideas I come up with.
Oakleigh leans down until her face is in line with mine. She squints down at the drawing on the garden table and shakes her head. “I don’t like it.”
Well, almost complete free rein.
I scrunch the paper up and playfully throw it at her head. “If you don’t like it, then it’s gone.”
“Oh, come on,” she says, pinching my shoulder. “Fight back a little at least.”
“I’ll wrestle you for final say?”
It’s how we settle most disputes nowadays: playfighting. We wrestle until one of us (usually her) wins. Whatever the winner decides, goes. Either that, or Wren ends up being the tiebreaker.
Cherry suddenly finds intense interest in the grass. “Not this time,” she says. “Might have to find an alternative for a bit.”
I turn in my chair and start to rub her lower back. “Period troubles?”
Her soft hands cup my face. “Something like that.”
I stare up at her and inspect her face. Something is off. She’s reserved, almost nervous?
“Is everything okay?”
“God, I hope so.” She huffs out a laugh. She holds out a finger. “Wait here. I have something for you.”
I want to ask for a clue, but she’s run off before I can ask anything. I search the memory banks for something, anything that can tell me what the hell has her like this, but I’m drawing a blank.
She returns quickly, a small blue box with a darker blue ribbon in her hands. Somehow, she looks even more nervous. She even hesitates before she reaches me, a look of uncertainty flashing across her face.
“Cherry, you’re making me nervous. What’s going on?” I ask.
She opens her mouth, but changes her mind immediately, shaking her head and simply placing the box on the table in front of me. I eye it suspiciously.
“I’m scared.”
“That’s either about to change or get worse,” she replies.
Well, okay, then. Now I’m shitting myself.
I untie the ribbon, the silk soft under my fingertips. I lift the lid but don’t peek inside.
I turn to Oakleigh. “If you’ve put a snake in here again, I swear to God…”
“You said to surprise you!”
“For my birthday!”
She huffs and crosses her arms. “You didn’t specify.”
I roll my eyes and then steel my spine. With a deep breath, I turn toward the box and reach a hand inside.
Nothing bites me, which is good, and yet what I pull out is somehow so much scarier.
“Holy shit.”
“Surprise?” Oakleigh sings, but it comes out sounding more like a question than anything.
I stare at the pregnancy test in my hand.
I stand up slowly, not really trusting my legs to support me. A fresh layer of sweat appears across my brow, but this time it’s not because of the sun. I turn my wide eyes to Oakleigh.
“Get fucked,” I whisper.
She smiles nervously and places both of her hands over her stomach.
“No, seriously get fucked.”
“Okay, I’m confused. Is that a good get fucked or a bad get fucked?”
I’m lost for words; speechless; dumbfounded. All I can do is stare—at Oakleigh, her stomach, the box, the sonogram. I stare at it all. I don’t know what to say. What can I say? What even are words?
I don’t trust any words that would come out right now, so I answer Cherry’s question the only way I know how…
I stalk over to her and kiss her. I kiss my wife—my pregnant wife—and I make sure to put every emotion I’m feeling into it.
I’m terrified of this chapter—shitting myself, actually—but the excitement within me bounces around my chest like a ball in an arcade machine.
I waited fifteen years for the woman I love. Now, I’m married to her, living in my dream home with her, working my dream job. and now … now I get to start a family with her. God, could my life get any more amazing?
Then the voice in my head starts.
Babies carry lots of germs. It’ll make you sick. It’ll make her sick.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath in, and then out.
In and out. In and out. I remind myself that I know the truth—that yes, children carry germs, but so do adults.
The pregnancy might very well make Cherry sick, and if it does, then I’ll be there in the bathroom with her, holding her hair back and holding a cold cloth against her head.
Morning sickness is normal, and if anything progresses, then we will figure it out together.
“Need help?” Oakleigh asks, her arms tightening around me.
I shake my head and smile. “No, I got it.”
My chest swells with pride, because I really do. I got this.
I still see Dr. Madden, but lately the sessions have gone down to once a week. I increase it if I find I’m having a tough time, but I really do have a good grip on my OCD these days. I’m in control.
“Are you still panicking?” I ask.
Oakleigh shakes her head. “I was only panicking about your reaction, but now that I know you’re happy, I’m beyond happy.”
“Will this affect your book tour?”
Oakleigh’s debut novel—unsurprisingly—became a USA Today bestseller.
Number one, I’ll add. Since it came out four months ago, things have been beyond hectic for her.
It’s been nonstop signings and events. She went to Comic Con in the spring, and of course I’ve been taking the days off of work where I can, to go and support her.
If I can’t attend, I make sure that one of the group can.
“I might have to cancel the UK tour; it all depends on if I’ll be okay to fly then. I’ll be just shy of eight months when that comes around.”
Holy shit, she’s really pregnant.
“Is there any way to move it up earlier?”
She shrugs. “I’ll ask Janelle and see what she says.”
I look down at my wife and just think about how much I can barely contain my pride.
Her talent knows no bounds, her dedication and work ethic have done nothing but inspire me, and I genuinely think that watching her at her computer is one of the hottest things to do.
She’s brave—fuck, she’s so brave. She put so much of herself into that book and I know that it scared her knowing that people would see that parts of her were there on those pages, bare and vulnerable, and yet she did it anyway.
I didn’t know I could love this woman any more than I do, and yet time and time again, she shows me that she’s someone you can always love more.
It’s been almost twenty years that I’ve known her, and I’m still learning things about her to this day.
“When’s the due date?”
“That’s the hilarious thing.”
“Oh?” I spin her around so I can lean my chin on her shoulder, and my hands on her stomach.
“She’s due on my birthday.”
My sigh is exaggerated. “God, that’s going to be an expensive day.”
“It isn’t already?” She giggles as I pinch her side lightly.
“Nope. I’d happily spend thousands on you, but you never let me.”
“Yeah, because the amount you spend on me throughout the year actually ends up being in the thousands.”
“It’s a good thing I’m a millionaire, then.” I kiss her neck and hold her close.
This is good. This is great. Life is great.
“I love you, Cherry.”
She spins around and the look on her face is soft, earnest. Her hand cups my face. “I love you, too, Dumbass.”