How could Jeremy have missed that? Why didn’t he cherish her? She made it so damn easy. But I didn’t feel sorry for him. He’d proven a hundred times over that he never deserved her.
Did I? Maybe not.
But I’d spend the rest of my life trying my hardest to show Erin how much I loved her. She was worth it.
Epilogue
Erin
Three years later
“Stop, Dixie!” Matilda sprintedup the hill, her hand snatching at the grass, trying—and failing—to grab the leash for the chocolate Labrador bounding ahead of her. “Naughty girl!”
That dog wasn’t stopping for anyone. She was free.
Eventually, Dixie would wear herself out running circles, or she’d want attention from Callan. For him, she’d sit patiently, wait for pats, and be a “very good girl” so she’d be allowed to trot along beside him around the farm. I was convinced he sneaked her treats from his pocket. For anyone else, though? Dixie was a lunatic. Lovable, but a dopey loon.
Panting, I waddled up the hill. Unlike my first pregnancy with Matilda, which I carried about like a pert little basketball, this bump crushed my lungs. Breathing was impossible. I couldn’t wait for the restless boy in my belly to finally drop so I could make it up the stairs without pausing halfway. Although I was quickly learning that need wasn’t exclusive to stairs. I stopped on the hill and gulped in some air.
Just a bit further…
Callan was waiting for me.
Sun poured through the leaves, his copper hair burning that little bit brighter in the afternoon. His shoulder casually slumped against the old elm tree where Lila and I had sat together so many times as kids. Life hadn’t turned out like we’d whispered about at thirteen. I wished she were still there waiting. I had so much to tell her.
“Ez!” Callan’s brows were heavy with worry as he bolted down the hill. “You should’ve told me you were on your way!”
“W-why?” I wheezed. “W-would…you have…” I tipped my head back to glance at the clouds blotting the orange sky. Breathing shouldn’t be this hard. “Carried…me…up?”
“Yes!”
“In your…dreams… Look at me. I’m huge—”
I shrieked when Callan scooped me up in his arms. The weight disappeared from my poor, swollen feet. I wasn’t complaining. Snuggling into Callan’s chest, I listened to him huff and puff to the top of the hill, my nose stuck to his neck. Freshly shaven. The sweet smell of soap and cologne. It was one of my favorite spots.
“I’m glad you lug all those heavy boxes around,” I said. “You’re very strong.”
Callan grinned down at me. “You’re lighter than a feather, Mrs. Wolcott.”
“I appreciate you lying to me,husband.”
He didn’t deny that maybe I was a little heavier than usual with his oversized baby boy stuffed in my belly. He just conveniently changed the subject. “I like it when you call me husband.”
I kissed his jaw. “I know.”
At the top of the hill, he carefully tipped me out of his arms and onto my feet. A gentle tug and a swish, and my sundress was neatly rearranged. His lips briefly pressed on my belly before he stood up.
“Now,” I said, fishing in my bag for the hat Bronte had demanded he wear for the photoshoot. “Don’t be angry, okay…”
Callan’s eyes narrowed on the sand-colored Akubra in my hand. “I’m not wearing that.”
“Cal…”
“Don’t you ‘Cal’ me when you’re fluttering those pretty eyelashes. No one’s wearing a hat for these photos.”
Matilda grinned up at him. “Auntie Bron said I can wear my new hat.” With an exaggerated pout and a pop of her hip, she twisted around to model the pink cowboy hat pulled low over her eyes. “See, Daddy?”
The grin that exploded across Callan’s face was as dopey as the dog. His heart swelled ten sizes bigger when Matilda called him that. It was “Good night, Daddy” after he finished reading her bedtime book, and “I love you, Daddy” at random times when she snuggled in his lap to watch TV, her eyes drooping as she soothed a lazy finger down the longest scar on his face.
