“How are you feeling?”
“G-g-groggy… I’m… ooookay.”
“Teddy’s been close by for most of it. I guess I like him.”
She smiles more broadly as her eyes close. “B-b-brat… hhhe’s good.”
I rest my cheek in her palm, my eyes watering. “I miss you, Mom. I was so worried.”
Her fingers twitch on my cheek, and she smiles tiredly. I don’t say anything else, letting her sleep.
“Love you,” I whisper.
“Llllove you…” she says groggily.
I watch her sleep for a while, feeling profoundly lucky she came out of the surgery okay. I’m not sure what I would’ve done had she not made it, or if she’d ended up worse. The world is one hundred percent better because she’s in it.
Chapter 32
Jett - Epilogue
Sixmonthslater
“Uncle Je–ett!” Mason whines, his voice muffled from inside the tent. “Kitty won’t stay inside!”
I yell back from the kitchen, where I’m making popcorn for movie night. “Kitty is an animal, and remember, we can’t make her do stuff.” I snort at the memory of Mia suggesting we get one of those baby carriers so she could strap Kitty against her chest. I vetoed that.
“Ugh!” Mason groans. “Owie, now she scratched me.” I can tell my nephew is close to losing it, since his voice has a shrill edge to it.
“Wes?” I call out. Where the hell is he? He’s been ages setting up his famoushome movie theatre à la Uncle Wes. We’re watchingPaddington 2, Mia’s choice. Janelle and Owen dropped the kids off earlier today before going to a romantic winery outside Eugene. I’m already wiped out. Why did I agree to this when I could be balls deep in my hot boyfriend right now? Oh, right, uncle duties.
“What’s up?” Wes walks into the kitchen, smirking, and I can’t help laughing when I see the T-shirt he’s changed into.
“Cute.” I nod at the front that saysI’m not gay, but my boyfriend is,then pull him in by the neck, kissing him slow and deep.
“Mmmmhhhh,” he hums against my lips, melting into me. “Movie’s all ready to go. Our arsenal of fluffy blankets is lined up and Pooh and Tigger have front row tickets.”
“My perfect boyfriend,” I swoon, then tweak his ass through his basketball shorts. We gave Mia and Mason the two stuffed animals for Christmas, and they bring them everywhere, especially for sleepovers at Uncle Jared and Uncle Wes’ place.
Yep,ourplace. In February, we decided I should give up my apartment and move upstairs with Wes. I was there most of the time anyway, and to be honest, my apartment never felt like a real home. It also allows us to use the money we saved to help Evie out with the medical bills. Wes, of course, refused to accept it initially, claiming it wasn’t my weight to carry and that he was managing just fine. Then I reminded him—using my mouth, my hands,andmy dick—that we’re a team now and that Evie is my family too. He couldn’t argue against that.
Then came Kitty. Who would’ve thought that I not only have the most amazing live-in boyfriend but also a pet? Some days, when I wake up, it still blows my mind that this is my life now. Then the anxiety sets in, not like it used to, just a slight flutter. It’s not connected to one specific thing, but more the sum of everything I have and can potentially lose. It’s irrational, I know, but it usually happens when I’ve been working too much and not getting enough sleep. Then Wes is right there to remind me that I deserve this amazing life. All of it. And when I’m in his arms, I believe it. Ibelievehim.
The microwave pings, and the smell of popcorn fills the kitchen. I empty the bag into a large bowl, and Wes snatches one right away and pops it into his mouth.
“Dork,” I chuckle, and he blows me a kiss. Grabbing the bowl from the counter, he nods at the fridge. “Get the strawberry lemonade, will you, babe?”
I grab it and then follow him into the living room. Mia and Mason have emerged from their tent and are now sitting in the middle of the couch under a fluffy blanket, Tigger and Pooh clutched against their chests. There’s no sign of Kitty, so she probably made her great escape, hiding away in our bedroom.
Mia and Mason giggle loudly when Wes pretends to sit on them. They wiggle away from him and make room between themselves. He sits with a loud groan, then hums, “King of the castle.” I snort at his antics, then pour us all a glass of the sugary sweet lemonade the kids are addicted to.
“Babe, c’mon,” Wes gestures at the space on the floor between his legs. “The movie’s about to start.” I drop between his spread legs and lean against the couch, Wes’ legs on each side of me, cocooning me with their warmth and familiar pressure. The hair on his legs is soft against my cheek as I lean against him. His fingers find my head instantly, absentmindedly caressing my scalp while we watch the movie. Occasionally, he leans down and presses a quick kiss against the top of my head. I feel safe and cherished with my favorite people here, the kids squealing loudly whenever Paddington does something funny, thenooohingandaaahingwhen something cute happens.
When the movie’s over, Mia and Mason erupt into a simultaneous “One more, pleeease.” While I’m the good cop, suggesting we can start another movie, then watch the rest in the morning, Wes is always the bad cop, which I’m secretly grateful for.
“Nope!” he exclaims. “Time for bed. Let’s go brush those Dracula teeth.” The kids complain half-heartedly, then perk up when Wes tells them they get story time if they hurry.
They huddle inside the tent with their stuffed animals and blankets. It was Wes’ idea with the tent, and the kids love it. It’s kind of like a tipi, made from navy-blue fabric with yellow and white stars and moons on it. Inside, Wes has strung small lights to make it nice and cozy. There are two mattresses on the floor, not the inflatable ones, but two actual mattresses. When I told him he was amazing for doing this, he claimed it was for his own selfish reasons and that he just wanted our bed to be a kid-free zone. The truth is, he spends just as much time inside the tent as Mia and Mason do when they’re here.
