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“I thought you might think it’s too soon,” she murmurs.
I lean down and kiss away her warm tears, keeping my face close to hers.
“With us,” I whisper, “there’s no such thing as too soon.”
Extended Epilogue
One Year Later
Sophia
I sit on the floor of my studio with Katie in my lap, holding her tiny hand in mine, and giggle as I bring it to the bare white wall. I press her hand down as I let my face fall forward, bringing my nose to the wonderful scent of her hair. She hasn’t got much of it yet, but it’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever smelled.
It’s heaven.
Our lives are heaven.
We moved into our suburban mansion right after the wedding, when I was still pregnant with our little bundle of joy.
My plan is to fill my studio with all our children’s handprints so that when the last of them leaves home I can come in here and greedily gaze at all the love, all the contentment, and belonging.
I pick her up once her handprint is in place, taking her over to the cleaning station and wiping her softly. I made sure that all the paints were safe to use around her.
Just like Solomon would kill to protect our little Katie-kins, I’d die before I let anything happen to her.
Once she’s clean, I cradle her to my chest and rock her, wandering over to the window.
The sun is setting and Solomon is in the pool, his powerful body catching the fading light with each stroke, his muscles contorting and glistening as he pulls his massive frame through the water.
It seems I’ve picked the perfect time to get a look at my husband because he hauls himself out when he reaches the end closest to the house. The water cascades down his body and I feel my body responding in turn, my breasts aching, my sex pulsating.
I turn away, not trusting myself to tame these primal feelings, and I don’t want to get all excited with Katie in my arms.
I whisk her through the house, our house. The walls are covered in my favorite artwork, as well as some pieces of my own. I’ve got my first gallery showing next week. I still work at Solomon’s company, but mostly on a contract basis now.
My husband has given me the opportunity to pursue my dreams of being an artist and a mother, and there’s no way I’d pass that up.
I carry Katie over to her rainbow crib. We call it that because, when we were putting it together, Solomon and I got into a paint fight and ended up turning it from oak colored to every color of the rainbow.
I guess that’s what we get for assembling it in the studio … which was originally going to be the baby’s room.
I never thought I’d have such a big house that choosing which rooms served what purpose would be a problem.
I lay her down and then lean down, laying my lips against her forehead and kissing her tenderly.
“I love you, Katie-kins,” I murmur. “And so does daddy. So much.”
“Of course I do,” Solomon says, sliding up next to me with his characteristic grace.
I smile and lean against him, confident in the knowledge that he’ll always catch me, no matter where I fall.
“I’ll never get used to how quiet you move for such a big man,” I murmur.
He chuckles and hugs me close to him in his favorite way, with my back to his front. He likes to rest his head atop mine and inhale the scent of my hair.
I wriggle against him, and he groans.
“Not here, you wild thing,” he growls quietly. “You’ve got to get that perfect body in the bedroom for that.”
I laugh, keeping my voice quiet because Katie’s eyelids are fluttering as she falls into a contended sleep.
“I can’t believe you’re still this attracted to me,” I murmur. “It’s like you don’t even realize that my body is still fifty percent pregnancy weight.”
“I do know it,” he growls passionately. “That’s why I’m so attracted to you. I love seeing how much curvier motherhood has made you. Why do you think I’m so hungry to put another baby in you, my little dreamer?”
I smile and close my eyes, sinking back into his embrace, feeling as though I’m floating as he hugs me tighter.
“I love you, husband,” I say dreamily.
“I love you, my perfect wife,” he replies, his voice husky.
Extended Epilogue
Ten Years Later
Solomon
“Daddy, look,” Ryan laughs as he sits on the floor, laying his five year old hand against the handprint he made when he was a baby. “I thiiiiiink my hand’s just a biiiiit bigger. Do yours, Daddy. Do yours.”
I grin and walk over to him, kneeling down and slowly moving my hand toward the handprint. It makes me ache with love that Sophia thought to do this.
