Page 140 of Everything But Mine

“I have a lifetime to come up with ideas. I’ve even made some promises you haven’t even heard of yet. But you will.”

He leans down to kiss me, soft at first, then deeper, his tongue brushing my bottom lip until I let him in. I taste him, all warmth and sleep as he holds me with the steadiest touch I’ve ever known.

I pull back, suddenly, painfully aware of the milk stains, the mess of my hair, how raw I still feel. But Eric’s eyes soften, warm and dark and full of devotion. No doubt he’s never seen anything more precious than Beckett and me. I realize, in my sleep-deprived delirium, that he looks at me—at us—this way all the time, even when I’m this half-awake disaster.

“I love you.” Eric doesn’t say these words. Even to his mom, he’s a love ya person.

And even though we’ve built everything around it, this home, this child, this quiet kind of reverence, there’s newness and firsts between us.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he murmurs, kissing my nose. “But I love how motherhood’s changing you the most. And I’ll love every version of you.”

I cup his face with my hand, his lips find my wrist. “I’ve loved you when you were everything but mine.” His breath is shaky on my forearm. I wait for his eyes to meet mine again. “I love you now that you’re his. And I’ll love you through everything you become.”

Eric answers with another kiss—slow, sure, and full. In the hush between us, I hold everything that almost wasn’t mine.

EPILOGUE

ERIC

It’s Labor Day weekend, and we’re still doing the annual summer cabin retreat. I’m watching Amanda and Beckett from a distance. He is toddling around, chasing after a butterfly in the sand, shouting words no one understands. He’ll be two in November, and somehow, it still feels like we just brought him home. Amanda is sitting on the sand, legs stretched out, while the lake laps at her ankles. Every time Beckett gets close enough, she tickles his legs and belly. The rays of the setting sun fall on them, making them seem straight out of a dream. My dream.

I never thought that raising a child that’s not my blood could be healing. And yet, every time I look at my kid, my love for him grows, and I know there’s nothing wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with me. There are a thousand things wrong with my father, and any man who just chooses not to love a child. Any child. In every hug, kiss, or inside joke, I’m reminded that I’m deserving and worthy. I am because he is.

A pat follows a squeeze on my shoulder. “You gonna go to her or are you too chicken shit?” Diego’s question breaks me away from gazing at my family.

“Shut the fuck up,” I tell him, taking the drink he offers.

“Is Uncle Sandro cool with this?” He’s standing close to me.

In so many ways, I’d not be here without him. Amanda’s the love of my life, but Diego’s optimism, crass humor, and unconditional trust literally carried me through the darkest year of my life. So today he’s my accomplice.

“He’s annoyed I took so long.”

“She can’t know you asked, or you’ll never hear the end of it.” He tips my glass with his beer. “Salud.”

“No, man,” I counter. “I’d have asked sooner, but she’s so not in a rush.”

We talk about everything to exhaustion, except I never get sick of talking to her. I love it.

“You have a good woman,” Diego says.

“I have the best woman,” I volley back.

He laughs. “I disagree, but that’s nothing on Amanda.” He pats my back again. “You got the girl, Eric.”

I swallow and shake my head. “I didn’t.” Diego frowns, and I add, “I failed the girl, but I deserve the woman.”

Diego’s face breaks into a smile before tipping his chin up. “You cut it real close for a minute.”

I place my palm on his back and tap once. “I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but—” I lick my lips. “You’ve been exactly the friend I’ve needed my whole life.” I shove my hands in my pockets and feel the velvet pouch, curling my fingers around it. “I deserve the woman, the family, and everything I ever hoped for, in no small part, because of you.”

His breath hitches, and part of me regrets saying anything when he lunges at me and wraps his arms around my chest, clapping my shoulder three times before pulling away. Swiping the corners of his eyes, he adds. “Credit where credit is due, man. It was really all you.”

I tip my head down and smile. I don’t believe that’s true of the past, but today, day after day… It is all me.

I walk to the shore, leaving Diego behind. When I’m a few feet away, Beckett sees me and runs up to me. I lift him up, throwing him, catching him, laughing with him. Amanda watches us with the brightest smile, her signature purple highlights flying in the wind. I sit down next to her and kiss her. Firm. Slow. Deep. Until Beckett smacks me.

“No kwiss, Mama,” he says. Amanda loves it. He loves me, but he adores her.