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She returns my nod and then her attention is instantly attached to Charlotte again. I walk to the door, looking back at Bones.
He sniffs mom’s chair and gazes up at Charlotte before following me.
“You started all this, boy,” I whisper, as we walk through our home.
There are photos of Charlotte on the walls, as well as snapshots from our wedding. I always pause at one specific shot, where the confetti is flying in the air, my husband and I smiling so widely we look like giddy teenagers.
“Without you,” I go on, scratching him under the chin when we reach the back door, “none of this would’ve happened. I love you, Bones. Thank you.”
He laps at my cheek and then darts through the door, sprinting into the rain, tail wagging.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
TEN YEARS LATER
Pearce
“Do you remember when I spoke to you about this?”
I flip the burger, making it hiss as smoke rises in the air. Bones sits at my feet, drawn by the warmth of the barbecue and the smell of the food. He’s begun to slow down in the last year or so, becoming like a wise old man with his graying terrier beard.
“It was near the beginning. I told you we’d have a barbecue in the yard, and all the kids would be—”
A loud splash interrupts me, followed by laughter which sets my soul alight. It makes my heart warm brightly every time one of my children laughs.
I look across the yard, from the barbecue to where Charlotte is emerging from the water. She runs her hands through her dark brown hair, the same color mine was before it turned fully gray. Her brothers, Liam and Drake, swim after her, the four and seven year olds competing to see who can smile the widest.
“I told you all the kids would be causing mayhem in the pool, didn’t I?”
Bones looks up at me smiling, tongue wagging. As the years have gone on, I’ve stopped doubting how intelligent Bones is. He led me to my wife.
He’s smiling. I just know it. He remembers.
“The only difference is I said you’d be running around too.”
I reach down, scratching him under the chin. He tilts his head toward the movement, his mouth opening.
“Your favorite spot, eh?” I grin, standing. “You rest up, boy. You’ve earned it.”
His tail wags, slapping against the patio.
My gaze moves from the pool – where Charlotte, Drake, and Liam are wrestling over an inflatable – to where Piper sits. She’s holding Naomi in her arms, her whole being still glowing from the pregnancy, the way it always does.
I stare at them as love whelms in my chest, growing stronger and with more force each time, making me feel like I’m going to shed a tear sometimes, just from the sheer casual beauty of it.
Of this, our life, the world we’ve built together.
After finishing her college courses, Piper started working as a freelance graphic artist. She was able to start working from home, spending more time with the children as she chose projects she was passionate about.
It turns out that was the best thing that could’ve ever happened for her career. Through her freelance work, she met a woman who was working on a graphic novel and had a connection with a publisher.
My wife worked frantically on her graphic novel, finishing what she’d started as a child.
Now, her story about a girl who dreams the impossible into reality has spawned a movie franchise, toys, collectibles, and even theme park rides. She’s truly made her mark on the world, and she isn’t done yet.
Last night, once we’d put the kids to bed, she walked up behind me in the gym. I had my headphones on, so I didn’t hear her, only felt her as she slipped her hands around my sweaty body and laid her cheek against my back.
Taking off my headphones, I whispered, “I’m all sweaty.”
She giggled at the old joke. After she gave birth to Charlotte, that’s what she’d often say to me when I touched her, as if I’d cared. If anything, her sweaty scent only made me want her more, as though her body was communicating silently with me.
It was the same the other night, when she climbed into bed, smelling of motherhood and devotion and love and her. That’s the main thing. It’s her, my woman, and I don’t care what shape pregnancy makes her, how she smells, anything.
As long as she’s Piper, my Piper, I love her.
I’ll never stop. I couldn’t stop.
“I’ve had a new idea,” she whispered, kissing my back. “And you know creativity makes me…”
I turned, my cock twitching.
We have an agreement. She lets me know how soon she’s ready to be intimate after giving birth.
She gives me her sign, and we devour each other hungrily.
“Just don’t get angry if this one doesn’t become a blockbuster movie,” she said.
