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Epilogue
Phin
Eight years later.
Life was still perfect.
Two years after little Petal arrived, we were blessed with the arrival of baby Charity. We had to name her that after everything that happened in our lives. She was the spitting image of me, and as she grew up, she acted most like me. She was kindhearted and probably a little too quiet. I loved her more than I could ever admit to even Lizzie. There was just something about her green eyes staring up at me; I could never deny her.
Petal looked just like Lizzie with her strawberry-blond curls, adorable freckles on her nose, and those damn ice-blue eyes. She was so much like her mother in her relentlessness and her straightforward attitude. I loved that nothing stood in her way, especially her siblings. I hoped she might rule the world one day and I would be so proud of her.
Then, there was our latest, little PJ. Lizzie wanted to have one more child, even though she was almost forty. She wanted to try for a boy. I would have been happy with our two girls, but she insisted and who was I to deny her. I still enjoyed baby making with my wife, even after all these years. After all my complaining about my name, we named him Phineas. Again, I can't deny my wife. Little Phineas Junior arrived almost two years ago, and he's the best combination of the two of us. My kindheartedness and Lizzie's fearlessness; it makes my heart hurt to imagine what his future will be like as he tries to change the wrongs of the world.
Once Petal was a toddler, we decided to move to Marin to be closer to Lizzie's parents. We bought a five-bedroom house in the redwood hills of Mill Valley. The house was a massive traditional seventies shingled home, which we kept the same on the outside to match the other homes in the neighborhood. I let Lizzie modernize the inside, and it was now our warm and comfortable sanctuary. The kids played in the towering redwoods that surrounded the property, and with three of them, they were never lonely. They were loved.
Lizzie's parents lived five minutes away, so it was handy when we wanted a little alone time. I was a busy man; I loved being a house husband, working part-time at our charity and helping out in the community. Being a house husband was the best job I could ever have. Lizzie and I had started our own homeless and runaway charity foundation in downtown Mill Valley, two minutes from our home.
In the future, when the kids were older, we'd foster kids to help make lives better for those who found themselves in terrible situations. I worked part-time with her on different initiatives, but our kids were my main focus. The school runs, PTA meetings, birthday parties, and homework were my daily tasks, and I loved it. The other mothers looked at me with lust and longing in their eyes as I dropped off the kids or attended events, but I only ever had eyes for my hot wife. Lizzie often got jealous when she was with me, and it made me happy she still found me sexy. I always worked out and took care of myself; I needed to keep my wife happy and chasing after three kids kept me in shape. Often, we'd go home and have sex after the school runs, which was my favorite part of the day. Being a DILF had its benefits.
My mother and Lizzie’s parents came over regularly on Sundays for a family dinner. My father had lived for a few years after the bone marrow transplant, but eventually, the cancer did take him away from us. During that time, I felt fortunate to have had the opportunity to mend fences with him. I'd forgiven myself and my parents, which took time, but it was so worth the journey. The depression was gone for now; all my work with my therapist helped, but having Lizzie was the only mood stabilizer I ever needed.
My father had lived long enough to meet Hope and Charity, and both girls got to know him before he died. He was still pretty frail for the rest of his days, but he'd come over and would sit on the floor to play with them. They seemed to understand he was sick, so they were happy to sit and play cards or puzzles with him, never demanding he run after them.
One day watching him play dress-up tea party with them had brought tears to my eyes. He'd changed, and I was sad when he died. When he went, it was peaceful, in my parent's bed with my mother holding his hand. She missed him terribly and had a hard time at first, but then my darling wife had a brilliant idea. Lizzie asked my mother to come work at the foundation. I told her she didn't have to do it, but she insisted. They'd formed a friendship over the years, putting the past behind them. She seemed to understand what it was like to lose the love of your life. Each day, I couldn't have loved Lizzie more. My mother found her calling, working at the foundation, helping Lizzie identify and acquire money from all Mom's wealthy friends. She was a natural at it.
Recently, she'd sold the mansion and had moved to Tiburon to be close to us. I teased her about finding a rich man to spend her sunset years cruising around the world, but she always brushed off those comments. My mother was still attractive, and she deserved some happiness, so I hoped she'd find that man. She assured me she'd found her only love. She was doing great work and being an incredible grandmother. The kids loved their nana. I couldn't believe she let them call her something so informal; that's when I knew she'd genuinely changed too.
Our family business was being run now by my father's vice president. My mother and I were made board members to keep an eye on our family legacy. Knowing I had no interest in the business, Dad had left me a trust that would provide a healthy income for my family and me forever. I didn't go back to school in the end. Working for the charity, helping at-risk kids and families and raising my own kept me busy enough.
Duke sold the bar after Charity was born and moved up here too. When my father’s health declined, he felt he needed to come up and support us. Funnily, he'd also reconnected with his son, Gray, over the last few years, which had brought him up here more and more. I'd gotten a bit jealous of their relationship at first, but Duke insisted we hang out together. As I got to know him, and we got closer I realized I enjoyed having a brother. Duke bought a house just north of us in San Rafael with three bedrooms so that the kids could go stay with him. They loved him like he was their blood relation; they even called the big bear of a man Papa Duke. Often it made me laugh watching him chasing them around the yard or playing imaginary games in the forest. My children were truly loved by so many; I would have never thought this life was possible when I was growing up.
Often, I think about sitting out on the cold streets or in doorways. I'd never have imagined then, at my lowest point, that I'd ever have a place for all my love. Lizzie had given me a place for my homeless heart. This was my life, my love, and my hope.
The End.
