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Epilogue
Leon
7 months later . . .
I take a step out into the hallway, looking in both directions for Bethany. Smirking, I’m unable to refrain from shouting for her. She’s mastered the art of hiding from me in impossible nooks and crannies of our home. “Bethany, where are you?”
My voice echoes through the halls, flowing up the heights of the vaulted ceilings. No matter how long I’ve lived here, or what random corner I’ve found her in, I can never be unphased when it comes to how she can hear me no matter where I call for her from.
I barely hear her voice calling me from the right and head to the end of the hallway. There’s only one place she can be down here, the one place she goes to find a little solitude, to disappear into the worlds and lives of other people— the library.
I make my way toward the small spiral staircase that leads up to the library and stop as I’m halfway up the steps, looking down to our massive dining area. It’s regal at its best. The history of the home is the reason I bought it in the first place. I knew it was the place that Bethany and I would enjoy spending the rest of our lives. The two of us love history and considering this home has been around for over two hundred years, well, it seemed fitting.
Placing my hand on the railing, I head up the stairwell and my eyes land immediately on Bethany. She’s sitting in the window with a few pillows bunched under her, nose deep into a book with a pair of reading glasses on.
I look at her now and assess how she doesn’t look like a fraction of the woman I met. The woman I met was broken down emotionally in every aspect you could think of. She had zero self-confidence, was afraid to do anything really. Now, she’s completely transformed.
In this moment I remember seeing those photographs of her, of the beautiful blonde-haired girl who was full of life. I had wondered for a very long time if I’d ever see that woman, and here she is, sitting in her perfect little reading nook.
Her dirty blonde hair is pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun, with a pen stuck through the top. She’s wearing a tank top that I swear she had on two days ago. It’s the most comfortable one she has according to her, and underneath is a pair of worn out leggings. A lot of men would think she looks like a slob, but I’m over here staring at this woman like she’s a vision— because she is, and I’m the luckiest man alive.
“You gonna keep staring at me from that doorway like a creep, or are you gonna come over here Mr. Gabor?” She tilts her head my way, wearing a shit eating grin that tells me she’s up to no good.
“Oh, sweetheart, you know I can’t leave you alone. Now, tell me what’s on your mind.” I chuckle, sticking my hand in the pockets of my trousers as I head her way.
“How do you even know I’m up to something?”
“Bethany,” All I have to say is her name because it’s enough. This woman is a mischievous creature with the purest intentions. Whatever it is she’s done, I’m sure it’s something sweet.
“Okay, fine. I was hoping to tell you at dinner, but I also hope you don’t get mad at me.”
Narrowing my eyes, I give her a good once over. “Why in the world would I be mad at you, unless you’ve held something from me?”
“I’m sorry.” My heart sinks into my stomach feeling her apology. She has been hiding something.
“What have you been keeping to yourself?” I inquire, quite afraid of the answer.
“I didn’t want to tell you, and something happen again, so I kept it to myself until we were out of the danger zone. I . . . I didn’t want us to have another miscarriage. I knew what it did to you last time, and I didn’t want you to have to suffer again.”
“Bethany,” I grumble out, frustrated that she’d hide something from me. Of all people, she knows better. “Is she pregnant?” We have tried to have a child before with the cryobank since Bethany’s frozen eggs were kept safe there and help of fertility specialists. It took us a little over a month to find a surrogate that we approved of, and immediately we moved forward. Unfortunately, seven weeks later the surrogate miscarried.
“She’s pregnant. Today is officially week twelve and everything is perfect. I want to go over to the States soon and attend an ultrasound with her. I want to see our baby moving around in this gracious woman’s belly. She’s making our dream come true, Leon. She’s helping us start our family.” At this point Bethany tosses her book on her pillows and comes running into my arms. Tears seep out of her eyes and coat my dress shirt. All I do is rub her back in a slow, soothing motion as the reality of what’s happening sinks in.
Our dreams are finally coming true.
Bethany and I have made the impossible, possible.
“We’ll be able to go there in a couple weeks.”
She pulls away from me and looks into my eyes through those glasses, “Really?”
“Yes, Jan and Carla are getting married. We’ll have to go attend the wedding. I don’t see why we can’t swing by.”
“Oh my goodness. I love you!”
“And I love you.” I grab the nape of her neck and dip her head back, lean down and plant my lips firmly onto hers. Every time I kiss her it feels like that first night. The night we were both sloppy drunk, yet full of passion. I knew back then I wanted her for the rest of my life, and look where we are now.
