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It was beautiful.
It was perfect.
“Open it up.”
At Fin’s instruction, she picked the locket up and snapped it open. Then she gasped again.
Inside was a picture of Christopher.
They didn't have many. Just the sonogram ones from before he was born, and a couple they’d taken at the hospital in the few minutes he had lived.
Fin had chosen one of them and put it inside.
“Do you like it? I wasn't sure if you’d want a picture of Christopher in there. I mean, that’s what I originally intended. But then he died. When I decided last night to give it to you, I was going to leave it empty. But since you put up his stocking and the baby’s first Christmas decorations on the tree, I thought maybe you’d like it. So, I asked Samara to bring a picture when she brought the locket and the sling. If you want, you can take—”
She scrambled awkwardly onto her knees and broke off his nervous rambling by crushing her mouth against his. When her lungs started screaming for air, Chloe ended the kiss and rested her forehead against his. “I love it. It’s perfect.”
“Just like you.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones.
“I'm not perfect,” she reminded him. They had both made mistakes, and if they were going to learn from them and not repeat them, then they had to accept them.
“Okay.” He smiled. “You’re not perfect, and neither am I. But we’re human, and we love each other, and that’s pretty perfect.”
Chloe couldn’t agree more.
Life may not be perfect, but it was pretty close.
