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“I’m so happy for you, sis,” he says, sitting next to me.
I smile, my hand resting on my belly as we watch Mom come down the slide next, screeching and ending up next to Dad and Mona.
The three of them lie there, Mona making Mom laugh with something she says.
I don’t even hear it, but it’s enough to sit here in our giant yard, with thoughts of work seeming far away.
I love work and adore my career of high-profile tattooing, all of it starting with a gravestone full of meaning on my man’s back.
But nothing can beat moments like these, the joy of being with my family swelling inside of me, the feeling of a new life growing within me.
“Mommy, did you see?” Carter comes rushing over, his hair black like Silas’ was before he turned silver, like Dad’s was until very recently.
I can see aspects of them both in my son, shades of Dad and Silas, and it reminds me that as the years have passed, their friendship has only grown stronger.
Even now, they’re laughing together, and the kids are crowded around them.
I lean over, pulling Carter into a hug. “I saw. You did amazing. You’re so brave.”
“Thanks, Mommy.” He hugs me in return, then turns at the sound of yelling. “We’re going again!”
I laugh as he spins to join the others.
My husband pauses, looking across our yard, shirtless and as muscular as the first time we kissed, with his tattoos on display. I am still in awe of his strength and the sense of security he instills in the children and me.
We don’t say anything.
We don’t need to.
Our love will never stop burning.
