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Grace shrugs, satisfied with the answer. “Does Tiny Bear want some hot chocolate?” She offers the cup. “I left her a marshmallow.”
No one loves the twins—Tiny Bear and Mini Bear, respectively—more than Gracie. From the moment she visited the hospital to welcome them into the world, she was besotted, and I swear they light up whenever she’s near, gurgling and wriggling at the sound of her voice. Right now, Esté-Rose has stopped feeding, alert to her cousin’s words.
“When she’s older,” I reply, fighting not to break into a fresh bout of tears at the innocent offer. “At the moment, she just likes milk, but I know she’ll love marshmallows when she’s bigger.”
Grace beams from ear to ear. “We can share.”
“She’d like that. They both would.” My voice hitches and Rowan perches on the armrest of the comfy armchair, putting his arm around me.
He leans down and kisses my hair, whispering, “It’s your party—you can cry if you want to.”
“Nothing to cry about,” I reply thickly, my tears happy ones.
Everything is rosier than ever, and though I keep waiting for the lenses to come off, I think this is just how I see my life now. There’s no hardship I can’t get through, as long as I have Rowan and my babies and my friends around me. Of course, I still worry, and I still catastrophize and I still blow up Rowan’s phone if he’s coming home from somewhere and he hasn’t called, but I breathe a bit easier now. I don’t wake up dreading the day, I don’t feel uneasy in my own home, I don’t look back very often, wondering what might have been. Instead, I count my blessings, and cherish each day I’m given, grateful for all I have.
As I lean into my husband, I take a moment to look around at the world I’ve built for myself. The Blue Heron is everything I dreamed it would be, but it’s even more than I dreamed when my friends and family are here to enjoy it, celebrating not only the creation of this café but the creation of my children—my greatest achievement.
Overwhelmed with gratitude, I peer up at Rowan. He gets me. He loves me. And there’s no greater feeling than that. I’m seen, I’m heard, I’m understood, and I’m cherished in a way I never have been.
“What are you looking at me like that for?” Rowan asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing that faraway thing.”
I shake my head. “Just happy and mystified by my good luck, that’s all.”
“Pfft. It ain’t no luck, hon!” Ms. T chimes in, still snuffling. “You earned every lick of this, and don’t you forget it.”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Rowan confirms, pressing a kiss to my lips. “And if this isn’t living big, I don’t know what is.”
As Esté-Rose falls asleep in my arms, milk drunk and content, I uncover her and settle into the peaceful conversation of our beautiful extended family. Ms. T and Cybil are discussing travel logistics for their next visit and their next book club meeting, Rowan and Oscar are talking about a fishing trip they’re planning to take in a few months’ time, while Ben sleeps soundly, now in his dad’s arms, and Lyndsey, Georgie, and Grace are over in the reading nook, picking out favorites from the children’s section.
I glance across at the bookshelves they’re searching through and smile, wondering where my and Rowan’s story would slot into the collection. Perhaps, it would be worthy of a shelf all its own, to be picked up and added to with every passing year. On fresh white pages, I’ll write the never-ending tale of a second chance that became the greatest love of my life. Loves, I should say. A story of loss and hope and tragedy and redemption that’ll outlast me and my husband, living on through the legacy of the two children that I hold in my heart and in my arms. The story of more with him, more with them, more with us.
Evermore.
