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I bent down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, every nerve ending in my body rapidly firing. The taste of her lips was the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for. As I pulled back, I gently cupped her face, my gaze drinking in her radiant smile, the glow in her eyes. "Merry Christmas, Jude," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
It was the merriest damn Christmas of my life.
Epilogue I
Tony
Almost two years later…
It was Corbin's first birthday and I watched as the living room slowly turned into a mini amusement park, complete with bright decorations, a buffet of cupcakes, and toys strewn all about. Jude, along with both sets of parents, Sally and a dozen other friends from work, all with kids of their own in tow, were making sure it would be a memorable one.
"I still don't see why we have to throw such a huge party," I said out loud, watching as my dad Edgar—looking healthier and stronger than ever—and Jude's dad moved the couch to make room for the small inflatable castle Jude had rented. "He's only one. He won't remember any of this."
Jude, who had been arranging cupcakes on a tiered stand, turned to me with a knowing smirk. "It's not just for him, Tony," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "It's for us too. Our baby boy is turning one. That's a big deal. Plus," she added, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "this baby deserves everything."
I couldn’t argue with that. I grinned at her, my gaze softening. "You're right. He definitely does."
Life had been a whirlwind since that unforgettable Christmas nearly two years ago. I'd been promoted to Chief Cardiothoracic Surgeon. It was a big deal, a culmination of years of sleepless nights and relentless hard work. But as proud as I was of my professional achievements, my real happiness stemmed from the beautiful life Jude and I had built together.
Jude was thriving in her management role at the hospital. Her brilliance and hard work paid off, her career skyrocketing faster than either of us could have anticipated. Her wit and sass, and her never back down attitude were quickly making her one of the most indispensable members of the staff, and I couldn't have been prouder.
We'd moved to a stunning home in the Cherry Creek neighborhood of Denver. It was a perfect mix of classic and modern architecture, situated in one of the most picturesque parts of the city. With wide, tree-lined streets and boutique shops around every corner, Cherry Creek fit our family like a glove.
The house itself was a thing of beauty— a grand, two-story structure of elegant brick and stone, with large windows that let in an abundance of natural light. The spacious, open plan living area was perfect for entertaining, and the expansive backyard would be an ideal playground for Corbin as he grew.
Upstairs, the master suite was our personal sanctuary, and Corbin's nursery was decorated in warm, welcoming hues, filled with books and toys. Jude's touch was everywhere—in the tastefully picked furniture, the cozy fireplace, the artwork adorning the walls. It was our home, our haven. Life, as they say, was good. Better than good, in fact. It was perfect.
There was something magical about being able to celebrate life’s milestones with the people we loved most. Seeing my dad playing with his grandson, seeing Jude's mom fussing over the food, and my mother carrying around a camera capturing every moment, filled me with overwhelming joy.
I wrapped my arms around Jude from behind, my chin resting on top of her head. The scent of her shampoo filled my nose and a sense of contentment washed over me.
"We really did this, didn't we?" I asked her.
Jude leaned back into me, her hand coming up to caress my cheek. "Yes, we did. We made a little human. And he's perfect."
I laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "That he is. Our little man."
My thoughts wandered to our boy, and I could hardly believe it had been a year since he’d come into the world.
Corbin was the picture-perfect blend of Jude and me. He had my dark hair, so soft to the touch, and the same chiseled facial features that all the Montivais men were known for. His eyes were a mesmerizing green, courtesy of Jude, which shined with mischief every time he flashed that infectious smile of his. His laughter was as refreshing as a spring day and as contagious as any toddler’s could be.
He was a bundle of energy, that kid. Only a year old, but his curiosity would put Einstein to shame. He was just as stubborn as both his mother and me, never backing down when he'd set his sights on something be it a toy, a dog, or a situation that he surely was too little for.
In his wake, Corbin left a trail of squealing laughter and absolute chaos, but it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever been a part of.
There was something so incredibly humbling about seeing your own traits reflected in your child. It made you want to be a better person for them. Corbin gave me that feeling. He was a mirror of not just my looks but my actions, and every day, he pushed me to be a man worthy of his admiration.
So much had changed in a year. But one thing that remained constant was the love I had for Jude and our son. It was this constant that made every day feel like Christmas, every moment like a gift.
As I watched our loved ones bustling around our living room, the kids playing together and filling our home with that wonderful sound of children’s laughter, I felt like the luckiest man alive. I had everything I could ever want. A family who loved me, a woman who made me feel like a king, and a son who was my whole world.
As I watched Jude move around the room, her laughter filling the air, I knew one thing for sure—I wouldn't change a single thing about our perfectly imperfect life.
"You know, Tony," my dad said, clapping me on the back with a hearty laugh, "it's best to just let the mother have her way. It makes life a lot easier."
I chuckled, shaking my head at his sage advice. Dad was a hulk of a man, with a thick beard and laugh lines that told tales of a life well-lived. His once dark hair was now peppered with grey, but his eyes, as bright and warm as a summer's day, were as youthful as ever. They held a twinkle that was part mischief, part wisdom, the same twinkle that I saw in Corbin's eyes. Dad appeared strong as ever and healthy—you’d never know looking at him that two years ago he’d nearly left us.
As he spoke in Spanish to my baby boy, he cradled Corbin in his arms, my father so huge in comparison that Corbin looked almost newborn-sized. My parents had made me promise that I'd teach our little one the language of our roots so they could communicate with him. And true to my word, I'd been speaking Spanish to him while Jude spoke English.
