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“Oh, so you know I asked you what bike you want to sit on first, huh?”
I’m getting all bubbly inside. That’s what Mommy says. You feel bubbles when something really cool is going to happen, but you have to, uh, stay… calm. Stay calm so the bubbles don’t pop, and you can have all the fun.
“Yes, Uncle Ryan.”
He chuckles, scooping me into his arms.
EPILOGUE
SIX YEARS LATER
Kayla
Fletcher paces up and down in front of my tall French windows.
Since having six kids, we’ve moved into the growing suburbs one town over. We’re still within riding distance, meaning the kids always see their uncle, aunt, and cousins.
I smile as I watch Fletcher pacing. He seems like he’s becoming a young man now, with his thoughtfully knitted eyebrows and wavy black hair reminding me of his dad’s. However, Kai’s is turning more deliciously silver by the year.
When we told Fletcher he didn’t have to choose between bikes and poetry, it was like a spark lit in him.“I’m going to be like one of those warrior poets, Mom. You’ll see. Tough and smart and sensitive. Can a man be all those things?”
Just then, his dad walked in. The old Kai might’ve said no, might’ve said a man has to seal parts of himself away, but Kai is tough and sensitive in equal measure.
He can bring the beast out in him, the Titan, especially in the bedroom. When he spanks me and tells me I’m naughty for my crush, I feel the savage. When he holds me gently or quietly climbs out of bed when our youngest, Kayleigh, starts to cry, I feel the soft, comforting warmth.
“What if I can’t think of an opening line?” Fletcher says, running a hand through his hair. “What, Mom?”
I grin. “You remind me of your dad when you do that.”
Fletcher goes to the window and sticks his head out. Kai is in the pool with the kids. We’ll join them in a few minutes after I’ve helped Fletcher with his homework. “Dad, Mom said I’m more handsome than you!”
“She saidwhat?” I hear Kai roar in the pretend monster voice our youngest kids love. Then I hear their beautiful, precious giggling, their laughter that brings with it a thousand moments of motherhood.
“Speak from the heart,” I tell Fletcher once he’s turned back to me, a mischievous smile on his face.
Fletcher runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m like a… uh, lonely bike, always riding. Then I met you, and my heart, it stopped hiding. I’ve got a passenger now and, uh, its name is… love. Mom?”
“Keep going,” I whisper.
“Its name is love. There’s no brighter light than us. Mom, you’re crying.”
“It’s just… How did I makeyou?It’s brilliant, Fletch. Really.”
He walks over to me, leaning down—already so tall—and wraps his arms around me. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.”
THE END
