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“I do. But I can tell you right now that I never want to see that goddamn house again.”
“I figured as much. It’d be no issue to put it on the market. Long Island is hot right now; I’m sure we could have it sold within the month.”
I considered the matter as we spoke, an idea taking shape in my mind.
“Let me think about it,” I said.
“Of course.” He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. “I love you, Em.”
“I love you.”
We kissed, and I curled up tightly next to him. Tomorrow was going to be the start of yet another adventure, and I couldn’t be more grateful if I tried.
Epilogue II
Logan
Three years later…
Icouldn’t help but laugh softly to myself as I stepped into Emily’s office.
She was the picture of beauty, seated in her rocking chair, our three-month old baby girl Anabelle cradled in her arms. The sight of her with our second child wasn’t at all what I was laughing at—thatwas an image of total perfection.
Emily glanced over her shoulder, taking a break from her singing.
“Now, what’s so funny?”
“That.” I nodded to the painting of me that Marianne had done all those years ago. It was “on loan” to Emily, and she’d chosen to hang it in her office. It was surrounded by framed pictures of us and George, our son.
“What’s so funny about that?” she asked, her voice soft as not to wake Anabelle.
“It’s well done, sure, but I can’t get over having a painting of myself. Feels like I’m staring at you while you’re working.”
She chuckled. “Maybe that’s why I put it there. If I ever find myself clicking over to Twitter or whatever, I just look up and see you there, scolding me for not being on task.”
I sat down on the end of the desk. The surface was covered in papers and baby toys, and I had to move some of them over to make room.
“I mean that with love, of course,” she said with a smile.
“Naturally. But you say that like you need someone to tell you to work hard. The way you’ve been balancing the house with taking care of the kids has been beyond impressive.”
“Doesn’t hurt that I have a handsome man who does his share.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I craned my neck to take in the sight of Anabelle. She was like something out of a dream, her eyes closed, and her little mouth opened slightly as she slept. “How’s the little lady, by the way?”
“Same story, this one’s a night owl. Sleeps like a rock during the day, but as soon as the sun’s down, she’s ready to party.”
“Well, last night you were on duty, so I’ll take tonight. Get some rest.”
She smiled. “Thanks. Got a meeting tomorrow with some investors, so I’ll need to be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for that one.”
My eyes drifted down to the papers on the desk. Years back, Emily decided to do some good with the small fortune her father had left her. After paying off the debts he’d owed to his criminal associates, and thus severing her ties with them for good, she’d taken the remaining money and invested it into turning his house into a shelter for women escaping domestic abuse—the kind of charity she’d needed when she was living with her father, she’d told me.
She’d named the shelter Marta’s House, and it was a total success. The place was big enough to shelter over a dozenwomen and their children at a time, and Emily had managed to keep nearly all of the staff on the payroll to help take care of the place. I’d helped her a bit at first with investments to keep the place running, but Emily had shown a knack for money matters. I barely helped at all anymore.
“Want to check on the little man?” I asked.
“Let’s do it.”
