AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A new beginning.
EPILOGUE
CASSIA
Iroll over, burying my face in soft cotton. Inhale deeply, pulling in the scent of lavender laundry detergent and cinnamon.
For the first time in a while, I feel well-rested. My eyes don’t feel gritty and dry. My head isn’t swimming with exhaustion.
I crack one eye open, nothing but white fabric in front of me. Flop one arm over onto the cool material, my fingers dragging across the soft surface.
“Holden?” I croak.
There’s no response.
I sit up, clearing my throat as I twist my hair up in a bun. Rubbing my eyes, I toss off the comforter and climb out of bed. My slippers are right where I left them by the dresser. I shove my feet into them and then shuffle into the attached bathroom to run through my morning routine.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills my nose as soon as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I pick up the two toys on the bottom stair and toss them toward the couch, then continue into the kitchen.
When I went to bed, the counters were dirty, and dishes were piled in the sink. It was a long day with Joey, and I was running on a serious sleep deficit.
Now, every surface gleams. The coffee pot is full.
I grab a mug out of the cabinet and fill it almost to the brim. Then pull the milk carton out of the fridge to top off the coffee. The first sip is heavenly, hot but also refreshing.
The muted bounce of a basketball draws me toward the back door. I step out onto the deck, fall’s chill stamped in the wooden boards and stinging my bare feet.
Holden is standing in the center of the driveway, dribbling, with Joey perched on his shoulders. Our son shrieks when he shoots, grabbing his hair with tiny, strong fingers. Holden doesn’t even flinch as he retrieves the ball from the row of bushes that line our driveway. It’s been a year since he played basketball professionally. But of course it goes in.
I blow on my coffee and then take another sip.
Holden makes another shot. This time, Joey laughs and claps his little hands together. Then he spots me, and his claps turn into waves.
“Mama!”
Holden turns this way, holding tight to Joey’s legs. He grins at me, flashing the smirk that’s never lost its effectiveness.
“It’s after eight,” I call to him.
“I know.” He swings Joey down from his shoulders so our fifteen-month-old can wobble his way toward me.
Joey took his first steps a month ago and has become increasingly mobile ever since. Based on the way he literally bounces off our furniture, our son inherited Holden’s reckless tendencies.
“I thought they were coming over at eight thirty. I haven’t started anything yet and there’s—”
“I texted Syd last night, told her not to come until ten. You’re exhausted. You deserved to sleep in a little.”
Joey’s little arms wrap around my legs, fisting the cotton fabric of my pajama pants in his tiny hands.
I bend down and blow a raspberry on his neck. He laughs and lets me go, walking over to the sand table set up in one corner of the deck. His favorite yellow shovel immediately gets picked up to tunnel through the sand.
I refocus on Holden, who’s taking another shot. Theswishis audible over the sound of Joey’s digging as the ball drops through the net.
“Sydney was okay with that?”
“Of course. She knows how hectic your schedule is. She offered to make food and bring it over, but I told her you’d already stocked the fridge with enough to feed twelve.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, you eat about as much as three adults and half of Joey’s food ends up on the floor for Milo, so…”
