Epilogue
I have her bent in half, her feet over her head. Her wearable vibrator is buzzing at her clit. She’s into this position lately, and I’m glad. I get to watch her when she comes, watch her fall to pieces.
She’s there now, about to come. Her panting has halted, and her body has gone rigid. Soon, her orgasm will shudder through her. She’s so beautiful like this—in the moment before, when she knows it’s about to take her over and there’s nothing she can do but brace herself.
I want to kiss her, but I want to hear her cry out more.
She doesn’t. Her face contorts and her neck goes taut as she throws her head back in tortured ecstasy, but she remains almost completely silent.
I’m both impressed and annoyed.
I look down to watch my cock glide in and out of her, slick now with her cum.
“You like that,” she whispers, and I dart my eyes back to her face, astonished that she’s speaking. That orgasm ripped her apart. She shouldn’t be able to think, let alone talk.
But somehow she is.
“You think it’s hot when I come all over your cock?”
I really do. And, “God, it’s even hotter when you say it.” So hot, and that’s all I need to hit my own climax. I grunt, uncontrollably grinding against her pelvis as I release into her.
When I’m completely empty, I fall on the bed beside her and take a moment to catch my breath. “Don’t look so smug.”
“I won. I have every right to look smug.” We’re still whispering, afraid to break the silence around us.
“Yeah, well, you cheated.”
“How?” As easily as she submits to me during sex, she still loves to challenge me otherwise. Even when I have a good argument.
Which is not now.
“I don’t know, but I’m sure you did.” I roll to my side and prop my head up with my hand. “I destroyed you. How did you even do that?”
She can’t help herself, she laughs. “Lots of practice.” She realizes too late, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, shit,” I exclaim almost silently.
We wait, neither of us moving or speaking or breathing. After several seconds, I’m about to call us officially safe when we hear it—a soft, familiar whimper that we both know will quickly escalate to a full-blown wail.
She looks at me expectantly.
“Seriously?” I don’t bother keeping my voice low now. “You’re the one who woke him up.”
She sticks her chin out obstinately. “But I won the bet. You said if I could be quiet that you’d get him next time.”
“But you weren’t quiet. You laughed.”
“That didn’t count. We were done. You only said I had to come quietly.” She’s so fucking adorable when she’s feisty. If we continue this battle a second longer, I’ll be ready for round two. And I don’t think Jake will let us get away with that.
“Fine. I’ll get him.” I huff as I get to my feet. As I pull on my boxer briefs, I playfully glare in her direction. “See? I knew you cheated somehow.”
Her victorious expression makes me want to drag her off the bed and pound into her from behind, show her who’s boss. I hurry out of the room before temptation overtakes me.
The nightlight is on in the nursery, but I switch on the floor lamp too as I walk in. Jake lifts up his head, and when he sees me, his crying ceases and he smiles.
“Jacob Benjamin Bruzzo, what are you doing awake?” We’ve broken him of night feedings for the most part, and I know if we want to keep him on a decent sleep schedule I should roll him to his back—the position he prefers—give him his pacifier, and leave him again.
But I’m a pushover for those big blue eyes and that toothless smile. I pick him up and rock from one foot to the other. It’s an automatic movement now. Whenever he’s in my arms, I start to sway.
“So how long do you think it will be before Mommy’s in here too?” I ask. “Because we both know it’s just a matter of time.”
Jake finds his thumb and settles against my shoulder. This child, I think as I often do, is the sunshine of my life. There was so much darkness before him, and while Gwen lifted me out of the nothingness and grounded me, Jake was the one who brought the light.
It’s hard to believe he’s already been in my world for six months. His birth was relatively easy, though Gwen likes to remind me that I’m not allowed to say that until I shove an eight-pound baby out of my body, so I only say it when she’s not around. But she can’t deny that her labor was fast, and she only had to push twice before he slid out, head first into the doctor’s waiting arms.
He’s been an easy baby too. Always happy. A dream child. We’re already trying for another one, or rather, we’re leaving it up to fate, which basically means we don’t use birth control and have sex regularly. It’s a method that I like very much.
I hear her footsteps padding on the floor behind me before I see her. She’s so predictable when it comes to Jake. She told me once she was afraid being a father would soften me, but it’s her that’s softened. Her tough exterior disappears almost completely when she’s around him, and the glow that she had during her pregnancy returns.
I turn to her. “What’s the point of me getting him if you’re going to just come in here as well?”
She gives me a guilty smile as she tightens the belt of her robe. “I just thought I’d see if you needed any help.”
“Told you she’d be here,” I whisper to Jake, who’s already half-asleep again.
“You’re not supposed to pick him up,” she scolds. But she and I both know she would have as well. “Give him to me.”
“He’s already sleeping. We should put him down and go back to what we were doing.” I waggle my brows suggestively.
“Nah, I’m good,” she teases, taking the baby from my arms. “I need Jake cuddles now.”
I watch her as she carries him to the rocking chair, her expression content in a way that even the best orgasm can’t achieve. She hums a lullaby, soft and low, as she rocks him gently back and forth.
She’s incredible. She doesn’t even realize how incredible, which is half her beauty. In the year since I married her, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about how I almost fucked it all up. How I almost walked away because I was convinced it was the right thing to do. I’ve made a lot of dumbass choices in my life, but that was by far the worst. I couldn’t even blame it on alcohol or an impulse because I thought it out. I planned it. To think what my life would be like without her…
God, I was such a fucking idiot. I’m lucky she took me back. And in case I ever forget it, she makes sure to remind me. Often.
When I’ve tried to reason through my thinking back then, there’s one thought I keep returning to—fear. I was afraid to lose her. It’s as simple as that. And while I want to say that I was acting selflessly, letting go of her so that she’d be safer, that’s only half of the truth. The other half is that I wasn’t sure which would be safer for her—to leave her or to bring her with me—but I did know that I couldn’t watch her get hurt. I couldn’t stand by and watch her take a bullet. Couldn’t stand over her body as it lay in a pool of blood.
It’s my worst nightmare. It doesn’t come often, but occasionally I wake, my heart pounding, in a cold sweat. The dream is always the same—it’s all the details of Corinne’s murder, but when I stand over the body, it’s not Cori’s face I see but Gwen’s. Just the thought of it kills me in ways that Cori’s death never did.
Not to make light of Cori’s murder. It destroyed me. It took away any meaning I had and left me vacant. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but maybe, as painful as it is to say, maybe it actually wasn’t the worst thing. Because if Cori had never died, I wouldn’t have found Gwen, and she’s the best thing that’s ever happened. It feels like the shittiest price to pay to get my dream ending, and I mollify myself by remembering that it wasn’t a price I would have ever chosen. I really did love Cori. She made my life brighter and more vivid.
But Gwen…Gwen is my life.
She looks up at me now, her eyes heavy. “Good thing I don’t work tomorrow.” She’s gone down to part-time at the club. The Sky Launch added lunchtime hours for their restaurant service and Gwen manages it Monday through Friday, ten to three. Sometimes I think she misses the night hours, and I wouldn’t be surprised if eventually she went back to that, after the kids are older.
I’d support her if she wanted to do it now. We could hire another nanny or I’d volunteer to be the stay-at-home-dad type. Whatever she needs to be happy, I’m on board.
Since she brought it up, I take the opportunity to check in. “Would you rather be working full-time again?”
“No,” she scoffs. “Why on earth would I want to do that?”
I shrug. “Just making sure you have everything you want in life.”
“Well, I have this guy.” She kisses Jake on his bald head. “And I have you, don’t I?”
As if she has to ask. “I’m yours,” I say.
She smiles and throws one of my old phrases back at me. “Then I have everything.”