Ten Years Later
Zoe
“Baby, have you seen my red shirt? The one with the blue stripes?”
I’ve seen dirty diapers, piles of dirty laundry, stacks of dirty dishes, but a shirt? Did I even change my shirt today? I don’t think I did. God, I’m disgusting.
I’d answer Dylan, but if I do, Cooper will wake up screaming. It’ll take me another two hours to get him back to sleep and I can’t do it again.
Tired morphed into exhaustion somewhere around midnight. Linda and Dad swore it’d get easier—that once I had a system, things would fall into place. They lied, both of them.
Once I’m positive Cooper’s sound asleep, I lay him next to Calia, praying they do their twin thing and comfort one another. Because when one screams, the other does, too. And when they double team me, I cry along with them.
After Eleanor was born, I was positive my twin gene skipped a generation, but it didn’t. Pregnancy number two granted me two strong-willed little ones who take after their aunt, Keely. They’re firecrackers to the core, and I blame her for sharing my DNA.
“Zo, have you seen it?”
“Shh, you’ll wake them up.”
Dylan tiptoes down the hallway until we’re in the clear. Eleanor’s napping, nightmare free, and we have time to ourselves. I barely remember what life was like before kids—when not shaving was a choice. Now, it’s a luxury to run the razor over my skin before someone poops or needs fed.
“Come here, Zo. You look beat.”
“They hate me,” I tell my husband. The husband who put up with my whining when I couldn’t see my feet, and I waddled like a duck. He said my pregnancy curves were sexy, but my leggings were far too honest.
“The kids adore you. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“Your son spit up in my hair again.”
He chuckles and I can’t blame him. That boy’s day isn’t complete until I have to wash my hair. “Go get a shower and I’ll open the wine.”
“Good call. Showering is a big deal. We should celebrate.”
Laughing, he walks me to the fridge and points to the calendar. I still rely on lists and spreadsheets to get me through feedings and appointments. I’ll go back to work when the babies are older, but for now, I’m enjoying full-time mom status.
“Happy Anniversary, Zoe.”
Nine years, one year shy of a decade. They haven’t been perfect years, but they’re ours.
“I still can’t believe I married my stepbrother.” Our parents eloped a month before our big day. They didn’t want to take the attention off of us, and with it being their second time around, they went for small and simple.
Dylan wraps his arms around me from behind, still as shirtless and delicious as ever. “And none of our kids have two heads. We did good.”
If we learned anything from Dylan’s recovery, it’s that life doesn’t always go as planned.
People change.
Dreams find new directions.
Maybe I’m not a doctor like I’d planned, but my favorite patients live under my roof. Every runny nose, fever, and cough, I get to treat.
Time with my family is more important than long hours and overnight shifts in a hospital—a place I fell out of love with after Dylan’s accident. But time heals all wounds and my interest in the medical field wasn’t completely lost.
I’m Zoe Turner—wife, mother, registered nurse, and respiratory therapist. You didn’t expect this overachiever to pick just one profession, did you?
Dylan’s journey inspired my redirection and now I watch miracles happen every day. My patients are so much more than a chart number on a piece of paper. They’re my heroes, just like Dylan was when he took his first breaths without a breathing tube.
The front door opens and my sister sticks her head inside, watching for any little ones she might knock over. Chaz carries the car seat and sets it on the floor next to the coffee table.
Keely flops face down onto the couch. “I live for naptime,” she says with her cheek plastered against the cushion.
Chaz heads straight for the fridge and grabs a beer.
“Going that well?” Dylan asks him. They had their first baby a couple weeks ago, and now they understand the joys of parenthood.
“She’s so damn cute, but she screams like a banshee. Why do kids hate sleep? If we hadn’t put her in the car, she’d still be screaming.”
“We’ve been there,” Dylan tells him.
“I already know the cuteness fades,” Keely says. “Some of the little demons in my classroom rub boogers on the wall.”
“Spoken like a true teacher,” Dylan jokes.
“Hey, I’m a damn good one, too. I can’t help they’re all little Chazs.”
“I’m reformed, Keely.”
“You are,” she says with a smile. “But if you bring back those frosted tips during your mid-life crisis, I’ll revoke that status.”
The door opens again, and Dad and Linda come in with pizza and bags in both hands. “Dad? Shit, I didn’t even shower, yet.” I thought I had more time.
“We can tell,” Keely says. “You smell like sour milk.”
Dad’s beaming when he looks into the car seat and sees his newest granddaughter fast asleep. “It’s your anniversary, Zoe. We didn’t want you stressed out and cooking.”
I turn around and Dylan’s leaning against the counter. It reminds me of all the times I stared at him in our first house. It was hard moving out of a place where we shared so many firsts, but the Kama Sutra book gave us three kids and we ran out of room. Kids have a lot of crap.
“Did you plan this, Mr. Turner?”
“I did,” he says with my favorite dimpled smile. “I’m taking my wife out to dinner. And I knew you’d never go for it without plenty of backup.”
“Dinner, really?”
“Yes, baby. One without beans and wieners or runny sweet potatoes.”
I lean my forehead against his warm chest. “Shit, there’s still food on the wall behind the high chair.”
He runs his hands up and down my back. “Let someone else get it. Mom will have this place cleaned up before we sink our forks into dessert.”
“Dessert,” I moan. “Chocolate cake. Need.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Go shower. We’ll get out of here before naptime’s over and the madness erupts.”
“Okay, I love you, Dylan. Thank you for tonight. I need it.”
“You deserve it, baby. I love our chaos, but I’m glad we’re escaping.”
Our house will be trashed with toys, but I don’t even care. Eleanor will love playing with everyone and the babies will have their pick of who they spit up on. It’s a win for all.
Dylan holds my hand until the last second, and when I look over my shoulder, he winks. He’s been my world for eighteen years, and life wouldn’t be the same without him.
The only thing that would make today better, is if Mom could be here. I’d do anything for my children to meet their other grandmother. She’d be so proud of them.
I still begin each day with a prayer. One for Mom and one for Letty.
I pray that Mom’s at peace, having more fun than she knows what to do with up in the clouds. If I’m half the mother she was, then I’ve succeeded.
As for Letty, I pray she finds peace. A peaceful tomorrow where hate and jealousy don’t exist. Only she knows why she hit my husband with her car that night, and that’s something she’ll have to live with for the rest of her life.
We don’t need apologies though. Wherever she is in the world, I just hope she’s changed.
Everyone deserves a second chance, even those who lead with hate. They’re the ones who need forgiveness the most. And since I no longer hate Letty, I’ve gained back strength and positive energy. Energy I need for my kids.
They deserve a mother and father full of love, a childhood as wonderful as mine, and their own happily ever after. Someday when they’re grown, they’ll find their soulmate. That’s if Dylan ever lets them date.
My soulmate was out of my control. From the second I fell over and got stuck in the volleyball netting, the universe had my future mapped out. It’s been bumpy, with lots of challenges over the years, but every struggle has strengthened our connection.
It’ll take a lot more than a speeding car to break us.
So, here’s to ten more years of candy bracelets and picking the red over the green.
Dylan found me, and he made me his.