Epilogue

 

CARA

Twenty years later . . .

 

I glance around the table at Saphyre’s and smile at the sight in front of me.

Fifteen years ago, my husband started this tradition. And it's become a favorite of all of ours. Every Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, Rhys, Macy, Owen, Sienna, Lucas, all our children and I come here for brunch.

I glance over at my oldest son and smile. It really is his fault this tradition started. And the little shit knows it. He all but grins at me with his I’m up to something look and I can’t help but chuckle. This boy might look identical to his father, but he’s all me in everything else.

Including not holding back on saying what’s on his mind.

My heart squeezes when I remember that I might not have ever had the chance to experience this. It’s why the other men think my husband was throwing down the gantlet so to speak. The reason why my husband made my first Mother’s Day so over the top. He wanted to show not just me, but everyone, how grateful he was to me for giving him a child.

A child that almost cost me my life twenty minutes after he was born.

Rhett Michael Fisher came out at a whooping nine pounds and five ounces and twenty-two inches long. After thirty-seven hours of labor, thirty of which were Pitocin induced, running a one hundred and two fever for about ten of those hours, I was exhausted. All of that, and the infection I'd been fighting off since my water broke, didn’t stop me from reaching out to hold my baby closer to me.

Due to the infection, they'd taken him to NICU to start antibiotics. Lucas carried him over since neither of us wanted him out of our sight. About twenty minutes later, Lucas came waltzing back in, letting me know that Macy’s was watching over our son.

That’s when shit went even more south.

My placenta, which had been retained to my walls, decided it was time to come out and it was bringing my uterus with it.

Which normally isn’t an issue per say. The uterus can be seen by the doctor and fixed quickly. However, when mine was halfway out, it collapsed; releasing all the blood out of it.

Five pints to be exact.

In a matter of one minute.

Lucas said when I coded, he lost it. He knew he was losing the one thing that made him breathe.

Me.

After waking up, I learned what happened. I decided I couldn’t chance getting pregnant again, and leaving two children without a mother. After battling with the doctors and explaining that even though I was young, I wanted to get my tubes tied, they finally scheduled me for surgery fifteen months after Rhett was born.

However, the day I went in for the surgery, I found out I was pregnant with Nicolette. My fear ended up being a valid one as the same thing happened when she was born. The only blessing this time was that I had a C-section with her and they were able to stop the bleeding quickly. The only way they could fix it the problem permanently was to remove my uterus.

When Nikkie was three months old, it really hit me that I wouldn’t ever be able to give Lucas any more children. When I expressed that to him while we were eating brunch at Saphyre’s with our friends for Mother’s Day, he stood up and let me know just what he thought of me. How much of an amazing woman I was. And that he’d make sure for all eternity that I knew just how much he appreciated me almost giving my life to bring our children into this world. The moment he finished his speech, the women turned to their spouses demanding to know why their men never said things as sweet as Lucas did.

A year later, we went again to brunch with our friends. After all the gifts were given, the men demanded to know who gave the better gift. At first, we were shocked and pissed they’d even do something like this, then we decided, fuck it, and went along with it. Rating the items from one to ten on which one was the most over the top, sexiest, and most thoughtful. The one who got the highest score won.

A few years later, the bigger kids jumped in and decided that Father’s Day should be the same. However, their rating system was different. Every child won something. As the years went by, they picked up on it, and it now turned into a different game with the older kids.

Who can make all the parents laugh the most.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Satan,” Rhett says while handing me my card pulling me from my thoughts of the past fifteen years.

Everyone around the table giggles as I just shake my head at his nickname for me.

The first time he said that was when he was thirteen. Rhys asked him why I was Satan, and he was well prepared with an explanation.

“I tried to kill her, and she lived, Uncle Rhys. I tried to save the world of her evilness, but it didn’t work. I even left blueprint plans on her uterus with a note that said, if you see this, I failed. Here is your mission. Not only did she cheat death with me, even Nikkie tried, and yet here she is. Only Satan could pull that off.”

He ended up winning the contest that year.

Pulling myself back to the present, I open the card and take in the front of it. There’s no stopping the hysterical laughter that is starting to burst from my lips at the image.

A huge cartoony sperm with a smile was front and center.

Tears start to pour down my face as I read the words on the front of the card. My hands shake so badly from trying to hold it together enough to read the inside. Finally, after a few attempts, I succeed, and my blurry vision finally is able to focus enough to read it.

I’m going to die from laughter.

Sensing that there’s no way I could read it to the room, Lucas grabs the card.

“Happy Mother’s Day. Thanks for not swallowing me,” he chokes on the last two words before flipping the card open. “Oh, fuck me.” he laughs but continues on. “And also, thanks for not rejecting Dad during happy fun time. Love, the male version of you.”

The whole room bursts into laughter and Rhett sits back with a smirk on his face.

“I think I just won. Good luck topping that,” he gloats to the others around the table. “And, just so you all know, I plan to win on Father’s Day this year, too.”

“We’ll see,” Nicolette says rolling her eyes.

“Son, I don’t think you can top this one.”

A smirk lights up on Rhett’s face.

Jumping up, he rushes over to me and whispers what the card will say into my ear.

I cross my legs to stop from peeing myself, my laughter getting out of control.

“I think you’re wrong and I bet you end up spewing your coffee,” I bump fists with my son.

He's right, he's going to win.

 

LUCAS

One month later . . .

Father’s Day . . .

 

My coffee spews across the table and tears fill my eyes as I try to do three things at once.

Breathe, cough and laugh.

It isn’t working well for me right now.

“I told . . . you,” Cara says between fits of laughter.

Glancing up, I look over toward my wife, who should be helping me instead of laughing hysterically.

After a few moments, I finally turn my gaze over toward my eldest son.

Rhett is lounged back with a smirk on his face.

“You’re both welcome,” I tell him as I finally get my breath back from almost dying.

“Well, are you going to read it to the rest of the class so we know why you're thanking your kids or keep it to yourself, Lucas?” Rhys calls out.

My eyes land back on the card and I start laughing again, harder.

“The front of the card has a smiling cartoon sperm looking at me and it says, Happy Father’s Day. Thanks for not letting Mom swallow me. Then the inside reads: And thanks for not pulling out when you stopped her from swallowing me. Love, Mom’s Mini Me.”

The table burst out in laughter and Rhett stands up and bows.

When my eyes land on Cara, I take in everything about her. My heart swells and the laughter dies out of me. Her blue-grey eyes look at me with so much love that I can’t help but be grateful to fate for what I have.

“Love you, mia.” I lean in and kiss right below her ear. “Thank you for everything you have given me. I’ll never be able to express what it means to me.”

“More to us, Lucas,” she says reminding me. “I love you too.”

She gives me a brief kiss on the lips before smiling up at me. Her face starts to transform into her mischievous look she gets when something hysterical pops into her head. Our children’s faces do the same thing, and it always ends with all of us holding our stomachs in pain from laughing so hard.

I smile at her and try to prepare myself.

“And I agree with Rhett. Thanks for not pulling out while doing the LLS in my dance floor. Happy Father’s Day.”