It’s wild how intensely tired your body becomes when you become a parent. Suddenly, there’s no amount of sleep that ever feels like enough.
I get comfortable against the headboard and begin feeding Marina. The soft sighs and little hums she makes while she eats floods my system with warmth. We named her after Gabriel’smother, Marina Matthews. He never got to meet her, but he wanted to honour her in some way. And Caspian is named after my dad, one of the strongest men I know.
Sometimes, when I stare at them, the love I feel is so overwhelming I don’t know what to do about it. More often than not, I tear up. I know Marina isn’t Gabriella, but sometimes I imagine this is what it would’ve been like. What it could’ve been like. The longing ache for an experience with her I’ll never get to live is something I’m still learning to accept as normal.
I brush my thumb over Marina’s cheek and blink away the sting in my eyes.
“I love you,” I whisper to her.
When she’s finished, I change her diaper and lay her back in the bassinet, watching how she stretches before settling into a comfortable position and dozing off. I bring her empty bottle back to the kitchen sink, picking up Caspian’s along the way, before scooping him up from Zale’s arms.
“Alright, time for you to nap too,” I say to Zale.
“I’m not tired,” he argues. “Give me my nephew back.”
“Zale, I hate to break the news to you, but you literally look like you got run over by a car or hit by a vespa. You won’t ever get another girl if you keep looking like this.”
“Okay, okay,” he scowls, standing as he rubs his eyes. “I’ll take a thirty minute nap.”
“Minimum,” I reply as he trudges toward the bigger couch, muttering under his breath.
I smile down at Caspian as I gently sway with him on our way to the bedroom.
Giovanna and Paolo are stopping by later this afternoon because tomorrow I leave Italy with my little family and head straight to Hawaii to pack up my life there, before moving back to Saltwater Springs for good.
My time here has been transformative, to say the least. It gave me space to grieve my past, to heal, and to fall back in love—not just with Gabriel but with myself too. It gave me the space to become a mother again without fear swallowing me whole. But, it isn’t home.
Home is Saltwater Springs, where my family, our friends, and Gabriella’s grave are waiting. I can’t wait to bring Gabriel and the twins to her, to introduce her to her siblings. I want to sit there as a family of five and tell her about everything she missed, along with everything she made possible.
I press a kiss to Caspian’s forehead as I slowly lower him into his own bassinet.
“It’s finally time to go home,” I whisper.
And for the first time in a long time, leaving doesn’t feel like I’m running from something.
It feels like I’m walking toward it.
The End.
EPILOGUE
GABRIEL | SALTWATER SPRINGS
With the windows opened wide,our house smells like the lavender that lines the property. It still surprises me that we moved into my mother’s childhood home, the one that’s been sitting empty in the middle of town for years, now with baby bottles drying on the counter, blankets thrown over the arms and back of the couch, and a new swing set half-built in the backyard.
My mom had left it to my father when she passed away, and then it was passed onto me when he passed too. Since I’d been living in the Shredder House, I never had a need for this place, but I’m glad I held onto it now.
Through the wide archway of the kitchen, I can see Zalea on the couch, our son tucked against her chest while her mother cradles our daughter. They’ve been deep in conversation about sleep schedules, feeding routines, and stories of when Zalea and Zale were babies. And despite her messy hair and milk stained clothes, she’s glowing, and I don’t think she’s ever looked any prettier than this.
She looks up and catches me staring, shooting me a small smile before refocusing on whatever her mom is saying as our puppy—Sprinkles Jr.—chews on the tip of her slipper.
God. I’d burn the world down before I ever lose that woman again.
I finally work up the courage to turn and face her father who’s been staring at me for the better part of ten minutes, arms crossed, and jaw tight. If looks could kill, I’d be bleeding out on the hardwood right about now.
I clear my throat. “Hey, would you mind giving me a hand with something in the nursery?”
He narrows his eyes slightly. “Sure,” he says, following me.
