“So, what now?” he asks, pressing his hips against mine and swaying in time with the music. “Do we start over too?”
I’d like to tell him to get me out of here and take me home. Instead, I shake my head and say, “No.” I don’t want to start over when our beginning has been my favorite part. “We pick up right where we left?—”
He dips me backward, cutting off my answer, and I squeal. When he rights me, his hand splays across my lower back, pressing me into his chest.
“Which was where, exactly?” he whispers against my lips.
“Which was right”—I lean in closer—“about”—graze our noses together—“here.”
When our lips finally touch, I don’t feel alone anymore.
EPILOGUE
Reed
6 years later…
My beautiful wife presses her side against the living room windowpane. A fresh coat of hunter-green paint frames the glass overlooking the side of the yard closest to the lake. Her jeans hug her thighs, and her hair is woven into a tight braid just how I like it. I sneak up behind her, gripping her hips and nuzzling my nose into the spot behind her ear that makes her hum. She snakes her arm around my neck and I wrap mine around her waist.
“What are we watching?” I draw my attention to the overgrown pine tree a few yards from the edge of the water. Two little sundrenched feet sail toward the sky.
“He’s so good with her, isn’t he?” she croons.
I can see the faint reflection of Hailey’s wistful smile through the window as a happy little sigh escapes her lips—a sound I bottled up and tucked away in my heart a long time ago.
“He is,” I agree.
The tiny squeak of a voice melts its way through the glass. “Papa, push me higher! You’re going too soft.”
Our daughter’s long chestnut hair fans against layers of lime green sparkly tulle.
“It’s my job to keep you safe, Jo,” Jack reminds her.
“ButPaaapaa,” she whines, “I’m not Jo today, remember? You’re supposed to call me Tinkerbell, because look at me… I can fly!” She stretches her arms out wide, my brave girl. I’d like to think she gets that from me.
“Oh shoot, you’re right. How could I forget,” he says in an exasperated voice, smacking his forehead.
She giggles and turns around to look at him.
“That’s what old people do. They forget sometimes.”
“Hey, you take that back, young lady.” He tickles her gently under her armpits, and she squirms against the rope.
“Never!” She giggles again.
Hailey sighs.
“What’s on your mind, Red?” I tuck my chin on top of her head.
“I was just thinking how far we’ve come.”
She stares at Jack as he slows the swing and lifts Jo down, holding her hand as she skips across the yard toward the cabin.
“Do you still wish you’d had moments like that with him?” I ask.
It comes from a place of knowing that once upon a time she didn’t always feel okay. A time when he made her feel anxious instead of safe like he does now.
Hailey shakes her head. “Why would I when I have something”—she squats down and swings her arms wide as Jo barrels through the front door—“even better.” She winds our four-year-old’s hair around her hand and wraps her up in her arms.
