Epilogue
All The Small Things
Three Months Later
I laidin bed with my gorgeous husband after a long day with Lola. He had just climbed into bed and was already snoring. I pinched his nose and covered his mouth for just a moment, jolting him awake.
“What?” He whined.
“Thank you, for taking Lola last night,” I kissed him playfully. He smiled and pulled me close to him.
“Of course. Fifty fifty, remember. She’s just as much mine as yours.”
“That’s up for debate. Other than my hair that girl looks and acts just like her daddy,” I chuckled.
“Can’t really deny that.”
Once Lola began to open her eyes more and grow out of her newborn face, we discovered that she almost a clone of Mark. Only much, much, cuter. She had his eyes, his nose, and face structure. Oh, and she liked to make noise. Beau and Bonnie were not fans of that at first, but she grew on them.
Yeah, all babies liked to play. This wasn’t new to any of us, but Lola was different. She had to have music, a movie, or some kind of noise playing at all times. She watched her father intensely and soon began mimicking his movements. Now she’s constantly banging on every surface she touches. Mark finds it adorable. Everyone else, not so much.
A whole lot happened once we took her home and Cleo was released from the hospital.
Eric, Christopher’s brother came and took his daughter back to Michigan. He was her only family left. There was a funeral for the couple, but it was in their home state. Ethan offered to fly Cleo there, but she declined. She had said goodbye that night and was making peace with it.
Duchess’ funeral was much more elaborate and, much like the woman, obnoxious. It was a three-day affair, and open to the public. There was a private service for a whopping 3,000 people, but after that she was displayed on a pedestal for an extra day for fans to come pay their respects from a distance.
She was buried in a giant tomb that was then covered from top to bottom with flowers, candles, and other gifts. Ethan was given an invitation to the private service. Cleo stood by his side and fully supported him if he wanted to go. He didn’t want to go, but I think guilt over how he treated her over the years drew him to the service.
I think Ethan attending eased his conscience. Especially when it was discovered that all of her money had been designated to go towards his charity. In the will she had written a letter of apology that sounded like a real person. It was beautifully tragic. This was the Duchess that the world never got the chance to meet. Hollywood had created this image of her and in the end, it was her demise.
Cleo admitted to me in private that Ethan cried privately after receiving the letter. He told her this was the Duchess he knew. The one he had once cared for.
“Besides,” Mark added, pulling me from my musings. “That means that I get to sleep uninterrupted tonight completely guilt free. Have fun,” he teased, kissing me on the tip of my nose.
As if on cue, the baby monitor lit up and her cry rang out from it. I looked at him and he shook his head. I stuck out my lip in a pout and he shook his head again.
“No!” I gave him one last look and sighing, he sat up and told me to come along. Jumping up, I followed on his tail like an eager puppy. He went into the nursery where our darling daughter fussed. She had already been fed, changed, and put to bed. She must have sensed that her dad was home and hadn’t come to see her like he normally did.
“Sorry I missed ya kiddo,” he said as he lifted her wiggling body out of her crib. The fussing immediately ceased as she snuggled her head into his shoulder. He took her to the rocking chair. I think the chair was bought originally for me to use, but those two were sitting there way more often than I was. She was a daddy’s girl right from the start. It was adorable.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the crib, watching them. He closed his tired eyes and rocked her. He began to sing one of his band’s slower songs. It was a sad one. One of my favorites. Mark was never meant to be a vocalist. But when he sang to our daughter, it was the most amazing sound I had ever heard. I think Lola agreed with me, because it only took a few minutes before she fell back asleep.
As we went to our own room, I went to our bathroom and examined the fresh tattoo on my lower abdomen. Earlier that week Cleo and I had gone to Wicked Little Tats and had some new ink added to our bodies.
I looked at the red roses on my hips. The heart in the middle, right above my mound had a banner over it that simply said “Lacey”. Behind it were two large drumsticks. Diagonally, Moira, my artist, had placed two sparrows as well. One on the top left of the design, and the other on the bottom right. One for Mark, the other for Lola. It was perfect.
Cleo’s tattoo blew mine out of the water. The detail Toddy put into it was amazing. It was a magnificent piece. I was thoroughly impressed. It was perfect for Cleo. She covered her c-section scar with a blue dragon, looking fierce and peaceful all at the same time. Its body was wrapped around a light purple egg.
“Just because the scar is covered doesn’t mean I want to forget what I did. Lola’s story is part of mine,” she explained.
Mark came up behind me and offered to lotion the area. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, given the location of the tattoo. He kissed my cheek and left me to do it myself.
“Those pictures finally came in. I went and got frames for them if you want to hang them up tonight,” Mark said from the bedroom.
“The maternity ones or the ones from the hospital?” I returned to our room to find him already in bed with his laptop open. I climbed back in with him and turned to look at him.
“Both,” he said, looking guiltily away.
