“Sure,” she said, grinning even wider. “Why not?”
Epilogue
Wyatt - 8 Months Later
As I walked back into the sterile white hospital room holding another cup of ice for my wife, I was struck by how much had shifted in just the past few hours. We came into the hospital as husband and wife and we would be leaving the hospital as a family. The idea smacked me straight in the heart and I felt something that I never thought I’d feel when I was a child - whole.
I crept through the door, hoping to not wake Tori or the baby... my little girl. With eyes just like her mama. Tori was holding Annabelle, looking at her like she’d never seen anything more beautiful. I knew the feeling; that was exactly how I felt the first time I laid eyes on my wife. The ring on Tori’s finger sparkled in the light as she fingered gently through the baby’s hair.
She looked up at me as I approached and one thing became crystal clear: no matter how hard I tried, I would never going to be able to give her as much as she’d given me. But as long as she was OK with me trying, I’d keep doing so every day for the rest of my life.
I settled into the uncomfortable fake green leather recliner by the bed and knew that I’d still be just as happy sitting on a pile of sticks. Tori shifted to let me take the baby and I leapt up so she didn’t have to move much. The birth wasn’t easy, but my God did my wife handle it like a champ. As Annabelle was situated in my arms, I leaned back into the recliner, looking down at my baby girl. I lifted my gaze for a second to see Tori looking at us with softness and love in her eyes.
I blinked away the tears that came unbidden and mouthed, “Thank you.” She nodded to me, reached to grip my hands, and we sat as a family in this hospital room, silently basking in the love we had made and shared.
Epilogue
Tori – 5 Years Later
You’d think that, after the fourth pregnancy, walking with a bowling ball under your clothes would get easier. I can’t see my feet, but I know they’re swollen and it feels like someone is trying to convince my spine to adopt a permanent curve.
Annabelle is playing in the living room, a skinny 5-year-old girl with hair just like her father - golden, thin, and just so adorable. Wyatt is playing on the floor with Jack, our 3-year-old boy whose hair is darker than mine, and Natalie, our 18 month old girl who has her daddy’s eyes and my complexion.
The chaos of breakfast has subsided, the screaming mostly quieted, and I get a cherished moment of relative calm as I fold the eighth load of laundry today. Wyatt pretends to roll over Jack, who giggles furiously and climbs his dad like a horse. Natalie watches on, toddling towards her pile of stuffed animals to grab her favorite.
Wyatt, even as he pretends to play Horse with Jack, is just so gentle. He’s also so patient and so thankful for every moment he gets with his children. Marriage is hard, and marriage with three (almost four) children is not any easier. But with Wyatt, it just feels right. As if he can sense my thoughts, Wyatt’s ocean blue eyes peek up at me, the sunlight from the windows hitting them in a way I can never resist.
He tells Jack something about the horse needing a break and crawls closer to my station at the back of the living room. His hair is rumpled and he’s still wearing his sweats, but the way they move, I just know he’s thinking about me. There’s already a slight bulge in the front as he approaches and I can’t help but smile to myself.
Wyatt wraps my legs with his arms, forcing me to abandon my laundry. I lean forward and wrap my arms around him, smelling the scent of his as I bury my face in his neck.
Annabelle makes a sound meant for a teenager, scoffing at us as she gathers up her very serious art materials and storms to the kitchen. Wyatt chuckles, not turning to watch her go. He trails kisses from my neck down to my very pregnant belly, planting a loud smack right on our little boy’s foot under my shirt. I feel the baby push back a little, saying hello to his daddy.
Wyatt returns to kissing me and leaves trailing, hot sensations down the curve of my neck, my ear, and my chin. Finally, he rests on my mouth, giving me a taste of things to come tonight.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he whispers in my ear as his big, masculine hands circle my belly.
“You’re just trying to get laid,” I whisper back, and he smiles impishly. He drops back to all fours, crawls over to our two youngest children, and resumes playing. But I don’t miss it when his eyes drift up to meet mine.
Wyatt winks softly at me and mouths, “I love you” over Jack’s head.
I smile into my laundry basket, nod, and look up at him.
“I love you, too, Wyatt,” I mouth back at him, and we beam at one another.