Page 179 of His Ruin
I chuckle before sobering. “Yes.”
“No hesitation.” She deadpans.
“I have two people to look out for now,” I mutter as I kiss her neck sweetly. “I’m going to be the most unbearable—”
“Oh, my god.”
“Yes,” I continue solemnly, “the most unbearable, overprotective, vitamin-buying, pillow-fluffing—”
“That actually doesn’t sound too bad,” she considers. “Throw in some foot massages, and I may tolerate you for nine months.”
“Tolerate,” I scoff playfully, pressing an offended hand to my chest. “I am the father of your child.”
“And the bane of my existence,” she giggles.
I chuckle along with her, shaking my head as everything falls into place. I’m in a hospital with the love of my life, the mother of my child, and my whole world. I never knew that existence could be so…peaceful.
When I’m old and time has worn me thin,thisis the place I’ll return to in my dreams. From the very first day I met Melody, she had me wrapped around her finger—and I’ve never been prouder to call her mine.
It doesn’t matter how long the road was or how many battles we faced along the way, because in the end, we didn’t let anything stand between us. For once in my life, the world isn’t painted in muted shades of gray. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’salive.
All because I fell irrevocably in love with Melody.
Epilogue
Kaden - Five Years Later
“Dad!”
I glance up into the rear-view mirror of my truck, pinpointing the raven black hair of my daughter first. There’s a crown of thick braids over the top of her head, courtesy of her mother’s delicate touch. Her deep brown eyes and soft features are all attributed to Melody’s grace and poise.
It’s like my genes didn’t even try unless it came to our kids’ hair.
“Shh, Posey,” my wife coos gently from the passenger seat as she leans back and checks our son’s car seat. The two-year-old menace is still snoozing evenly, a half-eaten chicken nugget in one hand and his blankie gripped tightly in the fist of his other.
Posey rolls her lips in, catching my gaze in the mirror as she winces. We all know what it means to wake Oliver from his midday nap.
Chaos.
“Sorry,” my daughter whispers.
“What’s up, pumpkin?” I ask quietly.
She sits forward in her booster seat, bouncing excitedly. “Can we go to the creek after we visit with Gigi and Pop?”
I smile. “You know it. We have unfinished business.”
Rock skipping contest. It’s been our tradition since Posey turned three and first discovered that stones can bounce across the surface of water. We do it every time we visit, and I hate to admit it, but the kid is a natural.
I’m currently dead last in terms of her skills, but she’s half Melody. Perfection oozes through their veins.
My wife giggles as she shakes her head. “If you two get too competitiveagain—”
“Oh, come on!” My daughter and I groan in unison.
“Dad’s just upset he can’t beat me. That’s the only reason it got so messy.” Posey smirks.
I gawk as I stare in the rear-view mirror at the same shit-eating grin I sport, made over into a smaller package with my wife’s beautiful features.
