Epilogue

epilogue

LACEY

Six Years Later

T he earth crunches below our feet as Jacob pulls me to him. My swollen belly has reached the point that it's beginning to get in the way when we embrace. I wrap my arms around his neck and stretch up to press a soft kiss against his lips while we shuffle back and forth to the slow beat of the music filling the night air around us from the speakers of Jacob's pickup truck. The low beams of his headlights provide the only illumination in that dark empty field beyond the full moon overhead. His hands rest on my hips, and even after all these years, his touch still spreads a tingling warmth through my body.

"This is the perfect night out," I say and rest my cheek against his firm chest. "I needed this."

"I'm sorry the boys have been such a handful," Jacob says and kisses the top of my head.

Our son Oliver is five years old. That boy can find trouble in an empty five-gallon bucket. His four-year-old brother, Noah, is nearly as fluent in troublemaking and just as willing to get his hands dirty.

"Your mom says they're like you and your brothers reincarnated," I say, earning a chuckle from Jacob.

"We might've given our parents a run for their money, too."

Jacob leans down, pressing his lips to mine. His warmth spreads into me as he deepens his kiss and our dancing stills. My hands climb up into his hair, pulling him closer to me.

My phone buzzes loudly, vibrating on the metal tailgate of the truck and reminding us of the outside world. Jacob releases me, and I go for my phone to see if it's a call that needs to be answered or if it can be put off till after our date. When I see our teenage babysitter's name on the screen, I know it's urgent.

"Hey, Emma, is everything okay?" I ask after putting the phone on speaker so Jacob can hear, too.

"Sorry to bother you"—Emma's voice is quivering, and I can tell she's on the verge of tears—"but I've found myself in a predicament."

"What's wrong? Is everyone okay?" I ask.

"I think so. We were looking for Noah's stuffy, and Oliver said it was left down in the basement from earlier today. I went down to look for it, and...well...I think the boys locked the door behind me." A quick sob escapes from Emma, barely more than a hiccup. I sigh and look up at Jacob who is clearly amused by our boys' mischievousness.

"We'll be right there, Emma," I say and hang up the phone.

We don't waste any time gathering our things and rushing home to rescue the babysitter. Jacob catches me chewing my bottom lip and rests a reassuring hand on my thigh. He presses harder on the accelerator, and I know he's speeding up for my benefit.

"The boys are fine," he says.

"They're unsupervised, Jacob. Who knows what could happen."

Jacob looks over at me. His eyebrow is cocked, and he wears a smirk on his lips.

"We both know that supervision never kept them from getting into a scrape. They're good kids. They're not going to be into anything too treacherous."

"I'd rather not test your theory."

I don't wait for the truck to come to a complete stop in our driveway. Sliding out of the cab, I rush to the front door. Despite my head start, Jacob is on my heels in no time. The tension riding on my shoulders begins to dissipate when we walk through the door and instantly hear happy giggles coming from the kitchen.

The boys are sitting on the island counter in their superhero undies, covered from head to toe in a brown sauce, which I assume is chocolate syrup from the smooshed bottle lying on its side next to them. Noah licks the sauce off the palm of his hand, then scoops out a handful of the pie meant for tomorrow's Thanksgiving feast and shoves it into his mouth, while his other hand holds a spoon. Oliver throws his head back and laughs at his brother.

"Use your spoon, Noah," he says. "Here. Like this."

Oliver puts his dirty hand over Noah's and leads the spoon to the pie, helping Noah scoop up another big bite onto the spoon before bringing it to his own mouth.

"Hey, that's my spoon!" Noah protests.

"Okay, boys. Time for a bath," Jacob interrupts them and captures one under each of his arms.

He bumps the fridge door closed as he heads for the stairs. The boys giggle and kick their legs behind them, enjoying the ride. Oliver stretches his arms forward and holds his legs straight behind them.

"Look, Momma, I'm Superman!" Oliver yells back to me.

I can't help but smile back at my little troublemaker. I watch them disappear up the stairs, overcome by the love I feel for my wild boys. A tapping pulls me back, and I remember I still need to rescue Emma from the basement.

"I'm coming, Emma!" I call out and head to the basement door.

When I open the door, Emma rises from the top step with a tear-stained face. She's no longer crying, but she's still sniffling and trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"I'm so sorry," Emma says, either unable or unwilling to make eye contact with me. The mess on the kitchen island catches her attention, and I get a front row view of the terror that creeps over her face. "I'll stay and clean up the mess. I'm so sorry," she says again as more tears begin to well up in her eyes.

"No, that's not necessary, Emma," I say.

"I'm sorry I ruined your evening. I never dreamed?—"

"Emma, honey, it's okay. It's not your fault. I'm not upset with you."

"You're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad. I know better than anyone what a handful they can be. I'm sorry they locked you in the basement. That had to be terrifying for you." I reach out and gently squeeze her arm.

"I'm okay. I suppose there are worse basements to be locked in," Emma says with a sniffle.

I give her a smile and pull cash out of my pocket.

"Here." I hand the wad of cash over to her. "There's extra there for your trouble. I hope you'll still consider babysitting for us again in the future."

"I'll think about it," Emma answers. "I'm going to head out now."

"Okay, be careful," I say.

Once Emma is out the door, I wipe up the mess in the kitchen and get everything put away. Jalynn and George will get a kick out of this story. They have two boys and a baby girl. Our boys are the best of friends, and they adore Jalynn's little girl. She has quite the crew watching out for her.

I head up the stairs to check on the boys. Jacob already has them bathed and dressed in their jammies, the "missing" stuffy found and wrapped tightly in Noah's arms. I lean against the doorframe of Noah's bedroom and rub at the spot on my stomach our newest little one has taken to kicking at this evening. Jacob is lying on the bed, flanked by Noah and Oliver, and is reading their favorite bedtime story.

"Momma, come here," Noah says, noticing me in the doorway.

He reaches out and waves me to them with the fingers on his precious little hand. I push off the doorframe and walk over to him. I sit on the floor next to where he's lying on the bed and place a kiss on his soft little hand and another kiss to his round cheek.

It doesn't take long for both of our boys to fall asleep. Jacob climbs off the bed, careful not to wake them. He scoops Oliver into his arms and carries him down the hall to his own bedroom while I get Noah securely tucked into his bed.

I make it back downstairs before Jacob and take a seat on the couch to watch the crackling fire burn. Within minutes, Jacob walks into the room. With one look at his roguish grin, I know what he's up to.

Without a word, Jacob rests one knee on the couch next to me and presses his lips to mine. He leans further into me, pushing my back down onto the couch, and bites at my lip, which sends tingles directly to my core. He pulls back briefly, staring down at me with his dark eyes, and I'm reminded that this is the type of love I've spent my life looking for.