Epilogue Two

THREE YEARS AFTER COMA…

LEYLAND

Getting to do what I loved always gave me a different type of energy.

The art studio was alive with creativity, the air filled with the scent of paint and the soft scrape of pencils on paper. Kids of all ages were scattered around the room, some hunched over their canvases in concentration, while others chattered excitedly as they shared ideas. The bright morning light poured in through the large windows, highlighting the colorful chaos of the Austin Visual Arts Association’s youth class.

I moved between the tables, offering tips, encouragement, and the occasional joke to keep things light.

“That’s looking outstanding, Mia,” I said, leaning over a girl’s shoulder as she carefully shaded the petals of a flower. “Maybe add a little more depth to this shadow here, and it’ll really pop.”

Mia nodded eagerly, her focus unwavering as she reached for a darker color pencil.

At another table, I paused to watch a boy experimenting with bold splashes of color. “What’s the story here, Lonny?” I asked, gesturing to the vibrant swirls covering his canvas.

Lonny grinned, his energy infectious.

“It’s the universe! This is a black hole, and these are stars getting sucked into it.”

“Looks like the universe doesn’t stand a chance,” I said with a laugh, patting his shoulder. “Keep it up.”

As I made my way around the room, my gaze flicked to the back of the studio, where Clementine sat quietly, watching. She hadn’t said much since she arrived, but her presence was a steady thread of calm in the bustling room. Her soft smile and the way her eyes followed me filled me with a sense of rightness I couldn’t quite put into words.

My second chance to live fully, to create, to love and be loved back had made these past three years better than I could imagine. Here I was, surrounded by young artists, doing what I loved with the woman I loved watching from the wings.

That shit felt great… amazing. Thrilling to say the least.

When the class wound down, I gathered the kids in a circle at the front of the room. One by one, they held up their pieces, explaining their inspiration. I praised each of them, highlighting their creativity and growth.

“You all knocked it out of the park today,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Next week, we’ll dive into landscapes, so start thinking about places that inspire you.”

The kids groaned good-naturedly about the homework, but their excitement was clear as they packed up their supplies and headed out, their voices carrying down the hall.

The room grew quiet, and I turned to Clementine, who was still seated in the back, the wrapped canvas she’d brought sitting on the table.

I crossed the room, dropping into the chair beside her.

“What’s this?” I asked, nodding toward the canvas.

She looked down at it, then back at me, her expression a mix of nerves and excitement and something else I couldn’t quite place.

“I’ve been working on this for a week. I wanted you to see it here—where you teach.”

I reached for it, sensing her heightened nervousness, and carefully unwrapped it. The canvas inside was small but beautifully done, painted with soft, dreamlike hues. It showed the two of us standing side by side, but Clementine had an overgrown belly that wasn’t currently present.

I paused for a second.

We’d been trying for almost four years to have a baby. Four years of false positives, a miscarriage that broke us, and sleepless nights of wondering if it would ever happen. But through it all, we remained each other’s rock.

And now she was telling me…

I blinked and stared at the last piece of the puzzle.

At the bottom of the painting, in her delicate handwriting, were the words: Baby Graham – Coming in Six Months.

I stared at the painting, my eyes burning a little as I tried to force my tears back.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

Clementine’s smile widened, her eyes shining. “Surprise!”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My chest tightened, emotions flooding in all at once—joy, awe, disbelief.

“You’re pregnant, tiny?”

She nodded, her tears falling as mine did.

“Baby,” I whispered, reaching for her hand. I couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across my face as I pulled her into my arms. “Thank you for this gift.”

“Thank you for being my everything in this,” she murmured. “I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else. Getting through what we’ve been through with anybody else.”

We stayed like that for a long while, holding each other in the quiet studio. Holding on to the strength it took to see this through, even the wake of disappointment after disappointment.

“Only up from here, right?”

This marked the start of our next chapter. And it was just the beginning, I felt that deep in my spirit.

“Only up from here, baby.”