Authors: Liz Reinhardt
Epilogue
“Trent, this is insane. We can’t even fit them in the trunk. The babies are five months old. I don’t think they need Power Wheels.”
I am trying so damn hard to be the logical, reasonable one, but the look of sheer giddy joy on my boyfriend’s face makes it a real challenge.
“Sadie, where’s your sense of adventure? Ella would agree with me.”
“Ella is as crazy as you are!” I cry.
“That’s why we’re the adorable entertainment portion of our ragged crew.”
“Your sister is going to go nuts,” I warn with a laugh. “She’s already freaking out that the babies are starting to crawl, and you’re going to equip them with motors?”
“Baby motors,” he corrects. “And I had custom helmets made for their little noggins. Uncle Trent will be giving them both the ‘helmets save lives’ talk. Never too early to drag out the war stories for the kiddies, right?”
He laughs like he’s not making a joke about one of the single most gut-wrenching moments in our life together. Surviving the accident made him happier, more open, less guarded. I love those changes, I really do, but I guess a part of me is still scared shitless. I came so close to losing him. I never want to face that fear again, and just remembering it makes my heart twist.
“Maybe we should have gotten that cute little pirate water table I suggested. That’s messy! That’s fun!”
I roll my eyes at the way he’s smiling, like I’m being so cute trying to channel some of his natural rebelliousness.
“I really liked that idea,” he placates me. “That’s why I picked up two of them too.”
I kind of want to throw my hands in the air, but I’ve learned a lot about love in the past year.
So, instead of letting myself get frustrated over something as silly as a crazy gift—or four—I throw my arms around Trent’s neck and just enjoy the fact that he’s here, alive and well, and incredibly, amazingly crazy, generous, and full of love.
“There already isn’t a spare inch of room in the living room from all the gifts Mom, Ella, and Georgia got. Where will we even fit these? Oh well, I’ll call Monty and Lloyd and see if they’ll lend Ella the pickup.” I pretend sigh.
Trent slaps my butt and squeezes, then laughs when I yelp. “That’s my girl! You are the best, Cap’n, you know that?”
“Don’t you dare forget it,” I say, smacking another kiss—then two, then four, then a roll on the floor of the living room that leaves us both breathless—before I drag myself away from him and grab my phone.
“Hey El, wanna borrow the pickup and come by our place to transport the world’s most inappropriate gifts for a pair of five month olds?” I ask.
“It’s like you know the way into my heart, Sadie,” my sister says. “I’ll be over as soon as Melanie finishes wrapping the gifts. By the way, have you seen the fireplace? Our house doesn’t even look like our house anymore! Mom can’t stop buying firewood.”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
The funny thing about accepting all my plans falling apart is that I got a pleasant surprise whenever things actually worked out. When Trent got out of the hospital and pretty much pulverized his physical therapy schedule, he convinced me to go ahead with my internship.
What he actually said was, “Babe, I love you, but if you don’t stop hovering, I’m gonna hop away on my crutches.”
Winds up the love of my life is really good at beating the odds and shocking everyone—doctors, physical therapists,
me
.
Within a few weeks of getting out of the hospital, he was back to painting, and his series from the early recovery period got its own gallery show and a ton of buzz when the story of his accident and comeback made the rounds. The paintings were raw, hard, and beautifully hopeful all at once. They sold well.
Very, very well.
Like no worries about medical bills well. Like Power Wheels for the kids well.
It’s strange to walk into classes or galleries or museums and hear my boyfriend’s name on everyone’s lips. Strange and awesome. Sometimes I don’t know how to show him just how proud I am.
Though I try. No clue why, but it’s always easier in the bedroom, with candles flickering, naked…
“So did Lloyd and Monty finish the fireplace?” Trent asks, eavesdropping from the living room.
It winds up Lloyd and Monty underestimated just how much they couldn’t handle retirement.
“That’s what Ella said. With the wallpaper you guys did, and the hardwood, and the new bay window, it’s like I barely recognize my home.”
I walk back in the living room and find him building a little fire for the two of to share. He smiles at me like I’m his biggest, best Christmas morning gift, wrapped up with a shiny bow.
He walks over to me, his voice soft and strong. “It doesn’t matter what changes in that house. Shit, it could burn to the ground. A house doesn’t have anything to do with a home, Sadie.”
“No?”
I watch as he drops down on one knee. My heart races.
“Nope.” His eyes are trained on me, the smile on his lips so nervous it makes my heart ache. “Your home is wherever the people you love are. You know I love you, Sadie.”
“Trent?” I put my fingers up to my lips to hold back the gasp.
“This year would have been a living hell without you. But with you by my side, it wound up the best year of my life. My ass got hit by a car, put in a coma, and forced through months of painful therapy. You’d think all I’d be able to focus on would be how much my life sucks. But I’ve woken up every morning since I opened my eyes in that hospital room, and I wondered over and over again how the hell I got lucky enough to have you in my life.”
“Stop,” I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks. “Stop it. It was all you Trent, it was
you
never giving up on me.”
“I’ll never stop telling you how amazing you are, Sadie. I’ll never stop loving you.” He pulls a box out of his pocket and holds it out to me. “Sadie Sebastiana Jellico, would you do me the honor of being my wife?”
He opens the box, and there’s an antique white gold ring with an oval sapphire in the center. It glitters in the firelight. “Trent Toriello! I saw the auction price on that ring. I love it, you
know
how much I love it. But you can’t—”
“Sadie, answer the question,” he interrupts around a chuckle.
I look down into the face of the man I love and almost lost. There’s only one answer I could give him.
“Yes, yes, yes, Trent!”
He stands up and slides the ring on my finger, then wraps his arms around me. I can hear for myself the way his heart is thumping, and I love every beat of it. “Merry Christmas, my fiancee.”
I giggle. “I like the sound of that.”
“Peter told me that he and Warren are giving us the portrait I did of you as a wedding gift if we ever get married. We need to get planning. Now that we’re making it official, I want that painting hanging in our room.” He kisses me, and I get lost in the press of his lips.
I pull back, breathless. “You know I
love
a good plan.”
“You know I love you, Sadie. So damn much.” His voice scratches with emotion.
I blink back more tears. “I love you. I love you so much.” I clear my throat before I dissolve into a weepy mess. “Do you know my favorite Christmas tradition we started last year?”
“What’s that?” he asks, his voice husky.
“I’ll give you a hint.” I lick my lips and put my hands on Trent’s wide, strong shoulders. “Take off all your clothes and get on the couch.”
“Isn’t Ella headed over soon?” he asks, his eyes lit with excitement.
I push him back a step, two, and smile at him. “After Melanie wraps the gifts. We have at least half and hour. Want one of your Christmas gifts early?”
He sits back on the couch and tears his shirt off like a man on fire. “Yes I do.”
I shimmy out of my dress and stand in front of him wearing nothing but the expensive lingerie I ordered for this Christmas.
“That’s...wow. Holy...um, wow. That’s a very,
very
sexy wrapping job,” he says, whistling low. His eyes crackle with desire, and his voice slides out lazy and needy. “Get over here. I love unwrapping my presents.”
Outside the snow falls softly. A few miles away our loved ones are waiting to spend this perfect holiday with us. But for right now, Trent and I slide into each other’s arms and forget there’s a world outside the steady rhythm of our two hearts, beating in time as one.
About the Author:
Liz Reinhardt was born and raised in the idyllic beauty of rural northwest NJ. A move to the subtropics of coastal Georgia with her daughter and husband left her with a newly realized taste for the beach and a bloated sunscreen budget--which exist right alongside an intense longing for the bagels and fast-talking, foul mouths of her youth. She loves Raisinettes, even if they aren’t really candy, the Oxford comma, movies that are hilarious or feature zombies, any and all books, but especially strong YA with a romantic lean (the smarter and hotter, the better), the sound of her daughter’s incessantly wise and entertaining chatter, and watching her husband work on cars in the driveway. She is the
author
of the popular
Brenna Blixen
YA trilogy (
Double Clutch, Junk Miles, Slow Twitch
)
and co-writes the popular NA
Silver Strand Series
with Steph Campbell.
You can read her blog at
www.elizabethreinhardt.blogspot.com
, like her on
Facebook
, or email her at
[email protected]
.