Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Everything keeps getting better,” I tell her, holding her warmly and kissing her on the cheek. “Just when I think it can’t possibly, not again, it does. It somehow becomes even more perfect.”
“I feel drunk all the time.”
“You hardly ever drink.”
“But I feel drunk,” she says as we watch Joey on the floor, happily playing with his dinosaur shapes. “Every time he calls me Mommy, or you call me wife, it’s like another sip of the world’s strongest champagne.”
“Then you better be ready to keep sipping.”
“Always.”
I like the analogy.
When it comes to us, our family, I’ll never get sick of the bubbles.
EPILOGUE
SEVEN YEARS LATER
Jane
“Mommy, look,” Joey says from his bedroom.
Trust my oldest to get my attention just as I walk through the house with a laundry basket pressed against my hip. From Alexis’ room, I can hear singing, our seven-year-old raising her voice with her latest pop obsession.
Joey’s room is quiet, except for the ding-ding-ding noise softly coming from his laptop. I walk into the room, and he spins in the chair, causing his mass of curly black locks to jostle around his head. People often say he’s got the best of both worlds, the color of Luke’s hair before it turned silver combined with my curls.
A simple stick finger family fades to black on the screen, then reappears. Joey grins up at me as I watch the screen. We all appear on the screen. First, Luke is drawn with simple silver hair and a tall frame. Then I’m holding his hand with my brown hair. After comes Alexis, then little Ryan, and then, holding Luke’s hand, there’s Jocelyn. Finally, Joey himself appears in the picture, completing our family. Then the whole process starts over again.
“You coded this?” I ask, laying the laundry basket down.
“Yeah, from scratch. Trust me. It was harder than it looks.”
I ruffle his hair. “I know it’s harder than it looks. You’re a genius, Joey.”
“Mommy, come on.”
He can’t stop smiling, and I can’t stop myself from leaning down and wrapping my arms around him, giving him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. He laughs.
“Mommy, I’m not a big baby.”
I’m laughing too, and then I kiss him again.
“Do you really think it’s good?” he asks.
“Amazing. Seriously. You’ll have a place at the company one day.”
“The company. Your company, Mommy.”
I grin. “Dinner in five.”
Walking down the hallway, I think about what my eldest son said. It’s true. After years of intense training and preparation, I took over the company five years ago. When I took control, I wanted to ensure I knew what I was doing. There are tough days when I still have to ask myself that question, but mostly, I feel in control and ready to face anything.
“Mommy, Mommy,” Alexis calls when she sees me walking past.
I poke my head into her room, finding Ryan sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking up at his big sister.
“It’s a talent show, Mommy,” Alexis says proudly.
“How’s she doing, Rye?”
He claps his hands together, grinning widely. Alexis is an amazing big sister, capable of caring for Ryan, watching over him, and protecting him. She takes after her dad in that way.
“Let’s hear something,” I say.
Alexis beams, then raises her voice to match the pop music playing in the background. More than anything, I love the passion she puts into the performance and how enthusiastically Ryan claps at the end.
“That was amazing.”
Alexis runs over and throws her hands around me, pressing her cheek against my hip.
“Really, Mommy?”
“Really.”
“Yay!”
“Dinner in five, okay?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Finally, I carry the laundry through the open-plan kitchen. Luke sits at the dining table, softly rocking Jocelyn in his arms. I watch him, love rising in me, a response to the love my husband aims at our youngest child.
Luke has let his hair grow a little longer than in the early days, wilder and silver, and, in his house wear, he looks somehow more muscular and powerful than the day we met. He looks up and catches me watching, a smile spreading across his lips. I’ll never tire of that smile, the attention, as if every ounce of him is fixated on me.
“Is my PW spying on me?”
PW… perfect wife. I always beam when he says that.
“No, just innocently watching my PH… and my PD.”
Perfect husband. Perfect daughter.
I could add another to that, too.
PL.
Perfect life.
THE END