Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
After Jasmine and I say “I do” all over again, Jaxon groans, then claps when we kiss. Now it’s Iris and Phil’s turn.
Jasmine lifts the babies up, and all of us huddle closer, watching and listening, learning really. Two people who’ve shared so much and still do after so long. It only makes Jasmine and me feel like we’ve just begun the most amazing journey of our lives, and I can’t wait.
I hope the next sixty years are slow, long, and as great as the past four. It’s made me feel four years old because my life only started the day I met her—the day I plucked my favorite flower.
My Jasmine.
Mine.
EPILOGUE
THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
Jasmine
“Can you just go have a word with her?” James asks, giving me a crazed look.
I guess any dad with a teenage daughter who thinks she’s in love would act the same.
Gnawing my lip, I act like I have to think for a moment.
“I don’t know. He could be the one,” I tease him, knowing how bent out of shape James gets whenever the subject of his first daughter, our oldest, and boys comes up.
“She’s just a little young, is all I’m saying,” he hisses in a whisper, making sure Jeanette can’t hear us as she sits at the dining table, plucking petals from a flower. She sighs to herself before starting over with another one from the vase.
“Alright, alright,” I drawl, moving to pass him in the kitchen, shaking my head a little, rolling my eyes and stifling a giggle.
Jeanette’s got a crush on a boy at school, and her dad here thinks… well… I don’t know what he thinks, but if James being overprotective of me is any indicator, I think Jeanette might be better off joining a convent.
At least until her old man’s satisfied she’s old enough to look at a boy, let alone have a schoolyard crush on one.
I can feel James’ eyes lingering on me, and his ears peeled as he spies on us from the kitchen. Jeanette doesn’t seem to notice me, and I smile, feeling kinda proud as both mom and florist to see her following in my footsteps.
“He loves me… He loves me… not,” she murmurs, plucking the last petal and noticing me, tossing the flower down in disgust.
“Flowers are stupid!” she growls. “Boys are stupid!” she snarls with greater intensity, and not just for effect.
She’s really upset.
“Hey… hey baby,” I coo, kissing the top of her head, putting my arms around her. “It’s okay. Everything’s all right. You want to tell me what’s goin’ on?” I ask, pulling up a chair next to her.
I hear my darling husband moving noisily in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich, no doubt in celebration of hearing his eldest daughter proclaim that boys are stupid.
One to team dad. Boys, zero.
It takes some doing, but I get the full picture from Jeanette. She likes a boy, but he’s in a different class, and she’s not sure he even knows she exists.
Kinda rings a bell somehow—the whole wanting to know but not knowing thing.
Thirteen years. Feels like yesterday.
“Sweetie,” I explain to her, “if he’s right for you, it’ll just happen. You don’t have to force things. True love? That kind of has a way of taking care of itself.”
Thinking of my man and the life we have together, I figure this is pretty solid advice coming from mom right now. Right?
“Mom, what the heck are you talking about?” Jeanette says curtly, screwing up her face.
“Who said anything about true love? I just want to know if he likes me or not. Why do you have to make everything so… so gross? You’re worse than dad,” she whines, rolling her eyes and giving me a pained look.
Okay, maybe not everyone has the same experience as James and I did. Do. I mean, are.
“When’s dinner, anyway?” Jeanette asks, flipping from one topic to the next, forgetting how upset she was just now. She’s suddenly hungry for anything else.
It’s kind of weird to see so much of her dad and me in her, but that’s what kids are.
“Dinner’s soon,” I announce, making her groan loudly with shameless drama.
I don’t mind one bit, though. I love seeing Jeanette and all our kids get to be themselves, no matter what. It’s what makes being a mom so great.
I know my daughter, and she’s hurting over this whole boy crush thing. I get it. She just wants to know if he likes her or not. I guess boys and men sometimes have trouble expressing their feelings.
“Honey? One day, the right man will come along, and you’ll just know. Anything before that is filling time until they do,” I tell her, bunching my nose when she rolls her eyes.
“Jesus, Mom, you sound like Grandma Iris,” she groans.
The deep, rumbling tone of James’s voice booms from the kitchen, full of the sandwich, by the sounds of it, but carrying the authority that only dad’s voice can.