Page 274 of Josephine and Clay

Of course it does.

Some things are meant to.

Then I lean forward and kiss her carefully over the space where our sons sleep between us.

It isn’t the wild kind of kiss that started all of this. It isn’t heat and recklessness and a bad decision made in the dark. It’s softer than that.

Deeper.

A promise instead of a spark.

When I pull back, Josie rests her forehead against mine.

Henry gives a sudden offended squeak.

Theodore immediately answers with one of his own.

We both look down.

Then we look at each other.

Josie starts laughing.

I do too.

Epilogue

JOSEPHINE

10 YEARS LATER…

"Tell him he's wrong."

"I'm not wrong."

"You are."

"Theodore,” Henry snaps, frustrated. “You can't declare yourself correct just because you used a five-dollar word."

"I can when the five-dollar word is correct."

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Across the rodeo grounds, Clay catches the tail end of the argument and immediately veers in the opposite direction. Smart man.

Theodore spots him anyway. "Dad!"

Clay stops mid-step.

Too late.

The twins descend on him from opposite directions. Theodore arrives armed with facts. Henry arrives armed with outrage.

By the time they reach him, Clay already looks tired. "What happened?”

"He says goats aren't livestock."

"I said they're in a different competition category."