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“I know.”
“You know?”
That’s all he says. Nothing more. He doesn’t look shocked or anything. In fact, he takes a bite of his ice cream with his other hand. “Darling. I know everything about you. You think I didn’t notice you hadn’t packed your pills?”
“How do you even know I’m on the pill?” I ask. I don’t know why. This isn’t the point. The realization that he’s known all along sinks in. That each and every time we had sex there was a chance that I could get pregnant and it didn’t stop him has me feeling a lot of emotion. Relief being the primary one. I should have known better than to doubt Mack. He will always do what’s best for me.
“I love you, Dally, and I want whatever that love brings us. If you’re not pregnant now, you will be soon enough.” He winks at me. I smack his arm. Tears fill my eyes at how perfect this all is.
“Take me home.” Those words barely finish leaving my lips before he has me in his arms and is heading back toward the car. I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment. Mack has proven to me so many times over the years that he’s willing to do anything to make me happy. He made all of my dreams come true professionally and now he’s giving me the happily ever after that people only dream of. He is truly my one and only.
Epilogue
Mack
The scene in my backyard gives me a weird déjà vu. My sister is there with her wife and four kids. They had two sets of….well, twins, I’d guess you call it. The two got inseminated at the same time. Maisie thought it would be romantic. Privately, Star told me it was nuts because they both had morning sickness so instead of one person being able to comfort the other, they’d both lie on the tile floor miserable as hell.
Maisie said that this was bonding and sweet and how the two of them were so much closer for their shared pains. The whole time Maisie was explaining this to me, Star stood behind her wife making throat-cutting gestures which I didn’t understand. Did she mean I should cut Maisie off or that Star wanted to cut her own neck because of how awful childbirth was? I wasn’t sure, but whatever Star’s objections were, they didn’t stop her from doing it again. The second time, Star said that it was easier to get it over with together. Dally got the baby bug and so I had three pregnant women on my hands. It was hell. Seventeen years later, I remember every gruesome second of those nine months.
“You’re thinking about the year, aren’t you?” Dally teases, swishing her fine ass by me with her hands carrying a big salad bowl. I snag her waist and pull her close, placing my nose in the crook of her neck.
She smells fresh, like linens freshly laid on the bed. “Best year of my life,” I lie.
She rests the back of her head against my shoulder. “Every year with me is the best.”
“That’s the truth.” And it was. No matter how many times I had to run to the store to get peanut brittle or ranch salad dressing. No matter how many foreheads I wiped or puke stains I cleaned up, having those babies was worth every minute of the pain. And every year I’ve spent with Dally, I’ve only fallen more in love every day. How could I not? She’s smart, generous, kind. Basically, the best person ever, along with being gorgeous and a fantastic lay. Even after all these years, just standing close to her gets me excited. My hands drop to her waist and I rub her ass against my growing erection.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
“Only once,” Dally murmurs.
“I’ve fallen down on my job.” I bite her neck lightly. She shudders. I widen my fingers and enjoy the feel of her round pregnant belly under my palm and the heat of her body through the thin cotton of her dress.
“Can you not?” cries my daughter, Paige. “We’re about to eat dinner. Is it possible for you to keep your hands off of each other for like five seconds?”
I lift my head and spear my youngest with a scolding look. “Who said you could talk?”
“You did when you impregnated Mom!” my spitfire retorts.
With a sad sigh, I step back from Dally and will my erection back into a dormant state. I slide a look toward my beloved. “Did you give her these rights?”
Dally smirks. “I certainly did. Come on, baby girl. Let’s get these salads outside before your grandparents file an elder abuse lawsuit.”
“They can do that from Cannes?” my daughter says.
“Their yacht is in Monaco now, I believe,” replies Dally. “Your granddaddy mentioned something about hosting the prince for dinner.”
