Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 42745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Her smile grows. “Why?”
“Because I can.”
Her cheeks turn pink again, and I’ve decided that I love making her blush.
Miller groans from across the table. “Can you two not be like that over dessert?”
Logan points his fork at him. “You’re one to talk.”
Lindsey laughs, and Bree joins in, and soon everyone is giving everyone else a hard time.
I take all of it in. My wife is sitting beside me, eating cake with one hand while the other sits on my thigh. I get to see her smile and laugh and cut up with my family. To think that I almost lost this makes me pause. I’m not sure what I would do without Aria, but I hope I never find out.
No, I’m not going to take a second of this life for granted. I’m going to live it, loving my wife and doing my best to give her everything she wants. Whatever that may be.
EPILOGUE
ARIA
One year later
My body reacts, and I’m pretty sure Penn is probably watching me.
That’s how it’s always been with him. Even in a yard full of people, even with everyone talking and laughing around us, I know when my husband’s eyes are on me.
I look up from the blanket spread across the grass, and sure enough, there he is, standing near the grill with Logan, Miller, Ozzy, Guy, and Zach, holding a bottle of water in one hand and watching me like I’m the only person here.
My heart does that same ridiculous thing it’s done since the day I met him.
I smile at him, and his face softens immediately.
God, I love that man.
“Aria,” Bree says from beside me, “he’s doing it again.”
I look at her. “Doing what?”
She nods toward Penn. “Staring at you like he’s two seconds away from walking over here and carrying you inside.”
Lindsey laughs from the other side of the blanket. “That’s not new.”
Skyler bounces Grace on her lap and grins. “Penn has always been obsessed with Aria.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “He is not obsessed.”
All three women look at me, and even Grace lets out a happy squeal like she agrees with them.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
Across the yard, Penn’s mouth tips up like he knows exactly what we’re talking about, and he probably does. The man has always been too good at reading me.
A year ago, I thought we might not make it. There are still moments when I think about that time and my chest gets tight. We didn’t fix everything in one night, but we made a promise to each other that we would.
Penn came home in every way that mattered. He stopped shutting me out, let me be angry when I needed to be, held me when I cried, and gave me room to grieve the life I had pictured without ever making me feel guilty for wanting it.
And I held him while he grieved too.
We saw more doctors, and Penn went through so many tests, but he never complained once.
There were conversations about procedures and sperm retrieval and donor options. There were pamphlets and appointments and long nights in bed where we talked about what family could look like for us. Some nights I felt hopeful. Some nights Penn did. Some nights neither of us did, and we just held on to each other until morning.
We talked about adoption too. At first, it was just one option among many.
I look down at the baby lying on the blanket in front of me, kicking his little legs like he’s the one hosting this whole family dinner.
My son. Our son. Michael Penn Brody.
He has chubby cheeks, dark hair, and a serious little frown when we don’t get his bottle ready fast enough. He’s six months old now, and every time I look at him, I still feel the same rush of love I felt the first day I held him.
He came to us on a Tuesday.
I was at work between patients when Penn called me. I knew something was wrong the second I heard his voice.
“Aria,” he said, and there was something in that one word that made me stop walking.
I asked, holding my breath, “What happened?”
“There’s a baby.”
My heart started pounding. “What do you mean?”
“He was left at the fire station. They brought him into the ER to be checked out.” Penn’s voice broke in a way I had only heard a few times in our marriage. “He’s healthy. Tiny, but healthy.”
I pressed a hand to my chest. “Penn.”
“I looked at him, honey.” He took a shaky breath. “And I knew.”
I didn’t ask him to explain. I didn’t need to. “I’m coming,” I told him.
By the time I got to the NICU floor, Penn was standing outside the nursery window. He still had his white coat on, but he didn’t look like Dr. Brody in that moment. He looked like my husband.