Chapter 10
Two years later.
Hope is two and a half.
Wild.
Funny.
Smart as a whip.
She runs around the yard all day, chasing the ducks, picking flowers, talking a mile a minute, her curly hair flying in the wind.
She calls me “Dada” and Lila “Mama” and my mom “Gigi” and Lila’s dad “Papa Joe.”
She has everyone wrapped around her tiny finger.
Lila is pregnant again.
A boy this time.
Due in four months.
We’re naming him Jude.
Jude Austin Carter.
The cottage is bigger now.
We added two more bedrooms, a bigger kitchen, a playroom for the kids.
It’s still small enough to feel cozy, but big enough for our growing family.
My business is thriving.
The showroom downtown is doing so well we’re thinking of opening a second location in the city next year.
We’re not rich.
But we’re comfortable.
We have everything we need.
And more importantly, we have everything we want.
Today is our third wedding anniversary.
Lila and I are sitting on the porch, watching Hope play in the yard with our golden retriever, Max, while the sun sets over the lake.
The sky is pink and purple and gold, just like it was the night I proposed.
Lila is leaning against me, her hand resting on her pregnant belly, our wedding rings glinting in the sunset.
“Remember when you brought me here for our first date?” she says, smiling. “You were so nervous you spilled iced tea all over your shirt.”
I laugh, kissing the top of her head.
“I was terrified. I thought I’d mess it up. That I wasn’t good enough for you.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes soft, full of love.
“You were always good enough, Austin. More than good enough. You’re the best man I’ve ever known. The best husband. The best dad. Our kids are so lucky to have you.”
I pull her closer, my heart so full it feels like it might burst.
“I’m the lucky one. You saved me, Lila. You pulled me out of the dark. You gave me this life. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”
She kisses me, slow and sweet, as Hope runs over, climbing into our laps, holding a dandelion.
“Make a wish, Dada! Make a wish, Mama!”
We both close our eyes and blow.
The white seeds fly into the air, floating out over the lake, glowing in the sunset.
“What did you wish for?” Hope asks, her big blue eyes wide.
I look at Lila.
At our beautiful daughter.
At the cottage behind us, warm and full of love.
At the life we’ve built together, honest and true and perfect.
“I didn’t need to wish for anything, baby girl,” I say, hugging her tight. “I already have everything I’ve ever wanted. Right here.”
Lila smiles, squeezing my hand.
“Me too.”
Later that night, after Hope is asleep, after Lila has gone to bed, I sit out on the porch for a little while, just me and the lake and the stars.
I think about that night three and a half years ago.
Coming home at 1 a.m.
The empty house.
The lie.
The watch.
The pain.
The anger.
The broken man I was back then.
I barely recognize him.
That man is gone.
In his place is a man who knows what it’s like to lose everything.
And what it’s like to build it all back, better and stronger than before.
A man who knows that love isn’t about grand gestures or perfect words.
It’s about showing up.
Every single day.
Honest.
Loyal.
True.
It’s about choosing each other, over and over, even when it’s hard.
I think about Brianna.
I get a Christmas card from her every year, postmarked from Oregon.
She’s married now.
To a good man, a teacher.
They have a little boy, a year younger than Hope.
She’s happy.
She’s found her peace.
I’m happy for her.
Truly.
I think about Julian.
He’s still in prison.
He’ll be there for another two years.
He’ll get out when he’s 50, with nothing, no one, a lifetime of mistakes to make up for.
I don’t hate him anymore.
I don’t feel anything for him at all.
He’s just a ghost from a past life.
A reminder of what happens when you choose lies over love.
Greed over honesty.
Myself over everyone else.
I stand up, stretching, looking out over the dark, calm lake.
The stars are bright.
The air is warm, smelling like jasmine and cut grass and the vanilla candle Lila lit in the kitchen.
I can hear her soft breathing through the open bedroom window.
I can hear Hope’s little snores from her room down the hall.
This is home.
Not a house.
Not a place.
This feeling.
This love.
This safety.
This peace.
I walk inside, locking the door behind me, turning off the lights.
I climb into bed next to Lila, wrapping my arm around her, my hand resting on her belly, feeling our son kick against my palm.
She mumbles in her sleep, snuggling closer.
“I love you, Austin.”
I kiss her shoulder, whispering in her ear.
“I love you too, Lila. Forever.”
I close my eyes, smiling.
Justice has been served.
The past is buried.
The future is bright, full of love and laughter and babies and wood shavings and sunsets over the lake.
I am safe.
I am loved.
I am whole.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, I know, without a single doubt, that I am exactly where I’m meant to be.
Home.
