Page 12 of Worth the Wait

“He wouldn’t hear it anyway,” Carter hollers. “He’s so full of shit. That’s gotta clog the eardrums.”

Teddy throws a fry at him, which is intercepted by Frederick as he snags it in mid-air only to wag it in Teddy’s direction. “These are not a weapon. They are gifts and should be treasured.” And then he stuffs it in his mouth. “Like that.”

“You got your gift all over my shirt,” Carter informs him as he brushes it off.

Unashamed, Frederick shrugs. “I’m a giver.” I watch their banter; unaware I’m crying until my vision grows blurry.

“Bells?” Peter asks, his tone questioning. I smile at his newfound nickname for me. He used it, quite by accident he admitted, for the first time last week. When he saw my reaction to it, a bit similar to what he’s seeing from me now, he started sliding it in conversations. Even just saying it here and there, out of the blue.

“I’m happy,” I quickly assure him. “You gave me something I haven’t had in so long.” Pressing my lips to his, I linger a bit before parting. Because I can. “A family.”

“I will always give you what you need, sweetheart.”

“All I need is you. The rest is merely a bonus.” As if he can’t stand to have the slightest distance between us, Peter lifts me out of my chair and puts me on his lap. I love when he does this. Snuggling against him, the noise around us fades as he wraps his arms around me. “You were worth the wait, Peter Hawkins.”

**Peter**

As much as I hate that Mrs. Green’s actions hurt my woman, in a way, I owe her. Yes, I have no doubt Bellamy and I would’ve eventually gotten to this point. That being said, how long would it have taken us? How many days, months, or years?

With my job, there is no guarantee of tomorrow. A possibility that is true of everyone, of course, yet some have a higher risk of it becoming a reality. I want as many of them with Bellamy as I can have and would’ve gladly taken them however I could get them.

But knowing I’ll get them with her by my side, as my wife, is the best way.

Epilogue One

Bellamy

Three years later…

“How was work?” Peter asks as he opens the door for me, an ice cold glass of lemonade in his hand. Knowing it’s for me, I take it, drink half, then kiss him. “Even sweeter than usual,” he says before stealing another.

“Busy.”

“You love it.”

“Not quite as much as I do you, but yes.” We’re so sappy that his team has started referring to us as Poplar and Birch. Yeah. Trees. To which Peter insisted they leave us alone or we’d branch off. That started a whole conversation using puns and is now one of my greatest memories.

Along with it, though nowhere near as cherished as my wedding day, is getting offered my current position.

After the debacle that Mrs. Green attempted, Peter had insisted on defending me. Seeing as I didn’t believe I’d done anything wrong; I’d tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. He knew how important my career is to me. That it’s more than just a job. Peter gets it because it’s the same with him.

He scheduled a meeting with the powers that be and proceeded to tell them it was irresponsible to let one person have so much say. That their money shouldn’t be able to buy that autonomy. Yes, they had a right to their opinion, just as everyone else does. But if having that kind of power is what matters most to them, then their funding comes with a price that’s too high to pay because it costs them people that truly care about their patients.

Peter had then gone on to explain that we’d gotten engaged and rhetorically questioned them how many other instances could have worked out just as positively had the couple been given the opportunity to do so.

While I don’t know if any of it made a difference, I do know it made them think about what he said and maybe that would have to be enough.

It didn’t hurt that shortly after that visit it came to light that Mrs. Green had been seeing a married man. And I don’t mean her husband.

So, yeah. Perhaps she felt guilty about what she was doing and was casting aspersions on others to appease it.

Who knows and who cares.

I don’t want people to judge me, so why would I judge them?

A month after Peter proposed, we got married. At first, we’d discussed delaying our nuptials, figuring we could wait, get better acquainted before taking that step. Then we decided we didn’t want to.

We knew what we wanted and that was each other.