Page 197 of Reverie

I slide the door closed and put my back to it. Hunter is silent as he leans over the bed with his hands flat on the mattress.

I watch as he thinks through the bomb just dropped on us.

“We’re free, baby,” I whisper, the words muted but still audible over the hum of the engines.

The baby chooses that moment to kick me, and I want to believe it’s their silent agreement.

Rubbing my belly, I take a step toward Hunter. When I press into his side, he straightens and in a fierce move, grabs my face, cradling a cheek in each palm.

“We’re free,” he says, and the only way to describe his voice is “awed.”

He looks lost and disbelieving and…happy. Carefree.

For once.

I put his hand over my stomach where our baby is doing somersaults.

“And we’re gonna live every day to the goddamn fullest,” I reply.

He leans forward then, not removing his hand from where our child dances, and kisses me again—just a simple press of his lips to mine.

And as we breathe each other in, I allow myself to feel an emotion that’s been firmly set aside for so many months.

I feel hope.

“Let’s rest, Sunbeam,” he says, breathing against my lips.

I don’t acknowledge his request with words. Instead, I crawl into bed with my husband and fall into a deep sleep all the way back to the States.

EPILOGUE

HUNTER

Spring started late, but we’ve managed to catch a day that’s a perfect temperature for the end of March.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Winter says, clutching onto me. She practically vibrates with nerves, and Kitty lets out a quickyipand paws her leg to be picked up.

“Right,” she says, talking to Kitty. Still shaking, she says, “Hold this.”

She unceremoniously drops our six-month-old daughter into my arms.

“Well, hello, ‘This,’” I drawl.

August comes from my left to say, “Her name is Dawn. Why are you calling her ‘This?’” He scrunches up his face and scratches behind his ear.

“Joking,” I tell August, and all he says is, “Oh. Okay,” before pulling away from us to get closer to the view. Winter bends over to pick up Kitty, and she immediately plunges her fingers into his fur. She’s clearly having some moments of distress, but the wide smile on her face seems to win out as the prevailing emotion.

The annual Cherry Blossom Festival starts today, and Winter debated which day to go during the weeklong celebration.

She thought if we went at the end of the festival, there would theoretically be fewer people around. But then she feared that she’d miss the blooms at their peak since the festival’s scheduling isn’t an exact science.

When she decided we should go on day one, she did so with the caveat that we would go at the asscrack of dawn and only stay for a maximum of thirty minutes.

“Pull whatever rich boy strings you have to make sure we can get in and out without having to wade through a sea of people,” she told me as she wrung her hands at the kitchen island where we’d discussed the plans.

“For you, Sunbeam? Anything,” I’d responded

Dawn lets out an adorable raspberry that transmutes into an indelicate squawk.