EPILOGUE
“There is no happiness like that of being loved by your fellow creatures, and feeling that your presence is an addition to their comfort.” -Emily Bronte
I t has been magical; Owen has completed me. The fullness I feel is indescribable.
It is Owen’s birthday. The last day of his forties. Kyra and I are hosting a party at the house, in the yard, with our closest friends. Before me, Owen kept this beautiful home under lock and key, without a reason to celebrate, he says. But in the last seven years, we have hosted so many lovely parties and it fills my heart to see people enjoy this beautiful, lovely home. And Owen loves the happiness it brings me.
Marie cooks in the kitchen; a menu that Owen has planned of course. Seven years later and he still fills me with wonderful food and wine daily, only now I must work out to stay thin-oh finally! No more being thin from hunger. And now it seems like a different lifetime-me, lonely, hungry, wanting, inexperienced. Owen and Kyra have saved me.
Kyra dances in the den, Edward’s tiny hands clinging to hers, his feet on the tops of her shoes. His cheeks are full and rosy, his adoration for his older sister written on his face, eyes beaming up at her.
When I first got pregnant, Kyra distanced herself from us for a while. She processed it all in her own way, and we let her. But she was there the night Edward was born, and Thomas, too. She loved them both so deeply the moment they arrived and it all brought us even closer.
And Owen admits he never saw himself with a four-year-old and threeyear-old at age forty-nine, but he also thought he’d never love, share his life or be happy. Yet here we are-sweet children scampering at our feet, Kyra here often-it is perfection.
And she’s found her own success and happiness, now, too finally.
Kyra is running a popular podcast about dating and relationships. She hosts it with her beau, they’ve recently become engaged and he is wonderful. A psychologist, a funny, kind man who matches her pep with wit, her warmth with love and her energy with passion. The boys will be part of her ceremony and I know I will sob deeply as I watch Owen gives her away. He raised a wonderful-supremely wonderful-woman with Kyra and he is so good with our sons. Each day with him is better than the last.
NOW, on his fiftieth birthday, we celebrate him.
After our wonderful dinner comes to a close, he rises and the way he looks in a suit still warms me from the inside out. His hair-still thick and luscious-is peppered more generously with age now. But his body is still utter perfection. I swear the man gets better looking every year.
He clears his throat. “Thank you to everyone for helping us celebrate my birthday. I certainly don’t feel deserving of the fuss,” his eyes lock to mine and it’s like we’re alone. He draws his hand to his heart, across his strapping chest.
“My darling, the last seven years of my life have been wonderful. You have awakened me in places I had thought would never stir again. Your love is everything-and my beautiful daughter is responsible for us-our divine meeting. I thank her, I thank you for our beautiful sons. You have brought me more than love and happiness. You have brought me completion.” He smiles at Kyra, the boys and then to me before raising his glass to the group of friends.
“Cheers to the lot of them-they are far more deserving of this celebration than I. Cheers.”
He leans in-his scent still makes me heady-and kisses me.
And I realize in the commotion of the day that I have no yet made love to my husband. And as his lips pull away from my, I know that my need will not stay stifled much longer. My eyes twinkle up at him and I discreetly bite my lip. His eyes blaze and we’ve silently agreed to sneak away. “Keep an eye on the boys for me, please, Marie?”
She smiles, knowing. It is her last year with us. Owen has purchased a single home for her to retire in and while I’m excited for the next part of her life, I will miss her. She has become a dear friend, a mother figure, and much more.
And we sneak away together, leaving the party behind. I am greedy for his body as he drops to his knees, slipping my panties aside, tasting me. My arms grip to the wall, my bottom resting on the bathroom counter top. I fill my fingers with his hair and watch him go down on me, the familiar need tight in my belly.
What a wonderful life I have with Owen, my lover, my husband.