Stay(76)

Stephen’s off the bed, leaving me naked from the waist down, headed for the door, when I stop him. “Wash your face!”

“Right.” He pivots, running to the bathroom to do a quick wash, and I push myself up, shaking my head. “What did you do with my underwear?”

He re-enters the room, and scoops a scrap of pink lace off the floor, tossing it at me. “Hurry up!”

“Go on down.” I grab his shoulder, pulling him back for a quick kiss, and he’s out the door before I even have my jeans over my hips.

Loud noises of excitement and disbelief almost make me cry. I can hear in Eli’s voice how happy he is to see Stephen. Ethan is asking when he arrived and how long he plans to stay. I finally descend the stairs, stopping halfway to smile at my boys.

Eli sits on Stephen’s hip, hugging him around the neck. Stephen’s talking to my brother like holding my son is the most normal thing in the world. As I watch them, I realize it is.

“Hey, sis! You didn’t say Hastings was coming for a visit.” Ethan looks up at me, and I smile.

“I didn’t know.”

Eli’s head pops up, and he points to my left hand. “You’re wearing your rings again! Does this mean we’re going home?”

“I…” My jaw drops, and I look from my son to my brother to my husband.

My real husband.

“That’s exactly what it means,” Stephen says.

“Yeah,” I nod, smiling. “That’s what it means.”

Patrice walks in and puts her arms around my brother’s waist, smiling at us as we huddle together, reunited in a hug.

Stephen entered our lives thinking he’d never have a family. He was like that cold, distant mountain, majestic, aloof… and alone. He had no idea how much we needed him to complete ours. I didn’t know how much we needed him.

I hated him.

Now, as unorthodox and questionable as our choices have been, here we are, bonded in a way I know would not have happened any other way. All the challenges, the scary parts, the heartbreaking parts, the humiliating parts—they all got us here.

Looking down at my hand, I slide my finger over the heavy band and sparkling diamond ring. Stephen Hastings is my hero. Now he’s asking me to be his.

Wherever he goes, whatever we do.

I will.

Stay.





Epilogue





Stephen


“Look what Stella’s doing to your stomach!” Eli is on his knees beside the couch, watching Emmy’s pregnant belly stretch into pointy shapes like an alien life form is trying to break out.

It really is freaky when our unborn daughter moves that way, especially when I’m trying to love on her sexy mamma, which sadly has dropped off in the last week.

We’re at the nine-month mark, or the thirty-sixth week as Emmy has taught me to say. Snow is on the ground, and we’re huddled in the pristine living room, the gas log burning as we watch The Blue Planet.

Emmy’s feet are in my lap for a massage, and she finally took maternity leave from her job as a stylist with Elite Media. They were able to transfer her Seattle offer to their Manhattan office, and she’s making enough money now for her own two-bedroom apartment in Turtle Bay—not that she’s going anywhere.

My wife is staying right here.

Looking at the two and a half of them in my big old place cozy and warm, I’m the happiest man alive.

And the luckiest.

To think I almost lost this.

“Stella?” Emmy frowns at me from where she’s propped against the opposite end of the couch. “Do you really want teenage boys standing out in the street yelling her name in the middle of the night?”

What the fuck? Fury replaces my paternal bliss. “If I catch some teenage punk yelling for my daughter in the middle of the night—”

“Whoooa!” Eli falls back on his little butt laughing and pointing. “Your stomach looks like a torpedo!”

Emmy smiles, putting her hand over the pointy little elbow pushing against her skin. Or maybe it’s a foot?

“She’s so active tonight. She must know her big brother’s around.”

His eyes go wide and he gets on his knees again, talking to her stomach. “Hey, little Stella! It’s me, Eli!”

Shit, that kid. I still can’t get over how sweet he is. I wonder if all little boys are that way or if he’ll grow out of it. Either way, he’s going to be a great big brother. He’s totally my side-kick, and I do my damndest to be a good example for him.

“You realize Stella is short for Estella, so you’re not really breaking with the E tradition if you pick that name.” Emmy rakes her fingernails through Eli’s buzz cut.

His hair is slowly growing back, but he still wears a beanie to cover the Frankenstein scars. I tell him it looks like he’s been in a battle, like the real Black Bart. I’m not sure if it helps. Black Bart is starting to notice girls, something his mother is not happy about. I tell her to keep her shirt on. It’s all part of the process.

Actually, she can take her shirt off if she wants…

I digress.

We’re at the nine-month mark for his surgery as well, and no medicine, no seizures. All of us are feeling really good about Eli’s prognosis. Henry is tickled pink and writing a thesis to share at his next medical conference. Emmy and I are talking about re-enrolling him at Pike Academy in January. He misses his friends. Emmy worries so much about him, but I’m trying to help her let him go. He’s got to get back in the game with the other kids.