by Miley Maine
“They’re a rowdy bunch and always curious,” she explained. “I didn’t want to have to answer too many questions. But thank you for suggesting that they could all be apart of the wedding. I’m sure they really appreciate that.”
“Of course. Anything for you, and them. After all, they’re part of the reason I met you in the first place.”
After we had finished with the class, Emma didn’t have any other obligations that day, so the two of us left early. In the car, I turned to her.
“Have you thought about it yet? Names I mean.”
“Hmmmmm.” She considered it for a moment. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t really. I love names like Bella or Rose, something pretty like that. But I don’t know what name I would want to pick for a boy.”
“What about Peter?”
I had always liked the name Peter. It was a good name, and it reminded me of Peter Rabbit, which had been one of Gavin’s favorite characters.
“I like Peter,” she said with a laugh. “Wouldn’t it be rather funny then if his favorite animal was a bunny?”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” I replied. “It’s a good name.”
“Alright, then we’ll name the child Peter if it’s a boy and either Bella or Rose if it’s a girl.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
I started up the car and drove the two of us back home.
Emma and I had decided that it would be best for her to just move into the mansion for now and end her lease on her apartment. We gathered the rest of her things from it after we decided to make the current living situation permanent. Thankfully, Luke hadn’t broken in after that so there was no damage done.
We made some adjustments to the living space so that the master bedroom was a blend of both of our aesthetics and one of the guest bedrooms was permanently converted into an art studio.
We also went through the rather emotional process of changing Gavin’s old room back into a nursery. Emma reminded me that keeping it as it was would only be creating a capsule of grief and it was better to have the memories and make room for something new so that I wouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount of sadness every time I walked by the door.
I was grateful for her support during the process.
When we got home that day after announcing the news to her students, I had a surprise for her.
I sat her down in the living room, sitting across from her, and pulled a sturdy leather-bound book out of my bag.
“This was just sent over from Paris. They would like you to come in person to review it all with them, but I insisted that they send over a sample book,” I said, handing her the book.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, stroking the leather cover and gingerly opening it up to reveal sketches upon sketches of all sorts of wedding gown designs, complete with fabric and beading and embroidery samples.
Some of them really did seem to capture moonlight and hold the stars within the skirts. It was the magic of the Haute Couture houses.
“It’s really happening,” she said, happy tears welling up in her eyes. “This is more than I could have ever dreamed of. It’s really like a fairytale.” She fingered one of the sample pieces of fabric, letting out a sigh. “It’s as soft as clouds.”
“I wanted you to have a wedding dress that was as unique as you,” I explained with a smile. “You’re precious and wonderful to me, and so I figured your dress should be just as special and beautiful. We go in a week to meet with them in person and schedule times to come back for fittings and reviews.”
“To Paris?”
“Of course. Where else?”
“Will we eat more crepes?” she asked with a dreamy sigh.
“And read books in the park. And have all the croissants your heart desires. Really, I think at this rate you’ll grow tired of the sweets that Paris has to offer and demand Baklava from the Mediterranean.”
“I could never grow tired of crepes.”
“Whatever you say.”
I sat down next to her, kissing her on the cheek gently, and looking over her shoulder at the book of sketches and fabric and magic.
I had already had a quick flip through it once I had received it as I had wanted to make sure that it was fit for Emma. I had also been a little curious. I was even more curious now to really see what sort of designs they had come up with.
“Shall we look through it together?” I asked.
“Yes, let’s,” she said with another sigh.
The two of us spent the evening looking through the book and eating sweets that my cook had baked for the two of us. After we had tired of looking at wedding dresses, we turned on an old love film instead.
Emma fell asleep in my arms, curled up into my side, with the soft music of a love song playing in the background. I carried her up to the bed, setting her gently under the covers and tucking her in with a kiss on her forehead before sliding in next to her.
Apparently, she wasn’t quite asleep yet, because she spoke my name in a sleepy voice. “Vincent?”
“What is it, my dear?”
“Can all our days be like this?”
“As many as possible.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. With all that is in my power, I shall endeavor to make each day just as lovely as this one.”
Epilogue
Emma
Several months later, little baby Peter was born without any complications.
It was the most painful moment of my life, but also the most beautiful. When I first held my son in my arms, I knew that he was going to be special. He looked up at me with his wide dark eyes and I fell in love instantly.
We decided to wait another year for the wedding. Partly so we could make it perfect. And partly so that my dress could be properly made to fit my body after pregnancy.
After we came home from the hospital, Vincent spoiled me and Peter, making sure that our every need was attended to. You could see on his face just how happy and grateful he was that there haven’t been any complications with the birth.
He had been so concerned in the process, squeezing my hand tight and demanding that a doctor be in the room for the whole thing. I hoped that the fact that everything went smoothly showed him that tragedy was not destined to repeat itself.
The universe was letting us exist in our happiness, payment back for everything that it had taken from the two of us.
Now Peter was all settled into the new nursery and growing stronger and bigger every day. You could already tell that he was an intelligent child, and he was as curious as any baby should be. Every time that we talked to him he listened intently, eyes wide and taking everything in.
He was the light of my life and the beginning of a new start for both me and Vincent. Every time we spent time with him we were reminded that our relationship could, and was working. More than working. We were thriving.
It was around this time that we decided it would be a good idea to throw a baby shower for Peter. We had thought about doing it before he was born, but we wanted to wait until the birth to know the baby’s gender and we knew that people generally ended up buying gendered things for baby showers. It was a bit unavoidable, so we decided to embrace it.
So one month after baby Peter was born, all happy and healthy and joyful about the state of the world, we threw a sort of first party for him, his baby shower.
We would wait to do the wedding until later that year so that we had a chance to just enjoy our family before having to worry about all the planning that was involved with that kind of event.
I invited the teachers that I taught with, the principal, and also my family. It had been a while since I had been in touch with my mother and father so I knew that they were surprised to hear from me.
But also grateful that I was safe.
They were concerned when I explained the whole situation of why I had cut contact and left, but grateful that it had all been taken care of. They continued to assure me over and over again that I could talk
to them no matter what.
It had been Luke who had first forced me to cut most of my contact with them, and I had been worried that if I kept in touch with them, he would find out and hurt them. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.
But now everything was over, a happy ending, and I realized that I never should have shoved them out of my life in the first place.
They were going to take a permanent place in it now. In fact, when one of the houses in the neighborhood had gone up for sale, Vincent bought it and convinced them to move in so that they could live close to us. He wanted them to be apart of Peter’s life, since his own parents had died when he was young, and my parents quickly took a liking to him.
They called him a real gentleman and everything that they had hoped I might find in a man of my own.
They were over at the house now, helping us prepare for the baby shower. My mom had taken over the kitchen in order to bake, ordering Vincent’s cook to sit down and take a rest and just taste the cookies and scones she was making for the event.
I wandered into the kitchen, little baby Peter sitting on my hip.
“Is it all going okay?” I asked.
Vincent’s cook turned towards me with a conspiratorial look. “At least she’s not making a mess of my kitchen like Vincent would.”
I laughed. “That is true. What do you think Peter? Is Daddy messier than you?”
I knew that Peter was not yet at his messiest. Once he transitioned to baby food though, that would be a whole other story.
“In the kitchen, yes,” my mom joined in. “I tried to get him to help me with these chocolate chip cookies and he’s an absolute disaster. Somehow managed to get some of the dough on his nose.”
“Glad you exiled him then,” I said with a laugh. “Where is he? Things are starting soon, and I want him to take Peter for a bit so I can make sure everything is in place.”
“I think he’s outside with your dad. Your father pulled him aside to show him the car he just bought. Really, I don’t understand why he felt the need to buy a sport’s car. It’s not like we drive that fast.”
“I think he’s just always wanted one,” I said with a little laugh.
It had taken my dad a little longer to warm up to Vincent. He was protective of me, of course, but then he had realized that he could talk to Vincent about luxury cars and all that sort of thing and it hadn’t taken long for the two of them to become close.
Vincent wasn’t particularly interested in cars, but he humored my dad. And he was learning more now that my father had taken him in under his wing. The two of them had plans to start customizing an electric car soon.
I hadn’t realized that with the baby shower preparations underway, my dad felt out of place enough to retreat to the garage.
So I went out to find the two of them so that I could hand off baby Peter while I finished checking that everything else was ready.
Just as my mom had said, the two of them were right outside the garage, looking at the new sportscar that my dad had just bought.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” my dad was saying. “She can get up to sixty in under five seconds.”
“That’s incredible,” Vincent replied, but he clearly had no idea what my dad was actually talking about.
“Vincent, darling,” I said, catching his attention.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Would you mind Peter for a few minutes? At least until the party starts, I want to make sure that everything is ready.”
“Of course! He can start learning about cars!” my father said, and I let out a little laugh.
“You know he hasn’t shown much interest in that yet, but you’re welcome to try.” I handed Peter over to Vincent, who began cooing to him and asking him about his day and what his mommy had been up to. The two of us were doing our best to talk to Peter as much as possible. We knew that it was good for his development.
“Thank you,” I said. “Let me know if you need anything at all. I’ll just be inside.”
“Of course.” Vincent pressed a kiss to my forehead, Peter snuggled in between us. “You know I’ll be fine. I’ve watched him quite a bit before.”
It was true. The two of us were trying to have equal parts in Peter’s upbringing so that he formed a healthy relationship with both of us.
I headed inside, checking that the party area had been decorated and all of the games for the baby shower were set up. I hadn’t been necessarily keen on including games but my mom had insisted. She said it was an important part of any baby shower, and the guests would be expecting it.
The food table was set up with veggies and fruits and homemade little triangle sandwiches, as well as tea. We were just waiting now on my mom to finish baking the sweets she had wanted to make, and then that part of the setup would be all complete.
Some of the maids were still blowing up pale blue and white balloons, so I sat down with them with a smile to help finish the task.
I was still getting used to the idea of having staff, or servants, at the house. It was a strange concept for me, but I was working on building relationships with each of them. Their work made the upkeep of the house that much easier, and we had since hired a couple more with the arrival of baby Peter, so that everyday tasks wouldn’t seem as overwhelming in the face of taking care of a newborn.
Altogether it felt like a perfect life.
The two of us had started sponsoring more programs like the one I had taught at.
I had decided to take a leave from my position, though I had been a big part of choosing who to hire next, as I wanted to make sure that I had as much time with Peter as possible. I didn’t want to leave his raising to anyone else and I wanted to make sure that I had even more time to dedicate to the logistics of starting up new programs for underprivileged kids.
So far we had set up two more, in two public schools in low-income communities in Florida. They were already doing great work and we were set to open up a third. We had gained several other rich donors to the cause and so our expansion could continue easily.
I was thinking of turning my work into a nonprofit. It would be something that I could work on from home and it would add more incentive for people to donate, which meant we could open even more programs.
Eventually, I wanted to give the kids that we were working with the opportunity to exhibit their work in a gallery space. Some of them had already taken quite a liking to the art program, and it had decreased a lot of discipline problems. I wanted to show them that they could keep doing this, and really use it to further themselves in the world.
But that was an initiative for another time when I didn’t have so much on my plate.
For now, I was quite content with the way things were going, in all aspects of my life.
My parents were back in it. Vincent and I had found our happy ending. I could continue my work as a social artist. And baby Peter would grow up in a loving and creative environment, surrounded by so many people that cared for him dearly.
I hoped that he would never feel out of place and that, in the future, we could provide that feeling to more children.
For now though, it seemed to be the perfect Happily Ever After.
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