Page 46 of Dear Mr. Author

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There’s a photo of us both standing at the harbor, next to The Endless Searcher, even if our search was done the moment we laid eyes on each other.

Before we laid eyes on each other.

Anna-Louise makes the cutest little noise as I rock her gently, leaning down I kissing the top of her head. I’ll never get used to the fact this little angel, this perfect bundle, came from us. Just holding her sends so much love dancing around my chest, a whole world of it, expanding inside of me like a promise.

A promise for our future.

And a promise that I’ll always protect her, protect them, our family.

Maddie wanted us to name our daughter after my mother and I wanted us to name her after hers, so in the end, we compromised and named her Anna-Louise, a testament to both our mothers, a sign of a new beginning, one in which we can push away the pain of the past.

This past year has been more love-filled, brimming with more happiness, than any I’ve ever experienced. It’s more than I ever knew was possible, with a million little moments of perfection stacked upon each other. Sure we have our little disagreements but that just makes it all the more perfect, more real.

When I looked down the aisle and saw her standing there, so beautiful in her flowing dress – with just a hint of her baby bump beneath the fabric – I knew I could never be happier.

But then Anna-Louise was born, and I knew the same thing.

Every single day I think I’ve reached my capacity for happiness, but it simply flows and flows, bubbling from inside of me, until I can’t stop smiling. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

My cheeks ache from all the joy flowing through me.

And this morning is going to be just as special.

“I want to get up early,” my woman whispered last night, her words painting my bare chest with her warm breath. “I’m so close to the end. I can taste it. I think a few hundred words and I’m done.”

My wife has had a lot to deal with since I proposed to her, from planning a wedding to the pregnancy to working on her novel. But all through the pregnancy and the planning, she made sure never to forget her fantasy story, going over sections and rewriting, editing, sometimes getting up in the middle of wedding prep to hurriedly search for her laptop.

Watching her passion burn – never stop – has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

“You have to be quiet, baby girl,” I whisper in Anna-Louise’s ear, as she makes a cute murmuring noise and burrows closer to me.

I feel like breaking down into tears every time she moves, every time she breathes. There’s so much emotion stowed up inside of me, bursting out endlessly, love and contentment.

I stop at the door to my wife’s office, glad to see she’s left it slightly ajar.

Pushing the door open softly, I find her sitting at her desk, her fingers flying across the keys.

As I knew he would be, Boxcar is sitting at her feet. He twitches when I open the door and stand in the doorway, glancing at me, but Maddie is so consumed with her work she doesn’t notice.

Even the back of her head sets me alight, her ponytail bobbing as the tap-tap-tap of her creativity becomes the dominant sound in the room. She’s wearing a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants, her favorite writing gear.

The other night she joked that it wasn’t very attractive.

But anything my woman wears gets me going because I know what curvy beauty awaits me beneath.

I swallow, calming myself. Otherwise, I’ll let the hungry beast within take over, dominate my reason, and direct my hands to stroke and please her.

I’ll never grow tired of her, no matter how long we’re together, no matter how many children she has.

Giving birth has only given her a new light, a new vivacity, even more, alluring than before.

Suddenly she stops typing, sits back, and lets out a shaky sigh.

“Are you done?” I whisper.

She flinches and turns, her face changing into a look of pure joy. Tears shining in her eyes.

“I just wrote The End,” she says softly. “But somehow, I think we’re only getting started.”

I smile and stride across the room, kneeling down and wrapping my arm around her as I cradle Anna-Louise to my chest. Maddison cries soft, happy tears, resting her cheek against the other side of my chest. And Boxcar climbs up onto my knee, curling into a ball, eager to be enclosed in all our love.

Extended Epilogue

Ten Years Later

Maddison

I stand at the railing of The Endless Searcher as the sun glistens on the horizon, twinkling beautifully across the ocean, sending sparkling and cozy warmth whirring inside me. Behind me, I can hear Madden and Anna-Lou – she shortened it herself when she was five, loving the sound of it – running around the boat as they play tag.


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