“Can I cheer now, or are you guys just going to keep beating my ass today when I’ve been such a good boy,” Damien grumbled and we laugh-cried with our friends. I’d forgiven that asshole long ago when he donated blood saving Remi’s life, but this was the icing on the cake.
Epilogue
EVAN
Coming home after my shift was the best feeling in the world. I knew Remi was home with our kids, putting the finishing touches on dinner. A dinner I could safely say wouldn’t kill me or send me running to the dentist. I mean, there were still kinks to work out, but no one went hungry. We all had learning curves and let’s just say a well-meaning cooking class at the college’s culinary school kept us from starving and from personal injury. That and our good friend Carmen was exceptionally patient. I would have gladly bought takeout for the rest of our days, but I took to hiding all the sharp knives in the garage on a shelf only I was able to reach along with brand new pots when necessary.
Ethan was probably cleaning up after football practice. It was hard for me to watch him play sometimes, but he had a natural aptitude for the sport, and I supported him no matter what. Ryder came to a few games but eventually faded into the background. If I had to bet, Ethan was currently chasing his sister, Stella, around the house.
I couldn’t bear to see Remi go through another pregnancy after she hemorrhaged a second time giving birth to Stella. If you want to know what stark terror feels like, it’s knowing you did this to your wife, and you’re helpless to fix it and make her feel better. I was a cop not a surgeon. Paper white looked good on walls, not my pretty girl’s face. Since I couldn’t carry the worry and physically help her, I got a vasectomy soon after and made her promise to never scare me like that again. Barely two years separated my kids; I’d been a little hasty knocking Remi up so quickly. Now we had a ten-year-old and an eight-year-old to contend with. At least we weren’t outnumbered like some of our other friends.
I considered Ethan my own, and Stella wou
ld be breaking hearts and my wallet soon enough between her ballet classes and hanging out with her aunties, who demanded manicures and pedicures in candy pink colors.
“Remi, I’m home!” I opened the garage door to hear our two dogs barking and laughter filling the house from the back. It was the best feeling in the world. “Hey, Genie.” Our elderly orange tabby cat purred loudly, rubbing against my pant leg, sharing his love and his fur with me. I put my bag down and leaned over, giving his head a good rub in the soft spot of his ears. His vision and hearing were slowly going along with his balance as he bopped his head against my knee. His body was only full-looking from his fur. Boney legs wobbled forward and the reality of losing him would be hard on all of us, since he was here from the beginning pushing his way into my house while Ethan claimed my heart and Remi claimed my soul.
I tried not to think about it. I knew the coming months would be hard on Remington if it happened anytime soon. The circle of life was fine until you had to tell your eight-year-old that heaven wasn’t a physical place on Earth. The day her soft grumpy cat wouldn’t be waiting for her after school, looking for treats and head scratches, but forever in her heart would break me. I didn’t relish that parental responsibility and knew I’d be calling my dad for help to see us spiritually through, at least for the kid’s sake. My mom, who was doing well, would bake cookies and feed us through our grief.
“Where is everybody?” I shouted, following the sounds through the living room and kitchen. The counter was filled with takeout trays from Dingleberries and the German restaurant we loved on fancy occasions.
“On the deck, Evan!” Remi shouted back. Her voice echoed through the new addition of our house since we needed the extra room for the kids.
What on earth was my beautiful wife up to?
I opened the door and stepped outside to hear hoots and yells.
“Surprise!” A chorus of voices and kids came jumping out toward me with paper confetti that would take a year to clean up. None of that mattered, though, when small bodies hugged me tightly and red strawberry hair filled my nose.
“Jesus, Remi, tell me you’re not pregnant!” It was impossible or at least it should be impossible. I only half hoped it was possible because I was still traumatized from Stella’s birth. It had better be impossible given the faint memory of sore man parts and icing myself with frozen vegetables because I loved my wife more than I loved my dick.
“Cute.” She slapped my chest, and I pulled her in for a quick kiss on her lips, tasting cherry Coke, her favorite. Looking around me, I saw our friends and family gathered. A banner painted by the kids said, We Love You, Dad! My heart melted and they pushed me to sit in the chair of honor they pulled out for me.
Ethan handed me an envelope. “What’s this, buddy?” I pulled my son in for a hug and ruffled his dirty blond hair, which would always remind me of his biological dad. That was the only physical resemblance he had to Ryder West. Everything else was his mother from his eyes to his temperament. I’d like to think he had my sense of humor and learned to honor his mother from me.
With an uncharacteristic shyness he shrugged and said, “Open it, Dad.”
I peeled open the envelope and my eyes started to water. I heard Damien in the background mutter, “pussy” followed by a sharp slap I was sure came from his lovely and pregnant again wife.
I read the contents of the letter, scanning to the most important words. It was an official request for adoption. Looking up at my wife and son I asked, “Really?”
I had to go back and reread it again to be sure that my eyes and heart weren’t deceiving me. We sparsely talked about me officially adopting Ethan. Ryder had put a stall on past attempts and we decided to not pursue it. Ethan had Remi’s last name and when I married her, she hyphenated her own so it wouldn’t be too complicated for the kids. We never got around to changing it, and everyone in town knew he was mine. Ethan’s father never acknowledged him after his last visit to New Paltz several years ago and we didn’t pursue it. Ryder West could play in the Space Bowl for all we cared as long as he left us in peace. We didn’t need some football star’s money; I made enough that Remi could be a stay-at-home parent if she chose and it worked out fine.
“Yeah, I asked Mom a while ago, but the paperwork for petition finally came. I want you to be my dad for real, like legally real. Maybe change my name too.” Ethan choked up, saying the words, and I knew what he meant because it was hard for me to say it too. When I married his mother, he was still a baby, barely walking as Kristen guided him down the aisle to us.
“Whatever you want, Ethan, we’ll make it happen.” It was the most vulnerable and yet most manly I felt in my life next to taking Remi each night in bed. Something about Ethan’s request made me want to beat my chest and tell the world that, hell yeah, he was always mine and nobody else could claim him.
“Really?” His eyes brimmed with hope.
“Don’t you know I’ve been your dad from the moment I first held you in the hospital. That’s just as real for me, but if you want it legally on paper, then I’m all yours.” The words burned my throat and I let the tears fall freely, not giving a damn.
“Yeah, I want that, Dad.” His voice shook like he’d forgotten how to say the word for a moment. I loved him even more. “I want to be Ethan Kennedy Rooney.”
“I couldn’t ask for a better son to be proud of.” I pulled him into my embrace, hugging my son hard.
Remi gathered Stella and they hugged us hard while our friends and family cheered us through the laughter and tears.
And even that fucking turd Damien choked up with glassy eyes, hugging his ever pregnant wife. I hoped to God he didn’t have a boy to chase after my Stella. One Damien was enough, even if some rivalries softened over time.