All these years that passed had been so blissfully wonderful. We’d bought a house in the country, three acres with a wooden playhouse and swing set for Ivy. I’d gotten my degree and worked part-time, the rest spent with our daughter and just enjoying life.
I loved being outside of the home, being independent and helping to contribute to our family, even if I didn’t need to, because Bastian supported us just fine. But I loved being a mom even more, and we were talking about me not working anymore and just focusing on Ivy.
And creating another baby.
And as the years progressed, our lives had changed for the better. So much better.
In the end, it didn’t matter that Bastian was older than me or was my father’s best friend. In the end, Bastian was my husband, my soulmate, and the father of my daughter.
And when you found perfection, you held onto it.
Our relationship might not have been typical or conventional, but it was honest and real.
It was so real.
At the end of the day, nothing else mattered but our lives and if we were happy.
What was important was that Bastian loved me and I loved him.
“You ready to keep trying for that baby?” he whispered seductively, and I laughed.
“Thought you’d never ask.” I lightly squealed in delight when he lifted me off the couch and went into our room.
“Good, because today I am putting that baby in you, sugar plum.”
And I had no doubt he was about to make good on his promise.
The End.