EPILOGUE
NADIA
8 months later
The smell of freshly baked apple pie spread around the house as I made my way downstairs, my stilettos tapping on the marble floor. I kept glancing at the screen of my cell phone, checking for missed calls, even though the device was glued to my palm for the last five days.
“Good morning!” my mother said cheerfully, turning around to look at me as she cleared the post-baking mess. “Any news?”
“Still nothing. I wish they would do something!” I huffed for the hundred time this week, pouring myself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.
Over the past eight months, we managed to bury the hatchet. Well, I did. I forgave her for cheating on Dad, and slowly, we rebuilt our relationship. We were never to be as close as her and Nick, but we were getting closer every time she visited.
After Adrian’s death, I realised life was too short to hold a grudge. It was too short to live in the past, and it was too short to allow blame and guilt to drag me down. I accepted Adrian’s choice to drown in his addiction; I made peace with his abuse and death. Nothing made me feel as close to normal as accepting that my Dad’s death was no one’s fault.
My guilt shifted, blame dispersed and the huge burden lifted off my shoulders, making it a hundred times easier to move on from all the bad that happened during the last four years.
Three months after Adrian’s funeral, I stopped the anti-depressants. One month later, I reduced my therapy sessions to twice a week.
Thomas remained my pillar of hope and strength. In the moments of weakness, he was right there by my side, chasing the memories away, keeping me grounded, happy and hopeful.
I glanced at the engagement ring, smiling. Thomas went down on one knee while we were away in Rome for his birthday in May, but despite the initial rush, we hadn’t yet set a date for the wedding. We focused on getting me back to normal, as normal as I could be.
“It takes time, sweetie. The due date is just an estimate. You were late eleven days.”
“I know,” I sighed. “But Mel’s so uncomfortable now. I mean, the whole pregnancy was a struggle, but now she’s so miserable that I’m worried.”
The summer, which was unusually hot for England, took a huge toll on Mel. The third trimester during the summer months was no joke. Karen flew over last week to help with the new-borns. The guest bedroom at the cottage was turned into a baby room, and I invited her to stay with me and Thomas.
In most cases, twins arrive two to three weeks early, but Jasmine and Daisy stayed put, enjoying the safety of their mummy’s tummy too much to vacate the premises. Today marked the fourth dateafterMel’s due date. We were all growing impatient, especially since tomorrow Amelia was booked in for induction, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs after reading some horror stories online.
Google—a pregnant woman’s best friend.Not.
Karen opened the oven and put a tray of cookies in, then set the timer for thirty minutes and hung the kitchen towel over her shoulder. She spent time batch cooking for Mel and Nick so they wouldn’t have to worry about food during the first few weeks, but she filled their freezer after three days. She then cleaned their house top to bottom, and once she ran out of tasks, I asked for an apple pie.
“What time will Thomas be back?”
He had been away on business trips in Madrid, Milan, and Prague for the past two weeks. If Mel wasn’t expecting to go into labour any minute, Nicholas would be away with him, which would have shortened both of their trips. But since Melwasexpecting to go into labour any minute, Thomas had to take over Nick’s share of the meetings.
I checked the time on my phone. “He landed half an hour ago.”
Karen smiled, hearing the excitement in my voice.
“I’m sure he missed you. Don’t worry; I’ll get out of your hair soon. Nick is supposed to pick me up in an hour. I think he needs help with keeping Mel in good spirits.”
My phone rang in my hand. I spilled the coffee trying to answer, put the coffee down and got up seeingNickflash on the screen.
“Are we in labour?!” I asked.
“Yes, we are! We’re just getting in the car. Meet us at the hospital, but wait for Thomas, okay? I called him, and he’s ten minutes away from home. Mel’s contractions are three minutes apart. There’s time.”
“Okay, we’ll be there soon!” I disconnected the call and jumped up and down, hugging Karen. “Get ready! Thomas will be here in a minute, and we’re going straight to the hospital.”
Karen rushed upstairs to change, while I cleaned the spilled coffee and paced the kitchen, counting down from ten minutes. The main door opened just as Karen descended the stairs.
I rushed out to the hallway. Thomas dropped his bag on the floor just as I crashed into him like a small battering ram.
“Finally,” I muttered.