“I love you, Harrison.”
“I love you too.”
EPILOGUE
Zander
Five years later
Harrison wouldn’t stop pacing.
He was losing his crap, and since that was usually me, it was interesting to see from the other side.
“Baby…relax. Wearing a hole through the floor isn’t going to make things happen any quicker.”
It had been an interesting five years for us. I couldn’t sit back and pretend I’d left Mom and Molly in Placerville that day and everything had magically gotten better. Like I’d told Harrison, it would take effort and time. I’d spent most of my life feeling unworthy, like no one could ever love me unconditionally, and that didn’t change just because I had a hot-as-fuck man who adored me.
It had only gotten better with a lot of work on my part, finally confronting my father, and yes, also because of Harrison’s love. We were shmoopy, and I couldn’t help it. I kind of loved it.
“I know, it’s just—” Before he could finish, the door to the waiting room burst open, and then Ross was there.
“She’s here! Baby Jasmine is here!” He threw his hands up in the air, giddy happiness rolling off him in waves. “Trina did awesome!”
“Baby Jasmine’s here?” Harrison asked. “And healthy and everything?”
“Yes, Grandpa. She’s perfect,” Ross replied.
Harrison swayed a little, and I went to him, wrapped my arms around him, held him up the way he’d done for me so many times over the years.
“Oh shit, I’m a grandpa.”
I laughed. “Yeah, old man. You are.”
“Um, Daddy Two, did you forget you’re now Grandpa Two?” Ross asked, and now I was on the way to feeling slightly dizzy myself. He’d been teasingly calling me Daddy Two for years. Not all the time, but from the moment Harrison and I told him we were in love, Ross had taken it upon himself to bust my balls with stepdad jokes as often as possible.
“We’re old,” I said to Harrison. “Well, you are. I’m still your younger arm candy.”
He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I hate you, Mr. Wescott.”
“I know. I hate you too.” We hadn’t gotten married. We’d talked about it a few times, but we’d decided that wasn’t something we needed. We knew we loved each other. We knew we would spend the rest of our lives together. A ceremony and a piece of paper wasn’t what made people a real couple. That was made up in our day-to-day lives, in how we treated each other, in the love we shared. That was all we needed—each other—and we had that now and forever.
I’d tried explaining it to Cameron before. He and I got really close over the years, and he got married almost two years ago, to a great guy. The four of us went out together sometimes.
“Can we see her?” Harrison asked, taking me out of my thoughts.
Ross nodded. “Come on.” He led us to Trina’s room, where she lay in bed, a small bundle in her arms. Her moms were back there with them. The hospital had only allowed two people besides the father in for the delivery, and Harrison had said he would stay in the waiting room.
“Hi,” Harrison said to Brooke and Leslie—Trina’s moms.
“She’s beautiful, guys,” Brooke said. “Trina rocked this delivery.”
“I’m sure she did,” I answered as Harrison and I went to the bedside. “Hi, Jasmine,” I said to the sleeping baby in Trina’s arms. She was red and chubby and perfect.
“She’s incredible,” Harrison said, his voice full of awe and love. “Can I hold her?”
“Of course,” Trina replied. “You just have to wash your hands first.”
We did, and then Harrison took the sleeping baby into his arms. He sat on the small couch in the birthing room, me beside him, as we fell in love with the little human Trina and Ross had made.
I spent a lot of the time watching Harrison watch her. He was still the best man with the biggest heart I’d ever known.
I texted Mom to tell her and Molly that Jasmine had arrived, and sent a photo so they could see her. We’d planned something at Ross and Trina’s later in the week for them to meet her.
That last time with Dad, on Thanksgiving, had been the final straw for Mom. She’d seen how much it affected Molly and me, acknowledged how much it hurt her too, and she had her own confrontation with him. She hadn’t let him back into her life since.
Harrison and I had moved her and Molly to Atlanta the following summer. Mom hadn’t wanted to uproot Molly in the middle of the school year. They lived in an apartment not too far from Harrison and me—we still had our house in Old Fourth.
Mom had talked to George, who’d set her up with a lawyer friend. It hadn’t been much, but she’d been given some long-deserved compensation. She had one surgery that helped slightly, but not as much as we’d hoped. She was still in pain sometimes but doing her best to live her life and be happy.