B-Roll to B-Sides (PR Girls & Instalove 2)

“I love you,” I said, not even embarrassed that there were people around. “I belong to you.”

“I belong to you, sweetheart. And I love you so much.”

EPILOGUE TWO

_____

Owen

* Eight Years Later *

Entering the huge family room was now like walking into a cross between an art studio and a film set.

Paints and papers took up the whole work table. The coffee table was covered in little brick sculptures. In the corner, a pink sheet and a tall lamp had become a tent. Another table at the end of the room had a blanket over it, and light and music were spilling out from underneath.

Sure enough, my six-year-old son had Brynn’s phone in his hand, shooting a video of his sculptures.

It was incredible to see such a small child

so focused as he panned up the edge of the building and then zoomed in on a plastic penguin standing on the roof.

My beautiful wife came into the room and placed her hands on her hips in mock anger.

“How am I supposed to ask your dad what he wants for dinner if I can’t text him?” she asked in her best exasperated mother tone of voice.

“Trust me, Mom, he’d understand.”

I shouldn’t have laughed, but couldn’t stop myself.

“Why aren’t you using the camera I gave you for your birthday?”

His thick, wavy hair bobbed as he spun to roll his eyes at me. “Marian is using it to shoot a music video with her stuffies.”

The music got louder as I glanced to the table fort, where the blanket was moving slightly, and the lights were turning from blue to green. It was almost frightening how technologically adept these kids were. They feared nothing, and only wanted to create more, whether video, photography, paintings, or sculptures.

“Adrian, you have three minutes, then I really need my phone.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

The kids went back to their moviemaking and I laughed to myself. They didn’t even care what was for dinner, as long as they could tell us about their day and what they made.

I took two large bags from our favorite takeout place into the kitchen, kissing my wife affectionately as I went past. “Hey, sweetheart. Tell me you didn’t make dinner.”

“No, I didn’t,” she said, taking one of the bags from me so that she could give me a swift kiss back. “I couldn’t text you to find out what you wanted since apparently we now live in a video production studio.”

Walking to the kitchen, we began taking the food from the bags and digging out plates together.

I chuckled. “So Marian is shooting a music video. Of course. That’s totally reasonable four-year-old behavior.”

“Is it? They make sets and everything. I can’t tell if they’re geniuses or just really weird.”

“Who’s weird?” Marian chirped, pulling herself up into her chair at the table, followed by Adrian. “We smelled Chinese food.”

“You’re both weird, because this whole family is weird,” I laughed, ruffling their hair.

Brynn set a plate with four chicken balls in front of them so they could nibble while we arranged the rest.

“Thanks for taking care of dinner,” Brynn said, stepping in my way so that I set down the cups and slid my arms around her. As always, our kiss was gentle, with an undercurrent of raw lust that took my breath away.