“Is an even greater woman changing diapers and lecturing about computer science,” she says in a deep voice before she cracks up laughing. We both do.
“The first part’s true though,” I tell her, getting serious for a moment. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know where I’d be, Katelyn. You’re everything to me, to us.”
“I love you, honey,” she rasps, smiling and I lean down to kiss her again, finding my mark, even upside down.
“I love you more,” I whisper. “Now, can we make another baby?” I ask her, grinning at my newfound excuse to make love to her at every chance.
As If I need an excuse.
“I think we’d better,” she agrees, and in a second she’s under the covers, the pair of us laughing, kissing, and hugging like two kids, so hung up on the other and loving every minute of the adventure we share.
The time of our lives because it is our life.
Together, forever.
Two hearts, one beat.
One love.
Extended Epilogue
Thirteen Years Later
Katelyn
“But Professor Heart, surely there’s a common denominator, a base factor that one can use to underpin any analysis of this kind of data…”
I feel my brow lift and I smile, hitting the ‘mute’ key at the same time as I run the sequence before I turn in my chair, ready to go back to bed with the only man I feel like talking to right now.
“Again?” Wes asks, pretending to be asleep.
“What better way to test the computer generated me than on my students? It’s the same theory we’re discussing in the course, and none of them have ever picked up on it,” I tell him with a satisfied smile.
“Uh huh,” he grunts, rolling onto his back and making a smacking sound with his mouth.
“You still feel terrible?” I ask, giggling when he makes his sick face.
“And you want mommy Heart to kiss it all better?” I ask seductively.
Wes’s eye opens with interest. His head nodding firmly.
“That I do,” he informs me, reaching for my hand and trying to force it on himself before I yank it back, laughing.
“You’re a sick man Wesley Heart, and I don’t want your germs,” I tease him.
I kiss his forehead in sympathy, changing my mind a little when I feel how hot he really is.
“No, seriously Wes, you’re burning up. You’re a hot guy, but this isn’t the kind I like, let’s get you in the shower, mister.
I cool him off under the cool water and give him some aspirin, my artificial intelligence program hosting my online lectures across three platforms in the background as I get my man back to our bed.
Jamie calls out for me from downstairs, she’s fighting with her sister again, and then baby Ryan starts to squawk, with none of the other kids even pretending like they can hear or even wanting to help out.
This is family life, 2033, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I’ll go,” Wes murmurs, sounding feverish still but at least his temperature’s coming down a little.
“I’ll go,” I tell him, tucking him in and asking if he wants tomato or chicken soup.
“Tomato chicken,” he replies instantly, and I can see where each of the kids gets their smart mouth from.
Maybe a little from their mom too.
“Chicken tomato it is then, fever boy,” I tell him, smiling at how cute he looks when he’s sick, telling me ‘no I want tomato chicken’ but I also decide to call doc Winters after I go check on Ryan, who’s due for his feed too.
Feverish Wes is amusing, but he’s rarely sick and I know he’ll need all his strength for his upcoming position this coming season.
Jamie would be gutted if her dad couldn’t coach her gymnastics team.
“Be right back, Mr. Heart,” I whisper, kissing his brow once more, telling myself he’s fine but still fretting as I pick up Ryan on the way through to the kitchen, hollering that there’s Tomato chicken soup for anyone who wants any.
Cries of “Ewww, gross” and “Mom, I’m trying to eat actual food here,” are echoed back from the kids.
“I guess it’s all for daddy then,” I tell Ryan, watching him mimic my shrugs as I blow raspberries, getting his dad’s soup ready after giving him his bottle.
One can chicken, one can tomato.
Looks way better than it tastes, but he did ask for it.
“Icken ummato!” Ryan calls out suddenly, tossing his bottle on the floor once I hand it to him.
Maybe I’m feverish, did Ryan just say something?
“Icken ummato!” he shrieks again, laughing and sticking out his tongue.
Dear God, he’s just like his father.
“Chicken tomato?” I ask him, offering him some of daddy’s soup, not quite hot yet from the pan.
Yup. He’s his father’s son alright.
Ryan starts to hum loudly, smearing the soup and spoon all around his mouth, which he opens wider as he gets louder.