Finding Him (Covet 2)

I started writing this story thinking it was the end of something great, and not realizing it was also the start of something beautiful, something wonderful and new, something that would knock me off my feet. The reason you see comments in the margin of this book, the reason I’m keeping them, is because this isn’t just one love story. It’s two. Both are different. Both are beautiful. The man I first loved left this earth—and he left me with an angel with the name Julian Tennyson to stay with me and help me realize that it’s okay to have two loves, that my love for Julian doesn’t make my love for Noah any less powerful. When someone dies we don’t lose that love, we just make room for more. It’s the one thing that death blesses us with: the ability for our love, our hearts, to stretch in the face of loss. Mine did. By the time this book is published, I’ll be having a baby, and I’d like to think that Noah had something to do with that too . . . I’d like to think the snow falling outside as I type this is another omen that this is how our story was always supposed to be, and that he’s finally at peace.

The End

I left the computer screen open, and then went and lay down in Julian’s bed . . . our bed. And prayed he wouldn’t be mad that I’d left the hospital, or worried. I still couldn’t sleep, so I grabbed my phone and typed out at your apartment then sent the text.

He didn’t respond.

Ten minutes went by.

Another twenty.

I shouldn’t be upset, because it was my fault. “I’m so sorry, Julian,” I murmured.

“Me too,” came his voice.

I jolted up out of bed. He looked like I felt.

Absolute hell.

I burst into tears when he made his way over to me and pulled me into his arms. “Did you mean it?”

“No! Of course not, I was just upset, I think I love you—no, I know I love you and this baby—” I stopped. “Why are you smiling at me?”

“I meant what you typed on the computer, did you mean it?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. “Yes.”

“You typed ‘The End.’”

“Because I knew I needed to make room for a new beginning,” I admitted. “One with you.”

“Not just me.” Julian grinned. “With us.” He touched my stomach. Butterflies erupted as he stared at me in awe and said, “It’s going to be a boy.”

“Men!” I laughed through my tears.

“But even if it’s a girl . . . we’re going to call her—”

“Your mom’s name, we’re going to name her after your mom.”

He sucked in a breath. While I watched him and wondered out loud, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Easy.” He kissed the tears streaking down my cheeks. “Snuck into my cabin with a pointy weapon and tried to fight an elk for my love.”

“Um, that’s not exactly how things—”

He kissed my words away. “So we remember things differently.”

“You threatened me—” Another searing kiss, and then I forgot all about what I was going to say as he peeled my shirt over my head and made me forget every single protest I could have possibly had against arguing.

And when we were naked in our bed, a tangle of arms, legs, mouths, and confessions, I realized that even if it’s messy and makes no sense—that doesn’t mean your love is any less real or true.

It just means it’s different.

“My heart grew for you too,” Julian whispered against my lips. “Now about that cat . . .”

Epilogue

JULIAN

The cabin

Three years later

“YOU DID NOT JUST BUILD A FORT WITHOUT ME!” Bridge shouted over the mountain of snow Izzy had built to barricade herself in. Their little Jill looked like she belonged in A Christmas Story as she tried to meander from the snowball stash back behind the fort for protection, and Leila, well, Leila was just making snow angels then stomping in them for the sheer joy of making snow go everywhere.

I shared a look with Keaton, who had just picked Leila up and was nuzzling her cold face when another snowball came flying by my ear. “Bridge, I will end you!”

“You will end me?” he mocked. “Could you sound any more like a dad right now?”

I burst out laughing and then ducked as another snowball came flying. He really did have great aim.

Had someone told me a few years back that I’d be back at my family’s cabin with my own family, with my brother, his wife, my wife . . . our kids, I would have scowled and laughed in disbelief.

Now, it was everything.

My family was everything.

My wife.

My child.

Our future children.

I’d like to say that the minute the story was published, things were perfect. They weren’t. We realized very soon how much privacy we would need for our family, to protect ourselves from people who had no business judging the way we lived our lives.