Epilogue:

"Eric, come on," Sydney scolded their eight-year-old, standing at his bedroom door. "It's your turn to sit."

"Aw, Maman. Do I have to?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Monsieur Patrice is waiting."

Eric dragged his feet as he obediently followed Sydney down the stairs to the living room where the painter was set up with the half-painted canvas, as he filled in their faces during a half-hour long sitting. Eric sat down on the stool and made a face.

"Eric, straighten up."

He straightened his back with his mother's scolding, and actually managed a smile. Sydney grinned at her son, who had his gorgeous father's looks, except for the straight brown hair, just like she remembered from the picture Weiss had shown her of the painting that night she'd come back in time. Sydney was thankful for the fact that he had his father's stunning green eyes, but mostly she was thankful that she had the selfish pleasure of gazing at those eyes on her husband every day and night for the rest of her life.

She was still thinking about him when she felt his arms slip around her waist from behind her. "Hey. I was just thinking about you," she told him and leaned back into him pleasurably.

"How's he doing?" he nodded to their son.

"Good, so far. Of course, it's only been five minutes."

Michael laughed and ran his hand over her growing stomach. "And the other one?"

"She's fine," she smiled over her shoulder at him.

"You're so sure this one's a girl."

"Mm-hmm. I knew Eric would be a boy."

"Yeah, well, you had a little help with that one." She'd told him on her first night back about the painting, and seeing their son at this stage of eight years old, just over a year before he was born.

"Yeah, you're right, I did. But with this one, I just have a strong feeling that she's our daughter."

They were both quiet for a moment as they watched Monsieur Patrice work his magic on the canvas several feet away. "It's turning out pretty good," Sydney said, and then found herself giggling as she looked at herself in the picture.

"What's so funny?"

She kept her tone soft so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Weiss… He told me that I was making a funny expression in the painting." She pointed to her already painted face in the portrait. "The whole time I was sitting there yesterday, I was thinking about Weiss, and how he will see this someday."

"Mm," Michael agreed behind her.

"I didn't realize I was pregnant in the picture."

He bent to kiss her neck and then tilted his head to study the painting a little better. "No, I guess you can't tell."

"Would you two stop that in public?" Vaughn's mother, Amèlie, scolded their display of affection as she came into the room.

Vaughn stepped back slightly, but Sydney held his arms around her. They'd had this discussion before.

"Maman," he started to explain. "I love my wife, and I'm not going to be ashamed to show her just how much, especially in my own house."

"At least don't behave that way in front of your son," Amèlie relented, and Michael could tell she was remembering her own young love-filled marriage.

"Are you offering to watch him for us?" Michael asked, stepping in front of Sydney, holding her hand behind his back, preparing to pull her away. "I would like a few minutes alone with her…to discuss some things, if you wouldn't mind making sure Eric sits still."

Amèlie eyed him suspiciously, but finally agreed with a smile. "Alright. But don't be gone too long."

Michael pulled Sydney in the direction of the stairs. "I just have…something to tell her."

Sydney waited until they were in their room behind the closed door, before she asked, "What do you have to tell me?"

He smiled, revealing his teeth, and his dimples in his cheeks that only showed up when he was really happy. She'd seen them that night she'd come back to be with him, and on their wedding day, and a thousand times in between. And she was almost always the only recipient.

"I love you," he finally admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You told your mother that you had something to discuss with me."

"Oh…yeah," he said when he realized he was caught, and he bit his lip. "I wanted to ask," he said, and Sydney knew he was making it up as he went. "Are you really happy? Is there anything I could do to make your life here better?"

She draped her arms across his shoulders, and looked thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "Hmm…" she thought about it, and let her eyes fall back to meet his. "There's only one thing I can think of."

"What's that?"

Leaning toward him to prepare for one of his breathtaking kisses, she answered, "More of this."

The End

…but continued in the sequel, "A Past Life".