AUTHOR'S NOTES:
OKAY! I know what I said, but that last chapter didn't quite feel like "it" for me. So this is another epilogue. Thank you Sara (SaryNotSary) for helping me so much! This chapter won't be possible without her. All the equestrian stuff in this chapter is solely her doing. But as for horses' scenes in the previous chapters, it was mine and I'm terribly sorry you had to read that. LOL.
Also, I feel like I should explain why I waited YEARS for Claire and Owen finally get engaged. I felt like if I got them engaged within the first years of their relationship, I would be undermining their previous emotional conflicts (with Claire's dad and Owen's abhorrence to relationships). I didn't wanna them to just "jump" into it just for the sake of a quick happy ending, ya know? Special things take their time. ;)
PS. OH, and I have a surprise at the end. You just have to read everything. *wink wink
Enjoy.
"For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack."
- Rudyard Kipling
EPILOGUE
Sprawled on the carpet, with her ankles crossed and legs bent up like a mermaid tail behind her, the girl kept reading.
She had become so engrossed in her book, that she'd forgotten about her audience. Said audience comprised of a variety of plush jungle animals. They had been a "bargain" — a word she had learned from Uncle Lowery, and had managed to strike with her dad.
"The lea—der of the — wolf pack, de…cided, there was on-ly one way to.. keep Mowgli safe. The— boy must be ta-taken to the main vill- vill… village," they s-said. Bagheera agree-ed to… take him, there."
She narrated slowly to herself; at 5, she was an early reader. Her eyes devoured each word and illustration of her new book. The book had been a gift from Grandpa Ian and Grandma Sarah, who she'd met two days earlier.
They were visiting from Seattle, and her parents couldn't be happier. And she'd loved them both in an instant. Even more so when Grandma Sarah had taught her how to take pictures with her camera. Grandpa Ian had made her a drink with 7up and cherries. Shirley Temple. Legal for the kids, don't worry, she remembered him saying to her mom and dad. When Grandpa Ian had asked her which grandparent was cooler, she couldn't decide... Which made them all laugh in a way that the girl felt was more at her expense than the adults in question.
"Lizzie? Lizzie?"
She raised her head at the call of her nickname and the door opening. Zara, the very pretty lady with a Peppa Pig accent, smiled down at her. Her mom's friend opened the door further. She was holding what she always seemed to be holding; a sheaf of binders.
"You alright here, love?"
Lizzie nodded and waved her book at her. "I got a new book, Auntie Zara, look!"
"That's awesome! I love the Jungle Book!" The lady enthused, but she stayed at the door.
"Is Jana and baby Adam with you?" she asked, craning her neck to see if her playmates were hiding behind Zara.
"Oh, not today honey. They're with their dad and grandma today."
"Oh. Will I see them this week?" she asked again, hope was ringing in her voice.
"Of course!" the British lady crowed. "You can come over to our house anytime!"
"Splendid!" she exclaimed, copying Jana's favorite adage, rousing another chuckle from Zara. "Can I bring my books too?"
"I don't see why not. Now, do you want anything? Some crisps while you wait for your mom?"
The five-year old shook her head. "No, no. I'm good. Thank you."
"Her meeting's gonna be over soon. She'll be with you shortly, okay?"
She shrugged, her nose already buried in her book. "It's okay. I like being alone with my book."
The lady nodded as she held the doorknob, "Alright love. Call me if you want anything, okay? I'm right next door."
But before Zara could finally close the door, Lizzie called out again. "Are Uncle Lowery and Daddy back already?"
The adult paused at the door, and pulled the binders closer to her chest. "If I remember it right, your Dad flew out to Sacramento again. They'll be back this evening."
"Oh." She replied, a bit disappointed.
Zara tilted her head at her the same way Claire did when she's asking a question. "Do you want me to call him?"
"No. That's alright." Lizzie extended her arm on the carpet to grab the emergency phone her dad gave her and frowned at the empty screen. "I called him a while ago. But he didn't pick up."
Her parents have always been busy people, Lizzie was well aware of that. From what Grandpa Ron had told her, her parents were both "fairy godparents" to the community.
Her dad had been helping other moms and dads whose kids are in the hospital. He had also been granting signed papers that "magically" sent the older kids to school. He had built houses for the people living under bridges, thrown huge parties and flown all over the country. Whereas her mom talked to a lot of people and gave them something to do. Lizzie would always see her at home talking to people on her laptop. Her mom would ask them all sorts of grown-up questions. All of them wore suits and ties, the kind that her dad didn't like wearing. The people on the other end always looked so scared, which Lizzie thought was funny. "My mommy isn't scary." She had stated to one employee when her mom had left the room to use the toilet.
Nonetheless, they never neglected their parental responsibilities. Lizzie always had their undivided attention. (But it had never come to the point of coddling her.) Lizzie loved spending her afternoons either in her mom's office or her dad's, though lately, she preferred her dad's because her mom had been working from home and Aunt Zia was visiting this week!
On the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw Zara open the door wider and step into the room. "I'm sure your dad just missed it. Do you want me to call your Uncle Lowery for him?"
She shook her head. "It's okay. I left a message."
"What'd you say?" Zara questioned before she added in a teasing tone, "Please tell me you told him to hide Uncle Lowery's glasses again."
Lizzie laughed, remembering the day she, Aunt Zara and Aunt Zia had pulled a prank on her godfather.
"No, no. I told him that mommy was having tummy aches"
"What?!"
Lizzie jumped at the sudden high pitch of Zara's voice and explained: "Mommy was having tummy aches this morning and before lunch. And before she went to the grown-up room."
She watched as Zara set down the papers and searched her pockets. "Where the hell—"
"La! La! La! La!" Lizzie shrieked in warning and covered her ears so she wouldn't hear the rest of what she knew was a bad word. She narrowed her eyes at the woman.
Zara gave her an apologetic smile and cleared her throat. "I meant, where the Hello Kitty is my phone?"
"You can borrow mine." Lizzie grabbed her dad's emergency phone and offered it to the stressed lady; she was happy to help. Then she retreated and plopped down the carpet again, grabbing her book.
"Come on, Owen. Come on." Zara murmured. Lizzie stole another glance at her again. She had her free hand on her hip, one foot tapping the floor with impatience. It reminded her of her mom when she was trying to make her or her dad do something.
Lizzie sat on her heels, unused to the woman's anxious behavior. "Are you okay, Aunt Zara? Can I help?"
Zara put down the phone on the coffee table beside her lunch box and gave her a small nod. "I'm gonna check on your mom and call your dad. I'll be back, okay?"
But before the young girl could nod back, they heard a scream from outside. They both turned their heads towards the open door. Lizzie would've scolded Zara for muttering another bad word, but the woman was already running towards the door.
"Daddy!" Her footsteps resonated on the floor with rhythmic slaps. She passed by Vivian, Sarah, Allen and Marianne, who all gave her a wide berth.
"Daddy!" She yapped, excited and unaware of everyone's worried expressions. Lizzie threw her arms up, ready for the "space lift" her dad always indulged her with.
At the sound of his little girl's voice, Owen's tense shoulders relaxed. His apprehension wavered, if only a little.
He bent his knees, catching and picking up the giddy child. Long tendrils of fiery-red hair had escaped her ponytail, thus sticking to her skin. His daughter huffed, pushing the stubborn strands off her cheeks. A low chuckle broke Owen's peeved expression before he tucked them behind her ears.
"Hello little cub." He gave her a kiss on her temple. "Miss me?"
She nodded in an exaggerated manner. "Mmm-mmm!"
Owen stood there for a second, cradling his baby girl in his arms. The tender moment had allowed his chest a momentary reprieve before he finally asked "Where's your mom?"
The little girl lifted her head from the crook of his neck and pointed to the wooden door of the meeting room.
"She's in the grown-up room." she beamed with all her baby teeth. But then her cherub face fell: "I've tried to call you, but you weren't answering."
"I know. I'm sorry honey. I couldn't find my phone."
Owen Grady had been on his way to another convention when he'd noticed the emptiness of his pocket. He had dropped his phone on his restaurant seat, when he'd been having lunch at the fundraising luncheon. As soon as he had retrieved it, he'd seen the missed call from his daughter and he'd rushed towards the helipad.
"But I got here as soon as I could."
"Silly daddy." Lizzie teased. Her fingers closed around his stubbled jaw before pinching the skin. "I won't tell Mommy you almost lost it… again."
"That's my girl." Owen grinned, giving her another kiss on the cheek.
He saw his wife's assistant entering the board room with a worried look, the same dire expression he had earlier. It reminded him of the pressing matters at hand.
As he was readying himself for the forthcoming repartee, Lizzie jostled in his arms. "Uncle Lowery!"
Owen turned around to find his friend sweating and pushing his glasses up his nose. In a split second, before he noticed the kid in his arms, Lowery gave him a distasteful frown. Owen let out a small smile in apology, and guiltily felt for Lowery's access card in his pocket.
They had left Sacramento in a blurred haste and Owen hadn't noticed that he'd left his things in the service car. They'd been already in the air when Dan, the chauffeur, had called Lowery. Owen had jumped out of the chopper before it had fully landed and had run, leaving Lowery with no key for himself. His friend had had no other choice but to take the other elevator, which wasn't always idle.
"Uncle Lowery!" Lizzie repeated, thereby saving her dad from his best friend's fury. Because, much like everyone else, Lowery wasn't immune to Lizzie's sweet and darling nature. Lowery's austere expression faded as the girl made grabby fists, indicating that she wanted him to carry her.
Despite the fact that he was still catching his breath, Lowery opened his arms and took the child.
"Hey kiddo!"
"Why are you panting, Uncle Lowery?"
"That is a very interesting question, why don't you ask your dad?" the man ridiculed, raising a mocking eyebrow at him.
Owen had to laugh; he gave the access card back to Lowery and strode towards the meeting door.
"Why, Miss Elizabeth!" He heard Lowery distract his daughter. "You're getting heavy!" He heard Lizzie giggle.
Zara held the door open as the last of its occupants vacated the room. As they passed Owen, they patted him on the shoulders and offered their congratulations. Owen managed a small smile before he finally closed the door.
The air sibilated with familiar vehemence, a recurring inevitability whenever they were in the same room.
It was ridiculous how Claire still managed to keep him on his toes even after all those years. She had always been the only constant and ever-shifting riddle in his life. A riddle he had no qualms in trying to decipher. Completely oblivious, she remained a challenge, a pain in the ass. These strong and mind-bending qualities only cumulated and intensified his feelings for her. He was sure that she was the only person in the world who could drive him crazy. But he wouldn't have it any other way.
The woman was sitting in the same spot she had occupied the first day they met; facing the screen, her elegant back to him. Her waist-length red hair — a tad lighter than their daughter's — spilled on the back of the chair. She was fidgeting with a retractable pen; its repetitive clicking was the only sound in the room.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr Grady?" She started, unfazed and ever so casual.
"You tell me...Missus Grady."
For all her outwardly composed stance, Owen could sense the smirk lurking on her red lips. "I'm surprised you haven't run out of "bribes" for our daughter yet."
"Well, It's me we're talking about." he retorted with his usual glib. Owen wasn't sure how he'd managed to sound as cheeky and calm as he did, when only an hour ago, he wasn't the least bit. Owen had had to leave the meeting — an important meeting he had prearranged and confected a week before.
But he could only blame the two most important women in his life. The redheads were such experts in calming him down, that oftentimes he forgot why he was even vexed in the first place. Both girls had him wrapped around their fingers, leaving him outnumbered and helpless. Regardless, it had gotten delightfully and comically worse as the years progressed.
"Oh, how could I forget?" she remarked in a tone he was sure was accompanied by her signature eye roll. "What is it this time?"
Despite his best effort to sound indifferent in their conversation, Owen chuckled, amused. "Horse riding lessons."
The woman made a "tsk" sound, though there was no heat to it.
"What can I say? The kid's fierce."
"Surprise, surprise." she lauded; her tone was anything but disappointed.
The castors and cylinders squeaked as Claire Grady finally whirled her chair to face her husband.
His hazel green eyes roamed her figure and felt the familiar lump in his throat. Owen felt a rush of both annoyance and relief washing through him.
His wife was sitting cross-legged, her elbows rested on the armrests. Owen's eyes fell on the protruding bump, sensing for any sign of discomfort. Claire rolled her eyes and opened her palms up, as if to say, look at us being okay.
Her face was a healthy and fair shade of pink. It was far from what he'd feared when he had received the voicemail from their daughter — which was the pallid green she had been sporting for the last few days.
Most of Claire's maternity clothes consisted of Owen's clothes nowadays. Not that he was complaining; Claire always looked good in his clothes, more than himself. He couldn't even begin to describe how cute she looked clad in just his shirt, with her rounded belly hiking it up to her thighs. But today, she had opted for a calf-length skirt, matched with one of his long sleeved v-necks. And heels.
Fucking heels!
"Can I persuade you to change your choice of footwear?" Owen pleaded, eyeing the evil pair of pointy things on her feet. "Please?"
Claire followed his glance, smirked and flexed her visible toes. "Oh, come on. I trained for running in heels as if I were in the Olympics." she reasoned, with a hint of a laugh.
It was his turn to roll his eyes. As much as he had shamelessly developed a weird fetish for them, he needed her to stop wearing them, like, now.
With an effortless grace that other expecting mothers found unattainable, Claire pushed herself off the chair. Owen's 36-week pregnant wife sauntered to him, thereon proving her point.
"I'm serious, Claire."
The woman wound her arms around his shoulders, and his hands naturally found their way to her waist. Owen fortified his resolve; whatever favor she might ask from him next, it would be granted, no matter what.
"As much as I love you in them, please don't wear them, at least, not while you're pregnant."
"It's my first time here in the office after months, and this is an important conference. I couldn't do it at home. Mister Hino is finally accepting our terms and I want to be presentable..." she rambled and grimaced, "And flats… just aren't."
Owen knew that Claire wasn't bothered by what others might think of her, lest what she was wearing. But because of her pregnancy, she had been in a constant state of doubt, and yes, also vulnerability.
"Claire," he emphasized, "You'd still look beautiful, even if you're dressed in a hemp sack."
Adoration gleaned her eyes at his honest statement. She tilted her chin and pecked him at the corner of his lips. "You're sweet."
"Are you okay?" He asked, his thumbs, rubbing soothing circles on her sides. "Lizzie said—"
"Owen, it's normal to have occasional cramps." She appeased with a loving tone.
He drew his head back to look at her properly, his tone was reprimanding again. "You shouldn't be out of the house when you're so close to your due date."
"It was only for today." She smiled at him, her hands on the side of his neck, caressing the skin. The action was successfully distracting him.
Owen knew it was a pipe dream that he could ever relieve Claire of her work and duties. It hadn't happened with their wedding, not even with Lizzie. But he assumed that given the miraculous rarity of her condition now, she would come to terms with it. But no. Still, it didn't stop him from trying to dissuade her every opportunity he gets.
"I'm fine." She muttered, playing with the little hairs on his nape. "You worry too much."
Owen heaved a sigh, leaned his forehead against hers and rubbed his palms on her belly. "Can you blame me?"
"No. Not really." She scrunched her nose before echoing his words from earlier: "I am me, after all."
A small smile formed on his lips from her mocked arrogance, that used to be his trait. "God, I'm so in love with you. It's pathetic."
Claire let out an infectious, melodious laugh — the laugh their daughter could perfectly emulate. And as always, it tugged at his heartstrings.
"Is it a bad thing?" She breathed against his lips, her smile was lighting up her whole face. Once again, he was floored by the entirety of her. And like every other time, it was imperative, almost instinctive for him to give in. With few inches between their lips, Owen realized that losing to her wasn't as bad as losing to anyone else.
"No, ma'am." He smirked. "It is not."
Claire tugged him down with a force that surprised him. Her pliant lips abetted his in a deep kiss. Owen groaned, welcoming the intrusion of her tongue in his mouth. Owen pulled her closer, but her belly got in the way. Claire moaned, sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away with a loud smack. He chased her lips, pouting in the air. But Claire trailed her kisses to the corners of his mouth, down to his stubble and his jaw. She hummed with contentment and settled on his neck.
Owen wrapped both his arms around her hips. Her signature vanilla and shea butter scent, that was purely hers, wafted over him. Claire rubbed her right hand up and down his spine. And without much thought, he sagged against her, his body melted in the vim of her amorous embrace.
Owen shook his head, sneering with lighthearted contempt, and drew back. He could see his small reflection in her eyes. "I hate it when you do that."
"Why?" She bit her lip, fanning her thick eyelashes at him.
"It makes me agree to anything."
She giggled, hugging him again. Owen buried his nose in her hair, content, happy, and unworried. But as much as he loved their intimacy after resolving an argument, he needed to make his point across. Owen recoiled from her embrace, thus demanding her eyes on him.
"Promise me, next time you're leaving the house, call me first."
Thankfully, she nodded.
"And next time, no heels."
"I—"
"No heels." He accentuated.
She blew raspberries and acquiesced. "Fine, fine."
Before he could quip a smart retort, Claire's face contracted; her mouth opened in pained, almost soundless cry. Her body froze and she bent forward, clutching her stomach.
"Claire!" He held her elbows, ducking to see her face. Her hand clasped his shoulder in an iron grip. "What's wrong?"
Her reply was another yelp of pain, her grip on him tightened. "Ow- Owen." She stuttered, the palpable fear in her voice swilled a bucket of cold water on him.
Owen saw something bright trickling down her legs.
Bloody.
She raised her eyes and the plain terror in them was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. Almost. Even though it had been almost a decade, his Naval-trained instincts started to kick in, fueling him.
His arms went to the back of her thighs and he lifted her. He opened the door with his free hand. Amidst Claire's cries and his own internal hysteria, he bellowed,
"LOWERY! ZARA!"
At his voice, they all whipped their heads toward him. Lowery stood up from where he was perched on Marianne's desk; on the chair beside him was Lizzie, a book in her hand, who got startled by the sight of her distraught parents. Zara jumped to the rescue: she picked up the tearful girl and turned her away. Owen gave her a grateful nod and made eye contact with Lowery, who was standing wide-eyed before him.
All at once, everybody bolted from the seats. An agitated chorus of their names kicked in the air. In his arms, Claire wailed and Owen went straight to the elevator. The employees huddled close to him, but not to the point that they were overbearing. And he was thankful.
Before the elevators closed on them, he saw Zara, cradling Lizzie in her arms. She called out, "I got her, Owen. Don't worry."
Lowery joined them in the lift; he swiped his card and they descended, albeit arduously and slowly.
Claire was clutching Owen's shirt, her knuckles white, her face distorted with agony. Owen swallowed his own fright and planted kiss after kiss on her forehead, offering words of comfort between them. Her skirt was getting damper and damper, the fabric sticking to his forearm.
"It hurts, it hurts." Claire cried.
"I know baby." He cooed, hugging her to him.
"I phoned Maria. She's gonna meet us at the valet." Lowery said, referring to the building's resident doctor — and his girlfriend.
He thanked Lowery and returned his focus to Claire.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." she chanted and Owen felt his heart shatter into a million pieces.
"No, no, honey. You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay."
The elevator pinged, signaling their arrival. But before the doors could fully open, Lowery sprinted, his car keys jiggling and ready in his hand. A hysterical Artie pushed a wheelchair in their direction. Owen politely shook his head; there was no way he would ever let go of his wife. Owen traipsed towards the valet lobby. Artie hovered beside him, arms held out in case his own arms gave out. But that was impossible; Owen had never felt physically stronger than in that moment. So distracted by Claire's whimpers that he didn't hear someone jogging beside them.
Maria James asked, more diplomatic and composed than they all were: "How far along is she?"
"I— I don't know. My daughter told me she was having cramps, but it wasn't serious."
Maria nodded. "Okay. Claire— Claire, honey?" she turned to his wife. "I'll be with you. You're with Doctor Angelica Montez right?"
Claire managed an imperceptible nod.
"Yes." Owen confirmed nonetheless, as they reached the SUV. Artie opened the passenger door for them. Owen laid her across the back seat before following her. Maria took the front seat and pulled out her phone. As soon as the doors closed, Lowery revved up the engine and they were out on the road.
Owen positioned Claire's head on his legs. Unstable by the pain wracking Claire's body, he kept his lips on her forehead. Their hands intertwined on her belly.
"Breathe, Claire, breathe. Everything's gonna be fine."
"Li—Lizzie?" She stammered, her eyes watering, her face, flushed and sweating.
"She's with Zara. She's fine."
Lowery was wading through the traffic, cursing and blaring his horn. Maria was talking on her phone, firing rapid instructions and words he didn't catch. Owen held Claire's clammy hands and kissed her hair. He whispered reassuring words, reminded her to breathe.
After what seemed like hours, the hospital emergency room was beside their car. Maria slammed her door and rushed towards the entrance. With the engine still running, Lowery threw open his door, unbothered to even close it. He opened the door for Owen and Claire before they disappeared into the hospital.
"We're at the hospital, honey. We're here." Owen assured, his inflection steady, calm when he was anything but.
Lowery reappeared with Maria and a few nurses in tow. They trundled the hospital bed towards the open door.
"Owen, we need to move her." Maria commanded.
He nodded and gave a lingering, encouraging kiss on Claire's matted forehead. "Baby, we're gonna move you, okay?"
Claire only whimpered in supplication.
"Put your arms around me." And with measured carefulness, he hoisted Claire into his arms again. Her breath staggered from the movement, but she reeled in her discomfort. She held on to his shoulders as he placed her on the gurney.
Claire was huffing, craning her neck in pain as another contraction occurred. Owen squeezed her hand in encouragement while one hand cinched the rail, willing it to move faster.
"You're okay, Claire. You're okay."
The top row of her teeth clamped down on her lower lip; the flesh was white from the strain. And Owen couldn't find it in himself to plead her to stop the small concession. He grappled at himself, thinking of ways to ease Claire of her discomfort. It proved to be a great distraction from how her skirt was now streaked with blood and amniotic fluid.
"I'm scared, Owen. I'm so scared." She wailed, gripping his hand. He had never heard her so insecure and frightened and it took everything in his navy-trained mentality not to fall apart.
"No, no baby. You can do this. You're the strongest woman I know."
She held the back of his hand to her face, as if seeking said strength and comfort. Her sweat felt like icy droplets against his skin.
They wheeled her through the seemingly endless corridors. The crew pushing the gurney slackened as they closed in the familiar double doors.
Owen allowed his gaze to leave Claire when he felt a hand on his. Their obstetrician's face zoomed into view, her mouth was moving, speaking. Owen finally shifted his full focus on her.
"Mister Grady, Owen." Repeated Doctor Angelica Montez. Her tone an almost soft rebuke. Owen slowed his pace and the nurses drove the gurney through the doors. Claire extended her arm behind her, reaching for him but it fell as another scream came out of her mouth. Owen felt the blood drain from his face as the gurney turned the corner and disappeared from his sight.
"We're going to perform an emergency C-section." The doctor supplied with urgency.
Owen nodded robotically. Maria and Lowery stood on either side of him, panting as well.
"She'll be— she'll be okay. Right?" Owen hated how scared he sounded in that moment.
The good doctor didn't reply, but gave him a genuine smile before she, too, disappeared.
Owen felt all his strength leave him. He leaned against the adjacent wall and slid down for a rest. Lowery and Maria depleted as well, collapsing on the nearby chairs.
The phantom of Claire's tormented screams replayed in his ears, unwanted and unwelcome. Owen sat on the algid tiled floors, powerless and restless.
A sudden, eidetic image of Lizzie's birth came to mind. Despite what the doctors had said — that Claire might have not delivered later than a week (or two) — Lizzie had arrived on time. The seven pound infant was displaying the promising punctual qualities of her mother. Even after prepping for weeks leading to that day, he'd been gripped with fear. Owen noted, with looming dread, that it hadn't been like this. When Lizzie had been born, they had allowed him in the ER, all ten hours of it.
So what was wrong this time that they didn't?
Owen felt the panic overwhelm him again. He still had his eyes closed when he heard someone call out his name. Owen looked askance.
The amused expression of Lowery faded and a worried one replaced it. "What's wrong?"
Owen felt like the heavens pretty much granted him his prayer as he followed the doctor into Claire's room.
Only one thought was running through Claire's brain.
Please, let them be okay. Please, let my boys be okay.
The lights flitted above her. The strong whiff of antiseptic overpowered her senses, making her dizzier. The intercom of the hospital swaddled in her ears. Owen was above her, muttering the sweetest, most encouraging words. Yet his face was a picture of distress and worry. She wanted to comfort him, but the intermittent spasms decimating her body prevented her from doing so.
Doctor Angelica appeared before her eyes and talked to Owen, who let go of the bed at once. She stretched out her arm, beckoning him back to her, but an impossible cramp twinged her belly. Claire heard her own screams, hot tears blurred her vision. Her head was buzzing, delirious, ringlets of different colors danced before her eyes. Still, she braced herself and breathed through her nose.
The atmosphere darkened and it took all of her frazzled mind's effort to know where she was. Lights glared above her as a nurse adjusted the blinding setting. Claire felt another tightening contraction and she scrunched her eyes shut. This time, it was unbearable, incremental and more frightening than the last. Her body rose from the bed in an involuntary motion. People in scrubbed suits were talking beside her. Their words overlapped each other and were too low for her own mind to comprehend. They removed her clothes. The air in the operating room was rather chilly and bland. But before it could seep to her skin a young woman dressed her in a loose hospital gown.
Somewhere behind her, she heard the door open. Minutes later, she recognized a familiar face amidst the other occupied medical workers. She hadn't articulated her name yet when another surge of pain overcome her. Claire gasped and caught the hand the woman was offering.
Her friend smoothed her hair off her forehead. The other nurses in matching uniform, were equipped for the operation. After an arduous minute, the pain subsided again and Claire rasped,
"Co—Cora."
Behind her mask the old woman nodded. "Hi Miss Claire."
"Ha- have you... Seen... Owen?"
"He's not allowed here, sweetie. I'm sorry." The woman soothed, continuing the gentle combing in her hair. "He saw me outside and begged me to be with you instead."
"As he should." The corners of her lips quirked into the tiniest smile. Claire closed her eyes for a brief respite. Cora's presence was a great relief. "He's- he's the reason I'm in this trouble— in the— first place." Claire joked in a small voice, warranting a chuckle from Cora.
Angelica hovered over her again, talking to Cora, who nodded.
A nurse appeared next to her and positioned a breathing ventilator over her face.
"We're ready, Claire." Cora said and Claire felt herself nod as the anesthesia kicked in.
The background noise and bustle of the premises became hazy. Her vision became unfocused on the lights above her. She was still aware of the warmth of Cora's comforting hand on hers, permeating guidance and support. A blue blanket tented over her legs, hindering her view. Beside her, Cora was a countenance of fret and alarm. She was conversing in medical terms with the other nurses and Doctor Montez.
"Wha— what's going on?" Claire croaked through her ventilator.
Cora returned to her and gave her a heartwarming smile Claire felt was insincere. A moment of stillness — too long in her opinion — and Claire was seized with overwhelming dread. She shut her eyes, feeling her heart beat erratically in her chest.
Please, please, please.
But then, Cora straightened and Claire heard movement in her muffled ears. She felt an abrupt pulling sensation— and a half emptiness. Then, as if someone released the mute button, Claire heard a piercing cry and Cora's praises. She was about to stretch her neck to follow the sound when another yank vested her the feeling of total vacantness. Seconds later, another violent cry ripped through the stale air.
The nurse wiped the sweat residing on her forehead as she finally let her body dissolve on the cushion. She closed her eyes as the people around her moved in an almost synchronized motion. She was almost asleep when Cora left her side. She returned moments later carrying a tiny bundle swathed in white cloth. Another nurse came up behind her, carrying an identical tot. Claire could discern the smiles behind their surgical masks. Claire sat straighter, tears springing in her eyes.
The nurses balanced the twins on either of her arms. Cora removed the ventilator from her face and adjusted the bed setting. Claire slightly bounced the precious bundles in her arms. Her bleary gaze flicked to their identical cherubic faces. They had their dad's forehead and blonde locks, but they had her nose and lips.
The sight wasn't new to her, but Nurse Cora felt herself smile. But it soon melted into her patented scowl when she saw the new nurse staring at her. Cora removed her gloves and looked at Angelica, who smiled at her in permission. Cora exited the room and traipsed towards the adjacent hall. As soon as she was under the archway, her eyes connected with Owen's. Cora's lips tugged upwards.
"We had a little trouble." She started, referring to the nuchal cord in one of the babies. "But they're waiting for you."
Owen released an anguish breath and rushed towards her. The man engulfed her in a giant bear hug, taking her by surprise. If somebody later revealed that Nurse Cora had blushed at the gush of affection, she would deny it.
Cora glanced about the room and felt her blush deepen as the new people stared at them. A beautiful auburn-haired woman stood up at attention, waiting, curious and worried. Beside her was a calmer man dressed in an eccentric ensemble and hipster glasses. On the man's knee was Owen and Claire's little girl. Her hazel green eyes were inquisitive and held the same stubborn cadence as her dad. The petulant jut of her chin was a mirrored-image of her mom's.
"What's her name?" She asked, watching Owen and Claire ogle at their newborn baby girl.
The two pried their eyes away from the infant and shared a look.
"Elizabeth Alaina Grady." Owen whispered finally, gaping at the way the newborn was clutching Claire's finger.
Once Owen let go of her, he motioned for the little girl who eagerly jumped off the old man's knee. Owen picked her up and gave her a long kiss on the cheek. The little girl giggled and threw her arms around his neck.
"Say thank you to Nurse Cora, Lizzie."
"Thank you, Nurse Cora." She obeyed. Her pronunciation was still adorably incipient— the way most kids her age were.
"You're welcome, Miss Elizabeth."
"Wait here with your Grandma Sarah and Grandpa Ian while I go check on Mommy, okay?
The girl nodded and wriggled out of her father's grasp.
Owen followed the nurse to the operating room. She asked him to don the protective garments. He dressed up in quiet heedlessness, trying in vain to tame the nerves running through him. When he finished, Cora opened the doors leading to the main surgery room. The hospital personnel were talking amongst themselves as they cleared the medical equipment. Doctor Montez stood before him and shook his hand. She explained the situation they'd had earlier as quick as she could. One of the twins' umbilical cord had gotten wrapped around his neck. For a few seconds, he had stopped breathing before they could pull him out. That had stalled the operation, but everything had worked out well in the end. Owen thanked Doctor Montez and Cora again. Once they all cleared, he zeroed in on the bed at the center of the room and was immediately struck by the scene. A part of him was grateful that she didn't see him, therefore allowing him this pivotal moment.
On the gurney lay Claire, her arms stretched as she held their babies. Owen stood, transfixed by the sight and all too aware of the ache in his chest. She was blooming, enthralling— otherworldly. Even more so as she cradled his boys.
Owen didn't think it was still possible to fall even deeper in love with his wife than he already was. She looked up, smiled. Her tear-stained face made him gape, speechless, for the millionth time.
He willed his legs to move, his lungs to breathe. Left foot forward. Right foot forward. Swing the arms in an alternate motion. Inhale. Exhale.
The beautiful ache pounded in his chest as he stared at her. Although he had memorized every inch of her face since that first day, Owen still drank her in like the first time. He absorbed every detail. Every freckle, every soft crinkle, and every emotion dancing on her face until it all but consumed him. He was trembling when he reached them. And before Owen acknowledged his children, he was compelled by that overpowering emotion to do something first.
Owen gently held the back of Claire's head to him and kissed her. His lips quivered before they melted against hers.
What she had done for him, what she had bestowed on him again, was beyond anything he could ever give. That was the true moment when Owen Grady felt most powerless, his most inadequate self.
How could he ever think of himself as equal to her?
Nevertheless, Owen endeavored— an endless attempt, he was more than compliant to pander.
Always.
Love, gratitude, adulation and reverence, everything he could ever give her, he gave. Claire, their children, were his life, as they had undeniably been and always would be.
Owen released her from the sweet torture, but not before dragging his lips to her forehead. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as Claire hummed.
She lifted the infants nestling in her arms, crooning "Say hello to daddy."
Claire was singing the nursery rhyme that had been playing non-stop for the last three months. The infants shrieked, squiggling as she tried to hit the penultimate upbeat notes.
"I don't sound that bad, do I?" Claire asked, peering over the drawn hood of the boys' carriage. As expected, the twins only gurgled in reprisal, eliciting another giggle from her.
"Now boys, why don't we see what Lizzie and Daddy are up to, huh?" Claire repositioned the Pashmina around her shoulders before ambling towards the garden.
On the way, she saw Mario and Nerissa crouched by the flower box. The old couple turned and gave her their sweetest smiles.
"Hi Mario, Nerissa!"
"Hello Claire! Done with the afternoon walk already?" Mario asked, wiping his forehead with his forearm.
She nodded and stood askance, her arm lying on the handle. Nerissa leaned over the carriage and wooed, "And how are these dashing boys?"
The Grady twins screeched, delighted with the attention. The adults chuckled and Claire resumed her way towards the maintained hedges.
Claire trudged the even path to the gazebo situated near the round pen. In front of her, the twins continued their incoherent discussion. Their chubby fists waved in the air as they cooed and cackled around each other. She smiled to herself. The fatigue and sleepless nights felt inconsequential and petty with them like this.
Despite his jitters and her constant reassurance, Owen was a natural dad. He was a present and doting father, like she'd known he would be. Owen delighted on the "baby chores", whether they be simple, hygienic or challenging missions. He had always been the first one to get up at a restless night for the babies. He had always been the first to notice when they were running out of supplies and then volunteered to grab them. Even though they had a nanny and a chauffeur, Owen never shied away from his paternal duties. On several occasions, he would eventually collapse on their bed out of exhaustion. But Claire could always count on the manifested pride brightening his roguishly handsome face. She couldn't help but give him a kiss then, and Owen would spring up, his unfaltering and prurient vigor enlivened. His weariness seemed forgotten of a sudden. As was hers.
Overlooking the round pen was a round wooden gazebo. It had been built by Owen as his first wedding gift anniversary to Claire. She remembered how touched she had been when he'd pulled off her blindfold that chilling night.
"So you can be comfortable drooling over me as I gallop in the wind. You know, like a prince charming, coming to sweep you off your feet." Owen wiggled his eyebrows at her.
She snorted, but pulled him down for a kiss anyway.
Whenever he had to train K9 dogs, Claire would always watch him. She found it rather enjoyable seeing him with his animals. At any given chance that she could watch, she'd lay out a blanket on the Bermuda.
The gazebo was a memoir of her happiest memories yet, including occasional slow dances, romantic meals, petty arguments and make-ups. It was also where she had told him that she was 8 weeks pregnant with Lizzie.
And yes, although she wouldn't admit it to him, it was the best spot to "drool over" him as he rode Blue or Charlie.
Claire pushed the stroller up the built-in ramp. Nerissa and Mario reappeared and started trimming the trellis surrounding the gazebo.
Nerissa took a break and sat with Claire. They stared at the twins in silence before Claire felt the crisp wind on her skin. She turned her head and saw Lizzie and Owen still practicing with Blue, in the pen.
"They've been at it since four o'clock." Nerissa said, amused, but not at all surprised.
Claire chuckled and shook her head in fond exasperation. "I know. Lizzie can be pretty tenacious when she's trying to learn something."
"Oh, I noticed. She's just like Owen was at her age." Then her voice grew bubbly, her eyes turned distant like she was reliving those times. "I remember when his dad taught him how to ride; he was no older than seven."
"Yeah?" Claire faced her, giddy and intrigued.
"I remember he fell off a green horse one afternoon, flat-faced. Everyone was so scared because he wasn't wearing any protective gear. Only a fedora of his dad's. Owen's face appeared to be bleeding. Miss Ellie was crying as we ran to him. But when he sat up, that damned kid was grinning. He raised his arm, his dirty fingers holding his tooth like a damn trophy."
"I remember him saying— the older woman paused, chortling in retrospect. "He said, and I quote, "I bet I'm still as handsome!"
Both women laughed.
Owen had always been adorably embarrassed by the — in his words — "moronic" things he was up to as a kid. And hearing his elders tell stories was always a delightful experience for Claire.
"Do you mind watching over the twins for a minute while I go to Lizzie and our handsome cowboy?" Claire said a minute later.
"Sure, sure dear!"
After making sure that the twins' blanket was in place, she went down the steps leading to the round pen. She passed by round hedges that slightly obscured the pen from the gazebo, her hand grazing the tall, wild flowers that grew on the path. She cinched the blanket around her shoulders and leaned her elbows on the railing.
Claire absorbed the landscape and uttered a pleased sigh. There had never been a more indulging sight than autumn in the countryside.
The sun was an hour away from sinking behind the craggy hills, offering the grandest of shadows on the vista. The stripped trees and empty branches dwelled above and around the vast pasture. Heaps of yellow and red leaves wandered on the verdant soil in the most picturesque view. A gratifying rush of wind pirouetted with mentioned leaves. And every now and then, the gentle breeze blustered their daughter's hair, much to the little girl's chagrin.
Claire watched as Lizzie pouted, her little eyebrows scrunched in indignation. Lizzie tried to brush off her personal hair vendetta and resettled her helmet.
Another gust kissed her daughter's hair and she repressed her annoyance. Sensing his fellow rider's discomfort, Owen slowed Blue's trot. Claire saw how her husband tried to stifle his laugh and wiped the strands off her flushed cheeks. He told her something and Lizzie shook her head with contempt. Claire chuckled at her daughter's obvious defiance.
They had been persuading her to cut her hair since she was so vexed by it. But the kid was adamant, proclaiming that "I want my hair to be as long as mommy's."
Claire felt her heart and breathing stop as Owen handed the reins to Lizzie. With nervous anticipation, she watched as Owen styled Lizzie's red locks into a braid. His face scrunched in concentration. Even though Blue was among the calmest thoroughbreds there were, and her husband was... Well, the Owen Grady, Claire was still wary.
"Owen." She called, moderating her voice as not to startle them. But desperation overcame her as Blue started picking up her trot a bit more. "Owen!"
Owen finally looked up, his features brightened. He looped the spare elastic on his wrist and gave her a wave. Lizzie remained focused and didn't acknowledge her — which she heartily approved. Claire turned to her husband and gave him a condescending look. What the hell are you doing?
He waved a dismissive hand at her. Lizzie directed Blue in the opposite direction and away from her. Owen pivoted his torso to shout, "She's fine, babe!"
And true to his word, Lizzie maintained the light pace. Claire had suggested that they borrow a smaller horse for Lizzie's lessons. But Owen reasoned that ponies tended to be more aggressive and "little shits" compared to big horses. Besides, Owen trusted Blue and Charlie. Naturally, their daughter did too.
With their back to her, Claire could see the way Owen's arms dangled beside him. He hunched forward to say something to Lizzie, who nodded back. Claire released a tense breath when Owen grabbed the reins again. They finished another lap before they faced her, and Lizzie finally waved.
"Mommy! Mommy! Did you see me?!"
"I did!" She hollered back, a smile, shaping her lips. "Don't you wanna come inside? It's getting late." She suggested, pulling the Pashmina around her tighter. "And the boys have to take a bath."
At that, Lizzie's hazel green eyes fell on the stroller beside her mother. Like Owen, Lizzie never passed the opportunity to help with the twins. The little girl grinned from ear to ear, her face brightening up candidly like her dad's.
"Okay! Okay! We're coming!"
The father and daughter duo (and Blue) stopped a few feet from her spot. Blue stretched her neck downwards as Owen dismounted first. Lizzie was loosening the straps of her helmet when Claire objected, "Ah, ah, ah! Not until you're off the horse, Missy."
Owen gave a low chuckle before reaching up and hefting the little girl off Blue. As soon as Lizzie had removed her helmet, she wrapped her arms around the horse's mighty neck.
"You were awesome today, Blue." the girl appraised and the horse only grumbled and turned her head towards her. Owen appeared beside them and patted Blue's neck. His free hand skittered and covered Claire's in an almost absent-minded manner.
"Hello, wife." Owen acknowledged, leaning over the railings.
She rolled her eyes and evaded the impending kiss. Owen laughed and kissed her cheek instead. Claire swatted a rebuking hand on his chest.
"Ow! What was that for?" he whined, laughing and rubbing the stinging spot.
"How often do you let her take the reins?!"
He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Sometimes."
"Owen!"
"She's fine. She handled it perfectly. Didn't you, cub?"
The little girl raised her head from Blue's mane and grinned. "Yep! You were great too, daddy!" Lizzie added, turning around and hugging her dad's legs.
"Who's looking after the twins?" she asked, releasing her dad's legs.
"They're with Nerissa." Claire swiveled her body and saw the rear of the stroller and the old woman cooing at it. "Can you warm up the water for me, Lizzie?"
"Okay!" The five-year old all but jumped and ran towards the small hill, claiming, "I'll push the stroller! I'll push! I'll pu— hey Mario!"
"Young Miss." The caretaker doffed his hat in greeting as he trekked down.
"I'll push! I'll push!" their daughter continued, her voice faded as she skipped towards the gazebo.
"Honey, be careful!" Owen shouted before ducking under the fence. Claire leaned on his side and raked her fingers through his hair, ruffling the sweaty strands. Owen inclined his head towards the gesture and snug the shawl around her.
"How are you feeling today, Missus Grady?" he flirted, tugging her closer by the cloth around her torso.
"Hmm.. So, " She grinned maliciously. "Nerissa was telling me another story."
He shied away, throwing her and Nerissa (who was pulling Lizzie to sit on her knee) a scowl. Owen looked like a part of him didn't want to know, but he pushed. "What is it this time?"
"You fell off a colt."
He raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue.
"You fell, face flat on the dirt." A small sneer painted her lips as Owen groaned and threw his head back in mortification.
Claire laughed, stood on her tiptoes and kissed his exposed throat. "I've always wanted to date a cowboy with a few missing incisors."
Owen circled his arms around her waist and joined her mirth. Claire felt the icy touch of his exposed forearms from the shirt he wore. She pulled away only to tuck them under her cover, hooding them over the brisk evening wind. He pressed a long kiss on her temple before he drew back to gather Blue.
"You kids go, I'll take care of her." Mario stepped in and stooped under the fence to get Blue.
Claire stood out of the way, waiting for Owen. He handed the reins and clapped Mario on the shoulders in gratitude. Owen wrapped an arm across her shoulder blades and walked together.
Upon reaching the leveled earth, out of the blue, Owen's body shook with low laughter.
"What?"
"I remembered something." And he pointed out to the blooming crapabble tree.
Claire lightly shoved Owen to the side as she remembered the time when she broke one of its branches. Years ago, after their argument in the Grady Corp.'s restroom. Followed by the stormy week in Chicago, Claire had come out here to apologize, an act she had never been familiar with. Because, as far as she was concerned, Claire Dearing never did anything she regretted and that she was always right. And by apologizing, it meant otherwise.
The path they were walking on might have been impenetrable now, but that didn't stop an old memory from pervading. As embarrassing as it was at having your best heels plunge in the mud, she couldn't help but feel pleased with the consequences of that day. Claire realized that it was the day she had finally allowed her glacial persona to melt, succumb, finally allowed herself to wonder… feel.
"You'd come here to seduce me." He teased, his fingers, reaching and tightening on her shoulders. "Need to consult with me, my ass."
Her neck flushed crimson at the reminder. And yet, Claire was adamant to justify her reason. "For your information, I really needed those papers signed and—"
At that, Owen snorted with coquettish cynicism.
"—to say I was sorry." Claire continued before inflecting with every dignity in her voice. "Besides, you kissed me first!"
He laughed. "Yeah, yeah. But if you hadn't sought me out that night, I would have flown to Chicago. That's why I called Jasper."
"What?!" Claire halted her steps, making Owen turn to face her, his arm lay on his side.
"Yeah. We were gonna brave the storm." He shrugged with abandoned nonchalance. "I didn't tell you that?"
Claire shook her head. Owen stepped towards her again and let out a low chuckle. His arm went to her shoulders again and pulled her snug to his body. Claire snaked her arm around his hips again. This time, she slipped her hand in his back pocket as she pulled the shawl around her again.
"I think that was the time I realized that I was ready to fall in love with you." She confessed after a few moments of comfortable silence between them.
"That day? That day? While we were discussing the plans on my dining table? Right before I went down on you?" He jested, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
"Why have I ever put up with you?" She said in a deadpan voice though her humorous eyes said otherwise.
Owen didn't bother with another smart-ass quip, but winked at her before kissing the crown of her hair. Claire wrenched her nose and elbowed him, a complacent smile plastered on her lips. They were approaching the gazebo where Lizzie was making silly faces to her brothers as Nerissa laughed. But the couple slowed their steps as they relished on that minutiae moment of solitude. They knew it'd only be minutes before their attention would be demanded by their little — as Lizzie called it from her new favorite book — "pack".
Beside her, Owen's chest rumbled with another deep chuckle. Claire stayed silent as she waited for the gist she knew Owen would spill any minute.
"We dropped by St. Anthony's today for the summit. Cora says hi."
"The health care summit? That was today?"
"Yeah. Me and the other members said a few words."
"Did Cora tell them about your infamous little slip and how it's been the highlight of her health career?" She snickered in a sardonic, teasing tone.
"As a matter of fact, she did." Owen grunted a sound of goodhearted annoyance. "In my defense, I only left because I made a promise to Ian to be there and—"
The next words halted her oncoming derisive "workaholic" comments. But they had never talked about the time of his coma (except for her well-deserved outburst at his arrival). By some mutual understanding, they had never indulged on the topic as it was, too sensitive and not worth reliving for both of them. But Owen pushed on. The honesty glint in his features implied that there was something he needed to get off his chest. Hence, she listened.
"I had to make sure you were okay, after, you know, what happened."
Then Owen stopped in his tracks and turned to her. His affectionate eyes found intent focus on something behind her. His voice dropped to the most affectionate tone she only heard him use when he was lulling their children. Or when he thought she was sleeping. (Owen had always been vocal with his feelings. And he had never once ceded in their amorous and sensual demonstrations. But there was something serene about his quiet declarations of love that she didn't say anything. )
"At the hospital, when I was in coma, I heard you, you know. "
Claire stared, wide-eyed, shocked by the confession. And shocker still as he continued in an ever-present voice, as if the memory was still fresh in his mind. Claire got the impression that it was likely the case.
"I heard you read to me, talk to me. You talked about your day and— About how your coffee was tasteless that day. About how I got everyone worried at GC. You kept telling me that I was gonna be alright. And that I was an idiot, many times. You kept apologizing that if you had driven that day, you'd have been the one in that hospital bed. Not me. And how you wished it had been you. How you thought you'd distracted me, that's why the car hit us. I screamed and I screamed at you that I was okay. That you shouldn't worry. That I would do it all over again in a heartbeat if it meant you're safe. But my lips wouldn't move. I couldn't move. And I've never tried anything harder in my entire life. I remember you saying goodbye. And then everything became quiet for days— that's when I felt alone and scared. Then I woke up, it all felt like a dream and you weren't there and I thought something had happened to you. I had to make sure you were alright. So I snuck out and, well, the rest is history."
Claire stood, unmoving and speechless as she stared at him. The timid, almost insecure smile hadn't left him during the revelation.
"So, all that pretense, that facade that you insisted to have then, never fooled me for once. That was why I was gonna fly to you to Chicago, even through the storm. Those dark nights in a limbo had always served as a lovely reminder for me of who you really are. And what you will always be to me. The most caring, thoughtful, loving, warm. Yes, they called you the ice queen, the corporate bitch..." He paused, his eyes deterred, searching for the next insults. "The most horrible, most unpleasant, most—"
Despite the myriad of emotions that had muted her, Claire succeeded in chuckling at his attempt to lighten the situation. "I get it, I get it."
Owen rubbed her arms, his eyes alight with the same love she was feeling. "My point is, this is gonna sound super tacky—" at this she laughed.
Claire shifted closer to him so she could feel his chest cresting and falling. Perfectly and harmoniously attuned with hers. "You redefine the meaning of real power and warmth and of selflessness and gentleness for me."
A rush of affection and adoration enveloped her. Although they both knew that their relationship wasn't something to be expatiated, Claire found it... ensorcelling to have the unexplainable question mark hovering between them. (Not that she wasn't willing to find out. Nor would said ramifications, in any way, dampen her love for him— they wouldn't.)
For the first time in her life, Claire was alright at not having a logical and valid answer for everything.
But as sweet as his honesty had been, he was wrong for but one thing. And it had taken years (and a child later) for Claire to finally comport her actions with and into words.
She rested her arms on his shoulders, covering them in their own protective cocoon again. "That's where you are wrong, Mr Grady."
"How so?" He suggested with a throaty chuckle and pressed her even closer to him.
"Everything pleasant and warm in me is because of you."
And Claire thought her husband's smile couldn't get any brighter. How trite it was for the one annoying Owen Grady to prove her wrong. Again.
Sea green connected with hazel green in a silent yet forthright communication of mutual sentiments. Love, respect, affection and submission.
Eight years ago, if somebody had told her that she'd have caved and gotten acclimatized to these "unprofessional" emotions, she would've glared daggers at them until they'd beg and apologize.
However, standing in front of the man she'd despised, angered, at some point envied and eventually respected, Claire only welcomed the changes that he had evoked in her.
She tipped her head back and inched her face closer to his. But she paused, halted by the unbridled fascination and infatuation directed towards her. Claire could only return it to him, in all its colorful multitudes.
A small smile twitched his lips before he pressed them lightly, but lovingly against hers. After pulling away, Owen trailed his lips and rested them on her forehead, his arms went around her hips at once. Claire kissed his shoulder and took a sharp inhale.
The sound of wheels descending the wooden ramp and Lizzie's giggles broke them apart. The little redhead was pushing the stroller back to the house, which was in their direction. Her even littler hands clutched the handle, which was taller than her.
Without a fleeting glance, she cried, "What are you guys doing? Let's get back to the house!"
They shared a heartfelt laugh at the demand and resumed their steps. Their hands were still around each other.
"I guess we really make good team after all." Claire heard him snicker amidst Lizzie's narration and the twins' bursting giggles.
Despite her prejudice about him in that boardroom eight years ago, in the back of her mind, Claire had been patently aware then that, yes, indeed, they did.
FIN.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I can't post the link and the picture here, but check out the end notes on my AO3 website.
sheswalkinginbeauty - Living with Wolves
Tell me what you think of this new epilogue. Love to read your comments! ;)
Thank you for being here again.