Page 168 of Stolen Fate

We had already read him his bedtime story, and Elliot had insisted on being old enough to get himself to bed.

It had been a tradition of sorts for us to read to Elliot before he went to bed. I wanted to cherish the moments with Elliot and Evelyn while he was still little and needed us for most things. Soon, he would want to do things on his own. He already had an independent streak and was impatient when it comes to his hygiene, though he was still too young to brush his teeth or take a bath by himself.

Elliot leaned over and kissed me on my cheeks. “Okay. Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Night, buddy.”

He reached over me for Evelyn. “Goodnight, Mommy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Evelyn said softly, and I knew she was trying hard to hold the tears in. I waited until Elliot left before turning to her, and sure enough, tears were making their way down her cheek.

“Baby, are you going to cry every time he calls you Mommy?”

She elbowed my ribs, and I let out a small grunt. “Oh, shut up. You know the pregnancy hormones have been messing with my emotions.”

“Yeah, let’s just say it’s the pregnancy hormone.”

She scrunched her face up at me and made a move to get off my lap. I laughed and pulled her in closer to me. “Ah, don’t be like that, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Right, whatever,” she said, though she did snuggle in closer to me. Elliot started calling Evelyn Mom when Evelyn was three months pregnant. We had told him we were expecting a little sister or brother for him soon, and for the first time since Camila had left him, he had asked about her—not in the sense that he missed her, but more so that he was curious about the woman who was supposed to be his mom.

I had hated that. I hated that he was calling another woman mom when his mother was right there in front of him, taking care of him all along. And I knew Evelyn was hurt about it, though she didn’t show it. She never pushed him for more. In a way, she was trying to protect him, but Elliot was a smart kid, and he didn’t need us to protect him from the truth. Not anymore.

We had sat him down and tried to explain the story to him as simple as we could, and in a way he could understand. I was sure he didn’t—not fully, and he would have questions once he got older, but we were ready for that.

He had asked if he could call her Mom then, and Evelyn had broken down. He called her Mom ever since.

I grabbed her hand and pulled it up to my lips, kissing the finger with her gold wedding band. We got married three months after Evelyn found out the truth. I hadn’t wanted to wait, and had I gotten my way, we would have gotten married the day she came back to me at the hotel room in Boston, but Evelyn wanted to do it right, and with our families present.

Our wedding had been much smaller than my first wedding, but much, much happier.

“Thank you,” I told her.

“For what?”

“For giving me everything I’ve always wanted and so much more. For giving me you.”

“You make me happy,” she said, and it was something she said often. I knew it was the truth because there was no more sadness in her eyes.

“Good, because making you happy makes me happy. And I will spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

“The rest of your life? That’s a big promise, Mr. Reed.”

“I know. And I plan on keeping it, Mrs. Reed.”

Her smiling eyes were the last thing I saw before I closed my own and kissed her.

end.

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