Heartless: Epilogue

“Which ones are better?” I ask Luke from across the kitchen island with a wince. I’ve been having Braxton-Hicks fake fucking contractions for days and have been baking cookies to busy myself. The baby kicks the shit out of me non-stop, and I feel like a beached whale. Whoever said pregnancy is beautiful can die a fiery death, as far as I’m concerned.

In recent days, I’ve gone from excited to wishing I could issue an eviction notice.

Luke is what’s keeping me sane right now. Luke is the one who makes me smile. The minute he jumped off the school bus, we waddled up to the house and I pulled out two plates of cookies.

He currently has white chocolate macadamia in one hand and peanut butter smarties in the other and is taking alternating nibbles like he’s a true cookie connoisseur.

And I suppose after these last couple of days, he is. We’ve been doing an awful lot of teeth brushing to compensate for the sugar intake.

His eyes close, and he holds one finger up dramatically. I can’t help but laugh at him. “Smarties,” he announces.

“Yeah. Think you’re right.” I groan as I haul myself onto the stool next to him and take a bite of one.

“Hey, Willa,” he says, turning my way.

“Hey, Luke.” I wink at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Always.”

His wide blue eyes take on an uncertain expression, and his lips press together. “What is the baby going to call you?”

“Well, babies don’t talk, Luke, so I imagine they’ll just babble a lot of random shit.”

He gives me a scoff and a little eye roll, looking like a dead ringer for his dad when he does. “I meant once they can talk. Will they call you mom?”

My eyes travel over his face as I chew. I haven’t even known him for a year and still find myself marveling at how much he’s changed. “I imagine so, yes.”

A sigh lifts and then drops his small shoulders as he glances down at his cookie. “Do you think . . .” He peers back up at me now. “Do you think it would be okay if I called you mom too?”

I’m far too hormonal for this conversation right now and blink furiously down at the little boy who’s gazing up at me with the widest, sweetest eyes. “My dude, you can call me whatever you want. I know I’m not actually your mom, but I love you like one. Did you know I fell in love with you before I fell in love with your dad?”

His eyes light at that. “You did?”

I nod, pulling him close with an arm around his shoulders. “I did.”

His arms wrap around my middle, or what’s left of it. I feel like I’m just boobs and belly at this point. “I love you too, Willa. Even though I think you peed your pants.”

My head shoots down to follow where he’s looking. “Alright. It’s time to call your dad.”

Cade bursts through the door of the hospital room looking like he’s ready for a fight. I almost laugh at the fierce expression on his face as he rushes to my side. With the trauma of his mom’s death, I know this has been anxiety-inducing for him.

We’ve talked about her a lot. Isabelle Emma Eaton. The woman with the beautiful blue eyes who would make wishes down the well with him as a child.

“Red,” he breathes, pulling me close and smelling of pine trees and sweat. The manliest combination.

He came straight from the fields. Harvey drove me to the hospital and Rhett got on a quad bike to go find Cade. I’ve been playing it cool, but having him here eases my nerves.

“How are you? I came as fast as I could.” His broad palm strokes the back of my head and my eyes flutter shut. I love when he does that.

“Better now,” I say as he kisses my forehead.

“Everyone is in the waiting room. I told them to leave.”

I chuckle but a contraction hits me hard. I grip Cade’s hand and do my best to breathe through it but make some sort of insane braying noise.

He continues stroking my hair and letting me squeeze his hand hard enough to break it. We walk. I bounce on a ball. I sit in a bath. And when I look up at Cade and say, “I’m sorry if the magic is gone after this,” he replies with, “It’s okay, I’ve lived through a lot of calving seasons.”

My hysterical laughter bleeds into a contraction, longer and stronger than any of the others, and when it finally finishes and he’s helping me into bed, I say to him, “I know you didn’t just compare me to a cow.”

“I would never,” he says with a chuckle. And as much as I want to punch him in the face for that joke, I also want to hug him.

This man, who mere months ago seemed so cold and unhappy, has turned my world upside down and made me value my life differently. In a simpler way, a quieter way. A way that fits me rather than everyone else around me.

But more than that, he gave me a sense of satisfaction in myself that I have never experienced. A sense of pride and belonging that I never saw until he opened my eyes and showed me.

Everything about Cade Eaton has been a curve ball from day one. Nothing happened in the “right” order, but that has never been the case for him, or for me.

So maybe this order is just perfect for us.

I lose my consciousness in a sea of soft whispers, hard squeezes, and mind-bending pain. There are several moments where I seriously regret refusing an epidural.

But with Cade here, I’m focused. He grounds me. And when it’s time to push, he whispers in my ear about how much he loves me.

And I don’t just know it, I feel it.

Our little girl, Emma Eaton, comes into the world healthy. Kicking and screaming and surrounded by so much love that tears trail freely down our cheeks. She also comes into the world with a big softy of a dad wrapped around her tiny finger.

So many things I never knew I wanted are right here in this room. The nurses place her tiny body on my chest, and I stare down at her in wonder.

Light eyes. Dark hair. She’s us.

“She’s perfect,” I whisper.

“Both my girls are,” is what Cade says as he crawls onto the bed beside me and holds us both.

We stare at her for I don’t know how long. Entranced. Happy. And when Luke comes in to join us—complete.