Those Three Little Words
: Epilogue

I shift in bed and reach for Penny, but when my arms come up short, on the cold side of a bed, I quickly sit up and look around the dark room.

She’s not in bed, nor is there a light on in the apartment anywhere.

Worry immediately strikes me as I stand from the bed and go straight to the bathroom, where I flip the light on. She’s not here.

I slip on a pair of shorts and then quickly stick my head into the baby’s room. She’s not there, either.

Next is the living room, dining room, kitchen area. I turn on the light, but she’s not here, either.

What the hell?

Are her keys here? I check the console table near the entryway and see that her keys and wallet are missing. She left?

I jog back to our bedroom and pick up my phone to dial her number. When her phone on the nightstand rings, I curse loudly. Checking the time, I see that it’s three in the morning. Where could she be at three in the morning?

Would she go to the hospital without waking me up? That doesn’t seem right.

I walk back into the living room, keeping my phone close, and I attempt to figure out where she’d go just as the front door opens. She pauses when she sees that the lights are on.

“You’re awake?” she asks.

“Jesus, yes, I reached for you, and you weren’t in bed, so I looked for you. Where the hell were you?”

She steps all the way into the apartment with a brown bag. “I went to replace a donut,” she answers casually. “I wanted a chocolate one. You’d be surprised how hard that was to replace. I went to four different stores.” She holds up the bag. “Don’t worry though, I got a dozen.”

“You . . . you went to get a donut at three in the morning?”

“Technically, when I left, it was two, but the answer is yes. I didn’t think I could sleep without one.” She takes a bite of one. “You look sweaty. Are you okay?”

“Penny, you didn’t take your phone with you, so I didn’t know where you were. Please don’t fucking do that to me again.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she says, taking another bite. “I just really needed a donut, Eli. You can understand that.”

“Babe, ask me to do it next time.”

“Uh, no. I’m not going to do that. You don’t need to be parading around Vancouver looking for donuts. Trust me, I had it handled.”

I step up to her and take the bag. Gripping her chin, I say, “Next time, wake me up, or there are going to be some serious problems.”

“Are you . . . threatening me, Eli Hornsby?”

“Yes.”

“Ooo.” She smiles. “And what exactly is the punishment? A solid spanking?”

“No . . . your punishment would be no more sex.”

Her face falls. “You can’t do that to a horny pregnant woman who needs the help of your penis at least three times a day.”

“And you can’t scare a frightened boyfriend who loves you deeply and wants to protect you.”

She taps her chin. “I can possibly see your point.”

Chuckling, I wrap my arm around her. “God, Penny, you’re going to drive me so fucking nuts.”

“Good thing you love me, right?”

I kiss the tip of her nose. “Good thing.”

“DO we really have to paint? I kind of like the motif we got in here.”

“Penny,” I deadpan, looking around the room. “It looks like a freaking crime scene in here.”

“Crime scene would need red. I used gray. I think it’s quite fetching, announcing him in here. Don’t you think it has this avant-garde look? Very original.”

“It has a psychopath was here look that I’ll not allow my son to live in. We are painting.”

She groans and then takes a seat on the floor. “Well, at least take your shirt off and make this interesting for me.”

“No,” I say as I pour the dark gray paint she loves into the paint pan. “Every time I’ve attempted to paint this room, you’ve asked me to take my shirt off. I’ve obliged, and then you’ve somehow managed to get your hand down my pants, we have sex, and then the painting is forgotten. Not happening this time.”

“Wow, so you’re just going to deny me of the finer things in life now?”

“Flattery is not going to work in your favor as well.”

“Well, what if I get undressed, just lie here naked, maybe grab that clit stimulator you love using on me so much when your tongue is tired?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

“Do what you want. If I have to paint this room with a goddamn erection, then I will. We have one month, babe. We have all this stuff from the baby shower. We have to start nesting.”

“Aw, look at you using the terms.”

“I’m serious.” I dip the roller in the paint and soak up the gray. The room has already been edged and taped off. I just have to get the main space of the walls done. It shouldn’t take me that long, at least that’s what I’m hoping. You can never tell with the woman sitting in front of me . . . now circling her nipples.

“Oh my, look at this, my nipples are getting hard.”

I pause and turn toward her. “Penny?”

“Hmm?” she asks while waving her legs open and shut.

“Why don’t you want me to paint this room?”

“I told you,” she says, exasperated. “The room is unique.”

“That is not the reason, and you know it.”

“Well, that’s the reason I’m giving you.”

“Penny . . .”

“Eli . . .”

“Fine.” I turn away from her and start painting the wall in one big stroke of gray. “Don’t tell me. That’s fine. Don’t tell me anything. We’ll just remain two people in love who don’t tell each other everything. That is just fine.”

“Wow, Eli, trying to throw down the guilt trip?”

“Nope, just letting you know how it is.”

I continue to paint while I feel her watch me, watch my every stroke, my every move until she says, “If this room is painted, then it’s all real.”

I pause the roller and turn toward her. “What do you mean, it’s real?”

“I mean . . . this is the last thing we need to do, and I don’t know if I’m ready, Eli. I don’t know if I can handle this. Giving birth . . . being a mom. It’s all too scary.”

“Baby.” I set down the roller and squat in front of her. I grip her shoulders and say, “You’re the strongest woman I know, and there is no doubt in my mind that you’re not only ready for this but you’re also going to be the best mom out there. You have so much love to give, so much heart, so much patience. You’re more prepared than you know, and I can’t wait to see you hold our little guy, to watch the bond you have with him grow every day. This is real, it’s so fucking real, and you’re going to excel.”

“You really believe that?”

“I know it, babe. I fucking know it.”

She smiles shyly. “Would it be appropriate to lay you down and make love to you because of your sweet comments?”

I chuckle. “After I’m done painting, my body is yours, but I’m getting this done first.”

I STEP off the elevator and make my way toward the apartment after a very difficult practice. The new season’s started. Coach is punishing us, warning us that we better not have the fallout we had last season. We won’t. We’re looking strong.

After Penny’s fall down the stairs, Pacey basically told Winnie that he was a wreck without her and begged her to come back. She did. That same week, they went up to Banff, to the cabin, and Pacey proposed with some help from the boys.

Taters, well, he met someone. Someone way different than Sarah. She’s reserved, so goddamn smart, and a breath of fresh air.

Posey, God, he’s in a world of mental anguish, but lucky for us, he’s learned how to deal with that torment while playing at the same time. All I have to say is . . . don’t fall in love with a legend’s daughter. It’s high expectations to live up to.

And Holmes, last I heard, nothing has changed with Blakely. She’s still dating that Perry dude, and Holmes is still crushing.

A few steps away from the apartment door, I notice a very potent smell of pumpkin. Is that . . . is that coming from our apartment?

Can’t be, right?

Penny is currently on maternity leave and has been an absolute mess. Every day I come home, it’s something new. There was the day she was sobbing on the couch while watching reruns of Family Feud. She said someone guessed cucumber as the most popular vegetable, and she couldn’t fathom how an eggplant might feel from being left out. I sat there and consoled her the best I could.

Then there was the time she was in our bedroom, folding every article of clothing in the apartment. EVERY article. Including underwear, which she normally thinks is such a waste of time. And when I asked her what she was doing, she said she was on her fourth round of folding it all. Fourth fucking round. She said they weren’t folding right, and she wasn’t going to be done until it was all folded correctly.

And then there was the time I found her on the bathroom floor, holding her naked breasts and asking God why they were leaking.

She also made some more art for me. She sat in paint and then sat on a canvas and gave it to me. It was just a blob of paint. She cried for an hour about it. Found out, she’d been on the phone with her mom, which made her sad because she missed her mom. And because her mom likes painting, she decided she’d paint for me. Needless to say, I rang Tina and asked her to console her daughter and promise an urgent visit.

So as I approach the apartment door and the smell of pumpkin grows, I worry about what I’ll replace on the other side. I’ve been gone for a few hours, so I can only imagine what she’s managed in that time.

I unlock the door and slowly open it. “Babe?” I call out just as I step into the apartment.

“Over here,” she calls from the kitchen.

I glance over there but don’t see her. The smell of pumpkin is so strong, I worry she’s purchased a few and torn them open in a frenzy to replace the perfect seed—wouldn’t put it past her.

I round the counter and replace her sitting on the floor with a dozen muffin tins resting around her, all filled with baked—what I’m going to assume are—pumpkin cupcakes.

“What, uh, what are you doing?” I ask her, terrified of the answer.

“I wanted to make you cupcakes, but they weren’t coming out right.”

“What do you mean? They smell amazing, and they look great.”

“I made five batches, and I can’t remember if I put sugar in any of them.”

“Okay, well, I can try one if you want.”

She nods her head. “Please, and tell me the truth.” I won’t tell her the truth if my life depends on it. No way in fuck am I about to make her feel bad about forgetting the sugar. Even if they are the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, I’ll be eating every single one. For months.

I sit down next to her and reach for a cupcake. When I pick it up and start peeling the wrapper off, I casually ask, “Why are you on the floor with the cupcakes?”

“I was sniffing them.”

“On the floor?”

She nods. “It was easier than standing once my water broke.”

“Your what?” I shoot to my feet. “Your water broke? Penny?”

She nods as she pushes her hair out of her face. That’s when I notice she’s still wearing oven mitts.

“Jesus Christ, Penny, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“Do we, though?”

“Yes,” I answer in hysteria. “Penny, if your water broke, you’re in labor, and we have to get you to the hospital. When did it break?”

She shrugs as she leans back on her elbow and grips her stomach with a wince. “Like half an hour ago? Can’t be sure.”

“Holy fucking shit, Penny, why didn’t you call me?”

“You were at hockey.”

I’m going to freak out.

But instead, I lean down, take her oven mitt-covered hands in mine, and lift her to her feet. “Are you having contractions?”

“Totally. They don’t feel good.”

Keep it together. Don’t freak out on her.

I need to get her to the hospital as quickly as I can. I can have Winnie or Blakely come grab the things we need.

I scoop her up into my arms, and she protests. “What on earth . . . ooo, God, this one really hurts.”

Panic pierces through me as I forget about her shoes, forget about jackets, forget about everything. My phone is in my pocket as well as my wallet, and I rush her out of the apartment, not even bothering to lock up. I rush her down to my car, buckle her up, and head to the hospital in minutes. On the way, I hold her hand while driving and call Blakely.

“Hello?” she says over the car speaker.

“Blakely, Penny’s in labor. I’m taking her to the hospital.” She squeezes my hand and groans as she holds her stomach. Jesus Christ. “I didn’t lock up, there are cupcakes all over the place, and we don’t have our bag.”

“Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

“Thank you so much,” I say before hanging up. “Ten minutes, babe, are you going to be okay?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not ready, Eli. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can, Penny. Remember, you’re so strong. You’re prepared. You’re going to be the best—”

“Don’t bullshit me, Eli,” she says in a strange, demonic-like voice. “It’s going to hurt. It already does. You’re not going to want me after this. I’ll be an ugly, flappy-vagina woman after this record-size watermelon comes out of me.”

“Baby, listen to me,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road. “It will hurt. I’m not going to lie about that. But I can guarantee you, no matter what happens, I’ll always love you, I’ll always want you, and even if you are a flappy-vagina woman, whatever the hell that means, you will be my flappy-vagina woman.”

She groans again, this time buckling over. “Oh God, you’re so good at saying all the right bullshit things. I love you.”

If I weren’t so scared, I’d laugh. “I love you too, Penny.”

PENNY WASN’T wrong about the record-sized watermelon that came out of her. Our boy was so big that there was no way she could deliver him naturally, so she had to have an emergency C-section. Prepping for that was scary because I knew there was some risk involved. But I kept it together, and as I stared into her eyes, holding her hand, I kept telling her how much I loved her, how strong she was, and how I’d still have sex with her after—her demands, not mine.

And then . . . the cry of a boy pierced through the room, and tears immediately hit us. They held him above the barrier, and we both held on to each other while looking at our son for the first time.

After he was cleaned and wrapped up, they brought him over to us while Penny was being stitched up.

I’ll always remember Penny’s speech about love, how it grows and intensifies, starting as a kernel and turning into something so much bigger than you can imagine. With our son, it was different. It was like a tsunami of love just tackled my heart in a matter of seconds. One look at his tiny face, and I was done.

Love at first sight . . . just like his mom. But this time, I actually knew what that feeling was.

Now that we’re in our room, Mama is doing great, baby is latched on, and I’m cradled in next to my family . . .

Fuck, my family.

It’s been so long since I could claim such a notion. But here I am, sitting next to my girl—my soon-to-be wife hopefully, if I have any say in it—and my son, and I couldn’t feel more whole.

Fulfilled.

Life is funny. You never really know what you’re missing until you get a taste of something good. I got a taste of what it felt like to be wanted, to be a part of something bigger than myself, and there was no turning back for me. Once a player, now a father, a man so far in fucking love with his girl that I can’t dream up a situation where I’m not one of the luckiest guys on this planet.

“He looks like you,” Penny says softly as she raises her hand to the back of my neck. “He looks just like you, Eli.”

“He does,” I say, getting choked up. “I can only hope he has your heart.”

“Funny, I hope he has yours.” She leans back and presses a soft, gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you, too.” There’s a knock on the door, and Pacey and Winnie quietly walk in with balloons and flowers. Right behind them are Posey, Taters, Blakely . . . then Holmes.

And there they are, my support system. The people who first taught me about loyalty and dependability. The guys who have been there for me through thick and thin, my second family. This is what it’s all about. This right here, the love in this room, is overwhelming, and it only took a moment for me to recognize it.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “Do you guys want to meet our son?”

They all nod.

I kiss Penny’s forehead and move aside, giving them a view of my sweet baby son with his beautiful mama. God, I love her. And him. “Meet Holden Hornsby,” I say, my eyes falling on Holmes, whose eyes are lit up with tears. “We thought the name should live on.”

And it does.

The name lives on to be one of the greatest there is.

Our son will be great because he’ll know unconditional love from his first breath to his last. He’ll be given hugs and never believe they make him weak. He will never be discarded, but affirmed and believed in.

And he will know those things because of the incredible woman beside me. The woman who persisted and didn’t give up on me until I fully understood what love meant. A woman who is quirky, cute, and sexy. A woman who never stopped believing that one day I’d be able to say those three little words that are true game changers. Words I now live by. Forever.