Epilogue
I push through the crowds of Boylston Street until I get to the cross
street. I pull the stroller to a crawl and then stop at the edge of the
curb. I pull the top of it back and look down at Emmy. She’s kicking
her feet and smiling like usual. She’s a very happy baby. She has a
calm energy about her and it’s addictive.
“How old is she?” a woman asks. She’s standing at the crosswalk
with us, staring down at Emerson appreciatively.
“Eleven months.”
“She’s gorgeous,” she says. “Looks just like you. Identical mouths.”
I smile. “Thank you. But you should see her father. She definitely
has his eyes.”
The sign flashes to walk, and I try to beat the crowd as we rush
across the street. I’m already half an hour late and Ryle has texted me
twice. He hasn’t experienced the joy of carrots yet, though. He’ll find
out today just how messy they are, because I packed plenty in her bag.
I moved out of the apartment Ryle bought when Emerson was
three months old. I got my own place closer to my work so I’m within
walking distance, which is great. Ryle moved back into the apartment
he bought, but between visiting Allysa’s place and Ryle’s days with
Emerson, I feel like I’m still at their apartment building almost as
much as I’m at mine.
“Almost there, Emmy.” We make a right around the corner and I’m
in such a rush, a man has to step out of our way and into the wall just
to avoid being plowed over. “Sorry,” I mutter, ducking my head and
making my way around him.
“Lily?”
I stop.
I turn slowly, because I felt that voice all the way to my toes. There
are only two voices that have ever done that to me, and Ryle’s doesn’t
reach that far anymore.