The Fireman I Loved to Hate by Jenna Gunn
Epilogue
One Year Later
Leave it to me to choose a period and setting I don’t know. Medieval Germany. There are so many things I could get wrong, thanks to how it’s portrayed in the media.
Do I make sure I’m as accurate as possible? Do I let things be wrong for the sake of the reader’s familiarity with the media? Should I raise their knowledge to the level of accurate history? After all, reading is not only for entertainment. It can also be educational.
That was part of why I chose Germany in the first place. I wanted to learn more about the source of his favorite cuisine. So far, I’ve learned that sausages were used to mask the questionable cuts of meat, like old muscle, head bits, blood, and offal. Learning about food in my condition can either make me hungry or it can go the other way.
And who wants education in the middle of their heady romance?
Monroe chirps when he jumps onto my desk. He’s getting a bit gray in the whiskers these days, but it’s not as though any of us are getting younger. “Hey little man,” I sigh and pull him into my arms. I anoint his head with a smooch. “Not getting into any trouble are you?”
He nuzzles my throat then settles down. He was at it again with Carmen this morning, running around and playing. But now he’s yawning and sighing. He wears out quickly. In all fairness, so do I.
“Hey, Sweetheart?” a holler comes from the living room.
I respond, “Yes, Dear?”
“Maybe take a break? It’s been five hours.”
I roll my eyes. He always thinks it’s been longer than it has, and oh. Crap. He’s right this time.
I brace myself on the arm of the new ergonomic chair that was a gift from my husband and push myself arduously to my feet, keeping Monroe in one arm. I pass the boxes stacked in the hallway, and Monroe bounds for the stack. The living room is littered with even more box stacks labelled for their destination rooms. We will be ready to move into the new house soon.
Two moves in two years. I roll my eyes at myself. But things change so fast when you’re in love.
In the middle of the room where my coffee table once was, my husband stands over yet another box. This one is special, though. Unlabeled and squeaking.
He has taken to fostering cats, and the last one was pregnant, so now we are host and hostess to a party of kittens. They are adorable, of course, all eight of them. Two black, three have socks, and the other three are calicos. They make me smile each time I look in the box. But I can’t bend over to see them anymore. My belly gets in the way.
“Hey, there,” Alex says when he sees me. I waddle to him and he plants a kiss on top of my head. “You have to take more frequent breaks. You remember what the doctor said about your ankles swelling.”
“I know,” I sigh.
He takes his free hand and rests it on my belly. Every time he does, he gets the most mystified look on his face and I love it. “How are my girls doing?”
“Could be boys, you know?”
Alex shakes his head and says, “Nope. I am certain it will be a pair of sisters. And if you like, we can use some of the Regency era names you like so much.”
I smile at him. “I love you, and that is very sweet. I still haven’t settled on any names that I like.”
“I just wish the doctor could tell us the genders by now.”
I shrug. “Is it really that important?”
“How will I paint the nursery before we move in, if I don’t know the genders?”
“What about a garden?”
He smiles and thinks. “How do you mean?”
“We could have flowers on the wall, instead of just a particular color on the walls. We could use those wall appliques on a white background. Certainly easier than painting the flowers. The mobiles can be butterflies or birds-”
Alex laughs, “What if it’s boys?”
I frown, “What if it is?”
“Flowers for boys?”
“Can they not be gardeners?”
He rolls his eyes at himself then says, “Yes, of course. I’m not sure what I was thinking.” He kisses me.
“Where is Carmen? I haven’t seen her out here.”
“Hiding again.”
“Still doesn’t like the kittens?”
“She hasn’t warmed up to them just yet,” he says with a shake of his head.
I laugh and look into the box. The black, long-haired mother cat lays on her side, while the kittens edge nearer to suckle. I reach down and give her a pet. “Poor mommy.”
“Aren’t you glad you’re not a cat?” Alex teases.
“Might as well be. You’ve given me a litter.”
He chuckles, “Hey, this is just twins. My cousins are triplets. Thank your lucky stars.”
“Maybe our luck should play into their names.”
Alex jokes, “Lucky Whitmore has a certain ring to it.”
“Huh,” I think about the name and wonder aloud, “For a girl or a boy?”
“Either.”
“I think I like it.”
He breathes a deep sigh, then wraps his arms around me from behind. “What are the chances?”
“You know, Chance Whitmore also has a ring to it.”
“Hmm,” he ponders. “Boy or girl?”
“Either.”
“Lucky and Chance. I think that’s perfect.”
I look down at my stomach and tell them, “Lucky? Chance? What do you think?”
There’s a bit of a kick and I hope they’re not fighting over which one is which. “I think they like it. Feel.” I place his hand flat onto my belly.
“Oh, I think they do.”
I sigh and feel his love surround me. I lean against his shoulder and tell him, “Now for middle names.”
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