Southern Sunshine by Natasha Madison

Epilogue One

Hazel

One Month Later

"That is the last box," Reed says, carrying in the last box from the truck and bringing it over to the side where all the other boxes are. “Told you it wasn’t going to be as bad as you thought."

I put my hands on my hips. “That’s because I thought we would have to move everything." I look around the house, seeing the boxes everywhere. “How was I supposed to know it would be furnished?" When I put the condo on the market, I had no idea that there would be not only an offer but a bidding war within forty-eight hours.

"We could have always kept the condo and used it as our vacation home,” he says, walking to the fridge now and grabbing a bottle of water. I watch him lean back against the white counter, his jeans and shirt dusty from unloading the truck that got here a couple of hours ago.

I put my hands on my hips. “A vacation home." I shake my head. “Sofia didn’t even want to come with us to pack the condo. She said bring home my stuff." The minute I mentioned I was going back to our place, she got really quiet and thought we were leaving the farm. It cemented that my decision to move back home was the right one. I never thought she would like country life, but she has flourished. It was like she was born there. "If it’s up to her, she’ll never leave the farm."

The door flies open, and I look over to see Sofia running in with her Rubber boots. “Momma, Grandpa Casey bought me a tractor, and it’s pink,” she says, wiping her hair from her face. I look down at her and then look up again to see Casey coming in with papers in his hand.

"Did you actually buy her a pink tractor?" I ask even though I know he probably did.

"She said please," he counters, and I look at Reed, who just shakes his head. "I’m here for two things," Casey says. “One to ask if Sofia can come with us fishing tomorrow?" I look at Sofia, who jumps up and down.

"Can I?" she asks over and over as she jumps. The smile on her face is so big I couldn’t say no if I wanted to.

"What is number two?" Reed asks.

"Here is the deed to the house,” he says, holding up the papers. “Officially yours."

"What’s officially yours?" I ask, confused. “What house?" I look at Reed, who knows exactly what his father is talking about but avoids my eyes.

"This house," Casey says of the white house we’ve been living in. We agreed to renovate Pops’ house, but when the inspector came in, he found a crack in the foundation and termite damage. The only way to fix it was to demolish it. I spent the day cleaning out his room with Reed by my side. He made me see that Pops didn’t care about the house. He cared that I was here.

"Why?" I ask, looking back at Reed, who still pretends he’s inspecting the ceiling all of a sudden. “Why would you give us the deed to the house?”

"It’s on his work contract," Casey says, pointing at Reed. “Quinn got it when he took over his part of the farm, and now that Reed is taking over my part of the farm, he gets the house."

"What job gives you a house?" I shake my head.

"You can either take it now or take it when I die," Casey says, and I have to roll my eyes. What is it with everyone and dying?

"I don’t want you to die," Sofia says, walking to Casey. “Can you not die?"

He picks her up. “I’m not going anywhere." He kisses her neck. “Now, do you want to go and see Grandma Olivia? I heard she bought someone some nail polish."

She squeals now. “Momma, I’m going now." She squirms out of Casey’s arms and runs over to me, hugging me, and then runs to Reed. “Dad, I’m going to glamify."

"Glamify,” I repeat and look over at Casey.

"She did not learn that from me,” he says and holds her hand while he walks out. The door slams, and I turn to glare at Reed.

"I think you forgot to mention that you got a house with your job." I fold my arms over my chest, and he smirks at me.

"Must have slipped my mind." He walks over to me and takes my hand, leading us to the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I ask as he walks past the bed and to the bathroom.

"I need to take a shower," he says, letting go of my hand and walking over to the shower to turn the water on. “And I need you to wash my back."

He pulls off his shirt and reaches for my shirt, pulling it over my head. His mouth goes to my nipple. I hiss when he sucks it, and he looks at me. “I think I’m getting my period,” I say. “They are really sensitive." I blink now and look at him as I think back to when I had my period last. "Oh, no,” I say, turning and running out of the room. "Did I have it when I got here?" I ask myself, and then I think I had it for sure when I got here because we had to leave the house and then rush out to get them. "Phew." I think, turning on my phone.

"Can I know what is going on?" I hear Reed from behind me.

"My period," I start to say, looking at the dates. “When was the last time I got it?"

"Well, we’ve been here a month, and there are no feminine products," he tells me. “Unless you keep them hidden."

I look at him. “Why would I hide them?" I ask, annoyed. “It’s been seven weeks." I put my hand to my stomach and sit down, the tears starting to come now. “I wasn’t even paying attention between moving here and opening the store." Which is the best thing I could have ever done. Every single day we sell out, the place is jam-packed, and we have even had some interest in doing a paint night once a week. “And all of this."

"What are you saying right now?" he says, his own face almost falling. “Are you saying you could …"

"I mean"—I close my eyes—“we have sex once a day."

He pffts out. “You mean two or three." He puffs out his chest.

"Relax, Romeo, there is no one here, so no need to whip it out." I look at the ceiling now. “What the …" I close my eyes now. “I can’t believe this." I mean, we were never ever careful, not one time. Who gets pregnant this fast? I look down at my hands. I look over and see that Reed has left. “Reed." I call his name, and then he walks back into the room, his shirt now on.

"Only one way to find out,” he says, holding out his hand to me. “Let's go get some tests."

"How are you not freaking out right now?" I ask, and he comes over to me, pulling me up.

"Because together everything is going to be okay." He kisses me, and I nod. “Oh, fuck,” he says, turning and running back to the bedroom. He comes out now. “I might as well do this now," he says. “And if I do it after the test, you are going to spin it in your head that it’s for a completely different reason." He starts mumbling, and I look at him, confused.

Until he gets down on one knee. “Reed Billy Barnes," I say his full name. “I will gut you like a fish if you don’t get up."

He smirks now and looks down at the brown box in his hand. “I had this whole thing set up, but …" He smiles now. “But just like us, we like to do things just a touch backward." I put my hands to my mouth now. “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen years old." His voice dips. “For six years, you were locked in a box, and I knew if I opened it up, I knew that it would be the same all over again." The tears stream down my face now. “You opened that door, and it was as if I could breathe again. It was as if I had died six years ago, and I was now coming to life."

I put my hands on his cheeks, kissing his lips. “Reed,” I whisper.

"You gave me our little girl," he continues. “There is no one I would think of living this life with besides you. Hazel"—he opens the box—"will you marry me?"

"Reed,” I say, getting on my knees in front of him and burying my face in his neck.

He hugs me in his arms. “Is that a no?" I can hear the humor in his voice, and the only thing I can do is say one word.

"Yes." I close my eyes as my tears fall. He peels me away from him and slips on the ring that was in the box. I look down and see the huge round diamond and the pink gold with little diamonds all the way around.

"This ring is huge,” I say, looking at him.

"Sofia picked it out," he says. “This was the smallest one she picked out," he says, getting up, and all I can do is look at the ring. He walks me out of the house, putting me in the truck, and when we get out, I walk in and buy fifteen tests.

"Um, shouldn’t one be enough?" he asks when we get back home, and I look at him.

"No, because if one is not sure, you have a backup," I say, opening the boxes.

He picks up one box. “This says two lines is positive, and this one tells you yes or no," he reads. “How are you going to do this? Just pee in a cup and stick them all in like they are stir sticks?" I look at him, thinking that might not be a bad idea. "Go pee in the cup, and I'll get the stir sticks ready."

"Um …" I shake my head. “You aren’t going to touch my pee,” I say, and he laughs.

"It’s just pee," he says. I grab two sticks, walk into the bathroom, and he follows me.

"Stay here,” I say when I close the door. “I’m going to pee on these two, and if anything, we can do two more later." I pull down my pants and grab the two sticks, holding them together.

I place them on the counter and flush. “Can I come in now?" he asks, opening the door.

"Three minutes,” I say, walking out of the bathroom and pushing him out with me. “We wait three minutes."

"Should we watch them?" He points at the tests.

"They’re not a cake. You don’t watch them. You sit down and wait for three minutes, and it’s going to feel like it’s eighty-four years,” I say, sitting on the bed.

"I don’t know if I can wait three minutes,” he says. “It’s been, what, a minute so far?"

I laugh. “It’s been ten seconds."

"This will be better if I watch them,” he says, walking into the bathroom.

"I’m staying here,” I say, and my legs start to move now. “If this is negative, we are having safe sex until we are ready," I inform him. “No more playing Russian roulette with my ovaries." I tilt my head to look into the bathroom and see him examining the sticks. “What do they say?"

"It’s not time yet,” he says and picks the other one up. “But"—he looks at me—“one says yes, and the other has two lines." I get up now. “Will they change?"

"I don’t know," I say, standing next to him, picking up one. “We should do another one."

Thirty minutes later, another five tests have come back positive. "Well," Reed says, then looks at me. “Do you think it’s another girl?" I put my head back and groan, closing my eyes before he finally takes me in the shower.

Nine months later, our baby boy blesses us.