Authors: Alisa Mullen

Unrequited (Chosen #3) (19 page)

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

LIZZIE
(
I always get the last word.)

Niall ran up to me from his bedroom with Nick right on his heels. His hair was all spiked up with gel. “Well, hello there,” I announced.

“Hello,” Niall smiled up at me and ran to the living room where his matchbox cars were. I looked at Nick who was sporting a tight black Phish tee shirt and form fitting jeans. “Yummy,” I whispered.

He shrugged. “That little guy is going to be a bad ass rocker. I can see it now.” I rolled my eyes and threw Niall’s bag of clothes at him.

“Did you get Samantha’s things together?” he asked.

“Yup, she and Niall are all set to go. Nana and Papa are so excited to have them for the weekend. But babe, I am going to miss Sammy’s little cheeks,” I whined. That was only a little true. I would miss my kids but I was totally excited to meet up with our band, Desired Pitch, on tour. We were headed to New York City to open for the Love Sick Ponies. They were an excellent band and we all got along really well. The lead singer, Jules, was a welcomed reprieve from all the testosterone on the tour.

Nick gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, you look heartbroken,” he smirked as he walked toward Samantha’s
room. I locked my eyes on his ass as he walked away and I melted. He was one good-looking man and I thanked God every day for placing him into my life. Of course, not just his looks were what attracted me to Nick, but his patience and his humor. He was my perfect package deal.

Nick had gone through a terribly harsh period of time after Sam’s death. I backed off and let him grieve the way he needed to. We held each other a lot at night and talked about the simple things. The pregnancy was a great distraction and I was happy that was there for him. I knew what it felt like to lose someone you had known since you were a child. I was the one that could be strong for him. Alas, his whole demeanor changed when the doctor announced that it was a girl in the delivery room and I told the nurse that her name was Samantha Claire Sawyer. Nick cried and held her in his arms for hours.

Almost like a light switch went on, there was a spring in his step again. I smiled at how brilliant I was to think of that name. Besides that, it was the least someone could do in Samantha Hughes’ memory. Her parents never had a memorial service for her and she was sent back to Texas to be cremated. Neither Nick nor his parents knew what happened to her ashes. Sam’s mother had to move in with her sister in Austin when her husband went in to serve his prison time. I calculated one day that with good behavior, Little Samantha Claire would be a junior in college when Martin Hughes would be released.

Sawyer Productions also set up a grant in both Conner and Sam’s name for young, broke musicians who wanted a record
deal. Every year we picked a band that was super good and gave them their dream of a label and an album. We never asked for a dime from the sales so that all of the proceeds went back into their music endeavors. The studio had been so hectic that we never did buy a house in Cambridge. Nick and I decided, probably a month after Samantha was born, and that we didn’t need any more color in our lives. He and I wanted each other no matter where that was. We were sick of radical changes and decided that moving was too much work to put on top of all the other demands we had.

Our penthouse apartment was the only stable comfort in our lives and we grew to really adore its location, its beauty, and its convenience. Niall loved our apartment. He was still too small to reach top button in the elevator so every day he screamed, “Daddy, daddy” before we even got through the doors. Nick would pick him up to press the button and he would clap at his accomplishment. It was really funny until it wasn’t. After a few days, Nick started picking him up in the foyer and right after we entered the lobby downstairs to deter him from squealing so loud. It worked. My man is a smart man.

A few weeks ago we celebrated our first anniversary. It was one of the best dates I had ever been on. Nick got us tickets to a Phish show in Long Beach. When I saw him heading us towards the general gate, I stopped in my tracks and advised him that the VIP section was over to the right.

“I know where it is. I got us lawn seats so we could dance together again. That was by far the best concert I had ever been to,’ he recalled.

“Nick!” I screamed. “We finally have the opportunity to get into the VIP section and you got us lawn seats? Jesus! I have been on that lawn more than enough times to know what it is like. I wanted us to have our own private viewing area!”

He smiled and took out two VIP tickets. “I was really hoping you would say that. Sammy kept me up all night and I am dog tired.” He yawned for effect.

I squealed and he took my hand to the right entrance where we were treated like royalty. We danced together in our own suite, drank far too much, and made out without regard to anyone’s stares. We did everything that we never did at our first Phish concert together. As Trey Anastasio started the second set, he walked up to the microphone and while he strummed his guitar, he proclaimed, “This song goes out to my buddy’s wife, Lizzie Sawyer. Nick, happy anniversary man.”

They played
Bouncing around the Room
with more gusto than I had ever heard. I trained my tear filled eyes on my husband the whole song with my mouth dropped open. His grin was flawless. He tickled me and pushed my shoulder trying to get me to enjoy the moment. The only words I remember speaking were, “Trey just dedicated a song to us.” It was so mind-boggling. Well, that was until Nick dragged me backstage where I actually hugged Fishman, smelly drummer after sweat and all. It was
the
best date ever. Again I must say that my man is a smart man. He got a night full of “Nick only” pleasures.

“Baseball analogies are always the best ones,” he once debated with me as he pulled his Texas Rangers hat on
backwards. So, I will give it a shot. What I have come to understand over the course of my relationship with Nick is that life will always throw us curve balls. We can’t be prepared for them until they are right over the plate. We either take that swing or watch the damn thing whiz on by. Either way, it is our reaction to that strike that will make us who we are. You can curse at it, you can call the umpire an ass hat, or you can look down at the pitcher and smile. Okay, Nick, baseball metaphor over.

We started a life together when birth and death greatly affected us individually and as a couple. Those drastic changes to our personal lives could have either made or broke our characters. Yes, we broke for a while but we always came back together. We got stronger. Nick has shown me to accept the changes and learn from them. I have.

I have found myself more attentive to the present and I stopped worrying about the “what ifs” in life. I don’t dwell on the past for very long like I used to. I force myself to remember the good times and I move forward. It isn’t fair to me or the people that I love.

Nick brought his identical twin baby girl out in a pretty purple flowery dress and I beamed at them. He was watching her gurgle out sounds and laughing. “You are a fine-looking little girl all dressed up, just like your mother. Yes…yes you are,” he cooed.

“She looks nothing like me,” I sighed. Her deep brown hair and beautifully shaped blue eyes was all Sawyer.

“Not true! I see your attitude in her every day, babe,” he sassed as he squeezed my ass. Bastard. I scoffed at him and smack him on the arm.

“Watch it! Baby in arms?” he pleaded. Damn excuses. Those kids were very distracting pawns in our banter. It was like a time out from Tag when they were in our arms.

We shut everything off in the apartment with a flourish and grabbed Niall from his matchbox car reverie. I took the baby from Nick’s arms so he could pick up Niall. We had everything brought down to the Audi. We all waved goodbye to our home as the elevator doors closed. We were officially on tour.

I felt the fluttering in my heart as I thought about our nights ahead. It was jam time. It was a night for Nick and me to have a blast and get lost in music. There were truly only a few moments better than those on stage, but you already know what they are. I don’t have to tell you what I am grateful for anymore. It’s a pleasant life when you don’t feel like shit about yourself all day and night. It’s all about the people and the moments we share. My moments are fabulous. No masks, no pretend, just the real me.

Rock on.

The Chosen Series by Alisa Mullen