Two Punks In Love

Epilogue

Kat, LA, 3 years later

"Marco!" Trace yells with eyes closed and Alder in his arms. Alder has his eyes closed to, but his little sun-hatted head cocked to listen.

"Polo!" Birch bellows from my arms, about twelve feet away from his father and his brother.

Alder bounces up and down in Trace's arms, splashing pool water everywhere. "Over there, Daddy, over there!"

He points. Trace grins. "I can't see where you're pointing, Little Man. My eyes are closed too, remember?"

"Oh, right. I forgot." He seems disappointed.

Birch is tugging on my hair like reigns, wanting me to wade away from our current "sounded" location. "Hurry up, woman!"

I splutter, trying to hide my laughter because Birch has his father's impatient tone down perfectly. Trace is less amused. He cracks an eye and says, "What did you say, young man?"

Birch stops using my hair to "giddy-up" me and frowns at his father. "It's what you say."

I smother a smile, while Trace looks sheepish. "Only when Mommy is getting ready for a red carpet. Otherwise, never ever tell Mommy to hurry up. And it is Mommy, to you. She's my woman, not yours."

Birch throws his arms around me and gives me a big smack on the cheek, then snuggles protectively under my chin. "She's my Mommy not yours." He grins at his father.

Now Alder opens his eyes. "But she was my Mommy first!"

"Nuh-huh!"

"Was too!"

Trace, seeing a tantrum coming on, pulls Alder's hat down over his eyes and yells, "Marco!"

"Polo!" I yell and slush frantically away from our position, which makes Birch giggle. "Shhh," I tell him, but Trace is already in touching distance, holding Alder out even closer, and Alder latches on to me like a Koala bear.

"Gotcha!" my sweet boy squeals.

"You did, Little Man," I tell him and give him a kiss on the nose. He opens his eyes. They are no longer the deep blue of babies, but the icy gray of most of the Del Marco's, including his brother Birch's.

"Switch!" yells Trace and I heft Birch at him and push backwards off the pool while Alder squeals in delight at our fast motion.

"Marco!" Birch shouts.

"Polo!" Alder calls back.

Trace doesn't have his eyes closed this time. He's low in the water, circling me, as the boys call back and forth. It's the first time we've been in the pool this spring, the first time he's seen me in a bikini since Christmas in Hawaii, and it's been a while. Soundcrush is doing a modified US tour with dates on Thursday Fridays and Saturdays, flying home to be with us families Sundays through Wednesdays. Last time he was home, the kids and I were sick with strep throat, requiring Trace to self-isolate so that he didn't take the bug back to Leed. But we are all one hundred percent better this week, and it's his first day home, and he's grinning at me, his eyebrows tell me exactly what he's thinking.

But just to spell it out, he silently mouths. "I want you."

"Come get me," I mouth back, and he lunges for me, grabbing me before I can scream.

"You're too good at this," I murmur as we exchange kids again.

"Daddy's good at everything," Alder says.

"You have no idea, Little Man." Trace winks at me.

#

Trace still has his mind on love an hour later, after the boys have had lunch. He returns from putting them down for their naps to find me in the kitchen, still in my bikini, cleaning up smeared almond butter from the counter. He pulls a Kona and a can of Sparkling wine from the drink cooler and opens them. I sip the wine and load the dishwasher while he makes Ben Harper play through the kitchen speakers from his phone app.