In a World They Forgot

Some People Aren't Lucky Like Us: Epilogue

Groaning, I tried to untangle another set of fairy lights from my arm. I paused, steadying myself on the slightly unstable ladder before glancing around the oddly quiet house. If there was one thing I had learnt in the last six years it was that silence never led to anything good. Twisting my body, but keeping a firm grip on the top of the ladder, I tried to shake the fairy light free from my wrist once more but to no avail.

“Can I have some help in here?!” I called, hoping that one of the mischievous faces would appear quickly enough.

A mass of happy laughter escaped the kitchen, followed by the scampering of feet before three cheery faces appeared in the doorway, each one apparently covered in more flour than the previous. Chuckling, I shook my head at the sight before me. It was impossible to be mad at the scene when the three were just as adorable as each other.

“But, mommy, we’re making cakes!”

“Mommy needs help.” Greg, the tallest of the three flour covered goofballs explained, stepping around the two children to help untangle the nights from my arm.

“Thanks, Greg.” I smiled, leaning down from the ladder to claim a sweet kiss from my husband before uprighting myself again and fixing the lights to their designated place over the archway of our dining room.

“Okay, now that daddy saved the day again, it’s time we got you two cleaned up. Santa will be visiting soon and he only gives toys to good, clean boys.”

“But dad!” The two whined in perfect unison, as though they had spent years perfecting it behind closed doors.

I shook my head and chuckled as Greg ushered the boys from the room, roaring at them and chasing them up to the bathroom like the big kid he still was. I left him to deal with the giddy children and dealt with cleaning the remainder of packaging and the trail of destruction that two little boys often left behind them. I only paused to smile at the family photo from the summer before, my fingers brushing lightly over the image as my smile widened lovingly.

It was hard to believe that Grayson was already six years old. He looked more like Greg with each day that passed, but his temper was definitely the Italian blood I had passed down to him. Grayson even wore his hair in the same trademark spikes that Greg had sported when I first met him. It seemed so long ago and yet just like it was yesterday, all at the same time.

The younger bundle of energy was Emmett. Not quite the same surprise as his big brother had been, Emmett had come along three years ago. He tried to be just like Grayson though, even mimicking the style that his big brother mimicked from their father. Emmett was another one who looked so much like Greg it was unreal, but he had my hazel eyes and even the glare reminded me of myself when he was in a bad mood.

Greg returned to the room shortly after, just as I finished packing away the children’s toys back into the large toy box in the corner of the room. There would be more new treats and surprises to join them in the morning and probably enough room for everything that Christmas would bring, but I could hardly complain. I still felt like the happiest and luckiest woman on the planet.

“The boys are playing for half an hour. I told them it could be their Christmas Eve treat.” He grinned, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. We could hardly believe that we had been married for seven years already when each day still had us acting like silly fools. Each day I fell for him all over again and I don’t even think Greg realised it.

It was the little things that kept us smiling and pushed us through a rough week. We weren’t the perfect couple and there were times when we would fight and shout at each other, but those fights always ended with hugs, kisses and promises to make things better. I still fell in love with his goofy smile, his cheesy one-liners and the way he’d often mess up when he tried to do something perfect. I didn’t need perfection or expenses when I had him making me laugh and smile each day of the week.