Endless: REWRITTEN

Epilogue

Five years later...

Natalie

"Absolutely not."

"Seriously? Come on, she'll be fine!"

I give him a death glare. We're not discussing this around Charlotte. I glance at my daughter sitting at the kitchen table, scribbling on some computer paper with assorted markers and crayons. She's exhibited from a young age that she's interested in art and creating things, and who am I to deny her that? The problem at hand is because of what happened years ago, I'm weary about my daughter's safety. Robin, on the other hand, not so much.

"Living room," I tell him quietly, and exit there myself. Once we arrive there, I turn back to him. "I don't want to leave her with a sitter."

"You got to loosen those apron strings, love."

"Yeah, when she's sixteen. Then I pass the baton to you, when she starts dating."

"Sixteen? I was thinking eighteen."

"You can think whatever you want, we have both been teenagers. We know better than that."

He sighs, glancing off to the side. I didn't want to really bother him with this, but he was the one to bring the topic up. Robin and I have been saving for a vacation for just the two of us for a year. With me being so wrapped up in taking care of Charlotte and him working tirelessly at his restaurant, neither of us have really gotten a break, and it's not only taken a strain on our relationship as lovers, but a strain on our relationship as parents.

"We can leave her with Gianna and Roscoe. If Mordecai was in the country, we'd leave her with him, so they're our second best option."

"I'm sorry if I fail to see them as the most suitable sitters for Lottie," I deadpan, crossing my arms.

"It'll just be for a week, we can call in every day and night, and come home if we don't feel okay about it. But we need this getaway, love. We need time to ourselves, and not just for a night."

As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. And I hate it when he's right, because then he has to milk it for the next two weeks. Besides, Gianna and Roscoe aren't the most irresponsible people in the world. Lottie wouldn't be in the best state, but she wouldn't be dead, and that's ultimately the goal. She's four, so she has some semblance of responsibility over herself. If she needs me, she can let the two of them know that she needs to see me.

"Okay," I force out through gritted teeth. "We can leave her with them. But if anything happens—"

"You'll bury me alive, I know," he sighs. "She's my daughter, too. I don't want anything to happen to her, either."

I huff. Sometimes I doubt that, but I have to chalk it up to the fact that this parenting thing is still new to Robin. The first time she gets hurt, seriously hurt, he'll straighten up. But in the meantime, I have to be the bad cop in this partnership.

The following month, February, I'm letting go of my baby girl. And I've never been so nervous.

"You look like you're going to pass out," Robin notes on the way to Roscoe and Gianna's apartment.

"Better me than Lottie."

"Hey," he glances at me from the driver's seat. "For every time you mention Lottie's safety on this trip, you'll owe me one favor. And you'll have to do anything."