Page 126 of Used

“I think she likes the idea of that.” I chuckle.

Marshall goes back to his knees and speaks directly to my belly, to our little sugar plum and our future.

“Te vamos a querer mucho, pequeña ciruela azucarada.” He whispers. “So much.” We’re gonna love you so much, little sugar plum.

I run my fingers through his hair, and his gaze shoots up to look at me.

“I love you,” I say softly.

He takes a deep breath. “I know. I know now. I believe you.”

“Forever, Marshall. This is forever.” I tell him. “No taking it back.”

“Never.”

“Forever.”

“Always.”

Epilogue

Elsie

September 28 — 3 Days Old

Giving birth is by far the worst pain I’ve ever experienced.

I thought periods were terrible, but nothing compares to what I went through in order to have my daughter.

Yes, daughter.

Marshall was, annoyingly, correct about us having a girl.

Bridgit Gabriela Law born on September 25 at 10:47 a.m., weighing in at seven pounds and nine ounces and measuring 19 inches tall.

She looked like a raisin, but I’ve never felt such an overwhelming and immediate love for someone like I did when I first held her.

Marshall was by my side the entire time, and much to my annoyance, and he was as positive as my pregnancy test the whole time.

By the end of the whole ordeal, I just wanted to sleep, but there was so much business during the four days I spent in the hospital.

According to the nurses, Bridgit passed her car seat test with flying colors, and they finally approved us for release.

Which is why I’m now sitting outside the main entrance of the hospital in a wheelchair, Bridgit in her car seat next to me and a nurse at my back, waiting for Marshall to bring his truck around to drive us home.

Only, the vehicle that pulls up before me is not Marshall’s truck, though it’s definitely Marshall driving.

Instead, I’m looking at a dark blue BMW SUV.

Marshall gets out of the driver’s seat and comes around to face me with a smile on his face.

“What the hell, Marshall?” I ask, startling the nurse who’s standing behind me.

“Do you not like it?” He says with a frown before picking up our daughter’s carrier while the nurse helps me get up from the wheelchair and walk over to the car’s open back door.

Marshall rounds the car and opens up the back seat door to click the car seat in place while the nurse kindly helps me into the car.

When he finishes securing our daughter and slides into the driver’s seat, I immediately start asking questions and demanding answers.

---