Page 62 of Soaring and Steadfast

A sharing of souls in the dim glow of a room that didn’t need light to shine.

This moment.

This love.

This forever.

Her Louis.

EPILOGUE

LILA

Miracles happen every day—if only you choose to see them.

That was something Lila had come to understand in the quiet, stolen moments of her life. She saw them now, reflected in the golden afternoon sunlight that filtered through the trees, dappling the earth in patterns of light and shadow. She saw them in the gentle rise and fall of her baby’s breath against her chest. But most of all, she saw themin him.

Her husband.

Louis stood just a few feet away, laughing as he chased their children across the grassy yard, his deep, rich chuckle wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Ten years, they had been married. Ten years of love so fierce, so absolute, that she could hardly remember a time before him. Those years before him seemed distant and colorless, blurred shadows in the background of her memory as if her life had only truly begun when she’d first fallen into his arms.

Now, everything was vibrant.

Bright.

Glowing.

She watched him as he scooped their five-year-old daughter, Sara, into his arms, twirling her effortlessly until her delighted squeals filled the air. Her curls—Louis’ curls—bounced wildly around her cherubic face, and Lila’s heart ached at the sight. Sara had her Daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger, and they all knew it. Every Saturday night, without fail, when he was in port, it was their baking night. Flour-covered hands, giggles, and warm cookies filled the house with sweetness. Sometimes, it was dough ornaments for the Christmas tree. Sometimes carrot cake. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he made time for them, for her.

And then there were the twins. Nine years old and utterly inseparable, their bond so unshakable it felt like they had been born sharing the same soul. They finished each other’s sentences, spoke in silent glances, and never hesitated to stand up for one another. Brave. Oh, they were so brave. Louis called them his little guardians, and they lived up to the name, always watching over their younger siblings with fierce, unwavering devotion.

But it was the baby nestled against her breast who stole the very breath from her lungs.

Her miracle.

The one they hadn’t planned for. The one they hadn’t even known they needed. The baby that had defied birth control and reason, arriving as if he had been sent straight from heaven itself.

Her precious little son.

He stirred slightly, his tiny fingers curling against the fabric of her dress, his warm body nestled so perfectly against hers that it felt as if he had always been there. He had his daddy’s dark hair and the same deep, soulful eyes, and when he smiled—even if it was often followed by a gassy grunt or an unexpected bout of spit-up—her heart melted in ways she never thought possible.

She let out a slow, contented sigh, pressing her lips to his soft, downy head, inhaling that sweet, familiar scent of baby skin and innocence. And when she lifted her gaze, she found her husband already looking at her.

That look.

It reached across the space between them, making her pulse quicken as if she were meeting him again for the first time, standing at the beginning of forever with him. His expression was tender yet searing, filled with that same unspoken longing, that same undying devotion that had only grown stronger with time. He smiled then, slow and knowing before his gaze dropped to the baby in her arms.

Lila’s heart swelled so full it ached.

How had she been so lucky? How had she found this man—the right man—the only man who could ever hold her heart and cherish it so perfectly?

Oh yes, life was good.

It was breathtakingly, overwhelmingly, impossibly good.

She tightened her arms around their son, feeling love swell in her chest until she thought she might burst from it.

“Isn’t that right, my precious little Louis…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, pressing another kiss to the crown of his head.

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