Page 116 of Choosing Hope
The heat of his release inside me feels incredible. His body is trembling against mine. We’re both overcome with emotion.
“Oh, Carlo,” Sophie says, reaching for him. It’s so typical of her to want to share out her love.
He allows her to pull us both tight to her, so that she may cradle us both, using the support of the double hammock and Carlo’s physical strength not to collapse.
“I love you. Both of you,” Carlo’s words are clear, but the moment he finishes speaking I can sense his racking sobs against my back.
My heart swells, sandwiched between the two people who, time and again, have proven that even when I gave up on myself, they had the strength to pull me back.
Later, when we’ve stumbled inside, all of us exhausted, we quickly shower and then at Sophie’s insistence, all crash out on the bed.
“Do we need to talk about what just happened?” Sophie asks, her voice a mere whisper.
“No.” Carlo and I reply in unison.
Our response makes her giggle.
"We just need to enjoy it," Carlo murmurs, pressing closer behind me. His arms encircle both Sophie and me, his hand drawing mine to hers, until our joined hands are trapped warmly in Carlo’s.
For the first time in forever, I’m at peace—with who I am, and with the people I love. The road here wasn’t easy, but somehow, we found our way back to each other.
THE END
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Spencer
I stride into Dr. Klein’s office, hidden behind an enormous bouquet of flowers. Today’s bittersweet—it’s our last session together as doctor and patient, and I wanted to say thank you properly.
Anna, her assistant, looks up as I approach the desk. As always, a deep blush creeps over her cheeks.
“G-good afternoon, Mr. Barton-Jones,” she stammers. “Dr. Klein is available. You can go straight in.”
I give her mybest easy smile.
“Thank you, Anna.”
I’ve never understood why she gets so flustered around me. I’ve only ever been polite, but some habits die hard.
I knock lightly on the doctor’s door, waiting for the familiar call of, “Come in.”
Carefully maneuvering the flowers through the doorway, I grin as she gasps in delight.
“Spencer, they’re beautiful—but you’ve already given so much,” she says warmly. “You didn’t need to do this. You’ve paid for my time.”
“What you’ve given me, is worth far more than money.”
She stands and kisses my cheek—a gesture that would have shocked me a year ago, back when I first sat in this office, tense and unsure. Now, she’s not just my psychologist—she’s a friend.
“You look well,” she says, smiling at me with fond approval. “How was Asia?”
“Incredible,” I say, taking my seat opposite her. “There’s so much beauty out there, so many cultures...and yet, you know what struck me most? The people with the least often seem the happiest.”
She leans in, curious.
“We stayed in southern Sri Lanka for two weeks,” I continue. “Have you ever been?”
