Unloved: EPILOGUE

“You’re gonna be late.”

“I’m not gonna be late, Mrs. Shariff. I promise.”

“You are,” she moans, tinny through the speaker. “I can it.”

I quietly chuckle a little as I grab a program from the man at the door who eyes the phone at my ear like it’s some type of vermin I grabbed off the street.

“I’ve gotta go. I’m here.”

“Matt—”

“See! I told you I wouldn’t be late.”

She sighs heavily, her voice trembling slightly. “I feel like a horrible mother for not being there—”

“Hush with that,” I say. “You need to be there for Daniel. Besides, I’ll be sure to film the whole thing, okay?”

Daniel Shariff’s condition took a turn for the worse in the year after graduation, a second stroke leaving him nearly completely bedridden. I was in talks with a contractor on building them a one-story house closer to Dallas, but Daniel all but chewed my head off at the suggestion.

So we’re still negotiating.

Still, I know Ro’s mother and father both feel awful about missing out on her graduation today. Fortunately, it’s being livestreamed, and I spent most of last night’s flight home using the Wi-Fi to make sure they could find and load the page to watch.

“Okay, .”

. She’s called me that since long before we married. “Call me after.”

I agree quickly before hanging up and switching my phone to Do Not Disturb. I spot Archer near the front, knowing he probably showed up as early as they’d let him to grab good seats. He waves to me using the soft, little baby hand currently grasped his wrist.

Shuffling into the center of the row, I smile warmly at the sight of Archer holding baby Elsie—the sweetest, most darling girl I’ve ever seen. The cutest baby in the entire world. If Ro would let me enter her in competitions, I’d have a trophy to prove it.

“How’s my girl?” I ask, taking her from him to rub my nose on her plump cheek, absorbing the new-baby smell.

“Excited to see her daddy.” Archer grins, petting her hair. He turns to the giant diaper bag he always totes around and pulls out a little beanie for her pretty curls. “But it’s freezing in here, so put this on her.”

Talk about a mama bear—that’s been Archer since the hospital.

He’s nearly moved into our house now, a live-in nanny during the last months while Ro finished school and I traveled. Fortunately, baby Elsie came to us after my season ended—not making it past the first round of play-offs.

I commiserated with the guys, but I was thrilled to have that extra time with my wife and our new baby.

That, and I’d found a new hobby—home videos.

Ro cried nearly every night of her fourth year, deep into the research for her dissertation and constantly feeling like she was missing something every time she stepped out the door for school.

So I started videoing everything Elsie and I did—Archer, too—in hopes that Ro never felt like she missed a second. I really put my off-season time to good use.

They read off the names rather quickly before Archer leans over with a quick, “She’s next.” He takes Elsie from me so I can film just off stage where I can see Ro, green high heels the only pop of color—other than the numerous cords decking her black robe.

“Dr. Rosalie Shariff!”

“That’s my wife!” I shout, hand cupped to project my voice. Archer bounces Elsie up so she can see her mom. She coos and giggles, clapping her little hands together. I film one handed and shoot a thumbs-up to Ro as her professor settles the hood on her shoulders. It jostles the funky cap nearly off her head, but Ro puts a hand on the cap to hold it and returns my thumbs-up with one of her own.

Her smile is dazzling.

My cheeks feel wet, tears tracking across as I watch her. She waves to us again, and I look at Archer, realizing he’s crying, too.

I’ve never been so proud in my entire life.

, I mouth. We’re close enough for her to see it and she blows me a kiss and mouths the words back.

These girls—this family we’ve made. This is what I was made for—for loving them, protecting them all.

I know my mom is gone. But she is here, in me. In my softness with Ro. In Archer’s love of me. In Elsie’s vibrant green eyes. I can feel her everywhere, even when I’m not looking for her.

I’m having one of my bad days. With my new job, these days are few and far between, but today has been exhausting. I’ve gotten sick too many times today, until the professor I currently work with finally sent me home.

Tears burn my eyes as I sit in the car inside the garage, so I open my phone and flip through the videos in my Life with Elsie folder of all Matt and Elsie’s videos together.

“

.” Matt’s happy tone crackles from my phone speaker. The video doesn’t show him, only baby Elsie in her highchair. “

”

Elsie slaps her hands on the pink plastic tray and giggles, eyes shining as she watches her dad. She’s been smitten with him since her birth, eyes sparkling whenever he enters a room and calls for her.

Matt opens a container, propping the phone up so I can see them both in the wide-frame shot. He takes a tiny baby spoon and dips it into the beige-colored mush.

“

Elsie giggle-screams like she can understand what he’s said. He blushes and shakes his head, a smile splitting his face even as he struggles to get the baby food down.

“

,” he mutters, but zooms the spoon toward her like an airplane—complete with loud, animated noises. Elsie easily eats it, her grin never wavering.

I click out, feeling lighter, as I always do when I watch one of the videos he sends me. They were mostly for when I was away for too long during school, but I’ve begun returning the favor when he’s away for games or practices. Even Archer sends videos into our group chat.

Stepping into our house, I hear Mouse before I see him—our boxer, who is clumsy and overeager as he rushes my legs with a yelp. Right after him, I hear an excited, “Mommy!”

Elsie comes stumbling in, Archer hot on her tail. She’s fast—tall for an almost-two-year-old. I scoop her up and greet Archer quickly as she babbles to me, half-real words, half-garbled.

“Is Matt home yet?”

Archer nods with a smile. “Yeah, I was watching her while he made dinner.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “He made dinner?” At this, Archer blushes and shrugs before kissing my cheek and then Elsie’s.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“Bye, Grandpa Ace!” Elsie shouts, waving as he leaves. He doesn’t have to go far—when we built the house, we had a father-in-law suite built across from the garage. So we all have privacy, but he’s always here.

My dad finally agreed to Matt’s offer to build them a one-story home that would make it easier for them to continue to live independently, but in Dallas, where they could be closer to me. And closer to the medical research facility I work for.

I don’t anticipate some major breakthrough that can heal my dad. I’m thankful he’s here. That he’s happy. And that they both get to see us as much as possible.

Pictures line the walls—team dinners we’ve hosted for two years now as Matt earned the C he now wears proudly on his jersey; photos of us at our wedding; us at Rhys and Sadie’s wedding—the family network we’ve built together for seven years now.

Music plays in the kitchen, Matt dancing to Noah Kahan’s “Forever” as he cooks chicken for what looks like taco night.

“Hey there, Matty,” I shout over the music. He spins with a massive grin, smile lines deep. His hair is shorter, shorn on the sides and perfectly styled on top. He’s bigger now, muscles from his intense discipline carved into his body, which he keeps at the peak of sport performance perfection. His eyes wear the wrinkles of constant smiles, his skin tan from swimming in the pool with our daughter, his arms thick and warm as they wrap around us both.

“Princess,” he says to me, leaning in to kiss my lips before kissing the top of Elsie’s head. “And my little mermaid.”

We both giggle at our respective nicknames.

“Elsie,” I say, dropping her to her wobbly feet. “Can you go get Mouse’s toys?”

Once our daughter toddles off, where we can still see her, I turn to Matt with watery eyes.

He drops the spatula, grabbing my biceps and pulling me a little closer. “Rosalie?”

I look up into his emerald eyes, his concern and protective nature bleeding through. This man—who I kissed at eighteen, who I fell in love with because of his gentle heart, who I’ve grown beside for the last seven years of our life… who I love more every day.

“I know we had a plan—” My voice breaks. “But… I’m pregnant again.”

We’d planned to wait, to enjoy our time with Elsie and not add to our insanely hectic, though very happy, lives.

Matt’s head tips back and he curses at the ceiling before grabbing me in a tight hug.

“

, Ro. I thought something was .” He kisses every single spot of my face he can reach, laughing. Pure joy in his tone. “We’re gonna have a baby?”

“We’re gonna have another baby,” I laugh, tears streaming onto my face to match the ones on his cheeks. “Are you happy?”

“More than you know.” He looks over at our daughter, who babbles to our dog and plays with him. “I never thought being this happy was real. That it was possible. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Loving him is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.

“And I love this life we’ve built together.”

We’re never alone. We always have each other.

In our house, there is so much love, it overflows.