73

Sierra's POV

A year went by. Then two.

Funny how time works. When you're scared, every minute lasts forever. When you're happy, the years just fly.

Katie was nine now. She lost more teeth and grew taller and started rolling her eyes at us like a tiny teenager. She still loved horses, but now it was also makeup and boy bands and arguing about bedtime.

"She's getting opinions," Louis said one night, watching her stomp upstairs after a fight about homework. "Loud ones."

"That's good," I said. "Strong girls have strong opinions."

He raised an eyebrow. "She gets that from you."

I smiled. "Definitely."

Our life was so normal it was almost weird. Louis went to work. I did foundation stuff. We had date nights on Fridays. We argued about what to watch on TV. We laughed at dumb jokes.

The nightmares stopped completely. I couldn't remember the last time I woke up scared.

We didn't talk about Lyle. Not ever. It was like an unspoken rule. That chapter was closed.

But sometimes, late at night, I'd think about him. Not with fear anymore. Just... sad. Sad for that little boy at the lake house, watching other kids play. Sad that he turned into someone who hurt people instead of getting help.

I never told Louis I thought about him. Some thoughts are just for you.

One Saturday in fall, we went apple picking. It was sunny and cool and perfect. Katie ran through the orchard with her friend Emily, screaming and laughing. Louis and I walked slow behind them, holding hands.

"Look at her," he said. "So happy."

"She's a good kid," I said.

"She has a good mom."

I squeezed his hand. "She has a good dad too."

We picked apples until our bags were heavy. Katie wanted to make a pie. A whole pie by herself. Louis and I looked at each other and silently agreed to buy a backup pie just in case.

That night, the kitchen was a disaster. Flour everywhere. Sticky stuff on the counters. Katie's face was covered in dough. But the pie, when it came out of the oven, actually looked okay.

"It's beautiful," Louis said, and he meant it.

"I'm a baker now," Katie announced. "I'm going to have a bakery and a horse farm together."

"A horse bakery?" I asked.

"Yes. We'll sell apple pies to the horses."

"Horses don't eat pie, baby."

"They will if it's delicious enough."

Louis laughed so hard he snorted. That made Katie laugh. Then me. We stood in our messy kitchen, laughing like idiots over a nine-year-old's horse bakery.

It was the best night.

Later, after Katie was asleep, Louis and I sat on the back porch with coffee. The garden was dark and quiet. The stars were out.

"We're lucky," I said.

"I know."

"Sometimes I feel guilty. That we get this. That we're so happy when other people..."

"Don't," he said. "We earned this. We fought for it. It's okay to enjoy it."

I leaned my head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too. More than apples."

I laughed. "That's a lot."

"The most."

The next morning, Louis had to go into the office for a few hours. Something about a problem with a building in Tokyo. Katie had a playdate. I had the house to myself.

I cleaned up the kitchen from last night's pie adventure. I did laundry. I read a book. Normal stuff.

Around noon, the doorbell rang. I checked the security screen. It was a delivery guy with flowers. Huge, beautiful flowers.

I opened the door. "These are gorgeous," I said, signing for them.

"Have a nice day, ma'am."

I brought them inside and opened the card. It was from Louis.

*To my favorite baker. Thanks for making our life sweet. Love, L.*

I smiled so hard my face hurt. He was so cheesy sometimes. I loved it.

I put the flowers in a vase on the kitchen island. They were bright pink and yellow. They made the whole room feel happy.

That night, I made a special dinner. Steak and potatoes and a salad. Katie helped set the table, which meant the forks were in the wrong spots, but it was perfect anyway.

Louis came home and saw the flowers. He smiled. "You like them?"

"I love them. You're the best husband."

"I know," he said, and ducked when I threw a napkin at him.

Dinner was loud and fun. Katie told us about her day. Louis told us about Tokyo building problems. I told them about the funny thing the cat did.

Normal. Perfectly normal.

After dinner, while Louis did the dishes (a miracle), I went to check on Katie. She was in bed, reading with a flashlight under the covers like she thought we couldn't see.

"Katie."

"Mommy! I was just..."

"Honey, it's nine thirty. You have school tomorrow."

"Five more minutes?"

"One more chapter. Then sleep."

"Deal!"

I kissed her forehead. "Love you, baby."

"Love you too, Mommy. Tell Daddy goodnight."

I went back downstairs. Louis was drying his hands.

"She's reading under the covers," I said.

"Of course she is." He grinned. "She gets that from you."

"I read perfectly normal amounts."

"You read at stoplights."

I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn't. He was right. I totally read at stoplights.

We went to the living room and watched a show. Some drama about lawyers. We guessed who the killer was. I was right. He was wrong. I rubbed it in.

Normal. Happy. Boring, even.

When we went to bed, I looked at myself in the mirror again. I did that sometimes. Checked on the woman looking back.

She was thirty-five now. She had little lines around her eyes from smiling. Her hair had a few greys. She looked... peaceful.

Louis came up behind me like he always did. Wrapped his arms around my waist.

"What are you looking at?"

"Myself," I said. "I look older."

"You look beautiful."

"You have to say that. You're my husband."

"I'm also right."

I turned in his arms. "We're really okay, aren't we?"

"We're really okay." He kissed me. "Better than okay."

We got into bed. The house was quiet. Katie was asleep upstairs. The cat was asleep on the couch. Everything was where it should be.

I lay in the dark, listening to Louis breathe. His hand found mine under the covers.

"Sierra?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we made it."

"Made what?"

"Through the fire. To here." He squeezed my hand. "I almost lost you so many times. To Victor. To Lyle. To my own stupidity. I'm glad we made it."

I turned my head on the pillow. I couldn't see his face, but I could feel him there. Solid. Warm. Mine.

"Me too," I whispered. "Me too."

We fell asleep like that. Holding hands in the dark.

The next morning, I woke up to sunshine and the smell of pancakes. Katie was in the kitchen, standing on a chair, flipping pancakes with Louis.

"Mommy! We made you breakfast!"

I stood in the doorway, watching them. My two favorite people. Covered in flour again. Laughing.

"You made a mess," I said.

"We made *breakfast*," Katie corrected.

"Is there a difference?"

Louis slid a plate toward me. The pancake was lopsided and slightly burnt. It was perfect.

I sat down and ate it. It was the best pancake I ever had.

Later, when Katie was getting dressed, Louis sat down next to me with his coffee.

"Hey," he said. "I've been thinking."

"Dangerous."

"Ha ha." He paused. "I want to do something. Something big."

I looked at him. "What kind of big?"

"I want to take you somewhere. Just us. A real vacation. No work. No Katie. No stress."

"A honeymoon?" I asked. "After fifteen years?"

"A second honeymoon," he said. "We never really had a first one. I was too busy. Too stupid. I want to do it right this time."

My heart did a little flip. "Where?"

"Anywhere you want. Paris. Bali. A cabin in the woods. You pick."

I thought about it. Paris sounded romantic. Bali sounded warm. But...

"The beach," I said. "The same beach where you gave me the key. I want to go back there."

His face lit up. "The beach house? Really?"

"Really. Just us. For a week."

He leaned over and kissed me. "It's a date."

Three weeks later, we flew to Vivienne's beach house. Just us. Katie stayed with my mom, who was thrilled to have her.

The house was empty and quiet. No staff. No security. Just the ocean and us.

We walked on the beach every day. We ate dinner at little restaurants. We slept late. We made love with the windows open so we could hear the waves.

One night, we sat on the terrace with wine. The moon was huge again. Just like that night years ago.

"Thank you," I said.

"For what?"

"For this. For us. For not giving up."

He took my hand. "Thank you for staying. For fighting. For believing I could be better."

I looked at him. This man who started as a stranger. Then a enemy. Then a partner. Then a friend. Then my whole heart.

"I love you, Louis Crowe."

"I love you, Sierra Crowe. My wife. My partner. My everything."

We kissed under the moon. The waves kept crashing. The world kept spinning.

And we were finally, completely, utterly home.

---

The next morning, I woke up alone. The bed was empty. I heard noises from the kitchen.

I put on his shirt and padded downstairs.

Louis was at the stove, making breakfast. He was wearing sweatpants and concentrating hard on the eggs.

"You're cooking?" I asked.

"I'm attempting to cook."

"Need help?"

"No. Sit. You're on vacation."

I sat at the little kitchen table and watched him. He burned the toast. He over-salted the eggs. He spilled coffee on the counter.

It was the best breakfast of my life.

After, we walked on the beach again. The sand was cold. The wind was salty. We found shells and skipped rocks.

"We should do this more often," I said.

"Every year," he agreed. "Promise?"

"Promise."

We walked a little more. Then he stopped. He turned to me. He looked nervous.

"What?" I asked.

"I have something. Another thing." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. A ring box. Real this time.

My heart stopped.

"Louis..."

"I know we're already married," he said fast. "I know we have rings. But those rings... they were from a business deal. A merger. Not from love." He opened the box. Inside was a simple, beautiful diamond. Not huge. Just perfect. "This one is from love. From me. To you. Will you marry me again? For real this time?"

I started crying. Stupid, happy crying.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, yes, yes."

He slid the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly. He must have stolen one of my old rings to get the size.

I looked at it. Then at him. Then at the ring again.

"It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

He kissed me on the beach, with the waves and the seagulls and the whole world watching.

We walked back to the house, holding hands. My new ring sparkled in the sun.

That night, we called Katie. She screamed when she saw the ring on the video call.

"MOMMY GOT A PRETTY RING! DADDY, YOU'RE SO ROMANTIC!"

"I try," he said, grinning.

When we hung up, we sat on the couch watching the sunset.

"I didn't think we'd get here," I said quietly. "That night in the cellar. I didn't think we'd ever feel normal again."

"Me neither," he admitted. "But here we are."

"Here we are."

He pulled me closer. "The best part is, we have forever."

"The rest of our lives."

"And then some."

We watched the sun sink into the ocean. Orange and pink and gold.

Tomorrow we'd go home. Back to real life. Back to school runs and work meetings and grocery shopping.

But tonight, we had this. Us. The waves. The ring. The promise.

The beginning of the rest of our forever.