Epilogue
King
Five Year Later
"Daddy."
I look up from my laptop to see my four-year-old daughter, Hermione, standing in the doorway to my office, her stuffed Yoda in one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other. Her copper hair is tangled from sleep, so are her pajamas. There's a pillow crease on her little cheek.
My gaze softens, my heart pulsing with emotion. It's been four years since Caroline gave me our first baby, and I'm still awed every time I set eyes on her. She's a little replica of her mom, tiny, fierce, and so sweet I lose my mind worrying about her.
"Hi, baby girl," I murmur, pushing my chair away from my desk and then holding my arms out for her.
She stumbles toward me, her bare feet shuffling across the hardwood floor. She can barely hold her little eyes open.
"What are you doing awake?" I ask, picking her up. I already know the answer to my question, but I ask it anyway.
"Da monsters are back," she whispers, snuggling up against my chest with her tiny legs tossed over the arm of my chair.
"Oh no," I say, smiling gently. Reaching over her head, I snag her blanket off the chest beside my desk to cover her up. Once every couple of weeks since we all migrated to California, Caroline and Kennedy get together with Liberty and Rowan, their sisters-in-law, for girls' night. The four of them are incredibly close. Hermione appears in my office like clockwork each time the girls get together, declaring that there are monsters in her room. She sleeps in here with me until I carry her back to bed. She doesn't like to be left out. I'm on to her, but I let her get away with it.
Caroline says I have to learn to tell her no, but we both know that won't ever happen. My girls get what they want. If Hermione wants to snuggle up on my lap to ask me a million questions, I'm not going to stop her. Sooner or later, she'll outgrow me. Like her mommy, she'll learn to slay monsters herself. But so long as she needs me to protect her from them, I will.
"Da monsters are loud, daddy," she says through a yawn, blinking wide obsidian eyes at me. "They don't wike to let me sleep."
"Daddy will take care of them, baby girl," I promise, earning a grave nod from her.
Just that easily, she forgets about the monsters, trusting that I'll handle the situation for her like I always do. She turns her face to look at my computer screen, squinting. "Dat's a lot of words."
"It is," I say with a chuckle. She's learning to read but hasn't quite mastered it just yet. Thankfully. There's nothing in this particular book she needs to see.
Since claiming Caroline as mine, finding words has been as easy as breathing. My princess is a never-ending source of inspiration to me. So are Hermione and her two-year-old twin brothers, Archer and Jude. My life is full because of them, my future brighter than it has ever been.
I spend my nights buried deep in my wife, my days protecting and watching over the family she's given me, and those quiet hours in between lost in worlds and characters that never seem to leave me now. What bitterness once stole, love has given back in abundance.
Little pieces of my princess find their way into most of my books. This one is different. She doesn't know it yet, but this book is for her. It's about her and the incredible life she's given me. It's a love story, our own fairytale. Because of her, I know peace and hope. I know true passion and purpose. I know love so deep it lives in every cell of my body and runs through every vein. I'm more obsessed with my wife now than I was five years ago. My love for her grows immeasurably deeper every day. So does my need.