Page 119

My heart aches and constricts in my chest, making all that I lost so much more real when I see my sister in love. My heart aches for what I know I’ll never have.

I think of all the boys I met and dated, and was friends with. I search all the memories and find nothing that compares. And I think of that night, months ago, wishing yet again that it had been different. But instead, I have nothing—just a big black hole where knowing should be.

Whether it’s a curse or a blessing is yet to be decided.

Epilogue

Four years later.

Family.

Family is what matters most.

Skye taught me the true meaning of the word.

I look at all the happy faces around me.

River, Skye’s parents, David and Serena, who are more of a father and mother to me than my own ever were, and my baby brother, Liam. I’m surrounded by the people I love most.

Love may be an abstract thing, without shape, form, or color. But it's not intangible.

You can feel love.

You can see love in actions and deeds.

You can taste love in a home-cooked meal or the kiss of a beautiful and timid pixie of a girl.

You can hear love in words, in songs, and promises never spoken out loud.

And you can touch and hold love in your hands.

One might argue that last one. But no one can dispute the proof of love I hold in my arms right now.

All five pounds, nine ounces of him. He is undeniable proof that love can be held.

Times two.

Skye is next to me, holding his twin. Six pounds even.

They have our blue eyes and Skye’s fair skin. And a lifetime of unconditional love and support ahead of them.

Our boys are just three hours old, and they have already taught me more about love than I ever imagined possible.

After being with Skye for over four years, I thought I knew what love was—and I do. But holding my sons for the first time has expanded that love to immeasurable proportions, and just when I thought I couldn’t love Skye any more than I already do, I found I was wrong.

Love multiplies. Infinity times infinity times infinity.

“I love you,” I say to Skye just before I lean in and kiss the downy head of one of our newborns in her arms.

She smiles. No words needed.

“Here, you can put this back on.”

I put the wedding ring she’d had to remove when she’d gone in for the C-section back on her finger. The diamond surrounded by sapphires sparkles on her hand. A promise of forever.

“I love you too,” she says.

Indigo and Rebel, our twins, coo in agreement.

“I still think you should name them River Two and River Three,” the owner of said name pipes in again.

There are laughs all around the room.

We are a family.

A happy and crazy family.

My family.