Mixed Signals

Epilogue

Four Years Later 

" What do you think? Too much?" Dylan asks, standing on a ladder, putting the finishing touches on the Christmas tree in our living room.

I laugh, admiring our finished product. It took us all day to finish. But, even I have to admit, Dylan and I sure do make one helluva team when it comes to holiday decorations. "Yeah, looks good, babe. I think this is the best-looking tree we've had in years."

Dylan climbs down from the ladder, standing beside me as we admire our work.

"How's the tree looking, Daddy?" Our three year old daughter, Emmy says, walking into the living room unannounced.

"Looks great. And here–––" he snatches up a decoration from the couch. One that Emmy made last year. "You can put this one on." He hands her the homemade ornament, and her face lights up as she walks over to the tree. Her tiny arm reaching up barley a foot above her to an empty spot on the tree.

"You want another one of those, don't you?" Dylan asks, as we watch our daughter in awe as she steps back, looking up at the tree as if it's the most beautiful thing she's seen in her life.

I roll my eyes, caressing my already growing baby bump. Gremlin number two cooking for the last seven months inside me. "Well, do you think we can get through this one before talking about having a house full? Think you can handle that, pretty boy?"

Dylan laughs. His eyes lit up with the same sense of humor that I fell in love with. "What? Can't a man dream of having his own heard of little ducklings? Come on, baby."

"Well, I can tell you do. I know that look on your face like I know when you're 'in the mood'. You're not fooling me, hon. You know you never could."

"So, another one is out of the question?" He raises an eye, as if I'm not already growing an alien inside of me, waiting to enter the world.

I roll my eyes, fighting back a laugh. "Do you think, maybe, we can get through the one you've already knocked me up with first? And then give it another year or so before going for three? Think you can control your manhood for once? Hmm?"

Dylan shakes his head, leaning over for a soft kiss on my lips. Which, stays completely PG. Even though my fucking hormones are itching for more. And, well, it won't be long before we're able to do anything again after our baby is born. "Well that's a two-way street, babe. What with your own hormones going off the walls, do you think you can control yourself? Hmm?" He raises an eye, mocking me.

I try to hide my smile...but, damnit! It's easy for me to lose control of that with this man. As if he's not trying to mess with my head and all his fucking signals. One minute he's trying to talk his way out of another kid once our daughter is born.

Still, after years of dealing with Dylan and every mixed signal the man has ever sent me. Never, in a million years did I think I'd be here. In our house. With our daughter sitting on the floor looking under the Christmas tree for her presents.

The front door opens then, and my father walks in. Looking half-froze as he comes in from the cold winter outside.

All the people I love in one place. At peace once again after everything we've been through in order to get here.

"Grandpa!" Emmy squeals, abandoning her unopened presents as Dad walks in. Immediately jumping into his arms.

I laugh. And watch as my father joins us, his hands full with a stack of presents. He laughs as Emmy takes him by the hand, pulling him down to the ground as she shows him the gifts she's already managed to tear open with her little hands.

And we all lived happily ever after.