Ice cream, Teasing and Awkward Situations

Epilogue

12 years later

A cool breeze danced through the air, providing a few precious seconds of relief from the scorching heat. It was a blazing hot Saturday morning, and instead of residing myself to my nice warm bed, I was at a Kindergarten field watching a bunch of four-year-olds trip up after a ball. 

It's not as weird as it sounds.... 

One of them was mine. 

My ears pricked as I heard a faint rustling sound coming from beside me. I snapped my head to the side and was met with a wide-eyed, guilty looking May.

 Her hand was dug deep into her pocket, and her cheeks were all puffed out, indicating she had something in her mouth. 

"What the fuck, May? You said you didn't have food!" I yelled.

 I must have said this a tad too loudly as some of the other parents turned in my direction to give me disapproving glances. 

Judgy assholes, like they didn't swear... 

May pulled her lips into her mouth in an attempt not to laugh. "Well, I lied," she shrugged. "And you really should stop swearing. That putty mouth of yours is exactly why little Zoe's first words were 'motherfucker'," she snorted.

 I bowed my head. "Oh, god, don't remind me," I muttered. "And just for the record, it was all Ethan's fault. He just laughed like an idiot, and more or less encouraged her," I protested. 

May laughed. "You kinda have to admit, it was kind of funny."

 The corner of my lips lifted slightly. "Maybe a little," I muttered.

 I looked out in the distance, to try and find that cute but naughty little girl of mine. I smiled as soon as I saw her. She seemed to be faster than the others at chasing after the ball, as she was leading the mob of children. I could scarcely believe she was mine sometimes since she was so beautiful. 

She had these striking baby blue eyes and wavy chocolate-colored hair that I had tied up into two cute little pigtails. She resembled Ethan far more than me, and I didn't mind one bit. 

We'd named her Zoe after Ethan's grandmother.

  Yes, the bat-shit crazy one...

We figured since she'd been waiting for a grandchild for so long, she deserved name rights. I remember the day we told her I was pregnant perfectly. She started laughing, then crying, and then she picked up her newspaper and started furiously whacking Ethan saying, 'About fucking time, Ethan, what took you so long?'

 And I'm not gonna lie, it was incredibly entertaining to watch my husband splutter out excuses as he got beat up by his grandma. 

I don't think she'd be too pleased to find out that Zoe was an accident. An adorable accident, but an accident none the less. 

Let's just say Ethan thinks it's an invitation when you forget to lock the bathroom door when you're having a shower. 

And in my defense, I was taking birth control. I swear to god, Ethan must have some kind of demonic, freakishly athletic sperm or some shit.

 Or, more realistically I might have skipped a day taking my birth control. 

Anyway, I could hardly complain about something which had blessed us with a little angel. 

Our little angel. Even after five years of marriage, and four years of having her, I still felt stupidly happy that I actually had a child with Ethan Blythe.