Out of Mind (Out of Line #3)(59)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

Always.

Epilogue – Finn

Seven years later

I watched Carrie from across the room, my arms tightening on the precious bundle in my arms as I juggled the phone with my free hand. She stretched her arms up, trying to get the last ornament on the perfect branch toward the top of the tree, her lips pursed in determination. The pink rose I’d given her earlier lay on the table behind her, the message still attached to the stem.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” I forced myself to focus on the conversation I was having with Carrie’s father. “We’ll be there first thing in the morning for Christmas breakfast.”

“Coffee starts at eight,” her dad said. I heard paper crinkling, which probably meant he was wrapping his presents at the last minute like usual. “Did Carrie tell you to make the fruit salad? She told me she would remember.”

I laughed. “Yeah. It’s all ready to go. We’ll see you tomorrow, sir. Tell Margie I said merry Christmas.”

My father-in-law sighed. “If I ever finish wrapping these godforsaken presents, I will. I should really just hire someone to do it.”

But he wouldn’t, because he liked doing it. “Well, good luck. I have to hang up now, because your daughter needs help with the tree.”

“Don’t let her knock it over like she did last year,” Senator Wallington said. “She might hurt—”

I rolled my eyes. “I won’t, sir.”

“All right. Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Same to you.” I hung up and tossed my phone on the sofa, turning back toward Carrie just in time to hear her curse under her breath. “I heard that, Mrs. Coram.”

She shot me a frustrated look, her blue eyes blazing at me. “I’m going to get this last one on if it kills me, I swear it.”

“I can help you, you know.” I crossed the room slowly, trying not to upset my balance. “I am a bit taller than you.”

“Nope. I get the red ones, not you.” She looked at me, her gaze dropping low and then slipping back up. “It’s our Christmas Eve tradition.”

I grinned. “Yeah, it is. Then when we’re done, we drink and have hot, sweaty—”

“Sh,” she hissed, her cheeks going red. “She’ll hear you.”

“I think we’re safe,” I whispered, stopping directly in front of her. The colored lights on our tree twinkled merrily, and all that was left was the ornament in Carrie’s hand and the angel—which came last, of course. “She doesn’t really speak English.”

“Still. It’s the principle.” She peeked at me, a sly grin on her face. “We don’t want to have to foot that therapy bill, trust me. We cost way too much.”

I rolled my eyes. “Believe me, I know that.”

Carrie had changed her major the second year of college. After seeing how much Dr. Montgomery had helped me, she decided she wanted to do that for other people like me. Wanted to help soldiers and others who suffered from PTSD. She worked on base now, and she always looked so damn happy.

I liked to think I had something to do with that.

And I liked that we worked in the same building, so we got to have lunch together every single f**king day. It was heaven, and I never failed to thank God for giving me my Ginger. She was my life. My partner. My world. My everything.

Sometimes it all seemed too good to be true.

She was a therapist, and I was a computer engineer, just like we’d both wanted. We still lived in Cali, thank f**king God. D.C. was way too cold, even if her parents still lived there half the year. They spent a lot of time out here, too.

Everything in our life was perfect. Scarily, unrealistically perfect.

Carrie waved her hand in front of my face, laughing when I jumped slightly. “Hello? Earth to Finn?”

I caught her hand and kissed it, right above her wedding ring. I must’ve zoned out. I still did that sometimes. Got lost in thought. “Sorry, Ginger. I was lost in time.”

“What were you thinking about?” she asked, a soft smile on those perfect lips of hers.

“You.” I leaned forward and kissed her, loving the way she tasted, even after all these years. “Always you.”

She closed her hands on my shoulders before pulling back and looking down for a quick second. “You two ready for the angel?”

I looked down at the baby in my arms, smiling with so much f**king happiness I swear my heart would burst. Our red-haired daughter, Susan Marie Coram, fluttered her lashes open and looked up at me with the same blue eyes as her mother. She was only three months old, but already I knew she would own my heart as fully as her mother did.

“We’ve been ready for years,” I said, making my voice higher as I held Susan’s hand. She cooed and closed her tiny little fingers around mine. “She’s so f-f—” I cut myself off. I was trying to cut back on the cursing. “—uh, fetchingly perfect.”

Carrie laughed, picked up the angel, and came over to us, her eyes on me the whole time. “How could she not be? She came from us.” She trailed her fingers over the scar on my forehead, smiling. Then she laid the angel on Susan’s belly. “You’re up, princess.”

I walked up to the tree, lifting Susan above my head. With my help—aka I did it myself—we put the angel on top of the tree. Backing up far enough to really see it, I eyed the tree skeptically. We’d gotten better over the years, because it actually looked evenly spread out. Perry Como crowed in the background, and lasagna cooked in the oven.

It was tradition.

No sooner did I nod in satisfaction than the timer dinged. I looked down at Susan. She was fast asleep. Good, it was time for me to have some one-on-one time with her mama. I smiled at Carrie, my heart so full it had to be close to bursting. “You get the lasagna out, and I’ll lay down Susan.”

“Okay.” She walked by me, heading toward the kitchen, her hips swinging with each step she took. She wore a red dress and a pair of red heels. Fucking hot. “Hurry up.”

“Oh, I will.”

After watching her go, I climbed the stairs to Susan’s nursery. I laid her down to rest and snuck into the master bedroom to grab my present for Carrie out of my underwear drawer. I’d gotten her another sun pendant, but this one was white gold with a diamond in the middle of the pendant. She’d love it.

I stopped two steps into the room. Lying in the middle of the bed was my wife, and she didn’t have anything on except a pair of red heels and a seductive smile. “Merry Christmas to me,” I said, shutting the door behind me.