Epilogue
Bristol, VA
2 years, 6 Weeks Later.
Tristan came in through the back door, letting the screen door slam loudly when he did. Reese came running in from the playroom, squealing with delight at seeing his daddy. Tristan scooped him up, tickling his tummy, which brought squeals of delight from his son.
“Shhh, Tristan, can you take it all down a notch, please? I just got the babies down for a nap.”
“Sorry, babe,” he said, coming over and giving me a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, I talked to Mom earlier and she said she would love to come over this evening and watch all the kids so that you and I can go out for dinner. She thinks we need some ‘alone’ time.”
“She does, huh? How coincidental that our need for ‘alone’ time just happens to fall on the six week mark since giving birth to the twins.”
“Hey,” he said, chuckling, “That’s on her. I haven’t said a thing, babe.”
“You may tell Susan that we will take her up on her offer. I am anxious to spend some ‘alone’ time with my husband. Is your dad coming to help her? I think watching the three of them may be a little much for her.”
“I’m sure Dad wouldn’t miss it,” he laughed, “You know how much he loves changing those soiled ‘nappies’.” Tristan imitated Clive’s British accent when he said that. It was amusing to hear some of Clive’s terminology for stuff. ‘Diaper’ was ‘nappy’; ‘shitty diaper’ was ‘pooey nappy’ in British lingo.
Reese was now holding his arms out to me. He had a little bit of the ‘green-eyed’ monster thing going since the birth of Hannah and Sarah. Not that his own eyes weren’t already incredibly green like his daddy’s.
“Hey, sweetie,” I said, taking him from Tristan. “Are you ready for lunch?”
“Yep,” he said, nodding his head up and down. “Peanut butter and jelly.”
“Coming right up; Tristan, do you want the same?”
“Sounds good, babe; I just want to take a peek at the girls first.”
“If you wake them, you walk them,” I warned.
Tristan was a magnificent father; he had been with Reese and he continued to be with our twin babies. They were identical twins, but Tristan and I could tell them apart at about 1 week of age.
Hannah was six minutes older than Sarah. She had a quieter, less demanding nature about her. She was laid back - like Tristan. Sarah was impatient and demanding when she was hungry or needed changing. Her crying was louder; her sucking her fingers when she was hungry was louder, and her burps were louder. Tristan claimed she was the carbon copy of me.
Tristan and I had both been ecstatic when we learned I was expecting twins. My pregnancy had gone without a hitch. I had delivered them by C-section at my doctor’s recommendation. It was a much smoother delivery than with Reese since it was scheduled. My recovery actually went faster as well.
Tristan and I had worked together to complete the expansion of the winery last year; it was doing quite well. As promised, I handled the operations; Tristan handled the marketing and distribution. It wasn’t the same as when we had operated the club in Atlanta together. We actually spent more time apart. Tristan traveled both locally and along the east coast and mid-west regions to expand our markets. He made it a point not to be gone for more than five days per month. He took his parenting responsibilities very seriously.
Our home had been built and I loved it. Tristan had designed the floor plan to accommodate the planned expansion of our family. He had done it quite well. The house was a sprawling, U-shaped ranch. It had four bedrooms and three full baths. Having two daughters now, I knew that having so many bathrooms was a good idea. Our house sat on two acres; we had put an in-ground swimming pool in last summer.
Trey and Tylar had spent a week with us then. Tylar and I talked a couple of times a week by phone; I missed seeing her as often as I used to, but most holidays were still spent in Bristol with the Sinclair family. Tylar’s baby girl, Avery, had turned a year old during their visit here. She was adorable; she reminded me so much of Tylar, with her beautiful brown eyes and lighter hair color than Preston.
Preston was still the picture of Trey; Tylar tried to convince everyone that she had her personality though. I didn’t see that at all. Preston was a carbon copy of Trey both in looks and personality, but I loved her anyway. Avery was the picture of Tylar both in looks and personality; there was something about her that was almost ‘angelic’ not that I would ever have classified Tylar as being that. It was difficult to explain.
Tristan’s cousin, Brenda, was engaged to Judge Tylar. The wedding was planned some time later this year, according to Tylar. Everyone was thrilled about it.
Tristan and I had experienced no problem in finding a buyer for the club; as it happened, Ian and Libby bought it from us. They had been living together for a while, and apparently their partnership was working out. Of course, they had remodeled it and given it a new name for their grand re-opening. They named the club ‘Hardtail.’ It was definitely fitting with the black leather décor it now boasted. Tylar and Trey had gone to the opening. She had phoned me the following day laughing hysterically at the new décor and image they were going for with it. She said that the tables all had motorcycle parts adorning the pedestal base; the bar stools were Harley seats. Whatever works, I thought. I hoped that Ian had finally found happiness, even if it was with Libby.
I got Reese down for his nap in late afternoon. The babies had been up; Tristan and I bathed and fed them. Tristan said that he would keep watch on the babies while I showered and dressed for our evening out.
Susan and Clive arrived a little after six. Susan immediately went to Reese, fussing over him as always. I guess being the first grandson came with perks.
Tristan and I went to Morelli’s. I had fallen in love with the restaurant since first going there with Tristan to meet Ty’s father a few Thanksgivings ago. I think it was the one where I had punched Caroline out. Thank God that bitch no longer showed up at the Sinclair family gatherings.
Carmelita greeted us as semi-regulars when we got there. She always asked us about Tylar and Trey; this time was no different. We filled her in on the latest. I actually hadn’t talked to Tylar for a couple of weeks. She probably figured I was up to my eyebrows in dirty diapers and spit up - which was the truth. I made a mental note to call her the following day.
Tristan and I enjoyed our nice, quiet, romantic dinner. I was looking forward to spending more time with him once we got back home. Hopefully, all the babies would be down for the night - or most of it anyway. The twins were good for a four hour chunk of sleep. I had asked Susan and Clive to try and keep them awake until 8 p.m. if possible.
After dinner, Tristan and I drove back to our house. We sat outside for a while in our gazebo and enjoyed the moonlit evening. It was so quiet in the country; I had grown to appreciate that over the loud and constant sounds of the city. Spring was breaking and it was a beautiful, starlit night.
“What are you thinking about, Gina?”
“I’m just thinking how much I love it here; how much I love my life; how lucky I am.”
Tristan was sitting next to me; his arm was wrapped around my shoulders, he pulled me close against him.
“I was thinking the same thing,” he said, tilting my chin upward gently with his fingers, lowering his lips to mine.
“I love you, Mrs. Sinclair,” he whispered to me. “I want to make love to you.”
“Here? Now?”
Tristan chuckled, “If I thought Mom and Dad wouldn’t be looking out the window to see what had delayed us since driving up a few minutes ago, I would definitely take you right here and now.”
Tristan could still make me tingle when he said things like that. Our intimacy and sex life still sparked on a daily basis. Neither time nor children had changed any of it. I thought briefly of the sick relationship that I had been involved in with Nick. My excuse had been it was my ‘first love’, though in retrospect, I knew that love had not made an appearance in that relationship; only stupidity.
Then there was Ian. I suppose in retrospect, Ian had been my escape from Nick. He had been totally the opposite of Nick - which was lucky for me. Ian had been gentle and pretty much let me have my way on anything I wanted; but the passion, the intimacy was only lukewarm. Having had nothing to compare it to, it had seemed like love to me. I had cared for Ian; there was no doubt about that. I had been crushed to discover his unfaithfulness to me. I think looking back, that it had more to do with pride than love.
Tristan had been the one to teach me about love and intimacy; he had been the one to show me how to trust again. Tristan had also taught me that it is perfectly okay to need someone; everyone does. I had been afraid to need; somehow I had equated that to weakness. I never wanted to be the weak person that I had been with Nick; I never wanted to call all of the shots as I had with Ian. Tristan was so perfect for me.
“Hey, sweet baby,” he said, “I bet the kids are down for the night. Shall we relieve Mom and Dad?”
“Let’s do,” I replied, smiling as I stood up, placing my hand in his, “And then how about we finish our date in the master suite?”
“You read my mind, Mrs. Sinclair.”
Susan and Clive had gotten the babies all tucked in for the night. Tristan and I stood and listened to Clive detail out how many wet and pooey nappies the twins had produced; Susan was relaying all of the cute things that Reese had said or done.
“I swear, Gina, he is the spitting image of Tristan at that age, both in looks and personality.”
“And the great thing about him is that he uses the loo now,” Clive chimed in, “No nappies for him.”
“Oh Clive,” Susan chastised, “It does you good to be on nappy detail with the grandbabies. God knows you didn’t change any with your own sons best as I can remember.”
“There she goes, getting all cheeky with me,” Clive said, laughing. “Come on Susie, let’s get home so that I can give you your nightly foot rub.”
I saw his eyes sparkling; I was betting he had more in mind than just her feet.
“Tristan, why haven’t we seen any videos of the twins such as you provided us with when Reese was newly born?” Clive asked.
“Dad, you and Mom are right down the road. You can see them every day if you want; those videos of Reese were when we lived in Atlanta and you didn’t see him much. Besides, Gina put the kibosh on my cinematography.”
I glared at Tristan who in turn was enjoying himself with his teasing. Clive and Susan were both looking at me now to explain why I would prevent Tristan or anyone from videotaping their precious grandchildren.
“Whoa, wait a minute, Tristan. I did not put the ‘kibosh’ per se, on your video recording the baby; I merely exercised my right as a mother for some censorship. You were getting a bit too risqué with your subject matter.”
Susan burst out laughing remembering the particular clip that I had discovered Tristan had posted on Facebook for all to see. I had been nursing Reese at about six weeks old. Tristan had been video recording it with his Blackberry. It was evident about thirty seconds into it that Reese was taking a major dump in his diaper while eating. I had no clue that Tristan was going to post it for everyone to see.
“Yes,” she said, still chuckling, “I get your point, Gina. I am sure Reese will be horrified when Tristan shows him that someday.”
They departed then, both snickering as they went out the door, holding hands. I hoped that Tristan and I got on as well as they did after forty-five years of marriage.
Tristan and I locked up and turned the lights out. We stopped to check on Reese. He was dozing peacefully in his new ‘big boy’ bed. His little teddy bear night light was plugged in; he had his arm circled around the big panda bear in his bed. We both leaned over and kissed his soft cheek.
The girls were in our room in their twin bassinets. We gazed down at them; their light colored hair was curly; they were both swaddled warmly, sleeping comfortably on their backs. Sarah was sucking her thumb gently; Hannah’s little face was changing expressions; she was smiling with her eyes closed.
“She’s dreaming,” I whispered to Tristan who was watching her now.
“Yes, mostly likely visions of titties are dancing in her head. We need to make use of this quiet time, baby.”
I stifled a giggle. It was true; breast feeding twins was a challenge. I was going to continue doing it though for another few weeks.
We hurriedly discarded our clothing and climbed beneath the sheets of our massive bed. Tristan pulled me into his arms; his lips finding mine. We kissed tenderly, our passion growing steadily. Tristan’s hands fondled me gently and thoroughly; we weren’t able to have much nipple play due to my breast feeding. With twins, there was always the risk of low milk supply. His lips brushed against my neck, gently kissing my sensitive area. He knew where all of them were.
His tongue traced the column of my throat; my pulse quickened with the desire that was building. It seemed like months since we had been able to enjoy each other like this instead of just weeks.
My arms encircled him as he continued his southward path; I massaged his well-muscled arms and back; my hands clutched his tight ass (or arse as Clive preferred to call it). I felt his erection against my thigh. My hand reached to grasp him there. I wrapped my hand around it, allowing my fingers to press in and out as I stroked the length. I heard his sharp intake of breath. He loved it when I stroked him there.
“God Gina,” he whispered hoarsely, “I feel like I’m ready to explode. I need to be inside of you now, babe.”
“That’s okay, Tristan. I need you there right now, too. It’s been awhile.”
Tristan lifted himself up, and straddled me, his hand parting my legs further. He guided his very swollen shaft into me; the fullness of it made me moan softly. His arms lifted my pelvic region up at an angle. He knew exactly how to position me so that his thrusting hit my sweet spots.
I writhed in pleasure as his thrusting continued, in his deep, slow rhythm. He was moaning softly with each thrust; I knew we were both going to climax soon.
“Are you ready, baby?”
“Umm yes,” I crooned to him.
His thrusting increased in momentum as his hands brought my hips up to his again and again. With one final thrust, we exploded together in orgasmic release. I could feel his penis throbbing as his liquid climax emptied inside of me over and over again.
He lowered himself back to me, kissing my neck, my face, my lips again and again. He whispered against my lips in between kisses.
“I love you, Gina.”
Our eyes were locked; I put my hand on his cheek as I felt a tear roll down mine. It was like that sometimes; I got so emotional when I looked into Tristan’s eyes. I could see his very soul. I could see his love and passion for me.
“I love you, Tristan.”
I called Tylar the next morning as planned.
“Hey girlfriend,” I said, “Long time, no hear.”
“I hear that, Gina. Why haven’t you stayed in touch?”
“Hey Ty, that phone works both ways you know.”
“I know,” she laughed, practically giddy. “The truth is, I figured that you were probably swamped with the twins. By the way, the video Tristan sent is adorable!”
“Video?”
“Yeah, the one with you changing the babies in tandem, then one of the babies shot out poop and pee like a bomb on you,” she said, laughing her ass off. “It is so cute the way that Tristan edits it putting in words as if the baby is thinking those things; you know the one.”
(Actually, I didn’t. Evidently Tristan had learned how to video record without my knowledge. He probably had a ‘nanny cam’ hidden somewhere in the bedroom!)
“Oh yeah,” I lied, he is quite the cinematographer. “So how are Preston and Avery?”
“Doing great,” she said, “Preston is finishing up kindergarten this year. Hopefully, we will be coming to Bristol for a visit in June.”
“That’s fantastic, Ty. I really miss seeing you guys.”
“I do have a piece of good news,” she said. “I’m expecting a baby again. I’m due around the first of September.”
“Oh Ty, that is great. I am so very happy for you. Have you told Mom Susan yet?”
“No, we are going to tell her when we visit in June, so keep it to yourself, okay?”
“Will do,” I promised. “Are you still working with the horses?”
“Absolutely,” she said, “Marcus is still here with us. Oh, that reminds me; he just started dating a friend of yours. He’s acting like he’s getting all serious about her already.”
“Who?”
“Jo Anna from the club.”
“Jo Jo?” I asked.
“Yeah. I introduced them. You know, I knew Jo Jo from the brief period I was half owner. I don’t know why, but for some reason it just dawned on me one day to play matchmaker. I knew that Marcus didn’t know a lot of people in Atlanta since he had spent most of his adult years in Savannah, so I invited her out for lunch one afternoon. I had run into her the night of the grand opening of that ridiculous club that Ian and Libby opened. I guess the clientele is pretty weird there. She told me then she was going to be looking to go somewhere else. So anyway, after lunch we went riding. Marcus was immediately smitten with her. I knew they would be perfect for one another.”
“Just like you knew Tristan and I would be perfect together too, right?”
“Yep,” she said. “Was I right?”
“Absolutely, girlfriend. I owe you everything, Ty. I never would have met my Tristan, known true love and have birthed these beautiful babies if not for you.”
“That’s what BFF’s do, Gina.”
“I love you, Ty.”
“I love you too, Gina.”
About the Author
Andrea Smith is an Ohio native and currently resides in Springfield, Ohio. Ms. Smith is the mother of two grown sons, and grandmother of four. The ‘Baby Series’ trilogy is Ms. Smith’s first self-published work. Having previously been employed as a staff manager for a large, global corporation for a number of years, Ms. Smith decided to leave the corporate world and pursue her life-long dream of writing fiction. She credits her former employer in a large part for assisting her in making this career choice. Ms. Smith discovered that reality is often times stranger than fiction in Corporate America. . .
Thank you for reading the Baby Series.