Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Butler - 30. Epilogue
EPILOGUE
June 30th, 2016, Greenwich, CT.
“Junior! Let your brother walk on his own, he’s perfectly capable,” I called out, watching as the 4-year-old put his two year younger brother down. Luka, gaining traction, ran off like a small whirlwind, laughing and screaming as his elder brother immediately went into pursuit after him. “A bit too capable, if you ask me.”
Moving to get up and give chase myself, I was held back by an arm sliding around me.
“Let him run. Maybe he’ll get tired and fall asleep right away, for once,” Gregory uttered hopefully behind me. I let my back rest against his chest, under the shade of an old oak at the edge of the grounds. “Our sons need to lose their energy.”
Our sons. Junior, named after his dad and looking much the same already with jet black hair springing every which way but the right way, and Luka, born a year-and-10-months after him and a regular terror. Adventurous, very daring and a constant challenge, I needed eyes front, side and backwards all day, every day. And strangely enough, he looked nothing like me. Hair also black as night and eyes as dark as chocolate; features from his mother. Nor did he have my character.
“I don’t get it. He’s everything I’m not. Are we sure he wasn't switched at birth? I remember another cute blond one who looked way more like me.”
A soft squeeze as Greg softly snickered.
“Oh, trust me; that independent streak? All yours.”
I grinned, my eyes constantly following both boys and then I sighed.
Life was good. And bringing these two into the world had only added, though sometimes I really wanted to plaster them both behind the wallpaper. Just for five minu….
“They’re here,” Greg’s voice cut into my thoughts.
Looking toward the house, I saw a small crowd slowly coming toward us, descending the steps from the patio onto the grass; three kids in front, already coming at a run, their parents following slower behind. Waiving to them, I rose to my feet and braced as the first kid reached us and flung herself around my neck.
“Uncle Chris!”
Grinning, I spun Charlotte around before setting her down again. She was growing like crazy!
“Where’s Luka and Greg?”
Pointing to them, she took off again and I waived to Jeremy as he ran past toward his nephews. Oh good, he’d look after them for a while, then.
A bit slower, another girl gave chase, or tried to; little Helena was in mid-sprint as a long arm scooped her up from the ground, making her squeal with laughter as she was hoisted high into the air by Greg.
“Now where would this little beauty be running off to, without saying hello to her favorite uncle?” he said.
Three years old, right between Junior and Luka, she was William’s first daughter. And a brother or sister on the way, by the looks of it, as I watched Seth, Kat, Will and Alanah coming towards us. It wasn’t too obvious yet, but I thought I saw a bit of a tummy on Alanah.
Five years. A long time yet not that long, but we’d grown into a strong and ever expanding family. And looking around, I felt content.
Greg brought order to my chaos and I’ve not regretted a moment of it, since. Even now, five years later, I feel strong because he is strong. I feel safe because he gives me safety. He protects me, because life has to go through him, before it gets to me.
That is a gift. One that keeps on giving because through submission, it brought me much joy and happiness, especially in the little things. Not in the wicked or kinky, the monetary or material. In the little things. A smile, because I do something that pleases him. A groan in return, because he pleases me. A give and take, always in unison, always mutual.
And yes, he was still hot for me, as I was for him.
Ain’t life grand?
- 29
- 55
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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