Epilogue
Micah Travis Mastriano was born on January 4, and weighing in at eight pounds, seven ounces, he was beautiful and healthy. Aimee was doing fine, and I loved watching her watch her son. He was magic, of course, as all babies were. And according to her, he was the best thing that had ever been created.
I sort of agreed.
The past few weeks with Noah had been amazing. Beyond anything I’d hoped for. We were still in the honeymoon phase, enjoying the hell out of each other and f*****g as often as possible. Things weren’t fairy-tale perfect, but I loved that, too. Noah had gotten mad I left the dishes out, and he’d snapped and yelled while I stared at him. Then he broke down in tears and stomped to the bathroom. Considering he’d just come off a double shift after only managing five ho
