INTO THE FLAMES

Epilogue

When Matt and I first moved in together, it was all sex all the time. I had a budding photography career with Life & Style Magazine. He was upgraded to arsenal detective. We had this beautiful little house in a safe neighborhood with a pool and nice neighbors our age. We were happy and in love and horny all the time.

I don't think there's a place in this house that we haven't fucked. He would come home from work late when I was in the shower, or washing my face. A few nights, I was in the bathtub. I was in the closet, the basement, on the back porch, in the pool. Every lazy weekend he bent me over the couch and took me on the kitchen table.

He proposed on St. Patrick's day in our friends' restaurant. I cried. Hard. He didn't let go of me for the rest of the night. When we got home, he brought me to bed and both of us cried the entire time we had sex.

We got married a year after we met in the small town in which we'd decided to spend our lives. We got married in a little church and had our reception in a beautiful inn run by one of Matt's friends from college. Both mom and dad cried. Aria was my maid of honor.

We came back from our Aruba honeymoon whiter than when we left because we barely left the hotel room. I was floating. I still had my relapses, my dark days. And he was always waiting for me. I had never been happier in my life.

And then, a year and a half after we got married, I threw up for a week straight. I insisted it was a stomach bug that I caught from someone at work. Matt was so worried. He was always behind me, holding my hair back and patting my face with a damp washcloth.

Then the doctor told me I was pregnant.

Every time Matt looked at me after that, his eyes were possessive, as they always had been. But it was different. He was proud, he was in love, he was protective. I cried a lot. I ate a shitton of ice cream.

When we found out we were having a girl, I knew Matt would love any baby we got, as long as she was healthy. I folded clothes that my friends sent us while Matt painted the nursery a light shade of pink. Landon and Xavier sent us some advice videos that they filmed when their son, Ian, was born. Matt and I laughed to the point of tears.

But then my water broke, and we weren't laughing anymore.

I had a panic attack on the phone when I called him at work. He broke every speed limit to get home, where I was pacing and crying on the phone with my mother and sister. He told them to get on the next flight, held my hand all the way to the hospital, helped me change, helped me breathe.

When she was born, I didn't know what to do. Matt had pulled my hair back so I could see her pretty face clearly. She was so wrinkly, like a little alien. So small and breakable.

She ruined me. Absolutely ruined me. I cried so hard when they placed her in my arms I could barely breathe. I didn't notice the nurses step out and the doctor leave. I just saw her, felt her move, heard her cry, felt Matt pull me into his arms. He didn't cry much, but when I looked up at him, his face was destroyed.

"She's so perfect" was all I remember saying before we both burst into more ugly tears.

Kara Aria was our absolute ruin. I quit my job to stay home and Matt was home every second he could be. She kept us up half the night and we barely had time for sex or friends, but every second with her was so worth it.

When she was eleven months old, she said her first word. Dada. Matt took a week of vacation to spend time with her after. When she slept, he bent me over any furniture and took me against any surface in the house. And then my period was late.

Aria drove down to stay with us for a few weeks. She was on summer break from Marist, where she was studying mental health counseling. She laughed so hard when I opened the door.