Epilogue

— “Will we ever have children, Tristan?”

His heart clenched, hearing the agony in her voice. He was loath to part this news to her now that her future had cleared. Yet, better now than after … if she wanted to leave, she might have a better chance at finding someone now. The idea suddenly sent a wave of familiar ache in his chest, and he slid down the sofa to face her, grabbing both of her hands.

— “I don’t know”, he told her truthfully. “If I deny you, will you leave me?”

Suddenly, anger ignited behind her irises. Spooked by this veiled accusation, perhaps? Or the instinct of a mother spurned? She rose, tearing her hands from his, her warm irises turned to charcoal.

— “Then you’ll be fully available for those in need, won’t you? You’ll be back to Father Tristan”