by Keeland, Vi
Sadie’s mouth hung open.
She could hardly speak. “Um . . . there’s a . . . diamond . . . ring . . . in his poop!”
Birdie squealed and began jumping up and down. “Yay!”
Me? I literally just stood there on the sidewalk with my eyes bugging out in total disbelief.
No fucking way.
Instead of explaining, something unexpected happened. I just started laughing uncontrollably. It must have been the few days of stress catching up with me. It was apparently contagious because Birdie fell into a laughing fit as well. Sadie was the last to give in. Eventually, she lost control and began cracking up too. Marmaduke then started barking at us.
Once I got over my hysteria, I realized Sadie was still standing there looking down at the large, oval diamond—and everything that came along with it.
I held up my index finger. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”
“Yeah . . . not going anywhere at the moment.” She laughed.
Thankfully there was a store on the corner. I ran inside, asked the man at the register for a couple of plastic bags, and thanked him profusely.
I rushed back, then used one of the bags to cover my hand in order to carefully pick the ring out before placing it in the other bag.
Sadie then discarded everything else and tied the other bag she’d been holding.
Now collectively over our laughing fits, the three of us just stood there. I needed to acknowledge the ring but didn’t know quite how to do it. So I did what felt right in that moment.
Kneeling, I said, “Sadie, this is probably going to go down in history as the shittiest proposal in the history of proposals. But now that you saw what you did, I can’t erase it. The surprise is already ruined, so I’m going to run with this.” I took a deep breath in. “I wanted so badly to propose to you over Christmas. Birdie and I had been planning it for some time. Then, as you’ve probably been able to figure out, the ring went missing. We scoured the earth for it. And now it’s clear why it never surfaced.” I looked up at the sky to gather my thoughts before I met her gaze again. “I was devastated, because I thought the ring was an important part of the process and chose to delay something that in my heart I really didn’t want to put off. This was apparently the universe’s way of showing me that the ring wasn’t the most important part. The most important part of a proposal is the expression of love.” I put my hand on my chest. “I love you. Birdie loves you. Please say you’ll be a part of our family forever?”
Tears covered Sadie’s face, her words barely coherent as she nodded. “Yes! Of course, it would be my honor. Yes!”
Then I stood to kiss my lady hard—my lady, who was still carrying a poop bag. But somehow none of that seemed to matter right now. My daughter jumped and clapped while Marmaduke continued to bark at us. Birdie came between us and we hugged her.
We’d gone from laughing to crying in unison. If anyone had been watching this episode on the sidewalk from start to finish, I could only imagine they were either thoroughly confused or thoroughly entertained.
“I promise to get the ring properly disinfected,” I said.
She wiped her eyes. “It is so beautiful from what I could see of it.”
I turned to the dog. “You could’ve choked on that, you crazy animal.”
Sadie laughed. “I guess it was fitting that he somehow be a part of this, seeing as how he had a big part in us becoming a family.”
Birdie excitedly proclaimed, “And now I can tell everyone my dog poops diamonds!”
EPILOGUE
SADIE
Eight years later
Christmas break had become my new favorite time of year. As I waited at the door for Birdie to arrive home from college for the holidays, I could hardly stand it. I’d missed her so much.
Over the years, Birdie had become like a best friend. Our relationship was different from a typical mother-daughter one. It was born out of a conscious choice and desire to be in each other’s lives. We weren’t stuck together by blood but rather by some unnamed magical source that felt even stronger.
Blood. That word immediately reminded me of one of the hardest days of my life, the day we’d told Birdie the truth. Sebastian and I had decided that when she turned sixteen, we would tell her about the egg donation. A few months after her birthday, we sat her down with the envelope and told her the story, not only about the donation but about all the circumstances that led me into their lives and finally about the possibility that I could be her biological mother.
She’d sat there in silence as we laid it all out. I remember thinking she must have been in total shock because out of everything she could’ve said, the first question out of her mouth was, “You pretended to be the dog trainer?”
When the reality had started to set in, it was hard. That was certainly an intense and emotional day, one I’d never forget for as long as I lived. Her emotions ran the gamut from shock to confusion to sadness to eventually—understanding. It took about a full year for things to feel normal again after that, though. But eventually, they did. And if anything, telling her made our relationship stronger. Ultimately, as crazy as our story was, all the pieces of it were still bound together tightly by love.
After the revelation, it had taken her almost that full year as well to come to a decision on whether she wanted to definitively find out the results of the DNA test. We decided that if she wanted to, we would get a traditional blood test just to be sure of the accuracy. Birdie ultimately came to the conclusion, however, that knowing whether we were related by blood wouldn’t change how much she loved me. She also believed that Amanda might not have wanted her to find out. So she felt it best to continue not knowing. Sebastian and I fully respected her decision, and once she made it, a sense of relief came over our household. We were able to finally move on.
Sebastian, Birdie, and I ended up taking the infamous envelope that had been stashed away in Birdie’s room and burning it outside.
And that was that.
Would a part of me always wonder? Sure. But in the end, it didn’t change anything. And that was what was important.
Ironically, after all these years, letters had become a part of our relationship again. Writing to me was Birdie’s favorite way to keep in touch while away at school. She said it was sort of like journaling—the only difference was that she’d share her thoughts and feelings with me rather than keeping them private. It made me so happy that she considered me not only a mother figure but a friend. I looked forward to every single one of her letters.
My son came up behind me, startling me out of my thoughts.
“What are you wearing on your head, Mommy?”
I pulled him toward me as I continued looking out the window. “Oh . . . this is my special crown. Your sister gave it to me a long time ago.”
“It looks too small for you.”
I laughed. “Is that your way of telling me you want to wear it?”
Seb wrinkled his adorable little face like he’d just smelled bad fish. “No! Crowns are for girls.”
“Actually, I think anyone can wear a crown.” I leaned in and rubbed my nose against his. “But I’m glad you don’t want to wear mine, because it’s my most favorite piece of jewelry I own.”
Seb Junior was born six years ago as a result of artificial insemination with one of my stored eggs after Sebastian and I had tried unsuccessfully for a couple of years to conceive naturally. Like his sister, Seb had blond hair and Sebastian’s face.
“She’s not here yet?” I heard my husband say from behind.
“No. Her car must have gotten stuck in traffic.”
Sebastian placed his hand on the small of my back. “God. I keep thinking that Marmaduke is going to be so excited to see her, and then I remember he’s gone.”
A tear started to stream down my cheek at the thought of that.
Our precious dog passed away from lymphoma earlier this year, right after Birdie went away for her first semester at Stanford. That day—ha
ving to call her and tell her Marmaduke was gone—was the second-hardest day of my life.
We’d gotten his dog tag made into a necklace for Birdie as a Christmas gift. We wanted her to always have something to remember him by, since their relationship was so special.
“There she is!” Seb Junior proclaimed excitedly when he noticed Birdie’s Uber pull up.
Sebastian ran to the door. My son and I scurried behind him. It was like a race.
Birdie stepped out of the vehicle. Just the mere sight of her put a huge smile on my face. Recently she’d developed a style that was very bohemian chic. Her long blonde hair was tied into a side braid, and she had on a flowy skirt that hung to the ground. But it was what was on top of her head that made me well up. I covered my mouth, feeling emotional. My Birdie had her crown on top of her head, too. I couldn’t believe it. Though I probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. We’d somehow always been on the same page, right from the very start.
Birdie ran up the steps and into Sebastian’s waiting arms.
He hugged her tightly. “My baby girl is home.”
“I’m so freaking glad to be home.” She moved down to rustle her little brother’s hair. “Hey, squirt. Thank you for holding down the fort for me.”
When she stood up, she wrapped her arms around me. “Smommy! You have yours on, too! I missed you so much.”
“Smommy” was the name she’d given me shortly after Sebastian and I got married. It was short for Sadie-Mommy. Honestly, it was perfect for us. I wasn’t her actual mommy. I was her Sadie-Mommy.
She looked around, and then I saw the tears form in her eyes when the realization hit that our big lug of a dog wouldn’t be running to greet her. It was the first time since she was ten that she was walking into this house without him.
“I can’t believe he’s gone.”
I wiped my eyes. “I know, honey.”
“It’s literally the only reason I didn’t want to come home.”
Sebastian rubbed her back. “He was like your soul mate. He’ll always be with you, Birdie.”
“Can we go to the graveyard tomorrow?”
“Of course,” I said. “We were planning to do that at some point during your break.”
She shook her head. “Okay. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.” She turned to me. “I’m starving.”
“Well, I just happened to make your favorite kale salad, and Dad brought a tray of Birdie’s Pasta Bolognese home from the restaurant today.”
She pumped her fist. “Hell yeah.”
The four of us ventured into the dining room, where I’d already had the table set.
“Will Magdalene be stopping by?” Birdie asked. “I was hoping to see her.”
“She’ll be visiting tomorrow for Christmas Eve to say hello.”
“Oh cool.”
Magdalene no longer worked for us but was still like family. We kept in touch, and Birdie made sure to write to her all the time from college. Magdalene had informed us a few years ago that she needed to step back to take care of her ailing husband. It was perfect timing, really, because I had been considering quitting the magazine to stay home with Seb. So it worked out for everyone.
That decision in retrospect was a good call, considering I was about to give birth for a second time in a few months.
Birdie paused to look at my belly before serving herself a heaping plate of salad. “You’ve really popped, Smommy.”
I rubbed my belly. “I know. It’s crazy, right?”
It’s funny how life works sometimes. Sebastian and I tried for years to get pregnant before our son and ended up turning to artificial insemination. Then once we accepted the fact that we were probably done having kids, I got pregnant naturally. We were surprised but ecstatic.
“Are you finding out the sex?” Birdie asked.
“I don’t know,” Sebastian said. “Smommy and I were talking about that. What do you think? Should we keep this one a surprise?”
“This family is really good at surprises,” she said sarcastically. “So yeah, maybe!”
Birdie spent the next several minutes shoveling food in her mouth.
She finally stopped long enough to say, “So . . .”
I tilted my head. “Yes?”
“I have a visitor coming over tomorrow night for Christmas Eve.”
Sebastian’s brow lifted. “Visitor?”
“Yeah. My . . . boyfriend.” Birdie looked like she was bracing herself for his response.
I could literally see the vein popping in Sebastian’s neck. “Boyfriend . . .”
“Yeah. You know . . . I am almost nineteen.”
“What’s his name?” I asked.
“Don’t laugh.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “It’s Duke.”
“No way!” I said. “That might be a good omen.”
“Or it could mean . . . he’s a dog,” Sebastian deadpanned.
“Dad.” Birdie rolled her eyes. “He’s a good kid.”
“I’ll be the judge of that!” Seb Junior shouted out of nowhere. He totally got that line from Sebastian, who said it often.
We all turned to him and laughed. He was so smart for his age, like a little adult. Even at six, he sure was protective of his big sister.
Sebastian sighed. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior.”
“His family lives in Brooklyn. It’s a coincidence that we’re both from New York.”
I reached my hand over to hers. “Well, we can’t wait to meet him.”
Over the next hour, we polished off all the food as Birdie told us stories from her first year at school. I’d made gingerbread men cookies for dessert. Not a year went by when I didn’t make them in honor of Amanda over the holidays.
Birdie finished taking a sip of water before she lifted her index finger. “Oh, I forgot to tell you guys. In my genetics class, we were studying genotypes and traits. One of the perks of the course is that students get a big discount on one of those DNA tests. You know, the kits you order online and send in a saliva sample? Remember, Dad, I used to put one of those on my Christmas list every year, but Santa never brought me one?”
Sebastian glanced over at me, then said, “Yeah, I remember.”
“Well I got mine done, finally. The results were really intriguing. I’m basically a mutt. But you know what’s really interesting?”
“What?” I smiled.
“I’m part Chinese.”
My smile faded as her words set in. I felt a rush of blood course throughout my body.
Sebastian and I just looked at each other.
And we just . . . knew.
Now we knew.
Wow.
Just wow.
We hadn’t been seeking the truth, but it seemed the truth found us. And like every single part of our journey—it was magical.
Free for our Readers!
Dear Readers,
We hope you’ve enjoyed reading Happily Letter After. As a thank-you to our readers, we have two free stories for you, both available exclusively to our mailing-list subscribers.
“Dry Spell” is a short story—a fun, twenty-minute beach, bath, or bedtime read.
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to all the amazing bloggers who helped spread the news about Happily Letter After to readers. We are so grateful for all your support.
To Julie—thank you for your friendship and always being up for our little adventures!
To Luna—thank you for your friendship, encouragement, and support. Today the magic number was 70. Can’t wait to see what it is when you read this.
To our super agent, Kimberly Brower—thank you for putting up with us!
To our amazing editor at Montla
ke, Lindsey Faber, and to Lauren Plude and the entire Montlake team—your excitement about this book started at the summary and kept us motivated the entire way through. Thank you for making Happily Letter After shine.
Last but never least, to our readers—thank you for allowing us into your hearts and homes. We are honored that you keep coming back to take this publishing journey with us. Without you, there would be no success!
Much love,
Penelope and Vi
About the Authors
Photo © 2019 Irene Bella Photography; Photo © 2016 Angela Rowlings
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles have appeared on more than one hundred bestseller lists and are currently translated into twenty-six languages. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children, where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of more than twenty novels. A former television news anchor, Penelope has sold more than two million books and has appeared on the New York Times bestseller list twenty-one times. She resides in Rhode Island with her husband, son, and beautiful daughter with autism.
Together, Vi and Penelope are the authors of Dirty Letters, Hate Notes, Happily Letter After, and the Rush Series. For more information about them, visit www.vikeeland.com and www.penelopewardauthor.com.
