are some evils that fragile hearts can’t fight forever. Maybe that’s why he said he always knew.
I’d give anything to change the past. I’d give anything to have Leo here with me. I don’t understand the meaning behind his death, and maybe I never will. I have to stop allowing the questions I can’t answer to steal the life from me.
Focusing on the truths will keep me going. Leo loved me, and what we had was a gift. We were happy, and our marriage was special. He was my soul mate, and I was lucky to have found him. I wouldn’t trade the time I had with him for anything. This aching sorrow consuming me is a small price to pay for my life with Leo. He was worth it, all of it. He gave me a miracle, and I’m certain that the best parts of Leo are growing inside of me.
Maybe he couldn’t stay, but a part of him did. That life, that perfect piece of Leo, is here to save me. And I know I’m going to be okay.
EPILOGUE
Alma
Eight Months Later
My life has never been what one would call normal. As original as my name, my story is mine alone. As brutal as it’s been beautiful, I wouldn’t give up this life for anything.
Soul-crushing love is rare, and I had it. If I’d known that I’d lose him so soon in our marriage, I would’ve married him all the same. A hundred times over. Five years with Leo is worth more than a million years of regular love. I don’t know if I’ll ever remarry. How is it possible to promise yourself to someone else when your heart will always be taken?
There is nothing beautiful or poetic in experiencing a great loss, but there is something incredible about surviving it.
The fortune from years ago that’s framed above our wedding photo in my bedroom couldn’t have been closer to the truth. There’s no doubt in my mind that Leo was meant for me as I was for him. He will be burned into my soul forever. No matter what else I do in this life or who else I love, I will carry him with me—for real love never truly leaves. He will always be a part of me.
The last six months of my pregnancy were a healing journey. The scars over the loss of Leo will never heal fully, but I’m as whole as I’ll ever be, and I owe it to her. My miracle.
My pregnancy was typical in all of the usual ways. I was exhausted, bloated, and waddled around like a very unfortunate duck. My friends gifted me with pink everything. Quinn threw me an adorable baby shower. In the later months, my back and hips killed me to the point where sleep evaded me most nights. Instead of sleeping, I would lie in bed and feel her as she jumped and kicked around like a little ninja.
My pregnancy was anything but ordinary in a lot of aspects. I heard morning sickness tapers off for most women, but for me it arrived late, and stuck with me for the remainder of the pregnancy. I threw up daily, like it was my part-time job. My husband wasn’t there for the ultrasounds or first visible kicks. I ran to the store on my own at two a.m. for pickles and ice cream instead of sending my husband. Two of my best friends, Quinn and Amos, were in the delivery room with me instead of Leo, but at least I wasn’t alone.
All in all, pregnancy was like the rest of my life—heartbreaking and beautiful, at the same time—and I loved every minute of it because it brought me to her.
Love Grace Harding.
Seven pounds, two ounces.
Nineteen inches long.
Most gorgeous baby girl in the universe.
I wanted to find a name that meant lion, so she could be named after her gentle and fierce daddy. In my search, I found that løve in Danish means lion. The Danish version isn’t pronounced the way love in English is pronounced, but I thought it was perfect. It means lion, and if any baby was conceived out of love, it’s her. She was wanted more than anything, even when I didn’t think the idea of her was a possibility.
My entire life, I’ve been hard on myself. I wanted to be perfect and right at all times, but that’s not how it works. Storms are inevitable—or in my case, catastrophic tsunamis—and as long as I’m trying