Epilogue

I collected the last handful of paper plates from where they were sitting on the coffee table and dumped them into the trash bag I had been lugging around for the last hour. There we go, All done.

I had no idea how difficult it would be throwing a birthday party for a one-year-old. Well, she wasn’t the hard part; Chrissie was happy to enjoy the hugs and attention and endless games of peek-a-boo from the various members of her family who stopped by to visit her. No, it was everyone else who caused the hassle.

Maybe hassle was the wrong word. Everything was just new to me, I supposed, and hard to get my head around. Though Mom had tried to convince me to invite the whole family up for the weekend, I had firmly refused, telling her that we would pay for her and Dad to get a place in the city for the duration if they wanted, but that no-one else was invited.

I couldn’t stand the thought of my precious daughter’s birthday getting pissed on by the pursed lips and judgemental eyes of my grandmother, or by Kimmy’s comments about where my wedding ring was. No, it would be close family only -- and by that, I meant family who we didn’t hate with a passion.

Actually, it was Jones who had insisted on that being a stipulation. I had been so close to just caving and getting everyone up, but he stood firm. He pointed out how miserable I’d been when I’d allowed them all to be a part of Chrissie’s life, and he was so right. He’d been there when I made the phone calls, giving me enthusiastic thumbs up and bringing me glass after glass of wine to keep my courage sure while I dealt with everyone. Yeah, they were pissed, but I got to have the people I cared about there, and no one asked me when Jones was planning on getting a ring, so that was nice.

That said, it wasn’t really that much of a surprise that people were asking about a wedding date for the two of us. I moved to the city about a month after that catastrophic family dinner, packing up my life and making off in a jet to my new life. It was a magical feeling, getting the chance to start over as I did, and Jones was so supportive- he’d been the one to scout out apartments for me, sending me photos on his phone whenever he went to a viewing.

I even caught his name in a couple of gossip magazines, speculating as to what he might be up to, but none of them came close to the truth. I guess because in this instance it really was stranger than fiction.

The place I chose -- where we were all living now—was without a doubt my home more than any of the other places I’d lived in my life. An enormous, open-plan apartment on the edge of the city, it had a huge kitchen and a big space in the living room where Chrissie would play in the evenings while I cooked dinner. Sometimes I wouldn’t even notice when Jones would come through the door, as he would make a beeline straight for Chrissie and sometime forget to greet me. I couldn’t really complain, to be honest, as turning around to the sight of the two of them playing on the floor never failed to make me smile.

He’d pretty much moved in not long after I did; he hadn’t officially given up his own apartment for about six months after Chrissie was born, but that didn’t matter. Our lives were totally integrated, revolving around each other, and I knew how happy that made him, after all that time that we didn’t take advantage of each other, now we got to binge on each other’s company. Those few months before Chrissie was born were dizzyingly, dazzlingly good- so good, in fact, that I was worried what might happen when she came along.

The birth was easy enough, much to my surprise, as I’d been having horror stories fed to me by pretty much every female member of my family. It was as though they were trying to outdo each other with how grotesquely horrible their tales were. It took less than a day, and at the end of it, Jones and I sat in that hospital room for hours- paying for the best care was worth it, as we spent almost the whole night holding her and staring at her and trying to remind ourselves that yes, this really was our daughter looking back at us.

When we took her home, we found that someone on Jones’ team must have tipped off the press, because the place was surrounded by paparazzi; we’d managed to keep the pregnancy relatively quiet as it progressed (which was made easier by the fact that nobody knew who I was), but that all changed once they’d snapped some pictures of me and Chrissie.

It wasn’t as though I’d spent a huge amount of time paying attention to what the magazines had written about Jones over the course of our times together. If I had, I would have gone mad, as they constantly had him connected to models and actresses and everyone in between.

But when they figured out that he had settled down and now had a baby, his image in the media did a complete one-eighty. He went from being the bad boy football star to being the family man with a heart of gold. I teased him about it, pointing out that he had never really lived up to either title, and he would simply ignore me and continue playing with Chrissie to prove his point. He was an amazing father, considering the fact that he didn’t exactly have a lot of time to get used to the notion of being one, and as good a partner to me as he’d ever been.

One of the biggest changes I had to deal with was being the partner of a celebrity. I hadn’t even realized that he was as big a star as he was, a quote from all the interviews I did like to put in big letters at the center of the page. There was a flurry of requests from magazines and newspapers trying to get hold of me, and I guess a few of them must have gotten through to my family as they printed the lurid details of my non-wedding to David, though none of them figured out how Jones and I had gotten together.

I was always coy on the subject, mainly because I knew my Mom would combust in horror if she knew the truth about the beginning of our relationship. Fucking on a hotel bar wasn’t exactly the romancing she had always dreamed of for me, I could be sure of that.

We found ourselves swiftly rising to the status of golden couple right after Chrissie was born, but Jones convinced me to just ride it out, promising that soon enough the press would grow tired of us and move on to somebody else.

And, sure enough, they did.We would still get photographed heading out on the town, but they mostly left us to our own devices, much to my relief. I hadn’t spent much time focusing on them, anyway. After Chrissie was born, I started a small online design business, so I had my handful of employees and scores of clients to take up my brain space.

And, of course, my daughter. I thought that Jones was the deepest love I would ever know, but I was wrong- it was Chrissie. There was no doubt in my mind, as soon as I held her in my arms, that she was the one -- the person I was meant to spend my life with. And the first year of her life hadn’t done much to dissuade me of that. She was sweet, clever, and outrageously beautiful.

I missed her even then, she and her father had just gone out to feed the ducks while there was still a bit of light left in the air. Since we lived towards the edge of the city, there was a park not too far from the apartment, and Chrissie loved the greenery. Since Jones was training a little less at the stadium, thanks to being so far out of town, he liked to squeeze in all the exercise he could, so he’d gone out and left me with the cleaning up. Not that I minded.

I couldn’t believe Chrissie was already a year old. Time went so quickly when you were having fun, I supposed. Jones and I had exchanged more than one disbelieving look over the course of the day, and I was glad to know it wasn’t just me finding this whole thing hard to believe.

The door opened, making me jump and pulling me out of my reverie, and I turned to greet them both.

“Hello!” I hurried over to Jones and scooped my daughter out of his arms, kissing her lightly on the head. Her dark brown curls were stuck to her skin, and I quickly fluffed them up as her chubby little hands grabbed for my clothes.

“Did you have a nice time?”

“We sure did,” Jones nodded, rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold. “But I think she’s pretty tired now. I know I am.”

“Do you want to put her to bed?” I handed her back across to her father, and Jones heaved her into his arms.

“Yeah, I’ll get her settled in,” he nodded, and Chrissie let out a huge burp, making us both laugh. She looked between us with a smile, amused and confused by our mirth.

“Goodnight, baby,” I kissed her head again, and watched as Jones took her through to her room. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I turned to head back to the kitchen and pour us both a glass of wine- I knew we could both use it.

Having both our families in the same room together for the first time had been a lot, even if it had gone better than we thought, Both sets of parents basically just talked about how none of this would have gone down the way it would have in their day, and cooed over Chrissie. Not exactly the most self-esteem-boosting way to spend a day, but not the worst, either.

After a minute or two, Jones returned from the bedroom and I handed him a glass of wine. He took a long, grateful sip, and let out a satisfied “ah” when he had swallowed.

“That’s good,” he held his glass up to mine, and we clinked them together quietly enough that we wouldn’t wake Chrissie.

“Only the best for our daughter’s birthday,” I smirked. He returned my smile then let out a yawn.

“God, I’m exhausted,” he remarked. “I used to be able to stay up all night and now it’s what, six, and I’m already thinking about bed.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m thinking about bed too,” I waggled my eyebrows at him pointedly and he shook his head at me in mock-disgust.

“Let’s at least wait till we know she’s asleep,” he suggested. “Besides, I have something I want to give to you.”

“It’s her birthday, not mine,” I reminded him, but felt a little uptick of excitement in my chest. Jones was constantly coming home with little trinkets and treats for me, and they were always so thoughtful and sweet- the magazines he’d spotted when I was moving apartments, a copy of a video game he’d seen me reading reviews of, stuff like that. And yeah, it was kind of nice to have a reward to look forward to after a whole day of dealing with our respective families.

“Yeah, but I’m allowed to treat both my girls,” he pointed out. “Can you wait here a second? I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing,” I watched as he made his way towards the bedroom we shared, and wondered what it was this time.

I sank back on to one of the stools next to the breakfast bar and looked around. This was a pretty good life that I’d built for myself; it wasn’t the one I’d expected, but it was far in excess of anything I ever could have dared to imagine. To think, that only a year and a half or so ago, I was preparing to get married to a different man entirely.

I was willing to settle down with someone who wasn’t Jones, to have children who weren’t Chrissie, just because that’s what made me feel safe. In retrospect, I couldn’t believe what a coward I had been, but at least David had been kind enough to give me the way out of that. Yeah, I still hated him a whole lot, and part of me hoped that he and Tam were totally miserable together- but without him leaving me at the altar, none of this would have happened.

I raised my glass slightly to the empty space in front of me, and toasted silently to David, and what a raging asshole he’d been. I took a sip of my wine and smiled to myself. How long had it been since I last thought of him? No-one had heard from him in months, Mom told me, and no-one cared to after what he’d pulled at the wedding.

Jones entered the room again, and I looked up at him- and immediately widened my eyes. He was carrying a tiny velvet box -- a jewelry box, I was certain. He met my gaze, and I could see the nervousness in his eyes- though I wasn’t sure what it was there for.

“Sorry, it took a second to remember where I’d hidden it,” he apologized bashfully, making his way towards me. I put my glass of wine down, struck to silence. He got down on one knee in front of me, and popped open the box. Inside it, a gorgeous silver ring with a small, brilliant diamond twinkled back at me.

“Kyra,” he began. “I know this hasn’t been the most orthodox of romances. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and before this can get too cheesy, I have to ask; will you marry me?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed, unable to hold back my answer- or my profanity. “Fuck, yes!”

He stood up, and slid the ring on to my finger, then wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close for a kiss. I gripped his arms, and smiled into our embrace; I might not have had the best luck with fiancés in the past, but right there and then, I had never been more sure of anything or anyone in my life.

The End