Epilogue

 

Carter worked his way to the top faster than most. He was promoted to detective in the special victims unit and was being given an award for his heroism, dedication, and loyalty to the force.

He was beaming as we took our seats at our table. The banquet hall was decorated in police blue and gold. It was beautiful. He deserved it. He deserved every bit of it.

The day he singlehandedly took down Greg Stevens, well, that was only the beginning of his three-year streak of heroism. He saved five kids from an abandoned school building that they accidentally caught on fire. He took down one of the most notorious sex traffickers in the country by working around the clock following leads. He even took a bullet to the chest to save a woman from her drunken, angry husband. Thank God for bullet-proof vests.

Yes, Carter Reynolds deserved this banquet.

I never went home after that day Greg attacked me for the second time. I stayed with Carter, and it was the best move I’d ever made, besides leaving the gym and taking off on my own.

Business was booming, and I’d hired seven personal trainers, and four personal chefs to help with the workload. I was considering expanding outside of Los Angeles soon. With Carter by my side, I knew I could do anything; we could do anything.

His sergeant took the podium, praising Carter for all his efforts, his accomplishments, and his dedication. You could tell that the man had a spot in his heart for Carter, just from the way he spoke about him.

He was finally pulled on stage, his cheeks blushing red, and his demeanor somewhat shy. He didn’t like being fussed over, and I knew that was partly due to his childhood, never having a dad show any pride or affection towards him.

I watched with admiration as he smiled, thanked everyone in the force, and told a few stories about his fellow officers, ones that he felt should be up there beside him accepting the award.

When his eyes turned to me, I started to tear up. I knew he was getting ready to become sentimental, probably embarrassing me with his own praises. “This woman,” he said, walking off the stage, and taking the mic with him.

“She’s stood by me through it all, stayed up nights worrying, cried herself to sleep, but smiled each morning before sending me off to work. She’s the one I have to thank the most. Without her, I’d have no reason to come home at night. She is the one I’m trying to make the world a better place for, she’s the one I’m protecting each time I start my shift.”

He was standing at our table; the spotlight shone on me as he spouted out his kind words to a room full of colleagues, friends, and what we now considered family.

“This award, this promotion, it means a whole hell of a lot to me. But, there’s one thing that would mean more.”

Carter dropped to his knee by my chair. My tears flooded my eyes, falling recklessly down my cheeks and into my lap. He extended a hand, a black velvet box in his palm. “Naomi Tate. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked, opening the box to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring.

The entire banquet hall fell silent, everyone awaiting my response. “Yes!” I squealed, leaping into his arms, and covering his face with kisses as he worked to get the ring on my frantic finger.

The entire place cheered and applauded, and after Carter gave adequate attention to his new bride-to-be, he took the mic back to the stage. “Now, I’m the happiest man in the world. I have it all,” he shouted into the mic, and then rushed back to his seat beside me.

  “I don’t want to wait, either. I want to plan this wedding right away. I’ve lived my life without you as my wife long enough,” he declared with a wide smile on his face.

“I’m glad you want to move quickly,” I said sweetly, squeezing his hand in mine.

“Oh, yeah? You can’t stand another moment being Ms. Tate, just want to be Mrs. Reynolds?” he laughed.

“Yes. And I had a surprise for you for when we got home. But, I think I should give it to you now,” I smirked.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Are you certain you’re the happiest you can be?” I asked.

“I am,” he said sternly.

“And, nothing could make you happier? You already have it all?” I asked.

“Of course. This has made my life complete,” he said, his eyes growing confused by my taunting.

“Well, I believe I can make you even happier,” I stated firmly.

“You’re killin’ me, woman. Out with it,” he demanded, his face turning flush, and his lips tightening with anticipation.

“I went to the doctor this morning. I’m pregnant,” I announced.

Carter jumped out of his seat, gripped my hands, and pulled me to my feet. He pulled me to the stage as I struggled to stay in my spot on the floor. His strength and his excitement won out, pulling me to the platform where I had to face the entire crowd.

“My bride-to-be just informed me that she could make me even happier. Even though I didn’t think it possible, she did it,” he announced loudly in the microphone as his voice echoed off the walls.

“We’re having a baby!” He howled like a wolf causing others from his squad to join in.

“So, now I’m the happiest man in the world, with everything I could ever want,” he announced.

“I can still make you happier,” I leaned into the mic so everyone could hear.

Carter turned to me, his face filled with confusion. “Now she’s just showing off,” he said into the mic as everyone laughed.

“Twins,” I said loudly into the mic, and then turned to watch Carter’s expression.

His mouth fell open, his eyes filled with tears, and his arms scooped me up, pulling me close to his chest.

The warmth of his breath against my neck tickled, sending goosebumps down my spine. He kissed me softly on the cheek, tears streaming. He thanked everyone, but it was hard to understand as he sobbed with joy.

Everyone stood, clapping loudly and cheering as we took our seats.

They all laughed when the next speaker took the stage, asking how in the hell he was going to top that. He couldn’t. We were the top. The cherry of life. That was us. I couldn’t wait to start building our sundae.

 

MR ROOMMATE

By Ivy Jordan

 

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

 

Copyright © 2017 Ivy Jordan