Epilogue
Kim
Two years later
“HARDER.” MY HEAD falls forward to the mattress and my hands slide out in front of me across the bed. “Please.”
“Fuck,” Sage growls, bending over me, and then his arm is under my breasts, lifting me up. With my back to his front, his free hand slides down over my stomach, zeroing in on my clit.
“Yes!” My hips rock into his fingers on my clit while his cock fills me over and over. “I’m going to come.”
“Kiss me,” he demands. Turning my head so he can capture my mouth with his, I feel his tongue slide between my parted lips. Oh, God, my body shakes as I come. Thrusting his hips once… twice more, he plants himself deep inside me, following me with his own orgasm.
“I’m going to be so late,” I pant, trying to catch my breath.
He laughs. “Chris will get over it. Last month, he was two hours late showing up to dinner.”
“True,” I agree, and then whimper as he pulls out of me and smacks my ass hard enough to sting.
“You shouldn’t be walking around in a towel, baby. That kind of easy access isn’t something I can turn down.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, rolling to my back and pulling the sheet up my body feeling myself drift off to sleep.
“Kimberly?”
“Hmm?”
“You need to get up.”
“You just gave me three orgasms. I’m taking a second to get myself together,” I tell him, keeping my eyes closed.
“All right.” He kisses my forehead then my lips, and then I hear the shower turn on. Ten minutes later, I finally pull myself out of bed and get cleaned up and dressed so I can meet Chris for his fitting.
“Um… do you think the white horses may be a little much?” I ask Chris, looking up from his wedding planning folder in my hand, and his head spins around as his eyes pin me in place.
“Are you asking me if I think my fairy tale wedding is too much?” he asks, sounding appalled, and I bite my lip.
“You rented two white horses,” I state.
He rolls his eyes at me then mutters, “How else are we going to get to the venue?”
“I don’t know. Maybe by car or a limo, like normal people?” I suggest, and he stares down at me like I’ve grown a third eye.
“Normal people? I don’t even know what that means.” He waves me off then stands still so the seamstress can get back to pinning his tux once more.
“Have you ever even ridden a horse before? Because I never have, and I’d rather not die on your wedding day,” I mutter, taking a seat on the bench facing him.
“Don’t be dramatic. How hard could it be?”
“So I take that as you’ve never ridden a horse before either.” I sigh. “I do not see this ending well,” I say, and the seamstress nods in agreement.
Chris looks between us like we’re the crazy ones and his idea isn’t outlandish or crazy as hell. “I’m getting married in a castle. I can’t just pull up in a limo.”
“I give up. I see you’re not going to be deterred from having things your way.” I shake my head at him.
Since the first time Fresco and Chris went out on a date, they have been together and completely inseparable. And three months ago, Fresco asked Chris to marry him. Since then, Chris has been planning his fairy tale wedding. A wedding that includes a real-life castle, two white horses, and twelve doves that will be released at the end of the ceremony. All a little over the top for my taste, but this is his wedding, not mine. And since I got my way and had the wedding of my dreams to Sage, I can’t be mad at my friend for wanting his fairy tale wedding his way.
“Enough talk about the wedding. How are things with the adoption coming along?” he asks, and I feel my face get soft and a smile touch my lips.
“It’s good. We just finished up the first step and went live on their website, so now we wait and see what happens and hopefully get chosen,” I reply quietly, and his eyes fill with tears.
I know he’s happy for me. For two years, I’ve been able to maintain my kidney function and haven’t had any problems. Around the time Chris got engaged, Sage and I decided it was time for us to get serious about having a baby, so we started to look into adoption agencies. After we found one we both liked, we did all the necessary paperwork—which there was a lot of—including background checks, credit checks, visits with social workers, and physicals.
We are both excited about the prospect of becoming parents, but the last few years with just him and I have been nice. It’s given us a chance to get to know each other—really get to know each other—and travel around a bit, which has been awesome. It’s also given me time to focus on the salon, which is doing amazing. Business has been booming, and most days, there is a waitlist to get your hair done at Color Me Crazy.
“What did I tell you?” Chris asks, and I come out of my head, finding him looking at me softly.
“What did you tell me?” I whisper, and his face gets even softer.
“That life sometimes sucks for a while, but when you’re feeling good and happy, you’ll realize why you had to go through what you went through. You realize if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had a chance at the happiness you’re feeling.”
“You were right.”
“I’m always right, not that you listen to me,” he snarks.
I laugh at that then stand and walk across the room, where I carefully hug him so I don’t get pricked by one of the many pins sticking out of him. “I love you.”
“You, too, baby girl. From the bottom of my heart.”
“Ditto,” I whisper, and then I quickly wipe the tears off my cheek and look back at him. “I still think your fairy tale wedding is crazy, and I don’t know how Fresco puts up with you.”
“Fresco loves me.”
“He does. I’m glad you found him and your happiness,” I whisper.
“Ditto,” he whispers back, kissing the top of my head before letting me go.
THREE MONTHS LATER, when I ride alongside him on a white horse toward the castle, and then stand by him as he marries his Prince Charming, all I think about is how crazy and amazing my best friend is and how only he could pull off a wedding like the one he had.
Sage
Six months later
HEARING A LOUD scream, I shut down the treadmill, turn, and hop off, and then let out a grunt as Kim runs into me at full speed. “What the fuck?”
“It’s time,” she pants, looking up at me.
I frown. “What?”
Shaking her head frantically while gasping for breath, she points the screen of her phone up toward me. “It’s time. We’re having a baby!”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah.”
“Christ,” I mutter, moving her with me toward the door then through the house, past the living room, and down the hall to the bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks as I head for the bathroom while she heads for the closet.
“I need a shower.”
“You can’t shower. We’re having a baby!” she shrieks at the top of her lungs.
“Baby, take a breath for me and calm down. You’re not even dressed.” I point out, and she looks down at the thin nightgown she has on. “You need to change, and since you’ve had us packed for weeks now, there’s nothing else to do. As soon as I’m out of the shower, I’ll get our shit in my ride and we can hit the road.”
“I guess you’re right,” she says, and then her eyes fill with tears. Seeing those tears, I close the distance between us and pull her against me as she whispers, “We’re having a baby.”
Fuck me. I want to remind her that things can still go south, but I don’t. I hold on to her, say a fucking prayer that things work out, and then kiss the top of her head.
“Go get dressed. As soon as I’m done getting ready, we’ll leave and call our families on the way.”
“Okay,” she whispers, and then she leans up on her tiptoes and I tip my head down, kissing her once before letting her go. I move to the shower, coming out and finding she’s gotten all of our bags, including the baby’s, and is waiting for me at the front door.
Eight hours later, I hold on to her hand as we walk through the door of the hospital and head toward the nurses’ station. It’s now six in the evening, and we got word two hours ago that our son had been born.
Feeling Kim’s hand shake in mine, I stop us and give her fingers a squeeze so she’ll look at me. “Whatever happens, I promise everything will be okay,” I tell her, and her worried eyes meet mine as she nods once before looking at the older woman approaching us.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mayson I presume,” she greets us.
“Yes, hi,” Kim says quietly, as she stops in front of us.
“It’s nice to meet you both.” She shakes our hands. “I’m Bethany, the social worker here at the hospital. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you two checked into the hospital and your room, and then we’ll introduce you to your son.”
“Um… how’s Ima?” Kim asks about the birth mom as we hand over IDs and sign in. At Kim’s question, Bethany turns to face us. “She’s okay, but she’s chosen not to have any contact with the baby since delivery.”
“What?” Kim whispers, squeezing my hand.
Ima and the agency told us about the birth plan weeks ago. The plan was that Ima would spend as much time as she could with the baby until she had to leave the hospital, so this news is a punch to the gut.
“These situations are always difficult, and sometimes the birth parents find it easier to deal with things if they don’t have one-on-one bonding with the child after the birth,” she explains quietly. My heart squeezes, not only for my son, who has been alone since the moment he was born, but for the mother of my child, who is somewhere in the hospital, fighting through what I can only imagine is excruciating pain. “She may change her mind, but then again, she may not.”
“Okay,” Kim says, and I know she’s just as worried about this new change of plan as I am.
Holding on to Kim after we get checked in, we head down a long hall, past an empty nursery, and into a simple room with a bathroom attached, a hospital bed, a chair, and a TV on the wall. “Wait here and I will be right back,” Bethany says, leaving the room.
“I’m worried,” Kim whispers, looking up at me as soon as she’s gone.
I turn her in my arms, resting my hands around her waist. “It will be okay.”
“I know. I… Ima just seemed so sure about wanting to spend time with him. What do you think it means that she changed her mind?”
“I don’t know but I do know that it will be okay, baby. One step at a time,” I tell her, and then the door is opened and Bethany walks in pushing a cart in front of her. Seeing the small bundle of blankets in the middle of the clear plastic bassinet, my heart beats hard against my ribcage.
“Mr. and Mrs. Mayson, I’d like to introduce you to your son.”
Swallowing down the lump that has lodged itself in my throat, I stand with my wife in my arms as she picks up our son and brings him to her chest. “He’s perfect,” she whispers, and I hear the tears in her voice. Curling her closer, I study our boy, Nash, and grin when he pouts out his lips.
“He’s probably hungry. The nurse was on her way to get you some supplies, so she should be here soon. You guys can move with him around Labor and Delivery as long as you have on your bands I gave you, but he can’t leave the hospital until you guys get checked out. And before that, all the paperwork with the birth mother needs to be completed. As I said before, Ima may at some point want to visit with him, but as of right now, he will be staying in here with you two. So plan for the nurses and doctors to be in and out throughout the night and the next few days to check on him.”
“Thank you,” Kim tells her quietly.
“I pray that everything works out for you guys. You make a beautiful family. Congratulations.” She smiles at us as the nurse comes into the room. “This is Minnie. She will be your nurse for the night,” she introduces us to the nurse, who looks like a bulldog but is so soft-spoken I have to lean in to hear her as she tells us hello. “You guys are in good hands. If you need anything at all, my number is on the board,” Bethany says, motioning to a whiteboard in the room in front of the bed.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime.” She smiles before she leaves.
Once she’s gone, Minnie goes over the feeding and nighttime schedule with us. Then it’s all a blur of diaper changes, bottles, and countless doctors and nurses.
We spend the next two days in the hospital with Nash, only seeing Ima once before she is released to go home. During that short visit, she chose not to hold Nash. I could tell she was settled in her decision to give him up for adoption, but she was still hurting and trying to cope with that pain the only way she knew how.
The day after Ima was released, so were we, and I rented us a house close to the hospital, where we waited for our lawyer to call and give us the all-clear to go home. Four days later, we got that call and we headed home with our son.
Kim
One week later
HEARING NASH CRY, I blink my tired eyes open. “Sleep baby, I got him,” Sage whispers, touching his lips to my forehead then lips before he slides out of bed. Rolling to my side, I watch him walk across the room to the bassinet and pick up his boy and rest him against his chest with one hand on his back and one on his bottom. Seeing him hold our son so carefully, my heart warms in my chest. “How about you and I get a bottle and watch some TV?” he suggests, and I smile at that then watch the two of them leave the room thinking no fairy tale has ever been better than this.
Three weeks later
WALKING OUT OF the kitchen and into the living room with a fresh bottle for Nash, I smile when Nalia’s eyes meet mine. “I think he’s getting cuter by the day,” she tells me, looking down at my son, who is now wide awake and looking up at his auntie. The week after we got home, Nalia called and asked if she could come visit for a couple weeks to spend time with her nephew. Sage and I both immediately agreed. It’s been awesome having her around, and I know her being here is good for Sage. He misses his sister; everyone misses her, and we’re all glad she’s back for a while, even if it’s just temporary.
“He does get cuter by the day, doesn’t he?” I hand over the bottle to her, and she adjusts him in her arms, settles him against her chest, and then pops the bottle in his mouth like a pro.
“Totally. I sent my mom a couple pictures,” she says absently, and then her eyes fly up to meet mine as her face pales. “I—”
“It’s okay. I get it. I mean, I don’t get it, because I don’t have any kind of relationship with my birth mother, but I get why you want that.”
“Sage—”
“He’s dealing with it,” I cut her off then drop my voice. “Your brother loves you, and even though he doesn’t want to have a relationship with her, he respects that you do.”
“I wish he would talk to her and get to know her the way I have.”
“Don’t count on that happening,” I say, and sadness fills her eyes, making me feel guilty. But I’ve talked to my husband about this, and he is very firm in his decision. “Who knows what the future has in store for them, honey? But you can’t force that on him if he’s not ready.”
“You’re right, and on the plus side, since he’s been with you, he’s gotten better about talking to me about her. So maybe one day, right?”
“Right,” I agree, and then I look down at my boy and feel my face get soft when I see he’s already asleep.
I don’t know what kind of relationship Nash and Ima will have in the future, but I know she loved him beyond measure. And as he’s growing up, that’s exactly what Sage and I will tell him.
Sage
One year later
“DADA, DADA, DADA,” Nash sings as he waddles around the living room in a T-shirt and diaper, through the hundreds of toys that have gotten scattered across the floor since he got up this morning.
Pulling my eyes from my boy, I look at my wife, who is curled into the corner of the couch asleep, and I smile. She’s tired; it was a long night and an early morning. Since Nash started teething, his schedule has gotten jacked. Last night, he was up until three in the morning. The good thing about it is he’s happy when he’s up. The bad thing is neither of us gets much sleep.
Moving across the floor on my hands and knees toward my son, I watch his eyes light up as he grins. Crawling toward him slowly, he laughs then runs off with me chasing after him. I listen to his laughter fill the room and grin as I catch him and toss him up in the air, making him giggle and babble away. Holding him against my chest, I kiss the side of his head then let him go when he wiggles, wanting down.
As I lean back against the couch, I stretch my legs out in front of me and cross my ankles. Our wedding picture on the mantel catches my attention, and I smile as I study it. The photo wasn’t taken by a professional. My mom just so happened to take the perfect picture on her cell phone. In the photo, Kim and I are standing front-to-front, me looking down on her smiling, her head thrown back in laughter as a million dollars in Monopoly money flutters to the ground around us. She didn’t know I had that planned, so when it happened, her reaction was priceless.
“Mama, Mama, Mama,” Nash sings, and I feel Kim’s hand on my shoulder then her lips at the top of my head.
Turning to look into her tired eyes, I feel my face get soft. “You should go lie down in bed, baby.”
“And miss a second of this?” She shakes her head, and Nash waddles over, holding out his arms for her to pick him up. Cuddling him close to her chest, her eyes soften on mine. “I never want to miss a second of this.”
Fuck, but I love my wife and our son, and I’m thankful every fucking day for the second chance I was given.