Epilogue
One Year Later
“Fantastic! Oh, that’s great news... I knew you’d land that contract, Claire. You’re the best branch manager ever.”
Claire’s lively laugh tinkles merrily over the phone connection. “I’m your only branch manager, Mils. But I’ll take the kudos all the same.”
“Well, you deserve them. You’re not only a brilliant designer but a top-notch businesswoman. I couldn’t have left the New York office in better hands.”
“Damn right. Things have pretty much exploded here since the Best Media Design award we won for ROO-TV last year. Good thing we found some great talent to join the team to make up for losing you. How’s it going in the Sydney office?”
“It’s busy,” I say with a sigh. “I’ve picked up two new clients this week already. I’m going to have to hire another designer here, too. It’s hard keeping up when you have a three-month-old in tow.”
“I’ll bet. How’s Elijah doing? Doesn’t that surfer bum father of his help you out around the house? You should get him off his rich, lazy ass to lend a hand once in a while.”
As she speaks, Derric walks by me, his designer board shorts slung low across his hips. My palm strokes the curve of his sexy butt as he passes. “I’ve got better things to do with that ass.” I chuckle.
“Watch it, woman,” he teases. “Hands off unless you mean business; there are children present.” He moves off and continues packing what seems like a hundred bits and bobs into the industrial-grade diaper bag he’s bought as we get ready to go out.
“I know it’s real late where you are, so I better let you go, Claire. Miss you tons,” I say.
“Miss you too. Take care of that family of yours. Bye.”
I disconnect the call with mixed emotions; I miss my friend and the excitement and bustle of New York City, but life moves on, and our company is expanding. It’s what we worked for; I shouldn’t feel sad, and I know Claire is enjoying running the show.
“Is the head office holding up without you?” Derric asks as he lifts the handle of the baby carrier holding our little bundle of joy inside it with one muscled arm.
“Better than holding; it’s flourishing thanks to you and ROO-TV.”
“Uh-huh. And what about the home office?”
He means my new studio here in Sydney, of course. It’s home for us now.
“Growing like a weed,” I answer, “just like this little man.” I lean over to place a fingertip on our beautiful baby boy’s tiny nose. I still can’t believe he’s really here, really ours. But his brown eyes that are just like mine, and his flaxen blond hair like Derric’s, tell me it’s no illusion.
“Both thanks to a nurturing mother, I reckon,” Derric quips, gathering all the things we’ll need for a visit to the beach. It’s a lovely summer afternoon, and we’re going out to enjoy it, just the three of us. No phones, no clients or deadlines. Just us.
“Yeah, well, I can’t take all the credit. Being the girlfriend and baby mama of Sydney’s most eligible billionaire hasn’t exactly been bad for business,” I say, throwing him an appreciative smile, but I notice him wince at my choice of words.
“I don’t like that term, ‘baby mama’. It’s so Maury Povich,” he grouses.
I laugh at his ability to turn almost every phrase into a TV reference as I stuff a couple of beach towels into the bag. I opened the ‘down under’ branch of Church & Strait shortly after Elijah was born. True to his word, Derric stayed behind in New York well after ROO-TV launched so that I could continue to see my regular gynecologist and give birth in my chosen hospital. It also meant that Elijah was born a U.S. citizen so travel between NYC and Sydney on a regular basis won’t be a problem going forward. He’ll grow up a man of two hemispheres.
But I could tell my gorgeous billionaire boyfriend was homesick. He never asked me to, but I made the decision to return to Australia with a baby on board. To be honest, I was growing a bit sick of the noise, the pollution, and endless gray skies myself. It’s not a good environment for an infant.
I breathe in the warm salt air as we exit our beachfront high-rise, the same one where he and I conceived Elijah, on our way down to the endless golden sand that is Bondi Beach. Greeted by blue skies and swaying palms every day, I know I’ve made a good choice; for us, and for our new little family.
With Derric’s connections and encouragement, I had no trouble setting up shop in Sydney; clients had practically lined up outside my door from day one. Life in Oz is good. And every bit as magical as L. Frank Baum’s fictional land. I feel blessed with good fortune. My mom and dad would have been so proud and happy for me.
Sadly, Derric’s father Steve suffered a stroke shortly after we arrived in Sydney. Though he and Derric never got along, I was still a little sad that I didn’t get a chance to meet the man as the venerable, successful entrepreneur he once was. But Derric felt that the incident had mellowed him and forced him to take a hard look at life—see what he’d been missing. And allowed him the chance to embrace the joy of being a grandfather. It also meant that Derric had to take over the reins of Faris Media; not only because he’s Steve’s son, but because of his stellar launch of ROO-TV in America. He finally earned the praise and respect of his father he’d so badly craved but would never admit.
“How’s this spot?” Derric stakes claim on a dune of sand right about where Claire and I had parked our white butts on holiday just over one short year ago. A lifetime seems to have passed since then and, in a way, I suppose it has. Elijah’s lifetime.
I take our son from Derric who had dutifully carted him in his carrier all the way from the penthouse without complaint, like the devoted dad he always promised he’d be. Honestly. He fusses over him like he’s the Little Prince, and I suppose he is—being next in line to the Faris Media throne after his proud papa.
I cuddle Elijah and listen to his soft babble as Derric sets up our giant beach umbrella, folding chairs, and Elijah’s pop-up shade tent. I lay the baby down on his blanket beneath the arch of the tent, and Derric and I stretch out in our beach chairs with our feet up. I’m happy to just relax and enjoy the sun, the sand, the breeze and the quiet joy of simply being a family together. Elijah kicks his feet in the warm air and proceeds to chew on a special teething rattle that came as part of Derric’s juggernaut of baby gifts back in New York.
“What a perfect day,” I say, leaning back in my chair with a sigh of contentment. “I could get used to this.”
“It is a perfect day,” Derric agrees, pouring us each a cold drink. Our fingers touch as he hands me a tall glass of sparkling water. “Thank you for agreeing to come live here in Oz. I don’t think I’m cut out for life in the Big Apple. I’d have a serious vitamin D deficiency.”
“So you’re happy here, then?” I ask.
“Delirious,” he confirms.
“Then that is thanks enough.”
He smiles and winks, his tanned, dimpled face and deliciously fit shirtless bod almost making me wish we’d stayed indoors where we could screw each other’s asses off—but we have the rest of our lives to do that. I plan to make love to this man well into our 90s.
I sip on my drink and gaze out over the rolling blue waves that had first brought Derric and me together. I think perhaps we rescued each other that day.
“A perfect day in a perfect life,” I declare, taking in the wondrous sights of Bondi Beach, my drop-dead gorgeous man, and our beautiful baby all in the same frame.
“Well, it’s pretty close to perfect,” Derric says.
“What do you mean ‘close’?” I ask, feigning indignance.
“I’m a pretty demanding bloke, and I demand perfection. There’s one thing missing.”
I can’t imagine what that could be. “Oh, really? Like what?”
Derric rolls out of his chair and reaches over to dig into Elijah’s massive diaper bag. He pulls something out and hides it in his palm as he turns and drops to one knee in the sand before me. A nervous tingle rises up my spine.
“A perfect family,” he says, opening his hand to reveal a small velvet box, “needs a proper husband and wife, to have and to hold, forsaking all others and all that jazz.” The box splits open to reveal a stunning gold ring, set with a breathtaking, perfectly cut yellow diamond that beams like a thousand suns even in broad daylight. My breath catches. “Mila Churchwood, will you marry me?”
My heart swells in my chest, cutting off my airways so that I can barely utter a squeak. I’m happy just being with him, and being a mother to Elijah, but what he’s offering me now is truly what I’ve dreamed of and hoped for.
I find my voice. “Yes. Absolutely yes!”
He slides the exquisite ring onto my finger and leans forward to seal our agreement with a kiss. This is one contract I can never let myself out of, nor would I ever want to. We claim each other’s lips while the sounds of the sea and our baby’s happy gurgles fill our ears.
Now it’s perfect.
I wrap my arms around Derric’s beefy neck, holding tight to the man who has brought me so much joy and opportunity. I look over his shoulder and see Elijah lazing happily under the shade of his tent, and the breaking waves beyond. The lifeguard tower stands in the distance, occupied by a new, younger, sun-bronzed sentinel atop its lofty heights; a new prince to hold dominion over the kingdom of Bondi Beach.
It’s fitting because the last sovereign to sit in that chair now has a much more important empire to reign over. A wife, a son, and Network 10. In that order.
No more apologies necessary.
THE END
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