Epilogue
Our baby girl,Cleo, was born pink and screaming after only four hours of labor. Holding her for the first time was an indescribable experience. I knew that from that moment forward, everything had changed. As I looked up at Rome and saw the moisture in his eyes, I saw the same thought reflected back at me.
He kissed my sweaty forehead and ran a finger down our girl’s arm, his hand trembling as he did. “You were amazing,” he told me.
“Thank you for being here.”
“Of course.”
He’d rushed from work to the hospital when I called him. I was two days past my due date, so it was no great surprise, but it still felt like a shock to feel contractions coming on, and an even greater shock to be told to push.
Over the past five months, I’d moved in with Rome and taken the job with Roseanne. We’d talked about marriage, but I’d wanted to wait until after the baby was born to tie the knot. Rome seemed impatient to put a ring on my finger, which made me feel giddy and loved.
Not long after he met with Wilbur Monk, he told me that Ophelia had been let go. She’d made threats, but after discussing it with me, Rome decided to be open about how he and I met. To anyone who asked, he told the whole story: the accident with the perfume bottle, the fear of litigation, the tense negotiations between us. Somehow, he made me look like a shark who deserved to be at his side, and our story was just one of many. Once it was all out in the open, there wasn’t much Ophelia—or anyone else—could threaten us with.
I was glad not to have any secrets. I liked being able to stand at his side and be myself—and have that be exactly enough.
We brought our baby home and spent three weeks cooped up at home, learning how to be new parents. I felt worn out, exhausted, and happy. Rome was right there beside me to rub my feet and fluff my pillow, and I fell in love with him all over again.
After our self-imposed isolation, we received visitors. Our friends came by to meet the new baby and offer their congratulations, but we both fielded phone calls from our parents. Neither of us wanted to invite their judgment into our little bubble of love.
It was the beginning of a distancing, and it was necessary. I kept the line of communication open with my mother, because although she hadn’t been there for me the way I’d needed, I didn’t think she was a bad person. Rome, on the other hand, decided he needed space. There were no more monthly dinners, no more summons, no more helicopter rides to the estate on Long Island.
As the weeks went by, I watched him become a more relaxed, confident version of himself, and I wondered how much those monthly dinners ground him down. I was glad to see him thrive—and even gladder that he was doing it with me and our child.
She was a gorgeous baby with her father’s eyes and the cutest laugh I’d ever heard. I snuggled her for about twenty hours a day, and somehow it still didn’t feel like enough.
One evening, after we shared cake for Cleo’s two-month birthday, I propped the baby monitor on the coffee table and leaned my head against Rome’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and let out a long sigh before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“You still want to marry me?” I asked as we stared out into the night sky.
“I will marry you tomorrow if you let me,” he told me.
I smiled, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “Let’s set a date, then.”
Rome kissed the tip of my nose and said, “Yes. But first…” He shifted, sliding off the couch so he was kneeling on the ground in front of me. He pulled a small ring box out of his pocket and flipped it open, turning it to show me the most beautiful solitaire diamond ring I’d ever seen.
I gaped at the grape-sized stone. “Have you been carrying that around in your pocket all this time?”
“I was waiting for the right moment,” he said, grinning at me, then sobered. “Nikki, will you make me the happiest man alive and tell me you’ll be my wife?”
I was a blubbery, hormonal mess. Tears were already wetting my cheeks as I croaked out a “Yes!” and threw my arms around his neck, tackling him to the ground between the sofa and coffee table. He landed with a low grunt as I peppered his face with kisses. I sat up and wiped my eyes before extending my left hand. “Put it on.”
His fingers shook as he plucked the ring from its velvet embrace and slid it onto my finger. It felt heavy, and it threw sparks of color all over my hand. I sighed, admiring it, then slid my gaze to meet his.
Rome’s hands stroked my thighs, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I love you, Nikki.”
“I love you more.”
He shook his head. “Impossible.”
I smiled, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. When I felt a twitch between us from behind Rome’s pants, I arched my brows.
“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
The doctor had cleared me for sex two weeks ago, so I smiled. “You won’t,” I promised, and I knew all the way to the depths of my heart that it was the truth.
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