Epilogue One
Zoey
One year later
I walk past Lulu’s desk and straight to my husband’s office, knocking on the doorframe before looking in. He’s sitting behind the desk with his assistant, Steven, in front of him taking notes. Both of them look my way. “Hey, am I interrupting?” I ask, and Steven smiles and gets up.
“I’ll be back in a few,” he says. “Can I get you guys anything from the kitchen?”
“I’m good. I’ll be leaving in a bit,” I tell him, and he walks out as I walk in.
Nash has already walked around his desk, and he grabs my hips and pulls me to him. “Hey, baby,” he says softly, kissing my lips. Something we compromised on was showing some affection at work, and by compromised on, it means he gets to kiss me when he wants, and I don’t bust his balls. It’s the little things. “Where are you going?”
“I’m meeting with a client.” I lie to him, hoping he doesn’t press and ask me too many more questions. “I think it’s frowned upon to bring a husband, just in case.”
He laughs. “Okay, fine.” He pretends to give in. “I’ll meet you at home, then.” He bends to kiss my lips. “I love you.”
I nod. “I love you too.” I disengage from his arms, walking out and quickly leaving before he asks any more questions. Then I’ll have to confess there is no fucking client, and I’m on my way to the doctor.
I quickly wave at Lulu before waving at my husband and trying to act as cool as I can, except I’m about to throw up with all the nerves that are running through my body. I quickly make it to the doctor and check in, nervously sitting down and waiting to be called. I try to go through my social media but quickly close it as I look around. The door opens, and the lady calls my name. “Zoey Griffin.” I get up and walk over, smiling at her. “Hi,” she greets me with a smile. “I’m Cathy. How are you doing today?”
“Good,” I reply. “Anxious, nervous, all of that, I guess.” She smiles as she opens the door and steps in with me following her. The desk is in the corner, and the exam table is in the middle of the room at an angle. “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions.” She sits at the desk and motions for me to sit down in the chair beside her. She asks me routine questions, and when she asks me when my last period was, I quickly smile and tell her, “About two and a half months ago.”
“Have you taken a pregnancy test?” she asks, and I nod.
“What form of birth control are you on?”
“I was on the pill, but I stopped it six months ago,” I tell her.
“Is this the first time you’ve been late?” she asks, and I nod.
“Perfect, let’s do a urine sample first, and then the doctor will come in and examine you.” She wheels her chair to the back, grabbing a small plastic container. “This is for you.” She then points at the bathroom in the corner.
I quickly go into the bathroom and will myself to pee, even turning on the tap water. “Come on, come on, come on.” I look down, chanting to my vagina, and then it trickles out. I fill it halfway, then close the lid on it before I rinse off the container and wash my hands. Stepping out with the container in my hand, I give it to the nurse, who is wearing blue surgical gloves now. She walks over to the other corner of the room, grabbing a little strip before opening it and dipping it in.
I wait a second as she looks at it. “Well, you are pregnant,” she confirms, making my heart jump. Even though the five pregnancy tests I took said the same thing, I shouldn’t be surprised I am. “If you can take off your bottoms, there is a sheet on the exam table.” She points at the square white sheet that doesn’t really cover anything. “The doctor will be right in with you.”
It takes over forty-five minutes, but I’m leaving with a little black-and-white picture of what looks like a blob. It’s the most beautiful blob I’ve ever seen in my life. The tears are flowing the whole way, and even when I make it home and put it in the frame, I can’t stop the tears from coming. Nash arrives literally five minutes after I’ve changed out of my work clothes and I walk down the stairs. Pictures of our beautiful life are scattered throughout the house. I walk down, carrying the white box in my hand with a pink-and-blue ribbon on top. “Hey,” I say, walking in the room, and he turns from the fridge with a bottle of iced tea to his lips. He takes one look at me and stops drinking.
“What the fuck happened?” He tosses the bottle in the sink before turning to walk to me. “Why are you crying?”
He stops when I take a step back from him, his face filled with worry and confusion. “I lied to you,” I say softly, and his hands shake in front of him. “I didn’t have an appointment with a client today.”
“I knew it,” he whispers. “You were acting all weird this morning.”
I try to laugh, but I’m so nervous that it comes out as a sob. “This is for you.” I hold out the box, and he takes it. Walking over to the counter, he puts it down. His hand unties the satin ribbons. The white tissue paper creaks when he opens it and sees the white frame in the middle. “Almost two years ago, I sat in a bar in the middle of a crowded casino and told this hot beautiful man what my ideal life would be, never thinking by the end of the night I would be married to him.” I smile. “From that day on, he’s spent every single day showing me how much he loves me. He supports me and is proud of me. He bought me the most amazing house with a white picket fence, and now he’s given me the final thing I had on my list,” I say as he looks at me and then back at the picture. “It might not be two point five kids, but it’s a point five.”
“Are you?” He looks at the picture, then at me, and then at my stomach. “How?” He runs his hand through his hair when I raise my eyebrows at the question. “When?” Again, I raise my eyebrows.
“It can be literally any day of the week, and let’s not talk about the weekend and the occasional Sunday naked fuck day.”
He looks back down at the pictures. “This is our baby.”
I walk to him and put my hand on his back, and he looks at me with tears in his eyes. “That is our baby,” I state proudly. “Thank you,” I tell him when he slides one hand around my waist while still holding the frame in the other hand. He looks down at me as I lift my hand to touch his face. “Thank you for making all of my dreams come true.”