Epilogue
EIGHT MONTHS LATER
“Look at this turnout, girl.” Asia gave my shoulder a shake with each word.
“Good? This is beyond good. And for your first time putting together a charity ride too? This is excellent.”
“I definitely didn’t do it alone. Mrs. Powell was the real organizer.
I’m the assistant.” I turned away from Asia to hand a rider their pre-ordered T-shirts, bandanas, and custom flags.
“Here you go.” I gave the stranger a smile, before directing them to the registration booth where they could fill out their waivers.
“It’s really cool how she was able to get over her feelings about Bishop dating again and embrace you.”
“Yeah.” I agreed. “I think the fact that I don’t expect Quentin to just throw Teagan into the sea of forgottenness means something to them. I’m cool with her having a place in his heart. Besides that, she seems so cool. I feel like if I had gotten the chance to know her, I would’ve liked her.”
We helped riders and handed out pre-orders for another hour before it was time for the safety briefing. Avery Green, the road captain, stepped up to the DJ booth and grabbed the microphone. It wouldn’t be long before the ride kicked off, so I said my goodbyes to Asia and went to find Quentin.
I found him with the police escorts. He wrapped up his conversation as I approached.
“Hey,” I said.
He pulled me into an embrace. “This turned out really good, E. I’m proud as fuck of you and what you’ve been able to accomplish in five months.”
I shook my head but stayed pressed up against his chest. “Don’t give me the credit. You know once I mentioned my thoughts about a charity ride for Teagan to Monique, she took the reins and ran with them. Most of this is her. All I did was carry out whatever tasks she put in front of me.”
“Thanks for doing this.” He kissed the top of my head.
While we were still holding each other, Monique and DeVaughn approached us.
“Mom.” Quentin widened his eyes in jest as we pulled away from one another. “I heard this is all you. I heard you came, you saw, and you conquered this charity ride.”
She chuckled lightly. “It was something to throw myself into, to honor Teagan’s life, and her battle with asthma.” Her gaze fell on me. “Thank you for coming up with the idea and suggesting it to the club, Eastley. That was more thoughtful of you than I can express.”
“I was glad to do it, Monique. I think people have this misconception that asthma has been overcome. That people are managing it, so it’s not as dangerous. But the truth is that more than ten people are dying each day from complications of asthma. Ten people a day. That’s a lot of people.”
Monique took my chin in her hand and shook it softly.
“Where did you find this one, Quentin? I didn’t know if it would be possible, but I like her.
” She pulled me into a quick embrace. “Your heart and your compassion, Eastley. Accepting the fact that Quentin has opened himself up to love again is easier having met you. You’re a gem,” she disclosed.
Tears sprang to my eyes. “That is so sweet.”
DeVaughn waved us off as Monique wiped at her teary eyes too. “Don’t start the waterworks. This is a motorcycle club ride. There’s no crying in motorcycles.”
We fell silent as Avery went over the safety rules. Then he covered the hand signals he would use, the preferred formation, the stops we would make, and the route we would take. Once safety had been handled, Quentin made his way to the microphone to bless the bikes.
“Dear God, thank You for these sponsors, these vendors, these participants, these police escorts, this brotherhood of riders, these volunteers, and these supporters. Thank You for Teagan’s life.
She wasn’t here nearly as long as most of us would’ve wished, but her presence made an impact.
We thank You for all of the funds we’ve collected.
They will go to help others who deal with asthma and their families.
Bless this ride, bless these bikes. Keep us from all dangers seen and unseen. Bring us all home safely. Amen.”
We planned for a ninety-minute ride with four stops along the way before we reached our destination. At each of the four stops, we (the committee) had set up food trucks, drink stations, silent auction bidding, vending opportunities for our sponsors, and raffle ticket sales.
I rode on the back of Quentin’s bike, enjoying the scenery, the vibes, and just being close to him.
At each stop, I hopped off and tried to mingle with other riders.
Asia and I made it a goal to try a little something from almost every food truck.
I even bid on a few silent auction options.
The club also did a poker run. At every stop checkpoint, Kobey came around with a deck of cards.
Each person got to select one. The goal was to have the best or absolute worst hand when we got to our destination.
Ninety minutes after we started out, the first of the bikes pulled into the parking lot of our destination, The Brightmore Shores Resort and Wellness Spa.
As one of our sponsors, they had not only agreed to let us use one of their ballrooms to hold our post-ride festivities, but they also agreed to prepare a post-ride lunch for us.
Most of the women headed straight for the bathrooms when we arrived at the resort. Coming out from using the facilities was where I met up with Asia. The two of us headed into the ballroom together.
“Before the rest of the day gets away from us, I just want to tell you that this has been a really good event, boo. It’s been so damn bougie and upscale.
I mean, we’re a motorcycle club. Nobody would expect that we would have resort stays and high-end experiences as options for our silent auction for them to bid on.
Nobody would think that we would be having our post-ride lunch at The Brightmore Shores Resort.
In years past? We’ve had it in the parking lot of wherever our destination is, which is usually a park.
It’s usually picnic style.” She gave me a hug.
“You just bring class, and I don’t know .
. . Eastley-ness to everything you do, boo. Bishop is lucky to have you.”
“Aww, thanks.” I gave her a hug in return.
We walked together to the table. Of course, we were seated at the same table because Kobey and Quentin were always going to sit by each other. I sat down next to Q. The servers started bringing out the food as Monique walked up the stairs of the stage. She took to the podium and began to speak.
“Thank you all so much for participating in the First Annual Teagan Bishop Charity Ride for Asthma Awareness.” She went on to talk briefly about Teagan and how the ride came about.
She thanked the sponsors, the participants, and the club.
Finally, she talked about how the money we raised would be used.
Our lunch was served family style. Platters of steak, salmon, and grilled chicken landed on each table.
There were steaming bowls of pasta with red sauce.
Big bountiful bowls of salad appeared, as did quinoa salad and platters of asparagus.
Carafes filled with iced water, sweet tea, coffee, and soft drinks rounded out the meal.
After he finished eating, my brother bound up the stairs and made his way to the podium. “We don’t want to keep you too long, so let’s announce the winners of the raffles, the silent auctions, and the poker run,” he said into the microphone.
Everybody hooted and cheered as the winners were announced and came up to claim their prizes.
Quentin handed me some playing cards. “Say, he’s about to determine who has the best and worst hand for the poker run. Hold my cards. I gotta take a piss.” And before I could respond, he was up from the table and disappearing into the crowd.
I looked down at the cards he had handed me. He had a royal flush—the ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of clubs. There was no way that could be right.
“Look.” I showed the cards to Asia. “These can’t be his cards, right? He would have to be the luckiest man on Earth to have gotten a royal flush. I don’t even know if that’s statistically possible.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. He was lucky enough to pull you.”
I grinned and blushed. “Shut up.”
The battle was on to determine who had the worst hand. I watched as my brother tried to keep a straight face as people clamored to have the worst hand. When it was finally decided, that person walked away with a gift card for $250.
Then it was time to determine who had the best hand. My brother started by asking if anyone had a full house. Six people had a full house.
Four-of-a-kind. Eight people had four-of-a-kind.
Straight flush. Three people had a straight flush.
Finally, he asked if anybody had a royal flush. I looked around for Quentin. He should’ve been back. It didn’t take that long to use the bathroom, unless his stomach was messed up or something.
“Going once,” my brother called.
I stood up. “I have a royal flush.” The crowd went wild for me. I walked up the stairs of the stage, looking back for Quentin all the while. I didn’t like the spotlight. I didn’t really want to walk on the stage and have all those people looking at me.
“Uh, this is actually my boyfriend’s hand,” I admitted when I got to my brother.
“Well, you’re the one holding the cards. This is my younger sister, everybody. Clap it up for her.”
The audience broke out in applause, and I really wanted to slide under the stage. My brother took the cards from my hand. “She has the royal flush. The ace, king, queen, jack, and ten of clubs. She is our winner.”
The audience erupted again.
My brother went to the table where the gifts had been set out. He came back to me holding a gift box. Something that you would buy at Dollar Tree or Walmart. I couldn’t help but wonder what gift was small enough to fit in that size gift box.
It has to be a gift card, I thought to myself as I opened the lid.
It literally took several seconds for my eyes to process what I was looking at. The glare, the shine of the diamond was so confusing, because why would a diamond be in a gift box from the Dollar Tree? Where the hell was my gift card?
I looked up to say something to Kobey, but Quentin was standing there.
Slowly . . . so slowly my mind started putting together the pieces of what was actually happening.
I hated trauma. Trauma messed up my entire ability to process things quickly and made me feel so dumb.
This man was asking me to marry him. He had gone through an elaborate ruse to ask me to marry him.
I didn’t even give him a chance to drop to one knee or open his mouth. “Yes!” I told him. “I will marry you. I will marry you.”
I was sure the crowd erupted again, but I didn’t hear them. All I heard was the pounding of my heart. A gorgeous, protective, kind, giving, hilarious, sexy man wanted me to be his wife.
He picked me up bridal style and swung me around. And I laughed. I was happy, loved, treasured, and healed.
I couldn’t wait to be Eastley Bishop.
The End