Epilogue
May
“Yes, Chris, I ate, thanks for checking though,” I laughed, shaking my head as I wheeled my carry on across the sleek Terrazzo floor. The chatter of countless voices competed for my focus beyond Chris in my ear, my eyes straying out those great walls of glass to the beautiful, spring morning beyond.
“Okay. Everything is good here, and my flight out is in five hours.”
“Chris.”
“I’ve checked and re-checked, and everything is done.”
“Chris?” I tried again, with a sharper tone. Evidently, it wasn’t enough to pull his attention away from his spinning top of a brain.
“Security system is enabled. Movers are ready. The last of our books don’t get in until we’re all back in the city. Also, I double confirmed vendors for Saturday, and nobody has the audacity to forget or be late.”
“Christopher?”
“I confirmed with Max, and the last of the security system went in this morning.”
“Christopher!” At last, the line went silent, my mind vaguely aware of the click of my heels and purr of countless rolling rubber wheels against the hard floor. “Everything is accounted for. You may now clock off, my friend. Pour a margarita. Get a massage. Or a good lay. I don’t care which, just breathe while you do it.”
“Everything is accounted for,” he echoed back, and I laughed at the breathless panic in his voice.
‘Chaos’ would be an understatement for the last six months of espresso-fueled madness. It turns out that having a breakdown after abandoning the love of your life to an inquisition of feral piranha siblings and spontaneously deciding it was a good day to learn how to delegate… was a lot harder than it sounded.
But I’d done it. Or… begun to, at least.
With Chris already in the city, and Pax, Max, and Mara all on board, my brother headed to Manhattan in December to approve the building, and I’d simply…let go. Free fell off the cliff of anal retention into the flight labeled ‘trust your team’. The biggest problem was getting the disgusting mix of fluids to stop leaking from various orifices of my face. Snot. Tears. Probably some stray saliva. It was the ugliest ugly cry of my life, made more humiliating by the fact that it took place in an airport.
Reuniting with Broderick in the waiting area had thrown me for a fucking loop, and the water works began all over again until I’d soaked through his shirt.
It turns out, all the success in the world wouldn’t mean shit if I didn’t have him to share it with. Evidently, he agreed, because while he held me to his chest, sitting on the filthy floor of the Tampa airport, Broderick Allen asked me to be his wife. Post haste. My enthusiastic acceptance and our rather inappropriate public—but not actually very public—lip lock had earned a congratulatory round of applause from the limited remaining staffers.
And so, my real life finally began.
With Paxton and Mara on location, we’d unanimously forged ahead with the new building, and signed our first network deal after Lionel’s meticulous review and approval.
In the months since, we’d grown, trained and honed the team. Broderick gracefully declined tenure and submitted his notice that after the academic year, he would be moving on to new adventures.
As if tackling our big, hairy, audacious vision wasn’t enough, the team had also helped me plan the perfect intimate wedding back home, where I could finally marry the love of my fucking life. After all, we’d waited seventeen years to be together. It was time for the wait to end.
With the school year and filming both starting in August, what better time to tie the knot than right after the academic year ended, but just before the fishing season started?
“Okay,” Chris breathed, somehow more flustered sounding than I was.
“Hey, I have dibs on the frantic, panicked bride role today.”
“You get that for one day only.” He cleared his throat, the smile obvious when he asked, “You gonna tell him the big news before the wedding?”
“That’s a hard yes, my man.” Finally taking a deep breath of rather stale smelling air, I checked and double checked the gate number before slinking into the stiff seat. “Lord knows I can’t be within proximity of that man before I blurt out anything significant these days. Mama Marley also seems to have just as innate a sense for detecting malarky as her husband.” Broderick’s parents had been just as—if not more—supportive of our relationship as mine had been. Once the initial shock wore off, our families celebrated over video chats in the weirdest long-distance family barbeque in history. It was kinda cute, though, despite feeling absurd propping multiple phones on the dining room table.
Robert in particular had hugged me so tightly the first time I made it back to Mistyvale that I thought I might suffocate. When he released me, his eyes had been glossy with something like pride. According to him, I was just like his mama, and she would’ve loved me like her own. Before I knew it, both Broderick and I were teary-eyed right along with him.
“Kept enough secrets for one life, boss?”
“You can say that again.”
“But I won’t.”
“Thanks for that. So. I’ll see you tomorrow, right? You’re not bailing on me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Thanks Chris.”
“You got it, boss.”
“No, but like. Thank you, Chris. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”
“I know. Maybe let’s not do a book tour next time, though?”
“Once was enough,” I said, laughing. A rather elderly looking couple made their way into the seats beside me, their complexions freakishly close to Broderick and mine, only they were both a little ashen with the honor that is age. God, what I would give to grow old together. He lent her a hand as she took her seat, obviously both tired from the effort of travel, but it was the way he brought his forehead to hers that did me in. “I want that,” I muttered, evidently aloud.
“What?” Chris asked quickly.
“The old and gray, but still in love thing.”
Chuckling, he said, “Babe, if you and Broderick aren’t that, all hope is lost in this world.”
“Thanks, Chris,” I said, pulling my eyes away from the lovebirds so I didn’t turn into that crazy stalker lady. Reaching to pull my laptop out of my bag, I said, “Travel safe.”
“You too, boss.”
Line disconnected, I drank my half-caf latte—what a joke—and finished the last of my work for the week, firing off a few emails before they called our flight, and passengers began to file on board. How very different these flights traveling to each other had felt as the big day crept ever closer. Because after this weekend, there would be no more long-distance visits. No more reuniting in echoing airport atriums or stealing away for too-short weekend escapes.
As I wheeled my way down the ramp and onto the plane, I couldn’t help but smile because in less than ninety hours, all of my high school notebooks would at last be vindicated when I actually became Mrs. Allen.
Bags stowed, nestled in my first-class seat with headphones in my ears, I paused my audiobook when the speaker came on, because the pilot was standing at the front of the plane with the radio in hand. What was left of his hair was silver, his face clean shaven, and both his smile and eyes were kind as he looked down the length of the bustling plane. I wasn’t the only person to notice—the man across from me sitting up a little straighter with concern lining very blond brows.
“Good morning, passengers and crew for flight A-S-three-oh-five. I know this is unusual—normally my lovely attendants give you the safety brief, so don’t mind my ugly mug stealing your attention.” Curiosity bit through me, intensifying as I realized it was emotion welling in those pale blue eyes, not concern. “But today we have some extra special guests aboard—you’re all fantastic, don’t you worry—but my wife, Cheryl, and our sons, Marcus, Jim, and Vinny are all here with me to celebrate my last flight across these skies. I gotta tell you, folks, I thought I was ready, but you’re never really ready to walk away from something that’s been a part of you for over thirty-five years.”
He wet his lips, throat bobbing. I glanced back to where his wife and grown sons were all looking a little verklempt themselves and raised a hand to rub at the knot forming in my chest. His voice over the speaker pulled me back to the front of the plane as he went on, “But through all the flights, through all the cities and situations and complications, all that ever truly mattered to me were those four people sitting in the back of the plane today. Show of hands–who all has kids?” Most of the passengers raised their hands, as mine fell to flutter over my still flat low belly. “There is nothing—nothing this life offers—more important or more fleeting than the years with your children. Cherish them. Don’t blink! You blink, and you miss it.” He snapped his fingers, a bit of sadness shadowing his sweet smile back at his boys. “The diapers. The sleepless nights. The exhaustion, and worry, and exhaustion, decision fatigue, praying that you don’t mess them up too badly, the sports games, the… exhaustion,” he repeated, smiling softly. “It’s all so fleeting, in the scheme of things. I was blessed with a career that I loved. The freedom of open skies beneath my wings. But…when it comes down to it, all I’ve ever been doing is what all of you are fighting for. At the heart of things. We’re all just… finding a way back home.”
Broderick
If nostalgia had a smell,it was parchment, leather, freshly sharpened pencils, and burnt teacher’s lounge coffee. For the final time, I looked up at the lecture hall full of students. Not just my usual attendees, either—nope, I spotted faces that graduated years ago, others who were just a few years ahead, all piled into seats in the lecture hall that had been a second home to me for the last six years.
There was a kind of electric anticipation in the air today. Maybe I was imagining it, but I didn’t think so. The thing about teaching in a town as small as Mistyvale is that you actually get to know your students whether you mean to or not. Which means…they get to know you, too.
These were my kids. But they were also my friends. Because they knew I’d finally proposed to the girl of my dreams. Knew she would be here tomorrow to get ready for our laid back Mistyvale beach wedding. Which meant that nostalgia-anticipation cocktail in my stomach was echoed through the too-crowded space.
“As we wrap up the spring semester, I just want to thank every single one of you for being incredible students. Incredible scholars. For challenging thought for thought’s sake.” Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I leaned against the desk nobody ever actually used, and scanned over the room, meeting as many smiles as I could as a pang struck my chest. I’d never walk here before the sun was warm with a coffee in hand again. Never sit in the silence of an empty Mistyvale lecture hall waiting for students to stir to life in the cocoon of this campus. Drawing in a deep breath, I added, “Whether your grades will be posted this weekend, or were already handed down a semester—or years—ago,” nervous laughter graced the space and I smiled. Like I would be disappointed they snuck in to see me off, or something. “If I leave anything behind for you, may it be a love of learning. In the words of Socrates, the only true wisdom is in…” I bowed my head, gesturing with a hand for them to finish and smiling as they did.
“Knowing you know nothing.”
“Very good. So, carry on—dare to know nothing, seek everything?—”
“But, Professor Allen,” a familiar, teasing voice sent goosebumps down my spine, eyes closing as amusement lifted my cheeks. Laughter rippled through the rows as I turned, scanning for the face that had become my anchor point. “We can’t forget Descartes.” I found her then, tucked in a particularly crowded huddle toward the top of the hall. That glorious, wicked mouth was painted a bold pink, stretched in a feline smirk. El’s arms were crossed over a curve-hugging dress where she leaned back in her chair, chin lifted in a theatrical defiance. “Cogito, ergo sum.”
“Ahh, Miss Rhodes,” I said formally, eliciting a ripple of laughter. “Always keeping me on my toes.”
“I think, therefore I am. Isn’t that right, Professor? I know I’m a little out of practice, so I might be misinterpreting René’s work,” she said casually, as if he was an acquaintance rather than a historical figurehead. “But I believe he spoke to the very essence of knowledge and existence.”
I smiled up at my almost-wife, I shook my head as her feline smile grew. If we had ever been anything to each other prior, it had been beneath the umbrella of challengers. I didn’t much expect that to change. Prayed she would never stop. Truthfully, I lived for it. That push and pull of her. That push and pull to her. Which is what had me clasping my hands behind my back as I made a steady saunter to her side of the hall. “Perhaps wisdom has very little to do with certainty, and…everything to do with challenging our own perspectives,” I said, unclasping my hands as I began to ascend the stairs.
“And… being courageous enough to chase new beginnings?” She rose from her chair, shaking her head as she descended toward me until we met, face-to-face, in the middle.
“To new beginnings,” I said, and then I wrapped her up and kissed her breathless to the ruckus applause and obnoxious wolf whistles of my students, like we’d been performing a play, and this was our ovation. Even in the chaos, her lips on mine sent heat down my spine, body eager at her proximity.
Peeling apart, she rested her forehead against mine, her voice low this time. Just for me. “To new beginnings. Perhaps we’ll start by changing my last name, and in about seven months, begin again with Robert Milo Allen.”