Epilogue
One Year Later
Ezra
“Congratulations, buddy. You did it.” Millie ruffles Kane’s hair.
With an ear-piercing screech, Bea tackles him. “I wore a dress like this for my kindergarten graduation.” She pulls a lollipop from her mouth and tugs on his cobalt blue gown with her sticky fingers.
He hits me with a pleading expression. “Can I take this thing off yet?”
“After we get a few family pictures,” I promise.
Cam sets up his tripod and positions everyone. At the last second, Millie and I present Kane with a white-and-purple lei. Locating one in Manhattan was like finding a needle in a haystack, but my wife insisted the Hawaiian tradition was important, and by the look on Kane’s face, I’d say she was right. She usually is .
“Everyone say ‘family,’” Cam announces.
“Ohana!” we all shout.
Though our apartment is small, we host a gathering to celebrate Kane. He’s evolving into a remarkable young man. The lanky kid we brought to the city two years ago is as tall as me now. Though I still outweigh him, he’s looking more like me every day, save for the blond hair.
When the last of the guests leave and it’s just the three of us, we present him with an envelope.
“We hope you’re proud of yourself,” I tell him.
He tears open the manilla envelope and pulls out three plane tickets. “We’re going to Maui?” He rubs at his breastbone, then flips over the papers, his mouth agape and his eyes wide.
“I can’t tell if you’re excited or…” Millie frowns, studying him.
With a shaky voice, he thanks us. “This is really cool.”
“ Cool ? Folks, we’ve got a ‘cool.’ Did you hear that, Mills?” I throw my hands in the air for flair.
“You dork.” She giggles.
“But I’m supposed to work for Uncle Asher.”
“You will. We cleared it with him. You’ll head over there when we get back.”
“Happy graduation, buddy.” Millie kisses him on the cheek. “We love you.”
“Would Mr. Greer please come to gate twenty-two?” The announcement is so garbled I’m not sure they’re actually calling us, but we head that way regardless .
“I still can’t believe you took my last name.” Millie squeezes my hand.
“Did you really think I’d let you be Millie Miller ?”
Sure, we could have kept our own last names, but with our unique love story, it felt right to take hers.
“Good morning.” The man fights back a yawn as he greets us. “It looks like you’ve been upgraded to first class both from here to San Francisco and then on to Maui.”
“Oh? That’s wonderful, but we’re traveling with?—”
“Kane Adams? Yes. It looks like he’s been upgraded as well.”
Millie reaches into her back pocket for her phone.
“The Connellys again?” I presume.
With a smile, she nods at her device. “Those two really need to get a dog or something. They can’t keep spoiling us like this.”
We’re ushered onto the plane first. Millie sits in the aisle, of course, and Kane sits across from her, next to a man who I’m fairly certain is a professional surfer. My brother’s cheeks flush, and he adjusts his pants when the objectively good-looking guy has to shuffle in front of him to take the window seat.
Millie notices, too, and lays a hand on my thigh, her silent signal to leave it.
He’s eighteen now, but damn if my mom wasn’t right. I’ll always worry about him.
“Thank you for being on time this morning,” I tell her as I pull out an advanced copy of Joey’s new book.
According to Cam, this one’s spicy. Apparently there’s a pegging scene at the end, and I’m worried I won’t be able to look him in the eye after I read it.
“Like I had a choice. Starbucks wasn’t even open yet. Thank you for packing my charger, by the way.” She rifles through her bag. “Shit,” she cries. “Have you seen my motion sickness wristband?”
I shake my head .
“Dammit. I think I left it at home.” She drops her head forward. “Please don’t say ‘I told you to pack it.’”
“Wasn’t gonna.” I thought about it, but I quite like the balls between my legs. Instead, I rub soothing circles on her back. “That really sucks, baby. I’m sorry. We’ll order a glass of ginger ale.”
It does little good. I lose count of how many times Millie has to rush to the restroom, though she only throws up once. During our layover, we purchase a motion sickness wristband. It doesn’t rid her of all the symptoms, but it gives her enough relief to allow her to sleep for the last few hours of the second flight.
It’s early afternoon when we land in Maui, and the second we drop our bags in our hotel room, Kane is itching for adventure. Millie, on the other hand, drops right onto the bed.
“You okay, baby? Still nauseous from the flight?”
“A little. Once I sleep it off, I’ll be fine. I drank too much ginger ale, though. Now I can’t stop peeing.” She laughs pitifully. “You two go do whatever it is you’re going to do, and I’ll catch up with you for dinner.”
I leave her with a forehead kiss and a promise to return with a macadamia nut iced coffee.
Millie
Last night’s luau dinner was much more fun than our meal two nights ago when I practically fell asleep at the table. Even after a long nap, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. It seems the older I get, the harder it is for me to recover from traveling.
On our second full day in Hawaii, I wake up feeling nauseous again, this time with pressure in my lower abdomen, and I can’t stop peeing. Ezra wants to take me to urgent care, but I insist that he go surfing with Kane. I need to get him out of here so I can make arrangements with the resort for his birthday tonight.
The clinic is only a ten-minute walk, so I call Joey on my way.
“Is everything okay?” she asks when I tell her where I’m headed.
“Totally. Just a little UTI situation.” A passerby gawks at me. Clearly, I’ve forgotten I’m not in NYC, where people don’t bat an eye at TMI cell phone conversations on the street.
“Millie. Didn’t your mother ever tell you to pee after sex?” Her voice is so loud I have to adjust my phone’s volume.
“I know, I know. I never fall asleep after sex. It’s just that?—”
“He fucked you six ways till Sunday with that bedazzled monster cock?”
“Something like that. Where are you? I wasn’t sure you’d answer.”
“We’re in LA.”
“Fun. Tell Aunt Elin I say hi.”
“Actually,” she says. “We’re not here to see my mom.”
“Oh?”
“Do you remember my very first writing friend, Brooks?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, though I remember him well. “He works for a production company now and got me a meeting to discuss turning my book into… I don’t know … something,” she squeals. “A series or a film, I don’t know yet.”
“Shut the fuck up.” My heart floats in my chest. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but we’ll see.”
“They’re gonna love you,” I say as I approach the urgent care building.
Thankfully, I’m seen right away, and the physician’s assistant checks my vitals while waiting for my urinalysis. “What’s the date of your last menstrual period?” she asks .
“Oh, um…” I rack my brain for a date. While performing in The Proposal , I skipped the sugar pills in the birth control packets so I wouldn’t have to deal with my period while on tour, meaning it started when I finished my last pack around the time of my last performance. “It would have been”—I pull up my calendar app and scroll back to check the date of the party we attended to celebrate the end of the run—“two months ago?”
“You haven’t had a period since?” she asks.
My chest tightens as I try to decipher her masked expression. “No.”
She looks at me, then at a piece of paper and back again, her eyes widening for an instant before she gains control again.
“So do I have a UTI?” I ask, the hair on my arms standing.
“Nope.”
Ezra
“If you make a Forgetting Sarah Marshall reference, I will ditch you out here,” Kane calls from his surfboard.
“What do you know about Forgetting Sarah Marshall ? You’re too young to know that movie.”
“I don’t really believe in age or numbers…” he says, quoting Paul Rudd’s character.
“You little shit,” I laugh. All it takes is one knowing look between the two of us, and we both sing, “Oh, the weather outside is weather.”
I sweep my foot through the water and splash him in the face.
“My mom’s out here,” he says quietly. “Her ashes, I mean.”
“Oh yeah?” He rarely talks about his mom’s death, and I haven’t pushed him on it; that’s what his therapist is for.
“Yeah. We had a whole traditional paddling out ceremony, where everyone gets on surfboards and tosses flowers and leis, but I snuck my board out the night before and scattered them. I wanted her all to myself for a little longer. It was selfish of me, but?—”
“Not selfish,” I interrupt, the salt from my tears mixing with the salt of the ocean. “You were a kid, and you’d just lost your mom.”
“You’re right.” He sighs, swirling his fingertips along the surface of the water. “I hate that she’s gone, but if she weren’t, then I might never have met you.”
My heart clenches. “Life’s weird like that, isn’t it?”
“How so?” Turning to me, he holds a hand up to shield his eyes.
“Sometimes tragedy leads us to people and places we never imagined. If I’d never met you, I might not have had the courage to cut ties with Rob.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
“Not one bit.” The only time I think about Rob is when I silently thank him for giving me Kane. “All right, enough of this sappy shit,” I clear my throat. “Millie will be mad she missed it.”
When Kane and I return to our adjoining rooms, my wife is wrapped in a bathrobe, her makeup freshly done, blow drying her hair. When I ask her to join me in the shower, she turns me down, but she keeps me company in the bathroom.
“Did your trip to urgent care go okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” I’m met with silence, so I pop my head out of the shower, wiping the water from my eyes. “You still there?”
“Yeah, sorry,” she says, applying mascara. “No wait time. Are you excited for your birthday dinner?”
I blow a raspberry under the water. “You know how I get about celebrating my birthday. ”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice all tease. “But that was before you met me.”
The restaurant at the resort is modest, exactly as I hoped it would be. As much as Millie would like to spoil me, I’m damn grateful she respected my wishes for a low-key night. I’m with my two favorite people on this beautiful island; what more could I ask for?
Millie elbows Kane. “Isn’t that the guy from the plane?”
In unison, we scan the restaurant, and sure enough, Maybe Pro-Surfer Dude is leaning against the bar.
“Did you see that?” Kane asks, his hazel eyes swimming with anticipation.
“What?”
Millie grins. “Oh, I saw it, all right.”
“What?” I huff. “Will one of you please tell me what’s going on?”
“He gave him the look .” Millie waggles her brows.
“What look?”
“Dude, you’ve only been married for a year. You shouldn’t be that clueless,” Kane goads.
“You should go over there,” Millie encourages, pushing his arm lightly. “He’s hot.”
“Amelia,” I scold. “Do not encourage him.”
She waves me off, and Kane doesn’t bother looking at me before he strides over and rests an elbow on the wooden surface. I do not approve of this situation, but I must admit I’m proud of his confident stance.
Maybe Pro-Surfer Dude drops a napkin, and Kane bends to pick it up.
“Did you see that?” I scoff as the guy checks out my little brother as he straightens. “I don’t like the way he’s ogling him.” I squint. “He’s gotta be ten years older than Kane. ”
“Hmm. Really? I can think of another couple with a similar age gap,” Millie murmurs.
My stomach sinks. “That’s different.”
My wife quirks a brow.
“Fine.” I sigh, picking up my drink. “If he wants a vacation fling, fine. I just?—”
“Know what you were like when you were eighteen?”
“ Hmph .” Fuck yeah, I do. I take a long sip of my mai tai to calm my worries.
In true Millie fashion, she makes a big spectacle out of singing “Happy Birthday,” encouraging the entire restaurant to join in. But I love her for it.
Rather than return to our rooms with us, Kane takes off with actual pro surfer Drew Durham. On the walk back, I follow him on social media from my wife’s phone, just in case I need to keep tabs on him.
We brush our teeth in tandem, then Millie asks for privacy in the bathroom.
While waiting for her on the bed, I reply to a few text messages from my colleagues and shoot off a couple of pictures from dinner to Cam, Joey, and my mom, all of whom I FaceTimed earlier. Asher sent a video of Bea singing to me that pulls at my heartstrings. As a wedding gift last year, Asher asked Millie and me to be her guardians should anything happen to him. I don’t know who cried more, Millie or me.
All thoughts of my niece quickly fly out the window when my drop-dead gorgeous wife appears in the doorway.
Dressed in a pale blue satin bra and panty set, she’s a vision.
“Get in your birthday suit,” she commands, her voice dripping with seduction.
“How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“Three hundred sixty-five days.” She giggles as she struts to the side of the bed .
I stroke her leg, toying with the elastic at her hipbone, but when she yawns, I pause.
“Sorry.” She covers her mouth. “I’m still a little jet-lagged.”
“It’s okay, baby,” I soothe, sitting up against the pillows. “If you’re too tired?—”
“No.” She cuts me off. “Undress. I need to feel you.”
I hesitate for a moment, but my apprehension flees quickly when she starts tugging at my clothes. When she straddles my lap, my hands immediately gravitate to her thick thighs. I squeeze them tight, knowing how much she likes the bite of pain, and she rocks her hips against me in return, seeking friction.
The smooth satin of her panties feels like heaven against my growing cock. “Fuck, Millie. You’re soaked. Is that for me?”
Catching her lip between her teeth, she nods, eyes hooded. “Wanna see?”
“God yes,” I pant, impatiently tugging at the elastic and tearing the panties off her body.
Gasping, she greedily rubs her clit over my cock. With a teasing smirk, she unhooks her bra and tosses it off to the side—probably worried that if she doesn’t get rid of it, I’ll ruin it too—leaving her breasts hanging heavy above me.
“I want you so fucking bad right now, wife.” I take one perfectly peaked nipple into my mouth. “But fuck…” It pains me to still her hips. “Should we? You’re not supposed to have sex if you have a UTI, right?” Please, please tell me I’m sorely mistaken.
I like to think I know my wife better than anyone, but the unreadable expression she dons is baffling.
“About that…” she says, voice quivering. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
Still pinned beneath her, I break out into a cold sweat.
“The good news,” she says, putting me out of my misery, “is that I don’t have a UTI. So yes, we can have sex. The bad news? I don’t think I can call you Daddy anymore.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?” If she’s no longer into my kink, I’ll understand, even if I don’t like it. I’d never want to make her feel uncomfortable.
Avoiding eye contact, she mindlessly runs her finger through the hair at my navel. After what feels like an eternity, she fixes her attention on me. “If I call you Daddy, what will the baby call you?”
All the oxygen is purged from my lungs, and my soul hovers above my body as my dreams come to life.
“What? There’s a baby… in there? Right now?” Blinking rapidly, I survey her midsection. “Fuck, Millie. Fuck . Why does that turn me on so much? Can I?” I hold a hand up, hovering an inch from her belly. I have to touch her. Hold her. Tell her how magnificent she is.
When she nods, her eyes brimming with tears, I roll her gently onto her back and rest my head on her stomach.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffs.
“What for?” I prop myself up, giving her my full attention, caressing the skin of her abdomen with my thumb.
“Between The Proposal , the Tony’s, my transition to full-time narrator, and Kane’s graduation, life has been hectic. I haven’t been very consistent with my birth control.”
“I wasn’t exactly doing my part in preventing things, was I?” And I sure as shit shoved my cum back inside her many times, secretly praying for a baby.
“You’re happy?” She runs her fingers through my hair and tucks the strands behind my ear.
“The happiest.” I’m finally going to be a father. “What about you?” I brush the tears from her cheek. “Are you happy?”
“Yes,” she sobs. “It’s a surprise, but the best one yet. ”
“I love you.” I kiss her, silently making a million promises, then I lie back down to kiss her belly.
Her breathing evens out, and her body relaxes. So much so that I think she might have drifted off to sleep.
“Hey, Millie?”
To my surprise, she responds right away. “Yes?”
“I love celebrating my birthday now.”