Epilogue
Colin
One year later
Brynne bastes the giant turkey she insisted on having for Friendsgiving. Uncle Milton is hosting Thanksgiving this year, but Brynne and I decided to host one for friends the week before.
Heath told everyone, and my family invited themselves, including my brother. Things are less frosty between us. Marilyn suggested the four siblings attend family therapy, and Brynne encouraged me. Our relationship might never be close, but it has improved.
“Doesn’t my bird look amazing?” Brynne asks. I look down at it, and it does. It smells great, but I confessed to my wife weeks ago that I do not like turkey. “My mom and I would make turkey pot pie with the leftovers.” Her face lights up when she talks about her mother. “I’m going to make you some.”
My wife is good at about anything. The only thing she says she can’t do is dance, but she got drunk at our rehearsal dinner and let loose. Her dancing turned me on like nothing else.
“Can you put chicken in it instead?”
She comes into my arms and wraps herself around me. “Have I ever cooked you a bad meal?” I pull away and look into her face.
“My wife has never cooked me a bad meal.”
“And out of the two of us, who’s a better cook?”
“I am,” we both say at once.
We still cook together on the nights we eat at home. It’s one of the ways we spend time together. It’s turned competitive. We often have friends and family over and demand they vote on who cooks the best dish. They’ve refused to vote.
“I promise you’ll love this turkey and the pot pie.” She smiles into my face and puckers her perfect lips. I kiss them slowly and lovingly.
We’ve been married for ten months, and it’s been the best of my life. Our wedding was picture-perfect, and when my bride walked down the aisle to me, I lost my breath at her beauty. She wore a long, lace dress. She didn’t cover her face but wore a veil that trailed dramatically behind her.
We married at sunset. It was overcast, and as the sun was setting, it gave everything an orange glow. She looked regal. Her head was held high as she clutched her bouquet of tiger lilies. She'd had a bouquet of wildflowers picked, but I surprised her with the tiger lilies earlier that day.
The only thing that went wrong was her father. He arrived with his wife and Brynne’s half-sister, Blair, whom she had never met. Brynne looks a lot like her father, which means she also looks like her sister, who is ten years younger than her.
Her father assumed he would walk her down the aisle, and when Brynne told him no, he got angry but didn’t pursue it further. He then asked about Blair’s bridesmaid dress. Brynne explained that Raven, Amira, and my sisters would be her bridesmaids, and Milly would serve as a flower girl.
That made her father storm off and leave dinner, and that caused a strain, but Blair apologized on her father’s behalf. She said she didn’t expect to be part of the wedding party since she had never met Brynne and was happy to be invited.
“I don’t like turkey, Honeybee,” I remind my wife.
“But you’ve never had my turkey. Don’t tell Colin the First, but his chef’s turkey is bland and dry. Mine is moist and delicious.”
“It sure is, baby, but are we still talking about turkey?”
She giggles and leaves the kitchen. I admire her ass in those brown leather pants. Unable to control myself, I hurry behind her, pull her into me, and caress the curve of her hips.
“Behave. People will be here any minute, and I have to get these horrible things off my feet.” I give her my best smug grin.
“Comfy, aren’t they?” I ask of her yellow Crocs.
“Let us never talk about it.” She has the same collection of Crocs as me but only wears them at home. I follow her into the closet and watch while she pulls on a pair of ankle boots.
“I forgot to mention that Blair’s in town,” Brynne says. “I invited her tonight, but I’m not sure if she’ll come.”
There’s a loud knock on the door, so I leave the bedroom to let our guests inside. Heath, Uncle Milton, Lisa, and Colin the First rush inside. Marilyn follows behind them.
Heath waves a pastry box in front of me. “I ordered it from one of the city’s most exclusive bakeries. It’s a black forest cake. “Very high-end,” Heath whispers. I nod in faux approval as I eye his outfit. It’s a beige and brown cardigan decorated with pilgrims and Native Americans.
“Is that your Thanksgiving cardigan?” I ask.
He stands taller and runs his hands down his sides. “You like?” he asks. I don’t, but I nod. “I had it especially made.” He moves closer. “It’s from the Yucatan.”
I have no idea what that means, and I don’t care enough to find out. I leave to search for my wife, who comes out to greet our guests.
Her relationship with Uncle Milton has never fully recovered, but he reverts to Kincaid form and acts as if everything is okay. Brynne is cordial and polite, and I leave it alone.
“Hey, Auntie Bee,” Heath says.
Surprisingly, my wife and nephew are in a better place now. He still works for us part-time, and he’s enrolled in architecture school full-time. Brynne has mentored him. She said she wanted to take that role when the firm became ours. She's taken on a mentorship role and works with interns.
“Come help me finish setting up,” Brynne says to Heath, and he follows her into the kitchen.
Ian and Makayla arrive next, with Brody soon after. Raven called earlier and said she would be a little late but would be on her way when she finishes with her last client. Ernestine arrives and joins Brynne and Heath in the kitchen.
Uncle Milton and I roll our eyes at the sounds of Ernestine and Heath’s bickering over where to put the fine China set my mother gave us as a wedding present. She only showed up the day before the wedding and left the day after. That was the last time I saw her, and I’m fine with that.
“I drove by the property,” Colin the First says. “It’s coming along.” Uncle Milton nods in approval. The house that Brynne designed is currently under construction. It will be a fifteen-thousand-square-foot home on a quiet, sleepy street in the city. It’s our forever home and will be complete in another ten to twelve months.
I’m looking forward to it, but I can’t imagine living elsewhere besides this apartment. We will stay here during the week until we have kids, which we plan on in another two to three years. For now, I enjoy having my wife all to myself.
Amira arrives with Malcolm and Tabby. He has his arm thrown across Amira’s shoulders. Raven runs in behind them, holding a bottle of wine in each hand. I take them from her, and she goes to Amira and Malcolm for a group hug. Then she comes to me and Brynne for another.
“Don’t ask me to choose a favorite couple. I refuse,” she says. “Now, one of you find me a man because your girl is horny.” She walks away after making that statement.
Amira laughs and coughs simultaneously. Malcolm chuckles and rubs Amira’s back. Makayla leaves Ian’s side and hugs Amira and Tabby.
“Do I get a hug?” Malcolm asks Makayla. She rolls her eyes but hugs him.
“I want to talk about Christmas plans with Mimi and Tabby,” Makayla says. “We’re meeting Mom for breakfast tomorrow.”
“You’re not invited, Malcolm,” Tabby says. “Women only. Mom’s orders.” Tabby puts her hands on her hips and stares her brother down.
“I like to have breakfast with my girl,” Malcolm says, and Amira blushes.
“You, Dad, and Ian are going to hang out tomorrow,” Makayla says. “Be at the house by nine or deal with Mom.”
“We’ll be there,” Amira says.
Malcolm’s family loves her. From the moment Amira and Malcolm became a couple, she was accepted, and from what I know about her mother and sister, it’s exactly what Amira needed.
“Husband,” Brynne yells, “I need you.”
I leave my friends and go to my wife. I help her and Heath put the food on the table, and while everyone serves themselves, I open wine bottles and play soft music overhead.
There’s another knock on the door, and Blair comes in wearing a tentative smile. She lives in the city now while she attends grad school. Brynne’s father and his wife moved recently, but Brynne keeps her father at a distance. She did not extend an invitation to him today, but she does like her sister, and they are slowly getting to know each other.
Brynne
While everyone is distracted by the food, I put a piece of turkey to my husband’s lips. He makes a face, but I inch the fork closer. He finally opens his mouth, and I slide it in. He chews slowly as if expecting it to taste bad, but his eyes light up in surprise after a few moments. I offer him another piece, and he greedily takes it.
“How did you do that?” he asks in awe. He steals a big piece of turkey from my plate.
I get closer and bite his earlobe. “I season until the ancestors tell me to stop,” I whisper.
“Brynne,” Milton says, “can you bring the turkey next week?”
“Yes,” I quickly agree. “I told you I cook better than that fancy chef,” I whisper to my husband.
“His ancestors obviously don’t talk to him,” Colin says. “How did I end up with a wife who is good at everything?” He shrugs. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“Very lucky,” I agree.
Life with my husband has pretty much been perfect. The only dark cloud was Oliver, and the justice system dealt with him. There was no trial. They offered him a plea deal, and he accepted. That was after his mother pleaded with me to pay for a defense attorney because she did not trust the state-appointed one.
My husband told her if she ever contacted me again, she’d regret it. I haven’t heard from her since. In Oliver’s plea deal, he pled guilty and was sentenced to nine years. I didn’t celebrate. The day of his sentencing was one of the most depressing of my life. My mother’s house was gone, and I could never get it back. The family that we once were was gone. It was like a death, but Colin, Amira, and Raven helped get me through.
To my surprise, Heath showed up at the courthouse and held one hand while Colin held another. Colin’s family had us for dinner at the big house and distracted me by asking to see the preliminary sketches I had done of the new house. Milton was impressed and even offered suggestions. My relationship with Milton will never be what it once was, but I’ve also put that aside. He’s my husband’s uncle, and they are close. I accept that and treat him like family. He’s just no longer my friend like he once was, even though he acts as if everything is okay.
“Brynne,” Ernestine says. “Is it okay if my daughters come? They’re supposed to be with their dad, but I think they’ve had enough of him today.”
“Of course,” I say.
“The more the merrier,” Colin adds.
That’s another thing I love about my husband. He accepts and loves everyone in my life.
“Brynne, you can just give my chef your recipe,” Colin the First says while he puts another piece of turkey on his plate.
“I’ll bring it,” I insist.
“You two have a suite in the house. Come over on Wednesday. I’ll reserve one of the kitchens for you,” Colin the First says.
“One of the kitchens? And he has to reserve one?” I whisper to my husband, who shrugs. “Do you want to go on Wednesday? I can make pies, too, if we go early.”
“Can I help?” Heath asks.
I stare at my husband and wait to hear what he says. He’s not fully at ease around his older brother, so I let him decide how much we interact with his family.
“We’ll go on Wednesday only because I love my wife’s pie. It’s up to her if you can help, Heath,” Colin says.
“You sly dog,” Heath whispers to Colin. He gives him an exaggerated wink. “Enough about your wife’s pie. This is a family affair.” He whispers, and I almost choke on my laughter.
“You can help, Heath.”
Our house is alive with the loud chatter of our family and friends. My husband helps himself to more turkey, and so do most of our guests.
“At this rate, there won’t be any turkey left for pot pie,” he laments.
I give him a smug smile, and he plants a greasy kiss on my cheek.
At some point, someone changes the music and Malcolm and Amira do the robot in the corner. Tabby joins them.
“I’ll get it,” I say about the knock on the door. Ernestine follows me, and we let her two daughters into the apartment.
“Brynne, this is my oldest, Naimah, and my baby, April.” I hug both girls and take their coats. After I introduce them to the rest of our guests, I point to the buffet and tell them to help themselves.
“You ladies can sit anywhere,” Heath says. “I’m Heath.” He shakes hands with April first, then gives Naimah his attention. “I run the office.”
“I thought that was Mom’s job,” April says.
Heath ignores her and smiles at Naimah.
“I like your cardigan,” Naimah says.
Heath stands tall and runs his hands down the cardigan. “Thanks,” he says. “It’s from the wool of sheep from the Yucatan. I had it specially made.”
April rolls her eyes, but Naimah says, “Wow. You’ve been there?”
“To the Yucatan?” Heath asks, and Naimah nods. “Heck, no. I like to wear the sheep, not hang out with them.”
Naimah giggles, and Heath inches closer to her. Ernestine stands there, stone-faced and confused, as she watches the exchange.
“Let me help you with that.” Heath takes Naimah’s plate and gestures for her to follow him. She walks ahead of him. He looks down and checks out her ass.
“Colin, isn’t Heath—”
“He’s not,” he says, anticipating my question.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Please, God, let him be,” Ernestine says as she looks on in horror.
Heath lets out a loud laugh and Naimah blushes. I watch in shock as he removes his cardigan and puts it around her shoulders. She spins for him, and he claps.
“No,” Ernestine says. She shakes her head with such force that her hair bounces. “Absolutely not. This can’t happen.”
“He’s totally her type, Mom,” April says. “She likes weird guys like that.”
“He’s not weird,” Colin says.
“Weird would be an improvement,” Ernestine whispers.
I let out a laugh, but Colin purses his lips. He’s still protective when it comes to his nephew. I take my husband’s hands and pull him to a secluded corner.
“Do you remember what we were doing this time last year?” I ask.
“We were planning our wedding. It’s hard to believe that you’ve only been in my life less than two years,” he says.
“Two years ago, we were planning separate vacations.”
“And fate threw us together only to rip us apart,” he says.
“But we found our way again. I’m your wife. You’re my husband. We’re making our traditions and memories.”
“I love being your husband.”
“I love being your wife, and I love this tradition. I love having our friends here,” I whisper. “And I can’t wait to do this in our new house.”
He pulls me into his body and wraps his arms around me.
“I can’t wait until I have you all to myself later,” he says above my lips.
THE END