Epilogue
Zamora
Marcus and I tied the knot the following May, and our wedding was beautiful. We didn’t plan anything huge. We decided to have the ceremony and reception at Royalty, where we had met many years ago, and everything turned out lovelier than I expected. We had so much fun celebrating our union with family and friends that we were too exhausted to consummate our marriage that night.
The next morning, we had an early flight, so we only got a couple of hours of sleep before heading to the airport. Marcus had booked us two nights in Las Vegas as a gag gift. I didn’t find out until after we were already in Sin City that we would be going to Cabo for seven nights once we left there. He’s lucky because I was about to have our marriage annulled if he thought Las Vegas was the perfect honeymoon destination.
We arrived for our flight on time, and our flight departed on time. We even landed early. Once we did, we went straight to the hotel for some lovemaking and food. We hung out, took in a couple of shows, hit up a few casinos, and ate plenty of good food. Those two days in Vegas zoomed by. Before I knew it, we were in an Uber headed back to the airport. While sitting at the boarding gate in the airport, I continuously checked the app on my phone, nervous that the flight would be delayed and cause us to lose time being in Cabo.
“Come on now, baby. No way will this happen to us again,” Marcus said, trying to ease my anxiety. “It’s just impossible.”
“If you believe it’s impossible, why did you get us here four hours before the flight, Marcus? The board doesn’t even have our flight on it yet,” I said and chuckled.
“Listen, I didn’t want to take any chances,” he replied, smiling.
“Marcus, baby, getting here this early won’t stop the plane from being delayed,” I said as he eyed his phone.
“It won’t, but we would’ve had to check out of the hotel by noon anyway. So, it only makes sense to hang out here until our flight leaves instead of trying to rush to get here and possibly missing it. Wouldn’t you agree?” he said.
I could only laugh at Marcus’s weak attempt to make a point.
“I guess, but I want a drink and don’t plan to sit here for the entire four-hour wait,” I said, standing. “Are you going to join me?”
After tapping a few buttons on his phone, he stood, and we walked hand-in-hand down a few gates to a pub. We chose a high-top table and took a seat. Our server came over with water and took our order. After the server returned with our drinks, we chatted about the wedding and shared photos our family members sent us via text or tagged us on social media. We sat there for about an hour and were on our second round after sharing some wings and fries. While we were eating, I had to make him promise that he would quit checking his phone every five seconds for flight delays. He agreed but must not have trusted himself because he got up and came around the table to sit in the chair next to me. I slid my chair closer to his. Like always, we exchanged tender kisses while talking naughty and doting on each other.
We ordered another round and agreed to return to the gate after that. As we walked back, I couldn’t resist checking the app and was glad to see the flight was still on time.
“No fucking way,” I heard Marcus say.
“No way what, babe?” I asked, looking up from my phone at him.
“It can’t be,” he said.
I looked in the direction he was staring, but all I saw was a woman cradling a fussing baby. Then I watched as he slowly approached this woman in the airport. But why? Who was she?
Marcus
“Eli?” I said.
She turned to face me at the sound of my voice, and a look of shock covered her face.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” she finally asked.
Shock now covered my face. “Are you serious, Eliana?” I returned.
“I’m sorry, sir, but my name is Faith. You must have mistaken me for someone else,” she said, then quickly tried to put the fussy baby in the stroller.
In the process, she dropped her purse, and her belongings fell out. As she finished putting the baby down, I kneeled to help pick her things up.
“Sir, I don’t need your help. Thank you, but I got this,” she protested, trying to gather up her items quickly.
“I know it’s you, and I will leave you alone. But just answer me this,” I said.
Standing, she reached into the stroller to give the crying baby a pacifier. I figured it was a boy from the blue and green colors on the stroller and diaper bag.
“What is it?” she asked, now trembling.
“How old is your son?” I inquired.
“He’s almost three months old,” she answered.
“Is that my son?” I quizzed.
“No, you’re not his father,” she said and pulled a pair of sunglasses from her purse to cover her welling eyes.
“Last question, Faith ,” I said.
She looked away and then looked back at me. “What do you wanna know, Marcus?”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes, we’re safe. We are safe, and I am sorry. I’m not the woman I used to be, and I’m sorry for everything I put you through. Please tell your mother thank you for me,” she said.
Just then, Zamora approached us.
“Hello, I’m Mrs. Coleman,” she said and extended her hand, which Eliana declined to shake.
“Congratulations,” was all she said, then quickly turned and pushed her baby down the corridor.
“Oh my God, Marcus. Was that––” she asked as she tried to get another glance at Eli, but she had already put a visual distance between us.
“Yes, that was her,” I said, cutting Zamora off.
As we continued walking toward the boarding gate, Zamora had a million and one questions.
“What was that about? What did she say? Is that her baby? What was said, Marcus? You better start talking,” she barked.
“Baby, relax. Sit down, okay? Just calm down.”
She hesitated before finally sitting on a nearby chair. I told her about the brief exchange and then shared with her what my mother had been doing for over twenty years to help abused women escape bad situations. I explained that my mother was a huge advocate for sex trafficking, but not many people knew it because she wasn’t looking to receive a round of applause or accolades.
“Wow,” Zamora responded in amazement. “Your mother is a pretty awesome human being.”
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed. “So, Mrs. Coleman, shall we continue to our gate? I don’t want us to dwell on this Eliana thing ever again. I want us to go on our honeymoon and enjoy the warm beaches, good food, and alcoholic beverages and make a baby.”
“Did you say make a baby?” she asked, smiling.
I leaned in and kissed my beautiful wife’s lips.
“That’s exactly what I said, Mrs. Coleman.”
“Well, let’s go honeymooning, baby,” she said, and we returned to our gate.
Once there, we checked the departure board and cheered when we saw the words “On Time” next to our flight number. As we sat waiting for the announcement that it was time to board the plane, we engaged in conversation and kisses. Then, we both got an alert on our phones. When we pulled our cell phones out, we checked the message: Your Flight Has Been Delayed . Looking at each other, we burst into a fit of laughter. Our flight may have been delayed, but our love for each other could not be denied.
After we returned, it was back to business. The bed and breakfast I had envisioned for us was in its early stages of development, and life was perfect. Time moved by quickly. Zaria had given Zamora a niece that she adored, and we had been trying to conceive but decided to stop trying after a year. No more temperature taking, hip elevations, doctor visits, shots, or medical assistance. We simply wanted to enjoy life and the love we shared for one another.
“That’s it, keep stirring,” she said, as I was learning how to make grits. Although we had a decent staff, Zee and I chose to be prepared to work in all departments if someone was absent or couldn’t make it.
“I got this, and this is easy. As good as your grits taste, my love, I really thought more went into to this,” I joked.
“Just keep stirring so grits don’t start jumping out of the pot,” she ordered. I saw the bobbling when my stirs slowed, so I took her advice. I did not want those hot grits to land on my skin.
“So, we are going to set these aside and move over to the steaks. They have been marinated, and sitting out long enough to get an even heat distribution. We are going to sneer them first and pop them into the open to finish cooking, okay,” she said, and I nodded and followed her instructions. She drizzled a little olive oil into the pan, then some butter and a few garlic cloves. She removed the lid from the pan, and she frowned.
“Oh shit,” she said and closed the lid.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked, concerned because she backed away.
“The smell,” she said, turning her nose up. She covered her mouth and took a few cleansing breaths. “Okay, okay, I’m good,” she said, then came back to the counter and removed the lid again. She quickly put the two steaks in the cast iron, and the sizzle sounded beautiful.
“That smells so good,” I added.
“All you need is two to three minutes on each side, and then we can pop it in the oven,” she said, then stepped back. She covered her mouth, hurried over to the trash can, and blew chunks. I quickly turned off the fire and rushed over to her.
“Baby, are you okay?” I asked, rubbing her back. She heaved, and her body jerked and coughed, and more fluids came out. I rushed over to the sink, grabbed a dish towel, wet it, and was back at her side. She took it, wiped her mouth, and then put the towel on her head.
“I need to sit down,” she said, and I helped her get to a nearby chair.
“Baby, tell me what is it? Do you need water, juice, or ginger ale?”
“I’m okay, Marc, I’m okay. I just need to get out of this kitchen. This smell is driving me crazy.”
“Impossible, it smells so good,” I disputed.
“To you, but please let me get up and get away from this smell.” I helped her up, and we went to our on-site quarters. I got her a ginger ale, and she took a few sips. She felt better, and we tried to get back to the lesson, but I ended up just following her instructions. I wanted her to taste it, but she didn’t want the smell anywhere near her nose. The next day, it was the same and every smell of food made her nauseous. She didn’t even want her favorite food.
“I think you should see the doctor,” I suggested.
“I agree and I made an appointment this morning.”
“What do you think could be wrong?”
“Not sure, maybe pregnant, but we both know that’s farfetched, right?” she said nervously.
“You think?”
“Maybe I’ve never felt like this.”
“Did you miss your period?”
“My period hasn’t been regular since the miscarriage, so I can’t say yes or no,” she said, hunching her shoulders.
“Let me run to the store and grab a test,” I said and stood.
“You really think we could be,” she smiled.
“Maybe,” I replied, giving her a hopeful smile back. I gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and I rushed out. I had a big ass grin on my face during the drive, and I hoped this would be our time. Perhaps our prayers had been answered and I was going to be a dad. I parked, hurried inside, and headed to the female product aisle. I grabbed one of each product on the shelf. I stood in a long ass line impatiently, disappointed that it moved slower than molasses. I checked out and hurried to get back to my wife. She was snoozing when I rushed in, but I shook her awake.
She stretched, asking me to let her sleep a little longer, but I insisted she get up to pee on every stick I purchased. Unfazed by my request, she fell back to sleep, and I went back to the kitchen. I put the steaks in the oven and tried to finish them off, then I made some scrambled eggs. I ate and three hours went by before my wife woke up.
She stretched and got up to head to the bathroom. I grabbed the bag and followed her inside and she asked me to hand her a paper cup from the vanity. We opened all the tests, waited, and watched them all turn positive. Happy was an understatement. We were pregnant. Even though Zee was on eggshells, afraid that she would miscarry again, but fortunately, after a few weeks of morning sickness, her pregnancy was smooth. She gave me a son, and we conceived again right away. We were blessed with another son, and now, we are living our best lives, happily in love.
The End