18. Epilogue （Melissa）
Epilogue (Melissa)
I couldn’t find my earrings anywhere. And it had to be those earrings, the one with the rubies because I was wearing my red dress and with crimson heels. If I could not find them, this was all for nothing. Five hours of preparation down the drain.
“Ryan! I am freaking out. I can’t find…”
“These?” he said, appearing as if out of thin air, holding my earrings. “Yeah, they were on the bed, honey.”
He was dressed in a handsome tux and ready to go.
He hadn’t told me that we needed to hurry, but I knew when the Grammys started.
I also knew that it would take an act of God for us to get there in time.
It was a three-hour drive back to New York, and then another half-hour to Madison Square Garden.
The invite said they’d start at six pm. It was already five p.m. How on earth were we going to make it in time for the breakout Artist of the Year award?
That was an award that Ryan was going to present, and word around the block was Sasha Fulkerson, the pop singer I had signed up just two months ago, was in the running.
It’d all be moot if we couldn’t make it.
“Honey, honey, you’re doing that thing again. I told you we’d make it,” Ryan said, rubbing his hand along my back. It helped that it was a backless dress, because the immediate sensation of his hand on my skin did, in fact, calm me.
“Where’s Frank?” I asked impatiently, looking around.
“He’s with his aunt down by the pond,” Ryan said calmly, pointing out the window. “I mean, it’s unbelievable that Sara can walk all the way to the pond without her wheelchair.”
“The Swiss guys were very clear about the new implant. She can walk for up to five hours every day. I told her yesterday to save up her hours for tomorrow because we’re leaving the baby with her,” I said.
“Well, she’s just happy he’s out there with her, pointing at the Peppermint fish,” Ryan said.
“Ryan, the show starts in an hour. You’re one of the presenters. How are we going to get there on time?” The panic in my voice did not seem to dampen my husband’s spirit.
“Tell me, how long ago was it that you made a billion with a capital B and unlocked the rest of Hoffa’s trust fund?”
“Three months ago, when Colby X went platinum and I got some of the royalties from his latest album,” I said, “but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, you’ve been married to a billionaire for a year, and this year, you became a bona fide billionaire yourself. So, like, babe, start thinking like a billionaire,” Ryan said.
“Ryan, in one hour, I am supposed to be sitting between Billie Eilish and the Wilson Philips sisters. How are we even going to get there other than through an act of God?” I asked.
“Behold, an act of God,” Ryan said, still looking out the window. In my incredulity, I went and joined him. The damned soundproof walls of the Hellerman House had made it impossible for me to hear the sound of the helicopter landing on the back lawn.
“You knew all along?” I asked, looking at him. “And you made me sweat?”
“You do know that you take your sweet time getting ready. I mean, I’ve been ready since three in the afternoon,” Ryan said, grinning at me sheepishly.
“Not cool, mister!” I grabbed my clutch from the bed and made sure the invite to the Grammys was in it.
I checked out myself once more in the dressing room mirror.
Yep. I looked good. “I fed baby Frank and waited for him to go number two in his diaper. I’d just put on a fresh diaper, and he peed on it in minutes.
I had to change it again. Then I searched around for his pacifier.
When I couldn’t find his favorite one, I had to put everything aside and breastfeed him until he stopped crying.
Now where do I find his pacifier? In the trash can with the diapers!
I must have thrown it in there accidentally.
So, I opened the new pack and found one identical to the poopy pacifier. Guess how long that took?”
“I know exactly how long it took because I was right there with you,” Ryan said, kissing me on the forehead. “It took three hours.”
“Four!” I corrected him as we went down the flight of stairs.
“Well, you’re worried about nothing. This chopper gets us to Madison Square Garden in less than half an hour. We’ll land on the roof, go down the elevator, and make it there in time to find our seats and watch our artists win their well-deserved awards. This ain’t my first rodeo, kid.”
“Uh,” I said, sighing deeply once we were out in the open. “I love how you just take care of everything.”
“Hey, come here,” Ryan said, pulling me a little. I hadn’t looked at his face properly in the past hour. “We’re going to be fine. It’s just the Grammys…not the Met Gala.”
“But it’s my first time,” I whispered.
“You’ll have a hell of a time. I’ll introduce you to Jared Leto. He’s gonna be sitting next to us,” Ryan said, kissing me on the cheek.
“I love you,” I said. At this point, a year into marriage, and three months after the birth of our baby, it came out on its own. I didn’t even have to try. We said it to each other at least two dozen times during the day.
Just as we had promised, we would do it in our wedding vows.
“I love you too,” Ryan said, kissing me again.
He helped me get into the helicopter and then climbed in behind me. As the rotors started whirring to life, I pointed at the roof and said, “This reminds me of our honeymoon.”
“The aerial tour of Bali?”
“No, the aerial tour of Barbados,” I reminded him.
“I nearly forgot Barbados,” Ryan said.
Then, both of us remembering it at the same time, we spoke in unison, “But we’ll always have Beirut.”
Now that I wasn’t too worried about making it to New York in time, I allowed myself the luxury of laughing out loud. It felt good. All of it. Being with Ryan, every day was a new adventure.
Yesterday, it was having dinner with Stephen King in Bangor. Today, it was attending the Grammys. Who knew what tomorrow would hold?
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