Epilogue
Nine Months Later . . .
Hey, loves!
It’s been a while. I’ve been through some things this year and have been nesting and resting. But today has been very motivating, and now I’m ready to answer a question that has been on my mind for a while.
Q: Is it possible for love to still exist between two people who have loved but lost touch after years of being without one another?
A: This question had come to me many times during my journey of becoming a journalist/Blogger, but I could never bring myself to answer it until now. I was in love with my high school sweetheart. I mean madly.
Passionately.
We lost touch for fifteen years, and no matter how much I tried to forget about him, thoughts of him always remained in the back of my mind.
The memories of a love that was always soft, reassuring, deliberate, and intentional were just a few of the reasons I could never forget the love we shared.
For so long, I pretended to be someone I wasn’t.
Be with someone I knew I could never give my whole heart to, because a big chunk of it belonged to the one man whom I couldn’t shake from my life if I tried.
So, back to the question.
Is it possible?
The answer?
Absolutely.
My first love returned to my life almost a year ago, and while people had witnessed the fallout with you-know-who and the aftermath that followed, the man I could never shake came and shook shit up.
In the smoothest way, only he knew how. He stopped me from making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
There was no way I would have been happy living my life in someone else’s shadow, putting their needs before my own, while being gaslighted and lied to for the rest of our lives.
I was so out of my mind that I actually allowed it.
But, my man, my man, my gahdamn man, came and shut it down. While you all may have thought I was wrong for ending something that was never truly meant to be, you truly would have had to be there to witness the shit that went on behind closed doors.
So, yes, it is possible for you to fall back in love with someone you never truly stopped loving.
Our life together has been nothing short of thrilling, exciting, and full of nothing but joy and happiness.
There is nothing he wouldn’t do for me, and vice versa.
And I wouldn’t change a damn thing about it.
Until next time,
P.S. I see some of y’all like to keep stirring up mess by tagging me in my half-naked photos that you saved to your phones.
Creepy, weird-ass humans.
I know my body is tea, and you probably never saw one like it, so enjoy. But if you keep it up, I’ll slap your ass with a lawsuit that will have you eating breadcrumbs from the bottom of a garbage can. Keep playing with me if you want to, baby.
Love Always,
Jordin, the juicy booty Journalist.
I smiled as I hit publish, and I sat back, eating my waffle cone ice cream.
After our wedding in the Maldives, I had become extremely sick.
I had no idea what it was until Junie and Lauren came to me with pregnancy tests.
While I wasn’t afraid of being pregnant, I was more nervous after losing my baby before.
I had to remind myself that it was because I was stressed then, but now that I had the father in my life, who was spoiling me at every turn, I knew this time around would be perfect.
When the test came back positive, I cried for over an hour.
My dad, Zion, and his friends went to look at some car show there on the island, but once Jessie called and told him what was happening, he was at my side thirty minutes later, consoling me.
He was so filled with joy that even he shed a few tears after hearing the news, so I had to console him, too.
Now, here I was in my last week of pregnancy, feeling our baby boy sitting on my darn bladder. Feeling a presence behind me, I smiled and turned to see Zion walking into my office with my sandwich, pickles, chips, and cherry Kool-Aid.
“Now, why do you want to spoil your lunch, eating that shit, Dinny?” he asked, setting the plate and cup down in front of me. He pressed a kiss to my temple and my cheek.
“I’m not spoiling it. This food is still about to get fucked up like it stole my money.”
He chuckled. “I love you. I’m about to go to the rec center with the fellas. The ringer is on, so call me if you need me.” He leaned down and kissed my big-ass stomach. “Talk to you later, son. Take care of your mama.”
“Can you help me stand up? I have to go to the bathroom quickly. This boy has been pressing on my bladder for the past thirty minutes.”
He nodded and helped me from the chair. As soon as I stood, water splashed on the hardwood floors and down my legs.
“Damn, baby, you couldn’t wait to get to the bathroom?” He chuckled.
“That’s not pee, Zion. My water just broke.”
His eyes ballooned. “Oh, shit. Okay! Shit, okay. What do you want me to do?”
“Boy, get me to the damn hospital. My bag and the baby’s bag is in the front closet. We can call Doctor Stein on the way.”
“Okay. Come on. My son is coming!” he yelled, picking me up bridal style and rushing me out of the room.
He placed me on my feet momentarily to grab our bags, then hurried me out of the house and into his truck.
I could feel the contractions coming and breathed through them as Zion hurried out of the driveway and sped off to the hospital.
By the time we made it through the entrance of the hospital, the nurses were already waiting to take me to labor and delivery, and our family was already in attendance as well.
“You got this, Jor,” Junie encouraged.
“Mom!” I cried, reaching my hand out to her. She came over and took it.
“I’m right here, baby. Everything’s going to be okay, and I’ll be here waiting for you and my grandbaby.”
“Arrrgh!” I cried, feeling a contraction rip through me like fire. “Jesus, help me!”
“It’s okay, love. How far are the contractions?” the nurse asked.
“They’re like a minute and a half apart,” Zion answered.
“Okay, let’s get her upstairs, stat.” The nurse wheeled me away as our family shouted that everything was going to be okay and that they couldn’t wait to see our son. Zion held on to my hand the entire way as I squeezed his for dear life.
From there, everything became chaotic.
I was in the room swiftly. Doctor Stein was already inside, waiting for me, and he immediately told me to start pushing while the nurses hooked me up to the machines. I looked at Zion, and his eyes were misty with a smile on his face.
Ziare Landon Sullivan came screaming at the top of his little lungs at 7:09 p.m. on September 4, 2019.
He weighed eight pounds and three ounces and looked just like his handsome, chocolate daddy.
They hurriedly cleaned him, then put him on my chest. We were both overcome with emotions, so the doctor and nurses stepped out of the room to give us a moment.
To experience a love like ours, have it ripped away in a heartbeat, and then come back with a vengeance was overwhelming yet beautiful.
I had lost hope that this would ever be us when he told me to stop coming to see him. I thought our love was over, but that was never the case for Zion. I understood he needed to do the time alone. I was just happy that, even after I was about to marry a man I didn’t love, Zion still chose me.
I was still his, just as he was mine.
And as I looked down at our baby boy lying on my chest, I knew this was what he promised me—a life full of love, happiness, and peace.
“Thank you,” Zion said, kissing my forehead and lips. “He’s perfect, baby.”
“You’re perfect. I love you so much.”
“Not as much as I love you. I made a promise to you—and to myself—when I was locked up, a promise to repeat the love we shared all those years ago. You make me the happiest, luckiest man on this earth, baby. I’d move mountains for you.”
Tears streamed down my face as I kissed his lips, then kissed my son’s forehead.
“I think I’m the lucky one, baby.”
“We both are.”
I smiled widely.
There was no greater love than the one I shared with this man.
And I was sure that if he had to do it again, he would promise to repeat our life together, . . . all over again.
The End.