Bonus Epilogue
thirty-four
Paige
Five years later
“The award for the non-profit of the year is…The Elysium Garden Project!”
The presenter’s voice as they say the name of our foundation takes me by surprise.
My mouth drops into an O of shock as Hayes squeezes my hand under the table, and the room breaks into loud applause.
A few people even whistle and hoot. There’s no way.
This award is for charities that are doing incredible work.
I fully believe Elysium is doing great work, but I didn’t expect this.
“Angel, that’s you. Go get the award you so deserve,” Hayes says into my ear as I grip his hand for dear life. He kisses my hair and stands, pulling me to my feet with him. I look around our table, full of board members and employees who beam at me as they clap loudly.
“Us. It’s us, Hayes,” I say in disbelief. “Elysium has always been our project.” This foundation wouldn’t be here without Hayes, he has to know that.
“Baby, we can argue about that later, but you’re the chairwoman and they need you to go up on that stage to accept that pretty little award for all your hard work.
” He gently pushes me ahead of him and lets my hand go.
I leave him with confident-enough-looking steps that don’t hint at the true depth of my nerves. Fake it until you make it, right?
I breathe deeply and reach for the many years of public speaking experience Mama forced on me with cotillion, volunteering to lead historical tours of Savannah, and pageants.
I can do this, no matter how overwhelming it is in front of a giant crowd of the most notable charities and foundations in Atlanta, with some of the most selfless and deserving people in attendance.
I hold my long dress up slightly as I climb the stairs and cross the stage to the presenter, who beams at me and holds up a glass award shaped like a torch’s flames, which sparkles in the spotlights aimed at us.
It’s dizzying to be in the lights and up here for an award I’ve even dreamed I would be honored with.
She places the award in my grasp, my hands shaking perceptibly as I grip the edges and take her place at the lectern and the live microphone.
I clear my throat gently before I begin, tears already in my eyes.
“Thank you so much for this incredible award. This has to be a dream. I think I need to be pinched.” Some laughter breaks out, but the faces staring at me are kind and excited.
“Every non-profit here is more than deserving of this accolade, and I’m positively floored to receive it.
Honestly, I don’t feel all that prepared at the moment due to not anticipating a win when some of the people and foundations I admire most in this world were also nominated.
” I’d try to pull a Cady from Mean Girls, break the award up, and toss it to the other foundations and charities here so they know their hard work is seen.
I take a moment to collect my thoughts as I stare at the award in my hands.
It’s just cut glass with a marble base, but it means so much to me to see others recognizing the hard work that has gone into getting our foundation off the ground and expanding our reach to the entire metro Atlanta area.
It’s been so fulfilling to give back through this venture.
I look up and search for Hayes in the crowd.
I catch his proud gaze when I find him and smile back when he grins at me.
I return my attention to the microphone and the beautiful award in my hands.
“I believe with all my heart in the work the Elysium Garden Project does.
The foundation was created to serve our communities, reduce barriers to fresh, nutritious food while teaching valuable business skills.
Our foundation has created jobs for the communities where we have opened gardens, put food on the tables of families who would otherwise forgo expensive healthy options, provided educational opportunities for health and wellness, and seen many of our participants go off to college on the scholarships we created to ensure the next generation is equipped to exit the insidious cycle of poverty and need.
We don't take this work lightly. Our hearts are in the foundation, with the beneficiaries of the community gardens, and those who work alongside us in this undertaking. What started as a little project to give back and meet the needs we could see right in front of us has grown by leaps and bounds, making us proud to know others believe in the work we are doing as well. We hope to continue our work for many years to come and watch not only our gardens flourish, but witness people thrive when given the slightest opportunity and belief. Thank you so much for recognizing The Elysium Garden Project, and shining a light on the little bit of good we are doing for the world.”
I step back from the microphone to a riot of applause, my cheeks heating with the attention before I turn and head off the stage.
I must have blacked out on the walk back to my table, because the next thing I know, Hayes is gripping my cheeks and placing a kiss on my mouth that is full of pride and excitement.
And heat. This man can’t stop himself even in front of a crowd, it seems. He finally pulls away and ushers me into my seat.
“Way to go, baby,” he says quietly as the presenter begins to wrap up the evening now that we have taken the ultimate, and last, award for the Shining Stars of Atlanta gala.
“I’m not the only person who made this happen. Our entire foundation, every person who works a garden, and anyone who benefits from the produce we’re growing made this happen. You made this happen,” I point out, handing him the award.
“This has always been your baby, and it’s your heart that allowed the foundation to flourish and grow at the rate it has. I’m so proud of you for taking this on in addition to everything else you do.”
Before I can argue further, the crowd begins clapping again and I realize the gala has come to a close.
I laugh softly and shake my head, knowing I won’t be able to convince Hayes of anything with how ardently he believes in my vision.
It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling to shine in the spotlight he puts on me, and to bask in the belief he showers me with daily.
“Fine, we can agree to disagree.” He takes my hands and pulls me up.
We say our goodbyes to those around us and begin the long process of making it out of the event while politely thanking those who stop us with congratulations and words of encouragement for the future.
It takes over thirty minutes to exit the ballroom and make it to the hotel valet stand.
The relief that courses through me when the valet opens the door to the Mercedes is unmatched.
Hayes slides into the driver’s seat and starts the drive home as I let out a tired, yet content, sigh.
“It was nice to have a night out, but I miss our babies,” Hayes says, his voice a quiet rumble through the interior of the sleek sports car. “I’m glad it was only a few hours.”
I smile at the big softy beside me. He’s a wonderful father, incredibly hands-on and doting to a degree I hadn’t expected.
His protectiveness is exactly what I imagined, but the way he loves our three-year-old daughter, Maddie, and one-year-old son, Zachary, swells my heart more than any of the incredible things he’s done before.
“And you keep trying to get me to go on a no-kids vacation with you,” I tease, knowing he’s all talk and wouldn’t be able to handle the separation.
“It would be easier to get you naked and keep you that way if there weren’t little surprises popping up around us needing our attention all the time.”
We chat about the potential vacations we can take, together as a family, or just the two of us, on the way home.
We relieve the nanny when we arrive at our Buckhead compound that once reminded me of an enchanted forest opening to a modern mansion that was nothing like I’d expected him to live in.
I spend some time loving on Cerberus after kicking off my heels.
He’s almost ten years old and has slowed down quite a lot, though he’s still the best protector we could ask for, as well as the perfect family dog.
He puts up with little toddler hands grabbing him roughly and climbing on him with a content look and the patience of a saint.
I sigh, feeling tired while still buzzing from the evening.
“I think I need a drink to wind down after that gala. It was exhausting to be on all night and around so many people, but it also wound me up.” I blink up at Hayes as he watches me pet the dog.
He catches his lip with his teeth, his look predatory.
“I know how to use up that energy. I can’t stop thinking about getting you naked, Mrs. Olsen,” Hayes says, a lascivious look taking over his face and darkening his jungle-green eyes.
“I want you in our room, stripped down to the pretty panties I know you have on under that beautiful and demure dress and bent over the bed before I get up there with our favorite bourbon.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a smirk that has him smiling hungrily at my playful tone. I straighten up from the crouch, petting Cerberus and slowly turn toward the stairs. I hear Hayes take a deep breath before he pulls himself away to head into the den to get our drinks.