Epilogue
Sitting down in the doctor’s office was the first big break Etta had had in a week.
After returning from her honeymoon in Hawaii and Europe, it was nonstop work, thanks to Adele announcing she was taking a sabbatical – and absconding with Etta’s personal assistant in the process.
And some guy named Pierre . I have no idea what’s going on in that department.
I also don’t care, as long as they’re back to work when they say they’ll be.
Etta bit her tongue because, well, she had jetted off for over two weeks to relax on beaches, go shopping, drink some of the best alcohol in the world, and spend an insurmountable amount of time making love to her wife.
Jamie stirred in the seat beside her. While Etta took the time to breathe and catch up with her brain, Jamie was so on edge that the slightest surprise sent her up like a rocket.
Yup. Still the luckiest woman in the world.
That thought crossed her mind every time she looked at her wife.
Still felt funny calling her that, too. For years, Etta never imagined calling any woman her wife.
Occasionally, she entertained the idea of a loveless business match, but that wouldn’t be until she was at least forty-five.
No more thinking about that now. Jamie was it. If something unfortunate happened to either one of them, there would be no other wife. Etta had made that promise on her wedding day, and she intended to keep it.
Her phone buzzed. Jamie jumped, her wife pulling out her phone and seeing a text message from Monique.
“Tell me you’re having a better day than I am.”
Etta responded. “I’m sitting in a doctor’s office about to hear my possible fate. Could be worse. Could be a lot better. What’s wrong with you?”
The doctor entered before Etta had the chance to see Monique’s next message.
“Mrs. Coleman. Mrs. Joy.” The old man sat down with a creak of the bones and a squeak of his chair.
Etta had seen many manila folders in her life, but they rarely meant good news at the doctor’s.
“You’ll be happy to know that everything has come out clear.
Mrs. Joy, as far as we can tell, you are perfectly healthy for a young woman your age.
If you wanted to conceive, it shouldn’t be too difficult. ”
“Uh-huh.” Jamie waved what she already knew away. “As for the… stuff?”
Etta contained a laugh.
The doctor covered for her. “Yes, the samples you’ve selected have been set aside, as requested. We could commence with fertilization whenever you’re comfortable.”
“Phew. That’s great.” Jamie leaped up, grabbing her purse off the floor, and turning toward the office door. Etta uncrossed her legs. The doctor sat at his desk, dumbfounded.
Etta rapped on the desk to get the doctor’s attention. “I don’t think it’s going to be anytime soon. Thanks.”
When Etta’s loose lips let slip that she had some sapphic friends who had used a particular clinic for their maternal ambitions, Jamie had asked a hundred questions and requested that they could tour the place for themselves.
Naturally, Etta took this to mean that her wife was already gung-ho about starting a family, something that intrigued Etta and scared the absolute piss out of her.
I wonder if I’ll get any say in it. Even the voice in her head was dry as she followed Jamie down a brightly lit hallway.
Jamie was already on the phone with Kathleen Allen about a presentation they were putting together to score some land for a pet charity.
Etta encouraged her wife’s pursuit of such things, but she couldn’t say she remembered what Jamie was up to half the time.
Etta’s brain was always stuffed with stock prices and trying to remember when her next meeting was.
Yet she never needed reminding to kiss her wife goodnight.
In fact, that was one of the highlights of her day.
“Hold on, Kath, I’ve got someone on the other line.
” The other line? Etta finally revealed her harbored smile.
Jamie was so involved in her phone as they walked that she couldn’t see Etta chuckling behind her.
At least I’ve got a great view back here.
Jamie’s hair bounced almost as much as her ass did in that skirt.
“Hi, Gwen! Did you make the reservations for our party next week? I know it’s last-minute, but… ”
Jamie Coleman (or was she going by Joy-Coleman?
Another thing Etta couldn’t yet remember) was more animated than a cartoon character as she talked over the details of her first party since becoming a married woman.
The guest list was a yard long, boasting too many people to host even at the manor.
Gwenyth had stepped up to help Jamie find better accommodations.
She’s gonna have way more friends than me soon.
Suited Etta fine. She loved seeing Jamie confident enough to tell a bunch of stuck-up fools to fuck the hell off.
If she needs backup, I’m right here. Etta knew more than enough people to stifle some of the meaner lips.
Not that Jamie would ever find out about that, of course.
Etta’s phone buzzed again. Oh, right, Monique.
“My day could be a lot better, too. I’m in labor.”
Etta stared at her phone until that information finally sank in.
“Before you ask, I’m at the Manoir. Bit of a nasty shock. Make sure Helen gets here, would you? She’s at the estate and is in no position to drive herself. Please hurry.”
Jamie was many yards ahead of her by the time Etta checked the time and punched in the number for her driver.
There went their plans to take a walk. Unless Jamie got it in her mind to walk all the way up a mountain.
If I leave her alone for five minutes, she might.
Etta jogged until she caught up with her wife in front of a hotel.
“What’s going on?” Jamie asked when Etta motioned for her to hurry things up on her phone. “Work emergency? Again?”
She waited until Jamie had hung up on Natasha, who was in the middle of – loudly – announcing she was on a private island in the Caribbean that weekend. “Monique’s in labor.”
“What!”
“I’m instructed to make sure her wife gets to the Manoir before the kid is born.”
“The Manoir? What the hell is she doing all the way up there? She’s overdue!”
“We’re all workaholics around here.” It was Saturday, so Monique probably had intended to work a final weekend before going home for her supposed home birth. Wrong home. “I’ve already called our driver. If we leave now, we can make it up there by dinnertime… and maybe before the baby’s born.”
“Shouldn’t she be going to, I dunno, a hospital?”
“The nearest one is hours away from her. I’m sure her midwife is en route.”
“Fuck!”
The limo pulled up alongside the sidewalk. Etta didn’t wait for the driver to get out and open their doors for them. She had her wife in the limo and barked at the poor driver to take them to Warner Estate as soon as possible.
This wasn’t how Etta planned on spending her Saturday.
She fully intended to take her wife out to dinner and maybe have an evening at the opera.
(Because Jamie had dropped more than a few hints that they needed to be more cultured…
so she would have something to talk about at her party.
Ahem.) After the opera? Well, back to the penthouse for relaxation, of course.
For Etta Coleman, relaxation was synonymous with sex.
I had a new paddle I wanted to try out… That ass had been too tempting.
All of that would have to wait, however.
Because someone they cared about was in labor, far away in the remote mountains, and her wife was soon in the limo, having one aneurysm after another, while Etta plied her with some whiskey stored in the limo, and Jamie came up with a million reasons everything would be perfectly fine.
Helen did not feel fine when she got a call from her wife, which amounted to a bunch of yelling and cries of pain.
The driver almost had a heart attack when Ms. Warner shouted at him to drive faster.
Etta did not envy her. The mere thought of her darling Jamie being in that predicament was enough to make her call her stock advisor to start investing in teleportation research.
Hopefully, there was still plenty of time between now and when she would be like Helen Warner, half-drunk and worried that she would be missing the birth of her first child.
Etta squeezed Jamie’s hand. She glanced at her, smiling.
In that single moment, Etta felt more self-assured than anyone had the right to be.
A beautiful, wonderful wife and all the money she could want to support her and their future family.
Truly, she was wealthier than she could have ever imagined.
THE END