Epilogue
June
Two years since the cancelled wedding
Nico
Quincy has outdone herself.
The scenery at the overlook needs no decoration, but somehow, she’s done it.
I wait for my wife at the edge of the boardwalk, the part that extends beyond the cliff’s edge.
Quincy has outfitted the space with a modern, geometric bridal arch made of rich wood, decorated with subtle summer blooms. The arch comes to a sharp point at the top, framing the mountain scenery behind me, giving the illusion of looking through cathedral windows.
I can’t believe she talked the park rangers into letting her do this for us today.
It was here that Becca and I shared our first secret kiss all those years ago.
Today, nothing is in secret.
About forty of our closest friends and family members are gathered to watch.
In the front row are James and his girlfriend, Layla; Becca’s brother, Michael, his wife, Jane, and their four pre-teen children, all sharing the duty of watching over Valentina during the ceremony.
The nurses were right about her hair. She’d been born blonde, but since then, it’s turned a soft chestnut brown, from my side of the family.
Her big eyes watch me from where she sits on her cousin’s lap, waving her sippy cup as she points to me and shrieks, “Daaaa!”
The pre-teens and adults nearby try to keep her quiet by distracting her with toys, and I want to tell them this is not that kind of wedding. Babies, kids, they make noise and are messy and chaotic. That’s life.
Mary Patricia Payne-Wright, my mother-in-law, leans over and clucks her tongue playfully at Valentina, drawing her attention away from me.
Just as the sun meets the horizon behind me, I see my wife stepping out of the bridal tent.
I suck in a breath. Becca is a goddess. I want to say Aphrodite, or Athena, or any of the other characters I remember from reading those kids’ books from the library so many years ago, but this honestly doesn’t cover it. Nothing in mythology that I can think of even comes close.
When her dad approaches me with Becca on his arm, he gives me a nod and then, unexpectedly, a quick hug. It’s more than a “bro” hug. One of those hugs that says, “I’m in my feelings, but let’s be grown-ass men about it and make it quick.”
It means more to me than any combination of words that man has ever said out loud to me.
Becca seems as surprised as I do.
She hands off her waterfall bouquet of wildflowers and greenery to Quincy and takes my hand.
“You look so good,” she whispers as she joins me under the arch.
“Beat me to it,” I whisper back. “You look like a statue.”
It doesn’t come out how I meant it, but Becca gets it.
She smiles and mouths, “Thank you,” as Rowdy Fraser begins the ceremony.
Upon seeing her mom under the arch, Valentina squeals and pulls away from her minders. A chuckle rises up from the crowd. Becca smiles and waves for her nephews to let Valentina join us under the arch.
I don’t want the little one wrinkling my wife’s dress, so I hold her against my side with one arm, while my opposite hand holds Becca’s as we say our vows.
We keep it simple. Honest.
It’s all perfectly…us.
Becca
With Valentina sleeping over with her cousins, Nico drives us home after a reception at the community center that runs late into the night.
But when he makes a turn that takes us away from the apartment complex, I suspect I’m about to see my surprise. I’d gifted him with a scrapbook that I’d painstakingly assembled of all our adventures over the years. And I still haven’t seen the gift that Nico’s been hinting at for months.
We drive over the railroad tracks to the other side of town.
My heart skips a beat, remembering Nico’s old neighborhood, where everything went wrong for him in the beginning.
It’s where we used to ride our bikes, hide in the woods, and get into all sorts of mischief.
Today, several of the lots have been razed.
One house is boarded up. But another one has recently been sold, and another one has been fixed up.
And the one that I remember the most clearly, a small, two-bedroom white house with a chain link fence surrounding the backyard, has a fresh coat of paint and new grass and shrubs.
“That’s your old house!” I exclaim, pointing.
He parks in the driveway, and I notice all the new touches. Solar lights along a little walkway. A stone border. Freshly painted railing and a door that’s not peeling paint. “What’s happening? Why are we stopping?”
Without a word, Nico gets out and steps around to the passenger side, helping me out. I gather up my already bustled dress and follow him up the walkway.
“Nico, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to guess? Whose house is this?”
To my shock, he fits the key in the lock and pushes open the front door.
Inside, it looks nothing like what I remember. New hardwood floors and light fixtures. Fresh paint and wallpaper. The kitchen has new appliances—not top-of-the-line, but good ones. It’s a solid, small starter home for a small family.
“Are we…investing?” I ask.
“Maybe,” he says. “It’s up to you what you want to do with your present.”
“My…you bought this house?”
He nods. “I hope it’s okay. I didn’t use any of the money we set aside for a down payment. I’ve been working on this for a while, on the side, to surprise you.”
“Is this what you’ve been doing when you’ve been telling me you’re working late? Have you been doing this the whole time?”
Sheepishly, he tells me, “Some nights, yeah. A lot of nights, I actually have been working extra hours to afford the payments on top of our rent.”
I’ve been using the trust fund payouts to pay for childcare and rent, and I’ve been setting aside some of my wages at the law firm in our savings account for a down payment one day.
“It’s not finished. I thought once we get all the baby stuff moved in, you could pick out curtains and rugs.
I’m in shock. I could be upset that he didn’t tell me he was buying a whole-ass house. But it’s Nico we’re talking about. He went so far out of his way to make this a surprise. And he did it on his own because that’s just the way he is. “I love it, I…” I can barely get words out.
Before I can fully step inside, Nico sweeps me up in his arms.
“You’re not upset?”
I cup his jaw as our lips meet in a kiss.
The door closes, and we’re home. This is home.
In the bedroom is the biggest surprise of all. A restored fireplace glows with the light of an iron candelabra. “There’s still work to do on it, on the inside, but that’s a long-term project…”
He goes on to describe all the things he still needs to fix, all the while I’m kicking off my shoes, pulling the pins out of my updo, and looking for somewhere to hang my dress.
It’s just us tonight, and I plan on taking full advantage.
Nico helps me unzip my gown, still chattering excitedly about all his plans for the house.
Once my dress is off, he leans in, kissing me slowly over my bare shoulders, one then the other.
I reach back and thread my fingers through his hair, sighing as electricity crackles through me.
Nico slides his arms around my middle, cupping my breast over the acres of elastic shape wear, still skilled at pebbling my nipples through the fabric.
I’m still so aroused whenever he touches me. I lean my head back against his shoulder and close my eyes, letting him do the work. The tugging, unzipping, and unlatching, followed by the reaching around and finding my excited ache in the space between my legs.
“Nico…”
The way he works me over, teasing every demanding inch of my damp skin, whispering words that make me flood his hands, until…until I light up with a powerful, involuntary shudder.
When I open my slitted eyes, something glints on the wall.
Several somethings.
Little frames, all in gold. All with words…or sayings, and sketches.
Sketches?
Nico is still kissing, touching me from behind. Very close to ramping up my arousal again, but I grab his hand.
“What is all that, Nico?”
I pull away from him, and he lets out a growl. But I have to see. I have to get a closer look.
He didn’t. No. Fucking. Way.
“What did you do?” I ask, laughing, my cheeks heating at the memory behind each of these notes. My lunch notes.
“I made a gallery of them. I love them so much. And you should be proud of what you did.”
I don’t know whether to punch him or throw him on the bed and sit on his face.
“I’m completely…I don’t know what to say except, I can’t keep our daughter in this room. It’s completely X-rated,” I complain.
Nico busies himself, shedding his suit, tie, vest, shirt, and dress pants as I study each and every note that he’s carefully framed and mounted on the wall.
“God, I hope you didn’t have a professional do this. I’ll never be able to show my face at the frame shop again,” I say.
“Come here.”
The guttural rasp has me turning around, finding my husband holding back the sheet for me.
I join him on the bed, and he folds me into his warmth and kisses me slowly, ending with a little bite to my bottom lip.
“It’s time for her to have her own room.”
I pout. “She does have her own room, with a crib and everything.”
“But now, she’ll have to actually sleep in it,” he says.
He’s right. It’s time.
And it’s time for us to upgrade to a bigger space, and now, thanks to Nico, we have it.
Thanks to us, we have a family. We had our wedding. We have our love.
What a sweet little life we’ve built. And it’s ours alone.
THE END
Thank you for reading Unplanned!