Chapter 17 #2
Kristen gives me a moment before saying, “Alright, now that you’ve been briefed on surviving the wedding day, let’s talk about the actual marriage.
” She shifts on the couch, her tone half fun, half this will save your life.
“My marriage survival advice? Joint calendar, separate duvets Scandinavian-style, and agree in advance on who handles extended family drama. Trust me. Nothing tests a relationship like a shared blanket and an unexpected phone call from a cousin.”
Olivia lifts her glass. “Preach.”
Maddie nods solemnly. “Also? Don’t text during unresolved arguments. But if you do rage-type a text message? Don’t send it. You’ll regret it. I have a whole folder of things I wrote and never sent. It’s called ‘Messages That Saved My Marriage.’”
Marin’s eyes widen. “That’s either romantic or deeply unhinged. I love it.”
Maddie shrugs. “It’s both. Like most good marriages.”
Olivia meets my gaze. “You’re marrying a Black brother. That means bossy and intense, which, I mean, you know better than any of us since it’s Gage you’re marrying.” She grins. “Don’t let that energy fool you. They still need snacks and sleep like everyone else.”
She pauses, sips some of her martini, then adds, “My advice? When he’s being unbearable, send him to his room, throw food at him, and shut the door before he argues. And when all else fails? Let him sulk, then remind him whose name is on the joint calendar.”
“Yep.” Kristen nods. “Contain. Feed. Walk away. Because at that point, you’re not dealing with a man anymore. You’re dealing with a high-functioning alpha in emotional airplane mode, and he’s on the brink. So, it’s best to leave him to it. On his own.”
I nod as I take a sip of wine. “Can confirm, I know this exact scenario with Gage. I have not tried the “contain, feed, walk away” method, but I will next time.”
“Please report back,” Olivia says seriously, like we’re trading classified intel. “Us girls need to stick together and finetune our methods along the way.”
We all burst out laughing, even Ingrid.
Then, her laughter fades but her eyes still sparkle as she says, “I’ve lived with a Black man for decades, and I still haven’t found a better strategy than that.
I’ve also raised all those boys and dealt with their moods.
Eventually, they come back. Sometimes with an apology, sometimes just with that look in their eyes that says they know they messed up.
” Her gaze softens. “And that they’re hoping you’ll let them back in. ”
Kristen, Olivia, and Maddie all nod as soft smiles fill their faces.
It’s clear that what Ingrid said resonates with all of them.
I feel it too because I’ve lived this with Gage.
There haven’t been many times yet that he’s been unbearable and in a mood with me, but it has happened.
And yes, he’s come back each time with an apology and that look in his eyes that says please keep choosing me.
“My marriage survival advice?” Ingrid continues. “Don’t keep score. The best kind of love isn’t fair. It’s generous. And forgiving. And worth showing up for, even on the days you forget why you said yes in the first place.”
My throat tightens, and not just at what she said, but at the way she’s looking at me again with all that love.
“My son was lucky to have found you, Amelia. I see the way you look at him. I see the way you love Luna. And I see how much lighter Gage has become. You’re not just marrying into this family. You’re healing it.”
My eyes sting. I try not to cry, but fail.
“He’s learned so much from you,” she says. “The way you love people . . . it’s changed him. I don’t think he and Shayla would have found a way to co-parent like they are now if not for what he’s learned from being loved by you.”
Kristen exhales like she’s letting some feelings out. Maddie wipes under her eye. Olivia looks like she could cry any moment.
“I’m so proud to call you my daughter now,” Ingrid finishes softly.
That’s it. I’m done. No coming back from that one.
I try to blink it all back, but when Ingrid stands and pulls me into a hug, I let every emotion out. When our hug ends, I simply smile at her and whisper, “Thank you for saying all of that. I’m so glad you’re my mother-in-law.”
We share one more hug and then she excuses herself to go to the bathroom. The second she’s out of earshot, Maddie leans in and says, “Okay. We’ve discussed the wedding day checklist and the marriage survival guide . . . Now, let’s talk about the good stuff.”
“Which is?” Olivia asks, but there’s a mischievous grin in her eyes. “Oh, wait, it’s the pregnant woman speaking. The one whose husband knocked her up right after she popped out his first kid. I guess we’re talking about sex now.”
“Look, I like sex. A lot,” Maddie says unapologetically. “I like it slow. I like it rough. I like it often. And luckily, I married a man who treats orgasms like a full-time job, with benefits.”
Kristen nods. “We stan a man who makes it his mission in life to provide orgasms.”
I look at her. “You lost me at ‘stan.’ I got that we’re pro-orgasms, but beyond that, no idea. Does it mean I need to clap?”
Maddie snorts. “It means we’re obsessed, babe.”
“Which is the correct reaction to a man who delivers orgasms like Prime,” Olivia says.
“So,” Maddie says, “every good honeymoon survival kit includes these things: hydration, lube, and lower back support.”
Olivia nods. “And snacks. Preferably high protein. And a first aid kit.”
Kristen turns to her with a questioning look. “A first aid kit?”
“You’ve met your brothers-in-law, right?” Olivia deadpans. “Something always ends up sore, pulled, or in need of treatment.”
“Okay, fair.” Kristen glances back at Maddie. “But lower back support?”
“Have you never been bent over a marble vanity by a man with Olympic-level stamina who’s trying to ruin you? Then flipped into some ungodly sex position six hours later? Then wrecked again at midnight like it’s round three of a championship match?”
“You’re right,” Kristen says. “Managing a Black brother in the bedroom is not for the weak. One should never underestimate their stamina. Or their obsession with holding your soul hostage and blessing your cervix at the same time. Or their filthy fucking mouth.”
I nearly choke on my wine as I think about all the ways I try to manage my Black brother and his stamina and filthy words. “Yes. Agreed.”
“That was very specific, and I am unwell,” Marin says while spritzing herself with her ceremonial mist as if she needs divine intervention.
“We are all unwell,” Maddie says. “These men want us marked and ruined.”
“With their name on our lips and bruises on our thighs,” Kristen says, raising her glass like it’s communion.
Olivia clinks glasses with her. “To the Black brothers. And to not being able to sit down after they’ve had their way with us.”
A voice floats in from the hallway. “Should I be concerned?” Ingrid steps back into the room, eyebrows lifted in bemused amusement.
Kristen doesn’t miss a beat. “We just had a honeymoon prep session. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Ingrid gives us all a once-over, eyes sparkling as she reclaims her seat. “Well. I’m glad you girls are taking care of the essentials.”
Marin, who has looked mildly devastated since the sex talk, says, “Wait. Are there any Black brothers left besides Hayden?”
Olivia’s eyes narrow instantly. “Why not Hayden?” She uses the tone that says she’ll go to war over this if needed. It makes me smile because I love her fierce loyalty. Olivia is always just one beat away from protector-mode when it comes to these men.
Marin waves a hand. “Oh, it’s not like that.
Hayden’s hot. Like, criminally hot. The problem is me.
” She leans forward a little. “He’s too still.
Too composed. Too good at hiding whatever’s going on in that haunted soul of his.
” She lifts her spray bottle. “I come with mist. And crystals. And a playlist titled My Future Wedding to a Man Who Doesn’t Run From His Feelings. I would terrify him.”
“You terrify most people,” Kristin says.
“Exactly,” Marin says with pride. “Which is why I need a man who’s either good with feelings or a barely functioning Greek tragedy who calls me ‘baby’ while making bad decisions in my honor. Hayden would file a restraining order.”
Olivia’s face gentles now that she knows where Marin was coming from. “There aren’t any more Black brothers, but you’ll find your soulmate.”
“He’s out there somewhere, probably managing his feelings with sports and denial, just waiting for someone like you to walk in and ruin his emotional avoidance,” Kristen says.
“I’m manifesting hot, reckless, and morally confused in a way that makes me want to ruin my life a little,” Marin says breezily like she’s reading off a brunch order and not casually describing the traits of a man who might set her emotional life on fire.
Olivia and Kristen blink at her while Maddie grins.
I simply say, “Careful what you ask for. The universe may just deliver it.”
Marin meets my gaze and drops her voice a touch.
“But honestly? Watching Gage love you the way he does with no notes, no edits, no suggestions to tone yourself down?” She presses her palm to her heart dramatically.
“It gives a girl hope.” Everyone laughs, but I see the flash of truth in her eyes before she covers it with a sip of champagne.
She raises her glass. “To Amelia. And to being loved exactly as we are.”
I hold Marin’s gaze while we all raise our glasses with her.
This is the woman who terrified me the second we started working together.
She’s also the woman who refused to leave my life the second we stopped working together.
She may be wildly different to me, confuse me, and send me far too many text messages, but I can’t imagine her not being in my life now.
This afternoon with the ceremonial mist, the ‘next feminine era’ manifesting, the bridal wisdom, the marriage advice, the honeymoon sex survival discussion—it’s all swirling around me like a spell I didn’t know I needed.
I keep my glass raised and look around the room at everyone. “To finding our ride-or-die girls who love us with no notes. And to every next feminine era we walk into. Together.”