Epilogue #2
Zeke opened a door to the right to reveal a tiled bathroom. Bright lights turned on as soon as the door opened, revealing a shower big enough for a bench seat. A vanity mirror and a full length mirror showed our reflections, and I noted how Zeke flinched at the sight.
“I’ll have those covered in no time,” he offered.
But I waved it off. Mirrors no longer had the power to scare me, even if they did have overly harsh lighting like this bathroom. They held neither truth nor worth.
“Let’s go see the bedroom,” I suggested.
Another door divided the space between the dining and the living room, which we entered to find a king sized bed and another set of glass doors leading out to the private deck.
Zeke deposited our suitcases in the walk in closet while I jumped on the bed like a little kid. I whooped with delight.
“I feel like I’m missing something,” Zeke said as he joined me on the bed, electing to sit politely on the edge rather than jump with me. “What’s going on at six tonight?”
I plopped down beside him, slightly winded but no less giddy with excitement. “Um, they’re getting married? I told you this!”
His eyes widened. “You definitely did not tell me that! We don’t even have a gift! Is there a dress code? What is the proper etiquette for a wedding on a ship?”
Zeke’s autism meant he tended to hyper fixate on things he didn’t understand.
If I would have told him ahead of time about the wedding, he would have spent every free moment in the library to research weddings, their history, cultural significance, and the ways in which a cruise wedding differed from a traditional wedding.
Plus, he would have started panicking over a comparison between this kind of lavish affair to the simple courthouse wedding Zeke and I had, which wouldn’t have been fair to any of us.
Sure enough, within seconds, Zeke turned to me and asked, “Is this the kind of wedding you wanted? Did we need to have something more formal like this? I want you to be happy, Maggie.”
Therapy could only do so much with Zeke’s obsessive thoughts.
Learning about our diagnoses meant adjusting our lifestyle, communication, and behaviors so that they didn’t overwhelm our partners.
In Zeke’s case, I knew to always allow extra time for him to process a change in his routine or an unexpected circumstance because he needed reassurance and patience.
“I am happy. More than happy. It’s kind of ridiculous how happy I feel,” I giggled.
“We’re going to be there as I watch my best friends get married—best friends who have loved each other since we were kids.
And I get to share it with the love of my life.
I’m pretty sure it doesn’t get any better than this. ”
Zeke paused. “I think I know one way.”
Like a lightning strike, my husband clamped a hand around my throat and shoved me onto my back. Instant goosebumps broke out along my arms as he pushed his way between my legs. He leaned down to my ear, still clutching my throat to whisper, “Take off your shorts, Mrs. Hayes.”
Arousal pooled between my legs. My toes curled in anticipation.
I used both hands to shimmy out of my jean shorts, revealing the bright turquoise bikini bottoms I had on underneath.
A wicked grin crossed Zeke face, and he let go of my throat to lean back on his heels and tug on the strings on both sides of my hips.
Like opening a present, Zeke gleefully folded the tiny strip of fabric down to reveal my pussy.
Cool air hit my bare skin and my husband’s groan sent another wave of arousal through me.
“Did you shave all the hair off?” He bit down on his fist to muffle the sound of another groan. His fingers tested the totally nude folds with featherlight touches.
“I got a bikini wax.” My first in years, and Lord above, did it hurt. Why the hell had I done that to myself for so long? The obsessive way I used to alter my appearance felt like another lifetime.
His mouth descended on mine in a frenzy as his fingers parted my seam. The slick sounds of my arousal met my ears as Zeke trailed two fingers through before pumping them inside. He sucked my tongue like a lollipop and used his thumb to rub small circles against my clit.
Breaking off abruptly, Zeke rolled us so that I straddled him. “Get on my face,” he commanded.
Back when Zeke and I first met, an order like that would have sent me into a panic. I would have hesitated, hemming and hawing over the possibility of being too heavy, making the entire encounter uncomfortable for both of us. Not that Zeke would’ve had the confidence to make such a demand.
Now that we both came into our own, I loved that he knew how to order me around the bedroom.
My husband knew exactly how rough I liked it, and he had studied all of my cues and expressions enough that the moment I so much as raised an eyebrow, he changed positions or grabbed something from the toolbox to pique my interest all over again.
And I learned that he worshipped every square inch of my body.
There wasn’t a freckle, wrinkle, scar, or stretch mark that Zeke hasn’t traced with his fingers or tongue.
He would put me on his face until I passed out from the orgasm.
It made it so much easier to love myself when I saw myself through Zeke’s eyes. I liked his view better.
That was why I didn’t bother arguing. I climbed up his torso and lowered myself so that I was fully seated with my pussy on his face, knees braced on the bed next to his ears.
His tongue immediately speared me. I rocked my hips forward, leaning back on one arm so that I used my free hand to rub my clit.
Zeke nodded enthusiastically. Both of his arms circled my thighs to help give me more leverage as my hip rotations became wilder.
Cataclysmic power built at my core as I rode his tongue to chase my own release.
When it erupted, my eyes rolled to the back of my head and I fell back onto Zeke’s torso.
He was up and over me in seconds. Throwing my knees over his shoulders, he sheathed himself inside me in one powerful thrust. I slipped in and out of consciousness as he pistoned faster and faster, hips slapping hard against my ass cheeks, my body basically folded like a lawn chair.
He came with a guttural groan and my pussy clenched around him automatically, like Pavlov’s dog recognizing the war cry.
Falling into a heap next to me, Zeke kissed my temple and cuddled me while we both came down from our high.
“I love you, Mrs. Hayes,” he murmured.
“I love you more, Mr. Hayes,” I countered, a sleepy, sated smile playing on my lips. “C’mon, we’ve gotta hurry up and shower so I can get ready before I have to help Celeste.”
I clambered off the bed and headed into the closet to grab my toiletry bag. As soon as I turned the water on in the shower, Zeke joined me under the spray.
“What am I supposed to do? I want to help, too.” He took the loofa from my hands and massaged it down my back, making it nearly impossible for me not to purr like a cat in satisfaction.
“You’re going to hang out with Wes and keep him calm,” I explained. “He’s gonna be a basket case.”
Zeke nodded. “Yeah, this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” By now, I’d told him everything about their twisted love story. He knew the kind of hoops they had to jump through to get to this moment.
“Now Celeste and I both get our happy endings,” I grinned, leaning up on my tiptoes to place a light kiss on his lips.
A crystal blue ocean stretched as far as the eye could see, kissing the horizon all around us.
The sun set at Celeste’s back, bathing her in a pink effervescent glow as Iris escorted her down the aisle.
I couldn’t stop crying as I clutched the bouquet of silk flowers in my hand, waiting for her up at the alter as her matron of honor.
Nana and Marla both had wads of tissues clutched in their hands.
Just like I predicted, Wes had been pacing like a lunatic right up until the moment that Iris and Celeste stepped out onto the deck.
The moment he spotted them, though, his lips puckered as he fought back his own stream of tears.
Zeke kept a hand on Wes’ shoulder as if grounding him, standing stoically beside him as his best man.
The moment my best friends had wanted since they were thirteen years old finally arrived.
Iris, the world’s most perfect god daughter, stood between them, holding both of their hands in hers.
And as they recited their vows to one another, an eternal promise to love and cherish one another until death parted them, I locked eyes with Zeke, a proud smile on both our faces.
It might not have been our wedding, but I renewed my promise to love that man until the end of time right along with Celeste.
We all cheered when they took their first kiss as husband and wife, even the ship captain who married them. Wes looked mesmerized the whole time, like taking his eyes off Celeste might make the whole thing disappear.
We trailed down the stairs to the public deck below where there was already a party in full swing.
A DJ played pop music poolside. Zeke, Marla, and I danced with Iris while Celeste and Wes slow danced in each other’s arms, lost to their own music.
The party continued well into the night until Nana and Iris both fell asleep on chaises.
Our turn to dance as a couple finally arrived later in the night. Zeke spun me out before pulling me back into a dancer’s hold as a slower ballad came on. My cheeks would likely hurt by morning because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled so much.
This was my family. Celeste and I might not have been born sisters, but we were sisters in all the ways that counted. Marla might as well have been a mother to me. Iris—and any other kids Wes and Celeste deigned to bless us with—was the perfect substitute for children of my own.
And of course, there was Zeke. The exact person I needed, who still proved every day just how right Barb was. Love was a verb. Love meant choosing that person, day in and day out, even when they struggled, even when you fell to your lowest point.
Zeke saved me in more ways than I could count.
He gave love a definition, and that definition set me free.
I no longer cringed when I looked in the mirror.
I no longer died a little inside when Celeste or Marla assumed I wanted something sugary to eat.
Nobody knew me as “boy crazy Maggie” anymore; now I was respected as the wife of a soldier.
We would celebrate seven years of marriage in a few months, and there wasn’t a single thing I would change about our life.
A shooting star streaked across the sky above our heads. It happened so fast I almost thought I imagined it until Zeke gasped, too.
“I could get used to family vacations like this, Trouble,” Zeke whispered.
“Sounds like our new normal to me,” I agreed. “Count me in.”
THE END