Epilogue
Ihope she’s okay.
She’s going to be okay. Or at least I try to convince myself so. Amani’s feeling much better lately.
Her pregnancy has been miserable, to say the least. She spent the first five months cradling the toilet. She barely started eating again when the doctor put her on bedrest after she had some spotting. That was a really fucking scary night.
But now, she’s even back to work for Rychess Media, working happily from bed, cozy under the sheets. With my wife as comfortable as she can be, and my baby healthy and safe, I have to get some work done. I need to visit LMC Talent Agency in person because I am less than pleased with the requirements of Chase’s new offer. Dynasty Man was a major success. One movie turned into a trilogy, with cameos in all the other franchise movies.
While it means a lot of money for Chase, his travel schedule is ridiculous. He has a two-year-old daughter, and he’s trying to expand his family with Noa. Being away for ten months out of the year is not an option. A husband should be with his wife, and apparently, I’m going to need to spell this out for his agents in person.
With my suitcase in hand, rolling behind me, I’m almost out the door of my building when my phone rings. I assume it’s Amani, so I halt in place and scramble for my phone.
“Hello?” I answer without checking the caller ID.
But it’s not Amani. “Hey, Son.”
“Dad,” I exclaim. “Hey. How are you? Wait—” Pulling the phone from my ear, I press the video button. Instantly, my dad’s face fills the screen. He’s wearing a wide grin.
“Good morning. There you are, kid. Good to see you.”
His face is full and round. Dad has put on nearly twenty pounds since I left California two years ago. All thanks to Mom’s peanut butter and lemon meringue pies.
“You look like you’re headed somewhere,” he says.
“Actually, I’m headed your way. I’m in Denver right now. I have some business in California, though. Maybe I can swing by Piermont after my meetings tonight?”
Dad’s been doing so well lately that Mom, Alex, and I have been debating moving him out of Piermont and into a house with Mom. It’s more convenient, especially because Mom visits him every day. Even on the bad days. It doesn’t matter if he remembers her or knows where they are in the timeline in their relationship, she faithfully visits him every day.
“Ah, no,” he says, waving me off. “Don’t dawdle for me. You need to hurry back home and take care of your pregnant wife. How is she feeling these days?”
I sigh, knowing he’s talking about Liv. I just play along because I’m not breaking the news to him about his condition over the phone. Let him have a few moments of peace. I’m sure Mom and Alex will be by soon. I don’t want to upset him over a call.
“She’s good, but she’s on bedrest.” I lean against the nearest wall in the building lobby.
“Any cravings?” Dad asks with a smile.
“Nothing as of late, but last month it was restaurant ranch dressing.” I cackle, remembering the time Amani asked me to swing by Wingstop and pick up her favorite ranch. She made herself a bowl of white rice and poured the ranch dressing on top. After wolfing it down, she called it gourmet.
Lately, however, she’s trying to only eat organic. She’s read one too many articles about pregnancy nutrition affecting the baby’s brain growth.
“Your mom craved nacho cheese with you. The slimy stuff that congeals when it’s at room temperature.” He widens his eyes and shakes his head. “Every day for months. Tortilla chips, nacho cheese, and pickled jalapeno peppers. Yet she wondered why her heartburn was so bad.”
Laughing lightly, I say, “Luckily, no heartburn for us, yet. We still have two months to go, though.”
“Ah,” Dad says, setting the phone down, propping it up on something I can’t see. Now his face is at an angle. “When is Amani due?”
I choke on my small gasp. “What?” I ask in shock.
“Amani,” Dad repeats. “When’s her due date?”
There’s no way. There’s no fucking way. “Who told you about Amani?”
Dad peers at me through the phone like he’s worried about my sanity. “You did. Adam, what’s wrong with you? Amani is your wife. She’s pregnant with your baby.”
IVF worked on the first round when we used donor eggs. We briefly talked about surrogacy, but in the end, Amani wanted to carry our child.
“I did? I told you? So none of the staff, not Mom or Alex mentioned Amani to you this morning?”
Dad shakes his head. His eyes lift as he turns his lips down, looking confused and sad. “Did I upset you?”
“No,” I emphasize. “No, not at all. Dad, this is huge. Can you just do me a favor and describe Amani to me?”
Right now, I wonder if Dad is getting the names mixed up. I’ve told him so many times about Amani, but it’s usually after I have to explain how Liv and I ended. I still have to catch him up on his good days, and it’s always heartbreaking. But this… This is a fresh memory he formed on his own. A contradiction to everything the doctors have been telling us is possible.
“She’s mid-height, maybe five-foot-five. Red hair. Green eyes… Light freckles.”
Running my free hand over my face, I exhale a scant breath. “Yeah, Dad. That’s right. That’s Amani. You remembered.”
He chuckles. “Why would I forget my daughter-in-law?”
I could ask what he remembers about Liv, or what age he thinks I am, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. It’s not perfect, and I’m sure his memories are hazy, but it’s a little step forward.
No, fuck it.
A big step. No, a huge step. I’m going to allow myself to hope.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah, Son?”
“If you ever feel up to traveling, Amani and I have a big condo in downtown Denver. There’s plenty of room for you and Mom to visit when the baby gets here. My door is always open for you.”
“Oh, Son. Really? I’d love that. Your mom would love that.”
“Okay, sounds good. Well, why don’t you get your day started, and I’m going to go check on my wife. We can call you together this afternoon.”
At first, Dad nods, then he scrunches his face in confusion. “Wait, I thought you had a flight to catch?”
“You know what? I’m suddenly unmotivated to work. I just want to be with my family right now.”
Dad gives me a knowing smile. “Always a good call, Son.”
* * *