Epilogue Two Years Later Lexi
Epilogue Two Years Later
Lexi
On the patio, I scoot a little lower under the umbrella to shade my face from the sun and flip to the next page of my murder mystery book.
Two days left before I go back to work after a few weeks off, and I’m soaking up the relaxation as much as possible.
The patio door slides open, and Justin steps out after saying the world’s longest goodbye to Mia.
After chatting earlier for over an hour with Zane – who’s finally taking that Portugal vacation they’ve always wanted to – I think my husband’s been on the phone today more than off.
My husband. Swoon.
When he finally hangs up, he crosses the deck and hands me a lemonade.
Marrying Justin is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Marrying a person who cooks and makes fresh lemonade – bonus.
‘Why does the vision of you reading a book kill me?’ he says, pulling up a chair in front of me.
‘Hmmm,’ I say, taking a hefty gulp of the tangy drink. ‘Should I be insulted?’
He scoops my legs onto his lap and brushes his hands across my calves.
I’m completely insatiable. His touch sends a shiver up my back, and I think of all the delicious ways he can use those hands on me.
Two years after we got together, and still every brush of his finger, tongue, hand, anything, makes me want him more.
‘Let me clarify,’ he says. ‘I’m not surprised you’re reading. I just thought you’d be reading gun manuals or something equally as boring.’
‘You’re an ass.’ I scowl, withholding the fact that the last book I read was, in fact, a firearm manual.
His hands slide from outside my calves to inside, his thumbs graze past my knees and work their way up my inner thighs.
‘How’s Mia?’ I ask.
‘Buzzkill.’ He drops his hands and reaches for the lemonade. ‘You cannot bring up my sister when I’m trying to get dirty.’
‘That’s what you get for being mean.’
He scowls. ‘She’s good. Close to settling on dates for a visit.
But she was just promoted to manager at the coffee shop and needs to work through some training issues.
And it sounds like with her girlfriend’s pre-med exams, she was stressing out about coming on this trip.
’ He leans back on the chair. ‘My money is more on Mia not wanting to leave her girlfriend and less on her not wanting to take off from work.’
Now that I’ve found this – with Justin – I understand that sentiment.
When I was with Katey, I loved her, of course.
She was my everything. But it didn’t feel like this.
Nothing has ever felt like this. In the past, I was fine being whisked across the country away from Katey and only seeing each other a few days a week.
But now, being with Justin every second this last month is still not enough.
I miss him when he’s sitting right next to me.
‘Hey, what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?’
‘I’m so nervous about this afternoon,’ I say, tossing the book on the table. ‘What if they hate me? What if they think I’m the worst choice in the world, and laugh me out of the room?’
Justin brings me into his chest, and I melt against his embrace. ‘Hey, hey. You’re ready. We’re ready. And they’re going to fucking love you.’
God, I hope so.
But, there’s more than being nervous about this afternoon.
I’m nervous about after this afternoon. After getting married last year, I significantly cut back on my hours.
Even though Justin has begged me a million times to retire completely, I can’t.
But working a few weekends a month seems to give me the career fulfillment I need, while allowing me time to spend with my husband.
And as much as Justin wanted to cut back on hours, and as much as I travel with him, he’s committed to so many projects that I feel our time together slipping.
His current location is in LA which makes things easier.
But his next one is in Paris and my gut twists every time I think of him being gone for three months in a different country.
‘Three months with you on location is a lot … and we have to navigate everything …’ I move to snuggle into his chest. The warmth of his body presses against me, calming me.
When he pulls back, he picks up my hand. ‘I didn’t want to tell you this until dinner tonight. I wanted it to be a surprise,’ he says, holding my hand and kissing the inner wrist. ‘But I pulled out of my next project.’
‘What?’ I sit upright, searching his eyes. This can’t be right. Justin’s set to start working on a bank heist thriller three weeks after this film wraps, with his dream director. He’s been talking about this for the last year when he got offered the role. ‘Why would you pull out?’
‘Because Paris is too far away from you,’ he says. ‘You’re all that I need. Not a movie credit.’
I scan his face, his body, reading if there’s any hint of hesitation or regret. There’s none. ‘Have you really thought about this? What if you need more?’
‘Lexi.’ He leans forward, his fingers grazing my arms. ‘You are my everything. I can’t breathe without you. You are more than enough. You’re an infinite amount of enough.’
The words sink deep, reaching my soul. But pulling out of this project worries the shit out of me, and what if he regrets it and turns resentful? ‘You didn’t have to pull out of the movie for me.’
‘I didn’t do it for you.’ His lips curve up and his gaze dashes between mine. ‘I did it for me.’
And just like that, every shred of insecurity I carry vanishes. He swipes a piece of hair from my face and kisses my forehead. ‘I love you.’
My entire being glows. ‘I love you, too.’
I pull him into me and press my lips against him, kissing him as my body fills with relief and gratitude. I kiss him with my promises and my heart and my soul.
He checks his watch. ‘Should we hop in the shower then head out?’
I glance at the time. We have two hours before we need to be there, and its less than a twenty-minute drive. ‘Hmmm … maybe I’m not the only one who’s nervous.’
A soft chuckle releases from his mouth. ‘It’s not nerves. It’s excitement.’ When I lift my brow, he laughs and throws up his hands. ‘Okay, okay. It’s nerves. Come on, I don’t want to be late.’
***
‘Mr and Mrs Greenwood?’ A woman with a clipboard calls out, and me and Justin leap from the faded pleather chairs in the lobby. ‘Right this way, please.’
‘My last name is Morgan,’ I say, as flutters terrorize my stomach. I grip Justin’s hand, and we follow the woman down the hall. He gives me a squeeze and whispers in my ear to breathe. Good call, because I’m pretty sure I haven’t since we stepped into this place.
‘Ack. Sorry about that. With so many volunteers, I’m afraid we’re thrown back to the ’70s where we assume all married couples have the same last name.’ The woman smiles through her puffy, exhausted eyes.
‘No worries at all,’ I say. ‘I only wanted to clarify. Make sure to dot every I and cross every T.’ I don’t mention this, but I also had Zane read over everything, twice, to make sure I didn’t miss anything. And I almost asked them for a third review.
‘I gathered that from your paperwork.’ The woman opens the door to the florescent light-lit conference room reminiscent of an elementary school lunchroom, smelling vaguely of old carpet rugs and bitter coffee. ‘I think yours was the most thorough application we’ve had in years.’
‘My wife has an impeccable attention for detail,’ Justin says proudly as we enter the room. I scan the place, Justin nods and smiles at other couples, and we pull up to sit in the metal folding chairs resting against long tables.
‘Grab some coffee and cookies, take your spots and open your folders to read the syllabus for today,’ the woman says.
I release a soft breath and open the folder laying on the table. This is actually happening.
‘You ready for this?’ Justin whispers with his face glowing.
‘More ready than I’ve been for anything in my life. But I’m so nervous,’ I whisper back. And I am. Besides marrying Justin, nothing but this moment has felt more right, more aligned, more perfect ever before in my life. I’m terrified that I’m going to do something to mess it up.
At the front of the room, the woman projects a PowerPoint presentation on the large screen on the wall and smiles warmly at the group. ‘Thank you all for coming today. Your background checks, social worker home visits and psychology exams were approved and uploaded.’
She looks at the screen and flips to the next slide.
‘Welcome to Adoption Essentials, Parenting 101. We are so excited to have you here to help facilitate the next part of your family journey!’
As the woman continues with her presentation, my anxiety spirals. What if they don’t accept us? What if there is no child available? What if the birth mother chooses another family?
When my parents adopted me, did my dad’s legs bounce under the table, and was my mom praying the rosary? I’ve asked them a million questions since Justin and I decided to adopt, but I failed to ask if they were so nervous during the interview they felt like passing out.
I exhale a constricted breath and try to take in the moment. If I can be half as good of a parent as mine were to me, I’ll be doing something right.
Justin squeezes my leg under the table, then puts his mouth to my ear. ‘We got this,’ he whispers. ‘And you are going to be the best mom in the word.’
And just like that, the fears melt. I’m not sure if I’ll be the best mom in the world. But I do believe Justin when he says ‘we got this’. With him by my side, I’m fearless.
Since Justin came into my life, I thought I was here to save him.
Turns out, he saved me.