Epilogue
Melissa
Exactly one year after that first trip to Saint Lucia, I woke up to the sound of Roman talkin’ to my stomach.
Well. Our stomach.
“Y’all gotta let your mama sleep,” he was sayin’, voice low and serious. “She already mean. Don’t give her a reason.”
I cracked one eye open.
He was layin’ sideways on the bed, head propped up on his hand, other palm spread warm over the little bump just startin’ to show under my shirt.
“Who you callin’ mean?” I sassed.
He looked up, mouth curvin’. “The woman tryna fight me ‘cause I’m talkin’ to my child.”
“Children,” I corrected automatically. “We not sure yet.”
He groaned. “Don’t put that on me this early in the mornin’.”
I laughed and let my head fall back into the pillow.
A year ago, I was in a different bed, on a different island, tellin’ myself I was on my hoe phase and not catchin’ feelings for nobody.
Now I was in our bed. In our house.
With his last name, a ring on my finger, and his baby in my belly.
Life be funny like that.
The ring glinted when I reached up to push my hair off my face.
It still felt new sometimes. Not the weight, but the meaning of it all.
I was a Wife. Mrs. Blake to be exact.
I never thought I’d be anybody’s forever on paper.
We didn’t even do some big crazy wedding. After Royce and April’s day, everybody assumed we’d want that too, but I didn’t. Roman offered. I could tell part of him wanted to give me that, just to say he did.
But I wanted simple.
We did a courthouse, family dinner after at Nana’s. I wore a white dress that wasn’t even that serious, he wore a suit that made me almost change my last name right there in the hallway.
It was small, and real, and perfect for us.
We celebrated big later, of course, ‘cause our people don’t know how to be quiet, but the vows themselves? Just us, Nana, Royce, a piece of paper, and God.
That was enough.
“You still starin’ at the ring?” Roman asked, hand skatin’ up from my stomach to my fingers.
“I’m starin’ at your ashy knuckles,” I lied.
He lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed right where the band sat.
“Too late,” he said. “You married now. You stuck.”
I rolled my eyes, but my chest warmed up the way it always did when he said it.
He shifted up the bed, leanin’ over me, his face a little older around the eyes but still fine as hell.
A lot had changed in a year.
Some things stayed the same.
“You good?” he asked, automatic.
“Little nauseous,” I admitted. “Little happy. Little scared.”
He nodded like that made sense. “That about sums this whole year up.”
After we finally dragged ourselves outta bed, I stepped out onto our balcony with my tea, watchin’ the city wake up.
It was the same view from before.
But my life under it was different.
Roman came out a minute later, slidin’ in behind me, arms wrappin’ around my waist from behind.
His hands met over my bump.
We stood there quiet.
“You really sold all that hot shit, huh?” I said, thinkin’ about the last year.
He hummed. “Mhm. Clubs that ain’t clean? Gone. Little street ventures? Wrapped up. Lawyer said I’m almost boring now.”
“Impossible,” I said.
He laughed against my neck.
“I did it for me,” he added. “But I’d be lyin’ if I said you and them ain’t part of it.”
“Them,” I repeated, hand coverin’ his.
Our baby. Maybe babies. We’d find out soon.
A tiny flutter moved under my palm, like they could hear us talkin’.
My throat got tight.
“You scared?” he asked softly.
“Yeah,” I said. “But not like before.”
“How now, then?”
“I’m not scared of you no more,” I said. “I’m scared… with you. There’s a difference.”
He tightened his hold on me.
“I can live with that,” he mumbled.
Inside, Mo’s pictures still sat on the dresser.
Right next to them now, though, there were more.
One from Royce and April’s wedding, me and Roman dancin’, my cheek pressed to his chest, his eyes closed like he was somewhere safe.
One from the little courthouse day, me holdin’ our certificate, him kissin’ my forehead while Nana cheesed hard in the background.
And one ultrasound photo, taped crooked to the corner of the mirror, right where I’d see it every time I checked myself before leavin’ the room.
He hadn’t moved her to make space for us.
He’d built around his past with our present, and our future.
All on the same wall.
For a girl who used to think she had to be the only one or nothin’, that kind of balance felt like the loudest proof of love he could’ve given me.
“I used to think this was impossible,” I said, still watchin’ the city as his chin rested on my shoulder.
“What?” he asked.
“Lettin’ somebody have this much of me without losin’ myself,” I said. “Havin’ somethin’ to look forward to that ain’t just a vacation or a check. Wakin’ up scared and still feelin’… loved.”
He kissed the side of my neck.
“You still long-winded,” he said. “But I get you.”
“You love me,” I corrected.
“That too,” he said.
I smiled, leanin’ back into him.
I wasn’t na?ve.
I knew bein’ married to a man like Roman Blake, raisin’ babies with him in this crazy ass world, was gon’ come with its own storms.
We still had triggers.
Still had nights where sleep didn’t come easy.
Still had moments where fear tried to grab the wheel.
But we’d learned how to talk before we burned.
How to reach instead of run.
How to let love be loud without lettin’ it be violent.
That was our life-changing thing.
Not the ring or the baby.
The choice we made every day to stay.
“You good?” he asked one more time, ‘cause he couldn’t help himself.
I looked down at our hands on my stomach, then out at the city that had seen all my worst versions.
“Yeah,” I said, and this time I meant it from the deepest part of me. “We good.”
Scared and in love. While buildin’ a family.
And finally, finally, at peace with all of it.