Epilogue
JACK
ONE YEAR LATER …
Emmeline isn’t predictable, but she likes to follow a schedule when she travels.
I had to get used to it. She usually has plans, and I have to use a trick or two to rearrange them.
A week in New York with her always feels like a day.
There’s so much to do and not enough time.
Tonight, we’re supposed to eat at some fancy Japanese restaurant.
It’s new, and she used her connections to get us a table.
She thinks she wants to go there when in reality, she would enjoy going to Hakubi a lot more. It’s one of the best, hidden, traditional Japanese restaurants in NYC.
“When do I get my special present?” she asks as we walk along Park Avenue toward Thirty-eighth.
“The food isn’t enough?”
“I gave up a reservation at the best restaurant in Manhattan, Jackson Spearman, because you offered a special present.”
When we arrive at the Kitano, where the restaurant is, she narrows her gaze and shakes her head.
The hostess nods as we arrive and when I give her my last name, she tilts her head for us to follow her.
“Do you know her?”
“Shh, you’re spoiling the surprise,” I say in a low voice.
As we arrive in the private room, Em gasps. The area has a small table at the center with pillows around it for us to sit. Tea lights and cherry blossoms adorn the room.
“This is beautiful,” she says.
She takes in the entire space and stops when she sees me on one knee.
“Jack,” she says and brings her hand to her mouth.
“I love you, Emmeline. We’re not a fairy tale or part of a fantasy.
We’re a reality. A love story that we write every day.
Our story built slowly, in two different worlds, with two different hearts, fusing into just one big love.
Our story is rare, imperfect, and unexplainable at times.
We can’t control it. It’s filled with love and magic, which are inexplicable.
It’s confusing, complicated and messy but beautiful.
I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, getting to know everything about you.
Life can’t get better than this. Having a woman who challenges me, sends me naughty texts, helps me with my company and allows me to be her companion.
Emmeline Lancaster, would you marry me?”
“Yes!” she says. Her eyes tear, and she loops her arms around my neck.
“I love you so much, Jack Spearman.” She kisses me, unable to contain her tears. “This is the best birthday week in the entire history of the world.”
She takes out a small box from her purse and says, “Happy Birthday, Jack. I’m glad we got this out of the way before my present.”
The box is thin and large. It could fit a watch. I look at the Bvlgari she gifted me last Christmas. There’s an inscription on the back that reads: There’s always time for love, Em.
When I open it, my eyes bulge at the sight of a white stick with two pink lines on the small screen. “Are we?”
“I know a pregnancy test doesn’t seem like much but—”
“It’s as amazing as you saying, yes to becoming my wife.” I lift her from the floor and crush my mouth to hers.
I never knew how much I wanted a family of my own until I met Emmeline.
“When is she arriving?”
“According to my calculations she was conceived in Bora Bora.” She gives me a sultry smile. “Not that we planned it, but I’m so happy.”
We decided to stop using protection a week after she moved in with me. Right after our first trip to New York, a year ago. She was on the pill, but she stopped taking it last June since we learned it takes about a year or two for her body to detoxify from the effects. I guess her system is faster.
“You make me the happiest man alive.”
“I love you forever, Jack.”
EMMELINE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Monday, March 4th, 7:32 a.m.
It’s been two years since Jackson Spearman came to my life. I wasn’t ready for him. Nothing I’ve read or lived had prepared me for what we experienced. He didn’t arrive with a warning. He knocked me off my feet. He’s everything that I want, tender, playful, both wicked and flawed.
Love is unpredictable and transcends as you grow. But some things never change. I want him more and more every day. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone and crave him intensely, I can’t get enough of him.
He’s the best husband I could’ve asked for. We aren’t perfect, and our relationship is far from a fairy tale. He said it when he proposed and with his vows. This story isn’t a fantasy. Our love story is real, filled with magic, love, and lots of flaws.
I wouldn’t change him or the life we share for anything. I can’t imagine not spending time beside him, curled up against his body as I listen to his heartbeat and trace lines across his skin.
As my company grows and my belly along with it, I’ve been delegating a lot of responsibilities.
In ten weeks, I’m going to become a full-time mom.
At least for a year, afterward I’ll decide how to handle motherhood and my career.
I should be savvy enough to balance both.
Jackson and I agree that our children will always come first.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I ask as I enter the kitchen.
“You looked peaceful,” he answers scribbling something.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
Before I sit next to him, I pour hot water into my favorite mug and prepare my daily tea.
“I’m filling out the questionnaire,” he answers. “It’s a couple of years overdue, but I thought I should do it today.”
Walking toward him, I recognize the format and grunt.
“Jackson Spearman,” I protest.
“That’s my name,” he answers, tapping the first question.
I take it away from him and read it out loud.
“Nicknames?” I ask
“My family calls me Jack. My wife calls me wise-ass, insufferable, and the love of my life,” he answers with a wink.
“How would you like me to call you?”
“Jack, but if we’re in bed and you happen to be tied to it, you should definitely call me Mr. Spearman.”
“Favorite food?”
“I still love Rueben sandwiches, but I’ve developed a taste for sushi.”
“Meow,” Ramen protests and jumps on the table.
“You’re still my number one, sweetheart,” Jack says, scratching her chin.
“Hobbies,” he says and smirks, “my wife.”
“I’m your hobby?” I protest.
“I like to do you over anything else,” he says with a voice that melts me and makes me wet.
But as usual, I go from horny to sensitive within seconds. I sniff when I read the question, how do you drink your coffee? In the mornings, with my wife.
“Babe?”
“Stupid hormones,” I complain.
He takes the paper. Then pulls me into his lap and continues reading. “Do you have any children? We’re expecting twins, ten weeks and we’ll have two precious girls.”
“I can’t wait to meet them,” I tell him, touching my round belly.
We haven’t chosen their names yet. There’s a list, but we’re still not sure which are right for them. We might have to wait until we meet them.
He bends and kisses my belly and says, “We can’t wait to meet you.” Then, he kisses me. It’s a slow, deep, toe-curling kiss. “Thank you for coming into my life.”
“I love you, Jack. Thank you for being patient with me.”
“Thank you for being mine,” he retorts.