56. Epilogue
Samantha
“Good evening, Nina,” I say. “Is my husband still here?”
I’m speaking to his secretary, who is beginning to gather her things.
“Yes, he is. Still in his office.”
“Thank you. Have a good evening.”
“You too.”
I walk to his office and knock on the door.
“Come in.”
“Good evening, my husband,” I say with a smile.
“Sam—what are you doing here?”
He glances at the time, embarrassed. He didn’t see the hours go by.
The Sam I used to be might have taken this as a lack of attention.
Today, I know him better. My husband is a recovering workaholic.
He’s working on himself to make me—us—his priority, but sometimes, like tonight, he slips.
I’ve learned to smile at it, and I know how to bring him back into line.
I walk around his desk, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him softly.
“The baby and I are hungry,” I say with a smile, resting a hand on my rounded belly.
He smiles, shuts down his computer, and gathers his things.
“In that case,” he says, “let’s go feed the loves of my life.”
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