Epilogue
I was never the kind of woman who believed in fairy tales, but I’d truly been living one for the past two years. I took a chance that I wouldn’t recommend to my daughter, but if I had to do it all over again, I’d do it again.
Although it felt like I’d been living in a dream, life had a way of reminding you that nothing was perfect. While we were on our honeymoon, I’d received several texts from my mother. I was intrigued, but not enough to respond to her while out of the country.
When we returned, I responded, and she all but begged me to meet her for lunch. I was hesitant, and my gut told me her desire to see me wasn’t genuine. I hadn’t heard from her in almost seven years, so curiosity got the best of me.
Unfortunately, my gut was right, and she wanted money. Apparently, word had gotten around to her that I’d married a rich man, and she thought the least I could do was pay her back for the eighteen years that she took care of me.
I couldn’t believe her audacity. When I mentioned her husband being responsible for taking care of her, she lost her mind. She ranted for five minutes, saying that I offered myself to him and got mad because he didn’t want me.
Ultimately, I left her in the restaurant because I couldn’t continue to listen to her lies. She sent me so many angry texts from different numbers that Kenzo ended up making me change my phone number.
Other than that situation, I had no complaints. The two years I was in school flew by, I’d become friends with a few of my classmates, and Anika had truly become my best friend. We’d grown so close that she asked me to be her matron of honor after her boyfriend proposed.
Mr. Goode and I had built a solid relationship. He’d become my sounding board when I wanted an objective opinion on something, because Kenzo was sometimes too attached to me to make informed decisions.
Mrs. Goode . . . was Mrs. Goode. We were cool, and there was no beef or tension between us. We occasionally shared a meal or went shopping together, but there was something I couldn’t quite put my finger on that still lingered between us.
The bond between Gramps and me grew stronger every day, so much so that he was the only person I told when I found out I was pregnant. He could barely contain his excitement when I told him the news, but he promised he wouldn’t tell a soul, and he was true to his word as far as I knew.
“What did you say?” Kenzo questioned.
“I’m pregnant.”
This time, his head jerked up, and his eyes popped open. His hands moved from my ass to my waist, and he held on tight as he fucked me from the bottom.
“You’re having my baby, baby?”
“Yes. In about thirty-two weeks, we’ll be somebody’s parents, . . . and I’m about to cum!”
His strokes remained deep and never slowed. I grabbed a handful of the front of his shirt and held on for dear life. My breasts bounced up and down in his face as my pussy pulsed around his dick.
“Fuck, Lyah. I love you. I love you so fucking much, baby.”
“I know, and I love you too.”
His dick throbbed against my walls as he filled me with his seeds. Our story wasn’t supposed to end this way, but you never knew how things would play out when love takes over.
THE END