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“I’ve checked and re-checked, and everything is done.”
“Chris?” I tried again, with a sharper tone. Evidently, it wasn’t enough to pull his attention away from his spinning top of a brain.
“Security system is enabled. Movers are ready. The last of our books don’t get in until we’re all back in the city. Also, I double confirmed vendors for Saturday, and nobody has the audacity to forget or be late.”
“Christopher?”
“I confirmed with Max, and the last of the security system went in this morning.”
“Christopher!” At last, the line went silent, my mind vaguely aware of the click of my heels and purr of countless rolling rubber wheels against the hard floor. “Everything is accounted for. You may now clock off, my friend. Pour a margarita. Get a massage. Or a good lay. I don’t care which, just breathe while you do it.”
“Everything is accounted for,” he echoed back, and I laughed at the breathless panic in his voice.
‘Chaos’ would be an understatement for the last six months of espresso-fueled madness. It turns out that having a breakdown after abandoning the love of your life to an inquisition of feral piranha siblings and spontaneously deciding it was a good day to learn how to delegate… was a lot harder than it sounded.
But I’d done it. Or… begun to, at least.
With Chris already in the city, and Pax, Max, and Mara all on board, my brother headed to Manhattan in December to approve the building, and I’d simply…let go. Free fell off the cliff of anal retention into the flight labeled ‘trust your team’. The biggest problem was getting the disgusting mix of fluids to stop leaking from various orifices of my face. Snot. Tears. Probably some stray saliva. It was the ugliest ugly cry of my life, made more humiliating by the fact that it took place in an airport.
Reuniting with Broderick in the waiting area had thrown me for a fucking loop, and the water works began all over again until I’d soaked through his shirt.
It turns out, all the success in the world wouldn’t mean shit if I didn’t have him to share it with. Evidently, he agreed, because while he held me to his chest, sitting on the filthy floor of the Tampa airport, Broderick Allen asked me to be his wife. Post haste. My enthusiastic acceptance and our rather inappropriate public—but not actually very public—lip lock had earned a congratulatory round of applause from the limited remaining staffers.
And so, my real life finally began.
With Paxton and Mara on location, we’d unanimously forged ahead with the new building, and signed our first network deal after Lionel’s meticulous review and approval.
In the months since, we’d grown, trained and honed the team. Broderick gracefully declined tenure and submitted his notice that after the academic year, he would be moving on to new adventures.
As if tackling our big, hairy, audacious vision wasn’t enough, the team had also helped me plan the perfect intimate wedding back home, where I could finally marry the love of my fucking life. After all, we’d waited seventeen years to be together. It was time for the wait to end.
With the school year and filming both starting in August, what better time to tie the knot than right after the academic year ended, but just before the fishing season started?
“Okay,” Chris breathed, somehow more flustered sounding than I was.
“Hey, I have dibs on the frantic, panicked bride role today.”
“You get that for one day only.” He cleared his throat, the smile obvious when he asked, “You gonna tell him the big news before the wedding?”
“That’s a hard yes, my man.” Finally taking a deep breath of rather stale smelling air, I checked and double checked the gate number before slinking into the stiff seat. “Lord knows I can’t be within proximity of that man before I blurt out anything significant these days. Mama Marley also seems to have just as innate a sense for detecting malarky as her husband.” Broderick’s parents had been just as—if not more—supportive of our relationship as mine had been. Once the initial shock wore off, our families celebrated over video chats in the weirdest long-distance family barbeque in history. It was kinda cute, though, despite feeling absurd propping multiple phones on the dining room table.
Robert in particular had hugged me so tightly the first time I made it back to Mistyvale that I thought I might suffocate. When he released me, his eyes had been glossy with something like pride. According to him, I was just like his mama, and she would’ve loved me like her own. Before I knew it, both Broderick and I were teary-eyed right along with him.
“Kept enough secrets for one life, boss?”
“You can say that again.”
“But I won’t.”
“Thanks for that. So. I’ll see you tomorrow, right? You’re not bailing on me?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Thanks Chris.”
“You got it, boss.”
“No, but like. Thank you, Chris. I couldn’t have done all this without you.”
