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The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur. Rings are exchanged; more words are said. Finally, as I hold Kara in my arms, the minister announces, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your brides, gentlemen.”
Kara and I laugh, our arms around each other. I tenderly tuck a golden ringlet behind her ear. Then, I capture her mouth in a tender, passionate kiss imbued with love.
But suddenly, the two most important women in my life do something strange. They break away from our kisses, and then link hands.
“It’s not over quite yet,” Bailey announces to the crowd. She holds Christopher’s hand in one, and Kara’s in the other. Then, my bride takes my hand, while Chris and I stare in confusion at each other across the dais. “We just wanted to say…” Kara begins.
“We’re pregnant again!” Bailey and Kara cry in unison, holding their clasped hands aloft. As they embrace and cry, the crowd gasps, then cheers, many people standing and applauding as the keyboardist begins to play. Even my baby girl Rosie is clapping her little hands together, a sight that fills my heart with overwhelming love. I already know she’s going to be a great big sister.
My beautiful bride turns to me, smiling joyfully.
“Are you happy, Rick?” she whispers, pressing a kiss to my stunned mouth. “I know you want more children.”
I nod, clasping her form tight. To my surprise, my cheeks are wet, as I embrace the woman I love.
“Our life together,” I whisper, “is perfect.”
Flower petals drift from the surrounding blossoms as we enter the house, ready to celebrate our happy ending at last.Epilogue 2KaraFive years later.
“Rosie? Do you want ketchup or mustard on your cheeseburger?”
“Both!” my five-year-old proclaims. After a moment, and a raised eyebrow from me, she triumphantly adds, “Please!”
Everyone laughs at her belated politeness, and I stoop to give her a kiss on her round cheek. She pretends to wipe it away, but then winks at me with a big brown eye, and dashes off to go play hide and seek with Norman. Her cheeseburger has been promptly forgotten, and I shake my head. That girl has a mind of her own, although to be fair, I certainly did when I was her age, too.
Rick and I recently moved into a bigger house to support our growing family. Rose just turned five, and Laila, three and a half (she’s very insistent about celebrating half-birthdays). We don’t know the sex of our third child yet, but we’re both secretly hoping for a little boy. There’s a lot of estrogen in our house right now, and I know Rick would love to have a son.
Bailey and Christopher also moved, and now, they live just a few houses down. They’ve got two boys, Norman and Noah, and our families hang out a lot. Right now, the kids are running around our fenced-in backyard, chased periodically by our big scruffy dog, Rufus. We wives relax in lawn chairs on our newly finished deck, while the men grill hot dogs and burgers. Rose and Norman start kindergarten in a month, and we’re all enjoying our time together during this lazy summer afternoon.
“Can I have burger, mommy?” Laila appears at my side, tugging at my shirt sleeve. She’s the spitting image of me as a kid, all long limbs and silky blonde hair. I kiss the tip of her nose, and she giggles.
“You wanted a hot dog, remember?” I prompt.
“Oh, yeah! That’s okay, too.” She nods, pleased with herself, and toddles over to the grill where Christopher and Rick stand.
“That kid gets cuter and cuter every day,” Bailey remarks, grinning at me from the chair beside mine. A magazine lays in her lap, and she’s drinking a glass of white wine. I eye it enviously; sometimes, while pregnant, I can’t help but miss a glass of zinfandel.
Following my gaze, Bailey smiles sympathetically. “You want another Diet Coke? I’ll get it for you,” she says.
“No, Bails, I can get it!” I protest, but she waves away my words, already on her feet. This is the first time we haven’t been pregnant at the same time, and while I miss that bond, it is nice to have another person to wait on me when my feet are sore.
Bailey retrieves a can of Diet Coke from the cooler and hands it to me, settling herself back in her chair. Just then, Rick and Christopher head our way, bearing paper plates of burgers, hot dogs, and potato chips. I’m always astonished at how gorgeous my husband looks, especially when he’s wearing casual clothes. His chestnut hair is swept back off his forehead, and he’s even more fit than before with wide shoulders and a swimmer’s toned chest. He says it’s because he has two kids to chase after, and I joke with him that a third is going to turn him into Mr. Olympia.
