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Epilogue
Chrissy
Eight months later.
The hospital room is decorated until there are practically no empty surfaces left. Several vases of fresh cut flowers adorn the windowsill and side table, while bundles of silvery balloons float around merrily. But I ignore it all as happiness crashes through my chest.
After all, I just went through an exhausting 40-hour labor to deliver my girls, and finally, I have the precious bundles snuggled against my chest. Collette’s wide eyes are open and an intense, deep blue. Meanwhile, Cassidy is taking the lull in the action as a chance to rest, her tiny pink lips parted ever so slightly. Each little girl has a shock of jet-black hair, just like their dads.
It was grueling bringing them into the world, but now, I can finally relax and embrace my new role as “Mom.”
Suddenly, there’s a soft knock at the door and Rick and Ryder come in, carrying delicious smelling takeout and even more balloons.
“Did you guys buy every single balloon in the city?” I ask with a gentle giggle. Secretly, however, I love how they spoil me.
Rick nods as he plants a tender kiss on my forehead. “Just about. They had no more at Shop Rite, so we went to Walgreens.”
I giggle. “Oh you!” I laugh. “The last thing I need is more balloons. I can’t even see out the windows!”
Ryder merely leans forward to press a kiss to my brow as well.
“Nothing but the best for our girl. Plus, we brought you a treat,” he says while pulling a box from one of the takeout bags. “Ham and cheese on rye, with all the fixings. It’s from that deli on 72nd Street that you love. You know, the one with the red and white awning?”
I brighten as hunger suddenly crashes over my form.
“Oh my gosh, take these babies and give me that panini!” I laugh. “I need it! It’s been way too long since I’ve had deli meat.”
Rick laughs heartily as he takes the sleeping Cassidy from my arms. “We know, we know. You kept saying that as you delivered the girls. You’d get a contraction and scream, “Pastrami!” Then another one, and you’d shriek, “Corned beef!””
Meanwhile, Ryder leans down to scoop Collette from my arms. “Or you’d say something like “Smoked beef, sauerkraut and rye!”” he jokes.
I merely giggle and unwrap the sandwich, my mouth already watering with anticipation. “Wow,” I say blissfully, biting into one. “This really hits the spot.”
My men laugh, cuddling their daughters closer as I savor my me-time with my sandwich. But then, Ryder speaks with a smile.
“We called Fred,” he said. “He’s a proud gramps and excited to meet his new granddaughters.”
It warms my heart to hear that Fred is excited for his new role as grandparent because after his heart attack, I feared for his health. Ryder and Rick told me there was no long term damage, but with someone who’s in their 70’s, you can never be too sure. Fortunately, the twins were right, and after the scare, Fred made a vow to take better care of his health. He’s got a physical therapist and a personal trainer now, and he looks as happy, healthy, and fit as can be.
Of course, it helps that we visit a lot from New York City. After ascertaining their dad was going to be okay, Ryder and Rick decided to return to their hometown.
“What does that mean?” I asked tentatively. “You know I’m pregnant.”
Immediately, the twins shot hard looks my way.
“You’re coming with us,” Ryder growled. “There’s room for you at the penthouse, sweetheart. There’s room for you and a dozen babies, if you want.”
“Besides, we’re not going to take no for an answer,” added Rick. “You belong to us now. You and the babies both.”
As a result, we live full-time in NYC now, and it’s wonderful. Ryder and Rick own an enormous apartment in the sky with five bedrooms, and they have a full staff as well, including a driver, housekeeper, chef, and now, a nanny too. But even better, they manage Ayema as co-CEO’s and have also installed me as Vice President of Creative. I haven’t gotten into my role much yet, since I’ve been out on maternity leave, but in the next few years, I’m really looking forward to guiding Ayema by Chrissy into the stratosphere. Our launch was a huge success, and orders are pouring in for my saucy lingerie from all over the globe.
But then, Ryder’s voice goes neutral.
“Did you want us to text Angela?” he asks. “It’s your choice, honey. Just let me know what you want us to do.”
I think for a moment. My mom disappeared after Fred had his heart attack. She literally strolled out of the restaurant and never came back, probably because she was afraid she caused his heart attack with her incendiary actions. Nor were there any follow up calls to find out his condition, nor any cards or well-wishes. You can’t expect more of Angela though, because that’s just how she is.
