Epilogue
One Year Later
Solange
Dean bends to my level and plants a soft kiss on the back of my neck. “Baby, we can’t be late for this.”
“I know,” I say, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I prepare for a virtual chat with Layla. “This’ll only take a few minutes, and then we’ll go.”
He sighs. “I’ll believe that when it happens.”
Dean has a point. Layla and I do tend to lose track of time during our weekly calls.
When I start my video, Layla’s already in the meeting room, and I wave wildly at the camera. “Tell me everything. How’d it go? Were you nervous? What kinds of questions did they ask? When will they make the decision?”
“Slow down, Solange,” she says on a laugh. “I’ll never be able to remember what I’m supposed to tell you.”
“You’re right,” I say, grimacing apologetically. “Let’s try this again. How’d it go?”
Layla has her GED now. Yesterday, she interviewed for a pilot program that would pay her to shadow a paralegal. She’s in it for the long haul, and so am I.
She fills me in, explaining that she expects to hear back from the program by the end of next week.
I clap effusively. “Eeep! Please don’t wait until our regular Saturday morning call to tell me the news. Send me a text as soon as you know.”
“I will,” she says, her eyes bright and hopeful. “Thanks for telling me about the opportunity. And for always being my sounding board.”
“Of course, Layla. It truly is my pleasure.”
I absolutely mean that too. My role as her mentor. My role at Victory Academy. These are responsibilities I don’t take lightly, and I’m honored that I get to guide these wonderfully deserving young people. It isn’t always easy, but even when I experience a hiccup, I never second-guess my decision to align my future with theirs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I track Dean’s movements in the kitchen. He’s dressed in a gray three-piece suit, and his hair is still wet from the shower he took minutes ago. Muttering to himself, he searches the cabinets.
“It’s in the one above the dishwasher,” I tell him before I return my attention to Layla. To her, I say: “Okay, my dear, I need to go. The wedding’s due to start in an hour.”
Layla gives me a thumbs-up, then blows me a kiss. I mimic her farewell and close the Zoom app. As soon as I do, Dean presses the power button on the handheld blender I gave him last Christmas, and its god-awful whirring noise fills the room.
I wait for him to finish before I speak. “What are you—”
The noise resumes, then stops.
“What are you making—”
Again with the whirring. Which he’s plainly doing on purpose.
I look up and narrow my eyes at him. “Oh my God, are you a toddler?”
“I’m happy,” he says, his smile broadening so wide I want to drag him into the bedroom. For a few seconds, I contemplate a quickie. Something in my eyes must give my thoughts away, because he sets the blender down and leans against the counter, as if he knows I’m bound to join him.
He’s right.
As I slink across the room, I catalog his appearance, taking special note of the wicked curve of his smile and the way the cut of his vest complements his lean frame.
This man is my partner. Pinch me, someone.
That warm, fuzzy feeling he was so averse to when we first met? It’s a constant in my life these days. He stirs it in me; I stir it in him.
“I’m making us smoothies to go,” he says, his expression wary as he watches me approach.
“I can see that,” I say, crowding his personal space. Unable to resist, I settle my thumb at the corner of his mouth and draw it across his lips.
He moans into my hand, his hazel eyes sparking with heat and promise. “Solange, we’re going to be late. And you’ll mess up my hair.”
I reach up to touch his carefully arranged locks, but he slaps my hand away.
“Don’t,” he says, his voice quivering dramatically. “It took me forever to get it to behave.”
I can’t help snorting. “Okay, you win. For now. When we get home tonight, though . . .”
His eyelids fall to half-mast, and he pulls me close. “Have I told you lately how much I enjoy hearing you call this your home?”
Pretending to think about his question, I tap my chin and study the ceiling. “Only every day since I moved in.”
I made the leap three months ago. Officially, that is. During the nine months prior to that, we basically spent every night together, either at his place or mine. But Vegas didn’t change just us. It changed Brandon too. When he returned to DC, he decided that it was finally time for him to move to New York and focus on his acting career. Dean and I inspired him, he says. He even signed with Julian Hart, a Black agent making a name for himself in Hollywood. I’m rooting for my friend to grab hold of his dreams and soar. And maybe one day he’ll find his person too.
So with Brandon gone, I needed another roommate—or another place to live. Dean offered both. And I’m so glad he did. Neither of us is perfect, but we don’t need to be. We’re us. A perfectly imperfect couple figuring life out together. All real. Absolutely no faking.
“Ready to head out?” he asks, his arms outstretched as he holds our smoothies.
I kiss him. Sweetly. Softly. “With you? Always.”
Dean
We arrive at the Cartwright Hotel with only twenty minutes to spare, and two smartly dressed ushers immediately guide us to the gardens.
“Is it strange being here?” Solange asks, her hand squeezing mine.
“Not at all. Feels like a million years ago.”
In fact, it’s cathartic in a way. I was never meant to marry Ella in this place, or anyplace else for that matter. And it’s extra special that I’m finally returning with the woman I love beside me.
Before we can even snag seats, Jaslene marches up the aisle, her head lowered as she speaks into the microphone attached to her headset.
When she reaches us, she points at Solange. “Listen, I know your history. Don’t even think about opening your mouth during this ceremony.”
Solange rolls her eyes. “Ha, ha. I’m not saying a word.”
“Good,” she says, pointing two fingers at her eyes, then at Solange’s. I see everything, she mouths.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I say to Jaslene, interrupting their banter. “And you should be proud.”
“Agreed,” Solange adds. “Lina would be proud too.”
“Speaking of which,” Jaslene says. “Have you heard from her?”
Solange shakes her head, but she’s bouncing on her toes, and her eyes are dancing with excitement. “Nothing yet.”
Lina and Max are at Surrey Hall Farms for a couple’s retreat this weekend. Lina’s expecting bonding exercises; Max is planning to pop the question in a field of tulips on the outskirts of the farm. He’s promised the tias a photographer will capture it all. I look down at my watch. “Should be any minute now.”
Jaslene shimmies her shoulders. “Okay, I need to make sure the trains are running on time. See you after the ceremony.”
Solange and I continue down the aisle until we reach Larry Bailey, now my boss.
He immediately rises and puts out his hand. “Good to see you, Dean. Thanks for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, sir.”
“Son, when are you going to start calling me Larry?”
I give him a sheepish grin. “Never?”
He chuckles, then looks around him. “You two should have a special place of honor somewhere considering you definitely had a hand in getting them together.”
Solange playfully scoffs at the notion. “Nonsense. Kimberly and Nia were in love before we met them. They just didn’t know it yet.”
She may be right, but Kimberly herself admits that when Solange told her about my attempt to crash the wedding that never was, she, too, mustered the courage to confess her feelings to Nia. Now we’re moments away from watching them walk down the aisle and pledge their love to each other.
Mr. Bailey smiles. “You’re probably right, Solange. Anyway, we’ll talk more during the reception.” He points at me. “By the way, I read your proposal about the pro bono program, and I’m fully on board.”
My proposal, which I sent to him just yesterday, recommended that each of the lawyers in the legal department take on a minimum number of pro bono hours in addition to their regular duties and that the department as a whole commit to handling one high-impact pro bono case per year. I’m both stunned and thrilled that he’s read it this quickly and wants to proceed. “That’s great news, sir.”
“Well, I should clarify. I’m on board so long as you call me Larry.”
“Then that’s great news, Larry.”
“One other thing,” he says, raising his index finger in the air. “We’ve got a team from Olney & Henderson coming in next week. Sam Henderson and Peter Barnum. They’re making a pitch to be our outside law firm. I plan to be called away unexpectedly, so I’ll need someone to cover for me and run the meeting.” He twists his lips to the side, his expression wily and conspiratorial. “You can be the one to tell them we’ve decided to go in a different direction. If you want to, that is.”
I should be the better person and politely decline the opportunity—but I won’t. I’m only human, after all. Mirroring Larry’s grin, I dip my head. “I’ll be there.”
Solange pulls me by the tie. “All right, you two. Enough about business. It’s a wedding, for goodness’ sake.”
Solange and I find our seats, and minutes later, a quintet begins to play a jazz tune. The guests rise and face Kimberly and Nia, who are holding hands at the entrance to the gardens, Kimberly in a white pantsuit and Nia in a long flowing white gown.
The women stare at each other with love in their hearts and affection in their expressions. I know the feeling. Jesus, do I know the feeling. I never imagined I would, and yet here we are. Perhaps sensing that I’m overcome with emotion, Solange hugs me, her eyes glistening. I tear my gaze from hers, wanting to be respectful of Kimberly and Nia’s special day, but damn, it’s difficult not to just bask in Solange’s loveliness. More than a year ago, this woman, whom I adore more than words can say, crashed my wedding, then pretended to be my girlfriend. Look how far we’ve come.
Max once told me that the detour sometimes becomes the destination. He’s right. Solange and I took a detour, and now we’ve reached our destination together. The place where we’re the happiest, the place at which we’re the most content and secure, is in each other’s arms.
There’s absolutely nothing fake about that.
Revised Step Three: Find the love of my life.
Status: Completed.
THE END