“So what the hell was the actual ‘master plan,’ then?” she asks.
I grab her hand and touch the sparkling ring on her finger. “This.” I place my palm on her flat belly. “Andthis.”
She visibly melts.
I sit up and lean onto my elbow, looking down at her gorgeous face. “So when do you want to get married, Argentina?”
She shrugs. “Next week? Next month? Three months? Whenever won’t conflict with the arrival of Gracie Louise because I certainly don’t want to...” Something in my facial expression makes her trail off, mid-sentence. “What?”
I can’t form words.
“What?” she asks again. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “I just had a premonition.”
“Of what?”
“Of us. The future.”
“Really?”
I nod. “It was crystal clear.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw you and me and a bunch of kids. And Captain’s kicking ass. It was you and me against this crazy, fucked-up, wonderful world. And we werehappy.” I squeeze her hand and press myself into her naked body. “Tessa, don’t worry about a thing, baby. I just saw the whole thing. And I’m one hundred percent positive: we’re gonna have a truly beautiful life.”
Epilogue
Tessa
“Hey, everyone,” my gorgeous husband says to the small assembled crowd of our closest family and friends, our newborn daughter strapped to his broad chest, his blue eyes twinkling. “Thanks so much for coming out this afternoon to celebrate the opening of ourfifthCaptain’s location.”
“And our second in Seattle!” Josh shouts, raising his beer.
Everyone cheers.
I’m watching Ryan and Josh from the back of the room (the same way I always prefer to observe events such as this); but this time, unlike the last four times I’ve stood at the back of a Captain’s grand opening event and swooned over my husband, it’s the middle of the afternoon, the place is riddled with kids, and I’m seated rather than standing, thanks to a precious (and very tired) little human (who bears half my DNA) who’s draped over my chest.
Ryan places his palm on Claire’s tiny, sleeping head against his chest and continues: “Tessa had the idea for us to have a little family-friendly gathering with our closest friends and family before tonight’s adults-only soiree.” He looks directly at me at the back of the crowd. “And I gotta say, babe, it was a great idea.” He winks at me and I wink back.
Oh my God, I love my husband. There’s nothing like seeing him with our baby strapped to his broad chest while hearing him talk so passionately about the business he’s worked so hard to make successful. And that cute little wink he just gave me was the cherry on top of the sundae. Wooh! I’m suddenly feeling the distinct urge to give my sexy husband a highly enthusiastic blowjob at my first opportunity.
“Honestly,” Ryan says, drawing me out my fellatio-themed reverie, “I never once imagined in my wildest dreams we’d be opening ourfifthlocation at all, let alone this quickly—or that we’d be having this much fun along the way.” He shoots me a massive smile that melts my heart and makes my ovaries quake like rockets just before lift-off. “So I want to thank my partners, especially my wife, for...”
“Mommy?” my son, three-year-old Zachary Hennessy Morgan, says, abruptly lifting his sleepy head off my chest.
I smooth his tousled hair out of his dark eyes. “What’s up, bubba?”
“I gotta go pee-pee, Mommy,” Zac says, his little voice edged with unmistakable urgency.
I spring into action. “Good boy. Come on, buddy. Good boy!”
I quickly lead my little potty-trainer through the crowd toward the restrooms, smiling and nodding at the friends and family we pass along our route: Keane and his fiancée, Maddy (a documentary filmmaker who happens to be Hannah Banana Montana Milliken’s little sister); Colby and his pregnant wife, and Henn and Hannah and their brand new daughter, Hazel (who looks so much like Henn, Hannah keeps accusing her husband of sneaking their combined genes into a centrifuge and somehow extracting every characteristic having to do with her).
Finally, Zachary and I reach the bathroom door, just as my mother-in-law emerges with Kat’s four-year-old mini-me, Little Miss Gracie Louise Faraday (aka “Little G” aka “Mademoiselle Terrorist”).
“Hi, Zacky,” Louise says. She looks at me. “Do you want me to take him?”
