His eyes go soft with a smile. “What do you say, wifey? Will you move in with me?”
There’s no question regarding where we should live between his place and mine. His has felt like home since the moment I first walked through the front door.
“Yes,” I agree. “I’d live, laugh, love to.”
Chuckling, he brings me flush to his chest, lips dusting my forehead when he speaks.
“Thanks for marrying me, baby.”
“It was the best mistake I ever made.”
The bathroom door swings open, instantly shifting our attention. Reese walks in, eyes cast down on her phone, heading straight for a stall.
We look at each other, wondering what the hell to do, before Isaiah clears his throat to get her attention. Apparently, it only took the man three years to learn to make his presence known when he’s busy hiding in the women’s restroom.
“Oh,” she startles, her attention bouncing between Isaiah and me. “I’m sorry. I’m clearly interrupting something.”
“We’ll go,” I suggest, pulling out of Isaiah’s hold, both of us headed for the door.
She’s halfway into a stall before she stops and turns, looking right back at us. “Sorry, but this is so strange, seeing someone else in here. I usually come down to this bathroom by the clubhouse for privacy. All these months of it being empty, I started considering it mine.”
Isaiah and I share a knowing look, stupidly mischievous smiles on our lips.
“By the way, Kennedy,” Reese continues. “I was going to come find you. I requested a name change on your new office door. It should say Dr. Rhodes by the end of the week.”
“Dr. Kay,” Isaiah corrects. “It should say Dr. Kay. She did that all on her own, long before me or my last name came around.”
I squeeze his hand in mine. “Actually, Dr. Rhodes is perfect.”
Reese offers me a sweet smile, slipping into a stall.
We leave the bathroom before Isaiah asks, “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I hold his attention. “Like you said, I don’t care what my name used to be. I only care what it is now.”
Epilogue
Isaiah
Two years later
It’s the worst day of the year.
At least, it used to be.
I used to connect this date to loss, but now I can’t help but think of everything I gained on this day over the years.
My nephew was born four years ago on this date. I met my wife five years ago, and today, I get the privilege of remarrying her on our two-year anniversary.
Yes, I lost my mom on this date, but she spent the last twenty years sending her sons the greatest gifts in her absence, and it’s become impossible to think of this day with anything other than overwhelming gratitude and love.
“How are you feeling?” my brother asks from behind me as he helps me slip on my suit jacket.
“Excited. I’m looking forward to remembering everything this time around. Her walking down the aisle. Listening to her say ‘I do.’ Coherently, might I add.”
He laughs to himself.
Kennedy didn’t want to deviate too much from the details of our first wedding, but the biggest difference with this one, other than the lack of tequila in our systems, is the intention behind it.