no turning back

epilogue

A high-pitched giggle came from the living room, which Gladys had stepped out of just minutes before to make breakfast. She smiled to herself as she imagined what mischief the father-daughter duo was up to. Last time, they hid behind the couch and jumped up to scare her, and she'd screamed, throwing her daughter's plate of spaghetti in the air. There'd been red tomato paste splatter on the couch for weeks, much to her husband and daughter's amusement. They still liked to tease her about it.

She flipped the omelette for Elijah in the pan, thinking about what all needed to be done around the house before their friends came over for happy hour this evening. Elijah had met Michael at the startup he'd worked at—his first job in Colorado. Michael was the owner, and he and Elijah got on almost like brothers. Elijah helped him scale his startup using his logistics background before leaving a year later to start a new logistics company. The two men still communicated almost every day, as they went to the same gym, shopped at the same grocery store, and lived only a few blocks apart.

Gladys couldn't believe Elijah had actually found a true friend, one who was equally ambitious and competitive, that he got along with. But she was not complaining one bit, especially since Michael's wife had quickly become her own best friend. Rochelle was almost completely opposite of her—tall and loud and a bit argumentative—but they were always laughing and enjoying each other whenever together. Rochelle and Michael had three little ones, and they'd helped Gladys and Elijah transition into becoming parents as when they got pregnant with Nika. They regularly visited each other's houses, and their lives were all the better for it.

A cool breeze sailed across Gladys' bare legs, stirring her from her planning. She barely had time to look down before her daughter lunged out from behind the island to throw a wad of sticky, green slime at the back of her knee. Gladys laughed, recognizing the gift her uncle had given her daughter at her birthday party a few weeks ago.

"I knew that was going to happen," she said, shaking her head with a smile while her daughter rolled around on the floor and laughed.

"Oh, so you can see into the future now?" Elijah asked. His smirk was devious as he pulled slime ball off of her leg and tossed in on the counter.

"Maybe I am. I'm a woman of many talents."

"That you are, baby." He wrapped his hands around her, placing his palms on her swollen belly. "Maybe you can tell me whether this one is a boy or a girl then."

She hummed, contemplative. "I sense this one is going to be . . . a boy. With your eyes and my hair."

They both glanced over at their daughter, who was now preoccupied with petting their Corgi and telling him what a handsome prince he was. She looked like a near carbon copy of Gladys with silky blonde hair and round, hazel eyes. Her deep gold complexion and the bow shape of her lips were Elijah's genetics at play. She was a beautiful little girl with her father's boldness and her mother's kindness.

"And we'll call him Kian," Elijah decided.

Gladys chuckled as she plated his omelette and a few pancakes for her and Nika. "Kian? I like it. Is that Persian?"

He nodded. "It means 'king.'"

Reflecting on his choice, she smiled. Nika was also named after a Persian word for 'good.' She loved that their children would have this connection to their heritage.

"Nika and Kian," she murmured, rubbing a hand over her stomach.

Elijah lifted her chin to kiss her. "You're lucky you're already knocked up. Seeing you all big and round makes me want to put another baby in there."

She laughed, swatting at him. His fervor for her didn't wane in the least through these changes in her body. Each pregnancy had left marks on her body, but he seemed more obsessed with her than ever. Her breasts especially.