Epilogue
Four years later
“You have dozens of New York Times best sellers, Kate. You are quite prolific.” I never grew tired of hearing such reminders of my literary success. It still felt surreal. Heck, everything still seemed surreal. I glanced down at my finger, the gigantic sparkling diamond smiling at me. My free hand rested on my growing belly and the life that was cozily dreaming inside of me. I felt the greatest ball of energy surround me: bliss. He, she, and me. My daughter growing inside of me.
“May I ask…the bravery? You write dirty romances, which some reviewers slam as mommy porn. Is this something you saw yourself doing back in South Africa where you studied the naturalist poets?”
“You know, it’s not. But I’ve found a way to express myself. Wait, let me rephrase. I didn’t know I had this need or desire to express myself like this, until I just began to do it as an outlet and need to write. It honestly just came out and I’ve had fun with it ever since.”
“You don’t write under a penname. Considering your husband’s position now, you are not leery about this?”
“I learned a long time ago that running from your last name, or hiding didn’t do me any good. I want to be authentic. I want women to embrace their sexuality and be proud, not ashamed. Thank you.”
Bradley’s strong hand rested on my lower back, the gentle touch leading me further down the press line.
“Senator Rainshaw, you’re thirty-three, married, a baby girl due shortly. You’ve got the whole world in your hands now. You’ve turned Rainshaw Enterprises around. You started at a great loss by shutting down the foreign operations, but in three short years you’ve doubled your company’s net worth. You clearly have an eye for growth and strategy. You’ve got the work ethic, talents, and clout; can we expect you in the race for governor soon? Or maybe, president one day?”
“Never say never.”
“What do you have to say about your wife's scandalous books that she writes?”
“I think that there's no greater way to live than with courage, no regrets, and to live life not caring what people think. To live life being who you are and not giving a shit about what other people think. Pardon my French. Clearly it led to something right here.”
He lovingly covered my belly and we both laughed.
“What do I really think?” He tilted that Greek-god-like chin, and I could just stare at him all day long. My husband. Mine.
“It's pretty hot and I think it's time for me to go home if you catch my drift. Because dinner’s on the table and dessert’s in the bed.”
The crowd was charmed and laughed boisterously.
“Kate? Any last words?”
“You can talk about me behind my back, but at least you’re talking about me.” The famous words of my mother’s tagline. I winked at a chuckling crowd as Bradley kissed my cheek.
And we were off back to our New York City flat.
Him.
Me.
And Baby.
With him I had the world.
With him I had the courage to be seen for who I really am.
With him I had the courage to dream, to write, and to express myself.
Because of him I felt finally free to be seen.