Three years later
Ax
The shit part about my job is that the news doesn’t take a day off.
So when someone pulls out a gun at a political rally on a Sunday afternoon, I have to get on the phone and scramble to make sure the prerecorded shows get bumped for live coverage and that we have my best anchors on site.
Actually, that’s not exactly true.
Normally, these kinds of emergencies are below my pay grade, but I’ve implemented a lot of new philosophies recently at SNC—bringing us more in line with our competition in the modern age—and I’m well aware that change and uncertainty leads to mistakes.
Until everyone is accustomed to the modifications, I feel better being hands-on.
It won’t always be this way. I wouldn’t necessarily complain if it was.
I’m only complaining now because I’d rather be inside the Irving Sebastian Concert Hall with my wife watching the Spotlight Awards instead of in the lobby on the phone with my VP of Programming.
“We have Ellen set to go live in fifteen minutes,” Roberta assures me, “and Geoff is joining her from the ground. Steele is on the phone with the senator. I think we have things handled.”
I’m already feeling better, but it’s the text that pings across the screen from Bianca that gets me moving.
It’s after this speech. Where are you?
Fuck. She’s watching the time better than I am.
I bring my phone back to my ear. “Yeah, yeah. Sounds like you’re good, Roberta. I gotta go.”
As soon as I hang up, Hunter texts.
Adly’s going to have your balls if you miss this.
Like I don’t already know.
Instead of replying, I turn my phone off all together, stuff it into my tux pocket, and start toward the theater.
Only to be distracted by the stunning woman standing next to the auditorium doors watching the show from the lobby television screen.
“I know you from somewhere,” I tell her, slowing my pace.
It sounds like a line, and she barely looks at me before dismissing me to look back at the screen. “I’m sorry. I’m taken.”
Her giant pink engagement ring makes that fact pretty obvious. Anyone who hits on her has to know the score going in. That honking piece of jewelry was meant to be a brand.
Frankly, I deserve the brush-off. She’s been inside stressing and anxious and alone. I should have been with her.
On the other hand, she knows who she married.
“I apologize,” I tell her. “I wasn’t hitting on you. I truly think I know you. Aren’t you one of the producers for that news show that’s nominated tonight? ZuLife, I think it’s called.”
Zully’s show debuted last year and has been a huge hit. She won for best new host in the previous award season. This year, the show is up for Outstanding Achievement in a Variety or Talk Show, and that means, if it wins—when it wins—my wife will get to take the stage to accept the award.
Adly turns her head toward me, her arms still firmly crossed over her chest. “I might be…”
Applause breaks out in the theater, and I glance at the screen. The last winner is leaving the stage, and the emcee is walking toward the microphone.
There will be a few clips shared before they announce the next winner, and man I love a good roleplay with this woman, but I’m starting to get nervous. “Uh…shouldn’t you be inside?”
“Oh, I’m sure I won’t win. In the unlikely event that I do, my brother’s going to accept.”
I study her, trying to guess what’s going through her mind. She’s been a roller coaster of nerves this whole week. Sure, she’s her own worst critic, but she knows Zully’s show has a real chance of winning.
Adly deserves to be on that stage.
Is she so mad at me for almost missing it that she’s willing to miss it herself?
Dropping the character, I slide my arm around her waist. “Come on, Addles. I want to see you up there. Let’s go in.”
She shushes me so she can hear what the host is saying, then responds during a clip for one of the competing shows. “I just think I might hate myself if I’m here for this and miss my baby’s birth.”
It’s a crazy-ass statement that only makes sense because the young pregnant woman who we’re adopting from is due any day.
Suddenly, I’m freaking out for a totally different reason. “Really? She’s coming? The baby’s coming now?”
She beams like I’ve never seen her beam. “I got the text and came out here looking for you, and then got wrapped up in watching the awards. We need to go.”
Adly starts tugging me toward the street, just as the announcer names ZuLife as the next nominee and the promotional clip starts playing, and while I’m well aware she doesn’t want to miss the birth of our baby, I think she might be almost as sad to miss winning her first big award.
Besides, I’m pretty sure labor takes more than a couple of minutes. Chances are, she doesn’t have to miss either.
“Baby,” I say, surprised that I’m not more frazzled. “You aren’t missing anything.”
She opens her mouth, only to close it when we hear, “And the winner is…”
Clutching each other, we look up at the screen.
“ZuLife, produced by SHE network.” The audience breaks into applause.
Adly immediately starts crying.
Throwing my arms around her, I hug her tight. “I’m so fucking proud of you. Holt doesn’t get to have this moment without you. Now get the fuck in there.”
I open the door and push her through.
“Call the car,” she says over her shoulder, then rushes toward the stage. She gets there fast enough that she ends up meeting Holt and Alex at the stairs, and the three walk up together.
Watching from the door, I turn on my phone and text a 911 to our driver, then give all my attention to the kickass woman who is finally getting the recognition she’s long been owed.
“Oh my,” she says into the mic. “I can’t believe this is happening. I’m actually becoming a mom right as we speak, too. What is this life?”
Head of her own network, earning prestigious awards, about to have a baby girl, married to me…I couldn’t have written a better ending for us if I’d tried.