Mrs. Wilde’s wedding was supposed to be the event of the season when her engagement was announced. But the world had other ideas. Two natural disasters and a worldwide pandemic later, the bride and groom were married in a small outdoor ceremony that was the definition of a family affair.
She was escorted down a grassy aisle by her youngest son, and the ceremony was officiated by her oldest one. Her daughter was her matron of honor. Her two granddaughters, her flower girls. She wore a custom Eki Orleans gown and a coronet of white roses in her hair.
She and Max exchanged their vows under the huge magnolia tree in the center of the green courtyard of Rivers Wilde. Tyson sat next to me, holding my hand so tightly it hurt as he watched his mother pledge her heart and soul to the love of her life. And there wasn’t a dry eye in the crowd as they walked down the aisle again, holding hands and bound forever.
I watched it all with a sense of hope. If after everything she’s been through, she can find her fairytale ending, then I know that Tyson and I will be just fine.
“You want anything else to eat?”
“Speak of the devil and he will appear,” I quip and move to make room for Tyson on the small love seat I curled up on an hour ago.
“You okay? Tired?” He lifts my feet onto his lap and runs his knuckle down my arch. I moan and smile.
“That feels so good. Yes, I’m tired. How are you not?”
“Oh, I am, but those kids don’t give a damn. The only reason I’m not still running after them is 'cause they started bringing out slices of cake.”
I sit up. “No way. And you walked over here to see me with no cake in hand? Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”
“It has gluten, babe.”
I stop midrise and pout. “Well, damn,” I grumble and sit back down.
“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve got some back at the house. Sweet made it just for you. Same flavors and everything.”
“She did? I don’t think she likes me,” I say of the woman who owns the coffee shop and bakery in the enclave.
Tyson grimaces. “I mean…you didn’t exactly ingratiate yourself with her when you made that crack about Ghana jollof being better than Nigerian jollof.”
I hang my head and groan at the memory. “It is. And if I’d known she was from Nigeria, I wouldn’t have said it.”
“She said it was fine, D, it’s okay.”
“No, what she said is, ‘You’re ignorant, so I forgive you.’”
He chuckles. “Yeah, she sure did. But it doesn’t matter. She loves me, and we’re a package deal.” He links our fingers and tugs me to my feet. “Come on, let’s go say our goodbyes and go home.”
Tyson was right, we crushed this relationship thing. He stepped down from his role in Paris exactly three months after he gave his notice. Leaving Wilde World was like a dam bursting. He set up his marketing consulting business and hit the ground running. Wilde World is one of his clients, and I do a little work for him, too.
Tyson told me he loved me three weeks after that meeting in his mother’s office..
He looked as surprised by it as I was to hear it, but then, he couldn’t stop saying it.
It was like he was making up for lost time.
I’m not complaining, I’d like it if he said at the end of every sentence. Because that’s how often I think it.
But we took everything else slowly. Until we were facing separation when the whole world went into quarantine and we decided to move in together instead. We bought a town house in the Ivy, and I was so nervous that it would be too much commitment too soon.
But like everything else he puts his mind to, he’s thriving in his role as partner. There haven’t been any more grand gestures like quitting his job, but there are fresh flowers every morning and Bissap every weekend. He learned enough Vietnamese to greet my father properly the first time they met. Not that my dad would have held it against him, but that he made the effort made him an instant Tyson fan.
But no one is a bigger fan of him than me. All of him. He’s a hard nut to crack, and I’ve got to be on my game when we go toe-to-toe about anything. We pick our battles—and sometimes die on separate hills.
But we haven’t spent a night apart since he moved to Houston because the one thing we never disagree on is that we’re much happier together than apart.
As settled as we feel, this is just the beginning of our journey. I know my daredevil will still take risks and do reckless things, but he can also take care of my heart. And I’m finally ready to let him.
* * * *
Want to read an extended epilogue? Well, you’re in luck. Click here to get more of this couple.
Author’s Note
Dear reader,
I hope you loved this visit to Rivers Wilde. I created this series after watching an episode of Anthony Bourdain’s show, Parts Unknown, that was set here.
I grew up in Houston, but I’ve lived away for almost 20 years when I moved back to be closer to my parents again. I watched that show and realized that I’d forgotten what brought, and kept, my parents to this city 37 years ago when they left their home in Ghana in pursuit of better opportunities for their three young daughters.
They chose Houston because it is brimming with opportunity and is truly America’s melting pot. I wanted to create a world that reflected that. Houston is a sprawling urban landscape that more than two million people call home, and so I created a “small town” like enclave that I named Rivers Wilde.
And in it, I placed people from all over the world, of all walks of life and made a utopia where they all work toward the common purpose of building a community.
The Daredevil is the 5th book in the series. But there’s a whole world to explore, and I’m just getting started.
You can learn more about the series and the characters in it by visiting riverswilde.com.
I hope you love it here and thank you so much for reading.
PS - The joke at the end about Ghana Jollof and Nigerian Jollof is an inside joke between two rival (friendly) West African countries that is always a heated debate at parties. This article will tell you more about it if you’re interested. Click here to learn about the Jollof Wars.
Wishing your wildest dreams come true,
Dylan
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