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A nthony

Five Years Later…

I love being a comedian but there is nothing like coming home to my wife after being on tour.

The apartment lights are all on when the taxi pulls up out front and I grin as I grab my bag and head inside our building.

I got the spot at the comedy club here in New York on my second audition. Working alongside such great comics really opened some doors for me. It wasn’t long before I had an agent and was booking my first tour—as an opener of course. From there, I started headlining and doing a few festivals.

I just booked my first Netflix deal last year and Emerson was there with our kids. Theo, Layla, Ames, Alexander, Eden, and my mom and dad came to support me as well. Netflix just called me last week and offered me another contract for a second stand-up special which I was happy to accept.

Emerson and I moved in together six months after we both moved to New York. Layla and Theo had started dating by then and were happy to move in together.

We had married six months after that in a small, town hall ceremony here in New York. Alexander had tried to give me shit about that but he got married at a chapel in Las Vegas without any of the family there, so he didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Emerson has worked her way up at the Malhoy Gallery and she now manages it. I let her decorate our place, just two blocks from Alexander and Eden’s place. She knows more about art and design than I do and as long as she’s living there with me, I’m happy.

I nod at our doorman and step onto the elevator with a few other building residents. They get off a few floors below me and I shift on my feet, anxious to get home already. When the elevator doors open, I practically sprint to our apartment door.

It’s unlocked and I swing it open, spotting Emerson in the kitchen right away.

She turns, her eyes wide when she sees me. I wanted to surprise her, so I told her I was getting home tomorrow. When she stands there speechless, I realize that I succeeded.

“Surprise!” I say, kicking the door shut behind me as Emerson finally charges across our place toward me.

She launches herself at me and I laugh, catching her easily. Her arms wrap around my neck, her legs around my waist as our lips meet and cling to each other.

We live in an open plan loft on the top floor and I make my way over to our bed, laying her down as we start to pull at our clothes.

“How was tour?” she asks between kisses.

“Good, I signed that other Netflix contract,” I say, trailing kisses down her neck.

“Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you,” she says breathlessly.

“How’s the gallery?” I ask, wanting to catch up with her but needing to feel her beneath me, her skin on mine, her body wrapped tight around me.

“Later, I’ll tell you later,” she gasps and I nod against her neck.

“Much later.”

She laughs against my lips and I grin.

If you had told me that I would meet the love of my life on a cross country road trip to New York, I would have told you that you were insane, but that’s exactly what happened.

Emerson is the best thing that ever happened to me. She is my best friend, my wife, the mother of my future children, and as I look down at her, flushed and spread out beneath me, I know that she’s also my always.