Fool Me Once (New England Bay Sharks #2)

Epilogue

Four and a Half Years Later

T he sun feels so good on my skin, and the faint sound of the water splashing against the boat is enough to lure me to sleep, but I fight it because it’s almost time to get the kids out of the pool and showered for dinner.

“This was the best idea in the entire world.” I yawn. “I don’t even want to go home, and that never happens.” I pause. “Well, besides to see Storm. I miss him.”

“I know,” Poppy says before following suit and yawning herself. “Thanks to Paige and Kolt for letting us all vacation together on their yacht. This has been the best trip ever.”

She isn’t lying; it really has been magical. We’ve spent the past few days cruising to different secluded islands and eating the best food I’ve ever tasted, all prepared by a private chef, and the kids love the pool on the boat.

“We’re just happy you guys could join us,” Paige says before holding up her Kindle. “I’m reading Maci’s new book, and I’m here to tell you … it is filthy. And I love it.”

Maci brings the towel in front of her face, clearly embarrassed, just like she always is. We all read her books; they are freaking phenomenal.

“I know,” Saylor whispers. “The scene where the dude had the girl tied to—”

“All righty then,” Maci blurts out, interrupting her. “Change of subject, please.” She looks from Paige to me. “Someone … anyone. Just stop talking about my slutty books.”

I know Maci, and even though she’s proud of what she writes, she doesn’t like it when it becomes the main topic of conversation, especially when we’re all complimenting her. So, I know I need to switch the direction of our chat.

“I can’t get over how old Amelia looks now,” I say quickly, staring at Logan and Maci’s daughter in complete awe. “I mean … I feel like she was literally just Soph’s age. Now, she’s eleven years old.”

Amelia plays in the pool with Sophie and all the other little ones, being absolutely charming, like she always is. In most cases, I’d probably be nervous with my kids, Sophie and Sullivan, in the water, but not with Amelia nearby. She joined the swim team last year, and now, I’m pretty sure she’s a better swimmer than most of us adults sitting around the pool.

Certainly better than me. And I’ve seen Saylor swim, so definitely better than her too.

“She’s beautiful.” Saylor side-eyes me, raising her eyebrows above her sunglasses. “Logan is going to be beating the boys away from the door when she’s a teenager.”

“You hush,” Logan says, suddenly standing between our lounge chairs. “She’s going to be a nun, and I’m going to make her wear turtlenecks and baggy pants all the time.”

Maci grins up at him from her lounge chair. “Good luck with that, babe.”

He gives her a playful eye roll before continuing toward the pool.

It’s a scene straight from a Playgirl magazine, I swear. With Kolt, Smith, Logan, Walker, Ryder, and Tripp all shirtless or tugging their shirts off, I think it got even hotter outside.

“Hot damn, that’s a lot of abs.” Poppy fans herself. “I mean … good Lawd, ladies.”

“No joke, think of all the money we could make from a photo session of just this right here,” Paige says, waving to all the guys. “People would kill their mothers for this shit.”

She’s not wrong. Our men aren’t only good-looking; they are extremely fit too.

Kolt slides into the pool first, and instantly, Sophie is paddling up to him with her little floaties on. She’s obsessed with Kolt. Actually, I think all the kids are.

Spinning around, he puts her on his back and starts swimming quickly around the pool. She bursts into a fit of giggles, holding on tightly to his neck.

Logan jumps into the pool, heading right for Amelia, scooping her up in his arms and throwing her. She laughs as she hits the water and comes right back for more.

“I hope she’s never too old to play like that with her dad,” Maci says in an almost-sad tone. “Gosh, he loves that kid so much.”

Sullivan splashes his sister over and over again—laughing harder, the more irritated she gets.

“This is when his dad comes out in him,” I mutter because everyone knows that Smith loves him a good prank or getting under someone’s skin.

“Sullivan Sawyer, that’s enough!” I call to my three-year-old.

I should probably get up and just remove him from the pool myself, but the sun in the Bahamas is taking its toll on me, and all I want to do is lie here.

I had Sullivan just fourteen months after Sophie. When I’d first found out I was already pregnant again, I was nervous. I guess I felt like I was taking Sophie’s babyhood away from her too early, and I also feared that I could never experience the kind of love again that I did for my first baby. The entire pregnancy, I struggled to connect with Sully the way I had with Soph. But all it took was the midwife placing him in my arms, and I was head over heels in love.

The love might have been different, but it’s equally great—that’s for sure.

With the kids, Smith’s hockey schedule and work commitments, and my own nonprofit to help abuse victims, we’re busy. Some days, I look around and wonder where the week—or month—even went. But that’s life, I think. I’m just thankful to spend my life with the people I love most.

My family. Both blood and my Sharks one.

Smith’s in the water now, peeling Sophie off of Kolt’s back—upon her request. He tells her to plug her nose and gently throws her in the water. Then, he finds me staring. Right away, the smirk on his face lets me know I’m in trouble, and when he swims to the side of the pool, lifting himself out, I’m tempted to leap from this chair and start running.

He stands before me, his gorgeous, tattooed body glistening from the pool water in the sun. “Hey, babe. You look hot,” he drawls, the corner of his lip teasing upward with a smirk.

“Nope. I am just fine, thank you.” I pull my sunglasses down, giving him my best mom eyes, as if to tell him not to fuck with me, but it’s no use .

Within seconds, he’s lifting me from my chair and running toward the side of the pool that no one is swimming in.

Because I truly am the world’s worst swimmer, I plug my nose and brace for impact. Even when we hit the water, Smith keeps me secure in his arms, and even though I kind of want to smack him upside the head, it’s hard to be angry when the kids start paddling toward us, all giggling hysterically.

“You’re lucky there are kids here,” I utter, wiping under my eyes in case the small amount of mascara I applied is running. “Really, really lucky.”

“No, you’re lucky there are kids here,” he taunts, whispering low. “I’ve got a big noodle in my pants, and I’m not afraid to show it to you.” He winks. “It could be your very own flotation device.”

I shake my head, but how the heck am I supposed to stop myself from laughing at my idiot husband, knowing that, deep down, he’s really just a damn child?

He kisses me, pressing his nose to mine. “I saw your cup of sea glass in our room. Looked like the kids had added a few pieces they’d found too.”

“Yeah, I’ve given up trying to tell them the criteria.” I giggle, nodding my head.

On every island we’ve visited, I’ve given my kids the same spiel on which pieces of glass to take to add to our collection, and yet we always end up with pieces that most definitely came from a Budweiser bottle a few months prior. No matter what, it just feels good to collect again.

There was a time years ago when I wondered if I’d ever make it to see the next day. And I knew deep down that even if I did, it likely wouldn’t be any better than the day I was in.

It turns out, sometimes, tomorrow is better.

This is my tomorrow, and I’m really glad that I fought for it because it’s been everything I could have ever hoped for and so much more.

The End