Never Too Late

Epilogue

One year later

How’s Greece? Is Cillian behaving himself?

The text from Laurent had me tearing my gaze away from where my boyfriend, dressed only in the briefest pair of swimming trunks, entertained a small crowd by the pool. Curiosity to find out what they were talking about hadn’t yet overridden the languor brought on by the heat of the day, so I’d stayed put, letting Cillian do his thing.

I shifted myself into a more comfortable position on the sun lounger before replying. Define behaving himself.

Not working came through only a few seconds later. I snapped a quick photo of Cillian and sent it to Laurent as a response. The movement had Cillian pausing his conversation and looking my way with an eyebrow raised in question. I knew what that eyebrow meant. If I waved him over, he’d drop whatever he was doing and come over to check I was alright.

When I shook my head, he relaxed. I blew him a very showy kiss, just to sock it to the busty brunette in a skimpy red bikini who’d spent the last five minutes positioning herself carefully to show my boyfriend all her best assets, two of which would be in Cillian’s face if she leaned any closer. She frowned as he blew one back, her dreams of being the future Mrs. King no doubt left in tatters.

Oh, for… Can you tell him to put it away? I returned my attention to my phone, the cursor still flashing as Laurent typed something else. But before he does, ask him to turn round so I can see him from the front? Purely for research purposes. Not because I find him remotely attractive.

I snorted. Of course not.

I suppose physically he’s okay. He needs to be to make up for the personality.

Shaking my head, I put my phone down. Cillian and Laurent were both determined to pretend a feud still existed between the two of them, even though I knew for a fact that they were perfectly capable of having a civil conversation when I left the room. I knew, because I’d eavesdropped a time or two, and as soon as I was no longer there, they chatted amicably. It just seemed to entertain them too much to drop their antagonism completely, and as a result, I had to suffer their veiled—and sometimes not so veiled—digs.

The sun lounger next to me creaked as Cillian eased himself into it, all bronzed, glistening skin and masculine beauty. Sometimes I still found it difficult to believe that from such a poor start, we’d turned things around to where I had zero complaints. Well, maybe not zero. But any complaints I had were nothing that didn’t plague the average relationship.

There were still days where I had to lure Cillian away from his computer, but I’d discovered a tried and tested method of achieving that in record time. A slow strip, and a trail of breadcrumbs—or in this case clothes—leading to the bedroom currently having a success rate of at least ninety-nine percent. I just had to make sure I didn’t appear on camera when I did it. There had been that one time, but Amrita hadn’t seemed to mind that she’d gotten an eyeful.

Cillian had been right about the two of them remaining in close contact, Amrita already having visited Paris three times in the past year, our spare bedroom in our much more spacious new place meaning she didn’t have to stay at a hotel and that the two of them could talk shop to their heart’s content while I was at work.

There’d been business trips along the way, Cillian returning to London a handful of times over the past year, as well as visiting Italy and Spain. But, like this one, there’d also been holidays. Times where I got him completely to myself and he even left his work phone back in Paris, relying on Amrita or Gage, his new assistant, to tell him if anything urgent required his attention. So far on this trip, his phone had stayed blissfully silent on that front. If something cropped up, I’d learned not to take it personally and to make the most of having some time to myself.

Our close families had met, Cillian paying for them all to come to Paris for a long weekend. Given my parents were aware of this being a second attempt at making things work, they’d been naturally cautious. They’d mellowed though as Cillian had worked his magic. As for his parents, they couldn’t have been lovelier, his mother relieved that in her words, “someone had finally shown Cillian that work wasn’t the be all and end all of life.”

Cillian jerked his head at the phone still sitting next to me. “Who were you talking to?”

“I’ll give you one guess,” I said.

“Laurent,” he said, spitting the name out like it was something sour on his tongue.

“You like Laurent.”

“He is slightly less obnoxious than he used to be.”

“He’s looking after our cat, remember?” He was, Laurent offering to take Quasimodo when the cattery we used didn’t have space on the dates we needed. Seeing him spoil Quasimodo rotten made me wonder why we’d never thought to ask him before.

“We need to find him a boyfriend,” Cillian said.

“Laurent’s bisexual.”

Cillian shrugged. “Fine. Or a girlfriend. He looks at men more than he does women, though.” He had a point; I’d noticed that too. “I mean,” Cillian continued, “if you stand far enough away and squint, Laurent’s not that grotesque.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“No need. I’ll tell him myself.”

“I think the whole thing with his dad means he doesn’t want to drag someone else into it.”

Cillian went silent for a moment, his expression pensive. “That’s very noble of him, but if he found the right person, they’d understand, and the support would be good for him.”

“See,” I said with a smile. “I knew you liked him.”

“I’m just trying to come up with a solution that’ll have him coming around less. I still get flashbacks, you know.”

“It was one kiss.”

“One too many,” Cillian grumbled. “How would you feel if you walked in on me kissing Amrita?”

I swung my legs off the sun lounger to face him. “Honestly?”

“Yeah?” Cillian said with a challenge in his eyes.

“I’d pull up a chair and get popcorn. And I’d probably call an ambulance and have them on standby for whatever was left of you when she’d finished with you.”

“Good point,” Cillian conceded.

He reached across the space and lay his hand on my bare thigh, the loving look in his eyes one I’d been on the receiving end of more times than I could count, but that I never grew tired of. “Will you come for a romantic stroll along the beach with me tonight?”

“Erm…” I pretended to think about it. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”

“Finn…”

I laughed at the note of frustration in his voice. “I’ve checked it and do you know what it says?”

“No. What.”

“Do whatever the incredibly sexy man wants you to do.”

“Anything?” Cillian queried with a glint in his eye.

“Almost anything,” I qualified. “Anything that won’t get us arrested and thrown into a Greek prison.”

The beach at sunset was beautiful, the low sun on the horizon casting a fiery glow across the sky and turning the brilliant blue of the day into shades of orange, pink, and purple. “Look at that,” I breathed. “Isn’t it gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Cillian agreed. But he wasn’t looking at the sky, he was looking at me.

I rolled my eyes and shoved him away from me, laughing. “Don’t be cheesy. It doesn’t suit you.”

He clutched a hand to his chest in feigned offense. “You’ll be telling me next that I’m not allowed to look at you.”

Grabbing hold of his hand, I dragged him farther along the beach. “You can look. You just can’t compare me to a sunset.”

“What about a summer’s day?” At my blank stare, he elaborated. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and temperate.”

“Alright, Shakespeare.”

He laughed. “At least you recognize it.”

“I’m not a complete heathen.”

“Not a complete one, no,” he said with a smile.

We walked on, both of us barefoot and the weather still warm enough that neither of us had our shirts fastened. “Is there a reason for wanting to get me alone in a romantic location?” I asked after a few minutes.

Cillian turned with a slight frown, something about what I’d said bothering him. “I wasn’t planning on proposing, if that’s what you’re thinking?”

“Damn!” I said, doing my best to keep a straight face. “I better cancel the party I’ve arranged for us back at the hotel to celebrate our engagement.” When he still looked troubled, I squeezed his hand. “I’m joking. I’m going to be the one to propose when the time is right, anyway.”

His frown grew more pronounced. “Why?”

“I’ll do a better job of it.”

“That is simply not true.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree with that.”

“It’s not true!” Cillian said, his outrage growing. “I sell dreams for a living. If I can’t sell myself as the perfect husband, then I need to quit and find something else to do.”

I was grinning now, unable to hold it back. “We’ll have two proposals. One for each of us. And someone can judge who does it best.”

“Who?” Cillian questioned, his tone suspicious.

“Laurent,” I said, pouring gasoline on the fire.

“Right. Like he would ever choose me over you.”

“Well, it can’t be Amrita because she’ll always go for you.”

Cillian shook his head. “Why are we discussing a proposal like it’s some sort of reality show?”

“You started it.”

He pulled me to a stop, taking hold of both of my hands so we faced each other. “I brought you here because I wanted to thank you.”

“For…?”

“Giving me a second chance when I really didn’t deserve one. Most people in your shoes wouldn’t have.”

“They would, if they were still secretly in love with you.” Cillian’s smile said he appreciated that sentiment more than he would admit. “Besides,” I said. “I should thank you. You could easily have decided it wasn’t meant to be, but you didn’t. You followed me to Paris, and you refused to give up, even when I didn’t exactly welcome you with open arms. “

“I think,” Cillian said, his eyes soft. “No! I know that if I’d given up, it would have been the biggest mistake of my life. There’s only one Finn Prescott, and he’s all mine.”

“He is.” I gestured around us. “And you dragged me out to the middle of nowhere, miles away from a bed, to tell me that. If you think I’m getting sand in my unmentionables, then you’re wrong. I might love you to the moon and back, but I have limits.”

I had no defense as Cillian struck with the speed of a cobra and threw me over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

He turned back the way we’d come, refusing to let the soft sand bother him as he set off at a steady jog. “Getting you to a bed as quickly as possible.”

“That sounds like a plan.” We had a few moments of peace while I gave in to being carried like a sack of potatoes, and if I was honest, rather enjoyed it, before Cillian muttered something. “What was that?”

“I said my proposal will be better.”

“We’ll see,” I said sweetly. “Time will tell.”