Epilogue
Six Months Later
“Mom, do I have to wear a dress?”
“Yes. We tried it on, and you loved it in the store. We don’t have time to figure something else out, young lady.”
“But what if people think I look weird because they never see me in dresses?” she yelled from the top of the stairs.
Lord save me. I counted to ten and took a few deep breaths.
“Sage, I promise, no one will think that.” The stomp of her feet sounded a whole lot like a mom victory to me, and I exhaled slowly, tapping my fingers on the front window and watched the delivery truck take its sweet friggin’ time coming down the driveway. “Oh, come on, come on, we have to leave in five minutes, let’s not take all damn day,” I muttered.
“So impatient.”
The whispered words had my mouth curling into a smile, and when Ian eased his big hands over my hips, circling them around my waist to anchor my back to his chest, I melted instantly. The man’s power over me had not faded in six months of wedded bliss.
It was annoying, honestly. All he had to do was look at me across the room, and my skin overheated. Sage had caught us making out in the hallway more than she cared to admit because we thought we’d hear her coming down the stairs, and we just … didn’t hear anything once we got hands on each other.
“I’m only impatient because he has a very important box on that truck, and I’d like to open it before we leave.”
His lips trailed along the line of my neck as he hummed and damn if my eyes didn’t flutter closed like he had a direct hook-up to my nervous system.
“I like that you’re impatient,” he said, hands spread wide over my stomach. “That’s what got us into this situation.”
Now my eyes stayed closed because I just might burst into happy tears. Again.
We hadn’t told anyone yet.
There was so much chaos in the Wilder family as it was—Adaline’s wedding just around the corner, don’t even get me started on Poppy throwing everyone’s world upside down—we decided to keep our little news to ourselves for just a bit longer.
“How are you feeling?” he whispered, making soothing motions on my still-flat stomach.
I snorted. “Fine now, but I barely made it to the bathroom this morning before I puked up my cereal.”
“Not that crap Sage has in the cupboard, is it?”
“It sounded good,” I said primly. “And cereal is easier to throw up. So until you have to deal with pregnancy side effects like this, I’ll take no judgment on my breakfast choices, sir.”
Ian chuckled low and deep, and the sound of it did things to me. If I wasn’t living it, if I was someone viewing our relationship from the outside, I’d probably get sick from that too.
We weren’t perfect. We disagreed. He was still as stubborn as a mule, and I had a tendency to overthink everything. But this man and I were so perfectly matched, so blissfully happy, that I never would have believed that love could be this effortless, this all-consuming.
The other day, he was showing Sage how to build something in the barn, and the only logical response I had to something so overwhelmingly simple and heart-explodingly perfect was to burst into tears at the way she smiled up at him.
Add to that the fact that I was growing a mini-Ian Wilder inside me, and I was an absolute goner. Well … I thought it was a boy, at least. Ian steadfastly disagreed, he was sure it was another girl—something he said was just fine by him, because he was already practicing with Sage, so being a girl dad was a piece of cake.
Men. We hadn’t even hit teenage years yet, and he was proclaiming himself the expert.
At night, he would lay his head over my stomach and talk to the baby, even though I told him the baby wouldn’t be able to hear our voices until the halfway point. He didn’t care though.
I didn’t mind either. The only downside was that watching him do that made me want to strip his ass naked and have my way with him. Not that either of us minded that either.
Ian’s hand coasted up my rib cage, his thumb gently running along the bottom curve of my breast, and I smacked his hand away when the delivery driver got out and gave me a friendly wave when he saw me through the window.
“Stop that,” I hissed.
His lips never stopped brushing along the back of my neck and the line of my throat. “Do you really want me to?”
My hesitation was telling, and he chuckled against my skin. “He can’t even see me back here. And you know what it does to me to see you in a dress like this.”
“I do,” I muttered. “The last time I wore it, you almost wrecked it by tearing it off me. I married a caveman.”
He growled. “It has a bow tying it on the side. You look like a present I’m supposed to unwrap.”
I tilted my head, watching the big box get deposited on the front porch, then turned smoothly in Ian’s arms, twining my arms around his neck and sighing happily when he slanted his mouth over mine, his tongue slipping and sliding over my own while his hands roamed over my backside.
Pulling away with a sigh, I stole one more kiss. “You can unwrap me later when we get back home.”
“I hate big parties,” he said against my lips. “Maybe Sage is feeling sick, and she needs one of us to stay home with her.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I am not lying to your family because you don’t feel like peopling, husband.”
“Fine.” He cradled my jaw, thumb brushing the edge of my lips and his eyes locked on my mouth. “But when we get home, wife, you leave the dress and the heels on, until I get to be the one to take them off you.”
“Deal,” I murmured.
I was just about to kiss him again, because I always wanted to kiss him, when Sage came tromping down the stairs. “You better not be making out again,” she called, eyes covered with one hand.
I laughed. “Not at the moment.”
Ian slid an arm around my back, anchoring me to his side. “You look beautiful, Sage. I like the dress.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Thanks. Mom is making me wear it.”
“Mom is not making you wear it,” I said patiently. “Mom was with you when you picked it out, so try peddling that story somewhere else, kiddo.”
She tugged at the hem, and I walked toward her as she fiddled with the cap sleeves. I coasted a hand over her hair. “You do look beautiful. So grown up.”
I sniffled, and the two of them traded a look.
“Here we go again,” Sage whispered.
Ian hooked an arm over her shoulders. “Don’t worry, I have tissues in my pocket.”
“Are you going to cry like this the entire time you’re pregnant?” Sage asked, eyes wary.
“No.” I swiped at a tear on my cheek.
Ian let out a low chuckle, then opened the front door. “Want me to bring this box in?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
Sage smacked my hand away when I tried to tuck her hair behind her ears, and I rolled my eyes.
“Good Lord,” he grunted. “What’s in this?”
With a laugh, I grabbed a pair of scissors from the kitchen to slice open the box. They stood behind me while I sucked in a deep, fortifying breath. Ian settled a hand on my hip, and Sage squealed when I pushed aside the brown packing paper and pulled out the first copy.
“Mom,” she breathed. “It looks so good.”
My eyes were glossy with tears again, a completely different kind this time. I flipped through the pages and exhaled sharply. “Holy crap, I never thought I’d hold another one of these in my hands again.”
Ian pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered.
I was proud of me too.
But even more when I flipped the book over to study the front and ran my hands over the glossy, embossed title, slowing my fingers when they traced over the author’s name.
My name.
Dark Secretsby Harlow Wilder.
The sight of it on the book made my heart turn a slow, contended roll in my chest. My publisher bought into the new pen name immediately, given the change in genre.
I was ready to claim this. There was nothing I needed to hide, and even though I’d still guard our life—him and our kids—Ian was supportive in all the ways that I needed.
“Can I read this one?” Sage asked.
“No,” Ian and I responded immediately.
My daughter deflated, and I gave her a quick hug. “When you’re older, kiddo. I promise.”
“Fine.” She trudged toward the door. “Don’t we have to go?”
Ian glanced at the thick watch on his wrist. “Yes. Come on, let’s give your mom a second with the book, we’ll go start the car.”
Sage skipped out the door, and Ian gave me a lingering kiss, resting his forehead against mine before he pulled back. “I said I was proud of you, right?”
I smiled. “Yes.”
But instead of staring at the book, I tucked it against my chest and watched the two of them walk to his big truck. Sage tried to trip Ian, and he side-stepped easily with a deep laugh. I set the book down carefully onto the dining table, and spread my hand over my stomach, closing my eyes while gratitude swept over me in an immense, humbling wave.
“You know what, little one,” I whispered. “You’ve got some pretty amazing people who love you already. We can’t wait to meet you.”
Then I smiled, touching the edge of the book one more time before I walked out of the house. That might be a book I was proud of, but as I pulled the door shut behind me and caught Ian watching me through the windshield, I knew ours was my favorite story of all.
The End