Epilogue
SHADE
TWO MONTHS LATER
Shelly shoves a mug of hot chocolate into Millie’s hands and then drapes a blanket over her thighs, muttering under her breath about her bare legs looking frozen. I smirk in response, squeezing my girl’s thigh beneath the heavy fabric of the blanket.
It’s the first time I’ve been invited over to celebrate Christmas like this, and I know that all has to do with Millie.
She’s become like a second daughter to Shelly, and that means she’s automatically invited to all of the family events.
Thanksgiving was the same, and I think I still have frozen turkey in my deep-freeze from how much she sent us home with afterward.
I know Millie loves every minute of these nights, though.
With the raw wound left behind from her broken relationship with her parents, the one she has with Shelly has kept her too busy to focus on missing them.
They’re not worth missing, if I’m being honest, but whether they deserve it or not, they’ll always be her parents.
Maybe they’ll realize that one day.
“She’s going full mother hen on you today,” I drawl, exhaling across the back of Millie’s ear.
The happiness in her words threatens to choke me. “I don’t mind.”
“She’ll get used to it eventually.”
“Get used to what?”
“How little you take the weather into consideration with your outfit choices.”
She leans her head against my shoulder, snuggling into my side. “If I did that, I’d never wear anything I want to in this town. It’s been freezing for months now.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“Yeah, I know you’re not. You like my clothes too much.”
“I could do without you wearing heels in the snow and having so many close calls, but yeah, you’ve got me there,” I agree easily.
“How much do you want to bet my gift under the tree is my own pair of those clunky boots she tried to make me wear last week?”
I chuckle. “I’m not taking that bet.”
“Are you two talking about me?” Shelly asks, a sassy hand on her hip as she stands in front of the fireplace.
Millie’s such a shitty liar that she doesn’t even try to answer before tucking her face into my shoulder, hiding. I kiss the top of her head and wink at the older woman.
“Never, Shelly. We were talking about how much we like this blanket. Did you knit it yourself?”
Her scoffed laugh is immediate. “Not a chance. It was a gift from Tilly. She sent a box of them over last week.”
“And you already opened them? It’s only Christmas Eve.” I cluck my tongue.
“She chose not to come again this year. So, you’re damn right I opened them early.”
The mood in the room dips slightly as we pick up on the tension in Shelly’s voice. I had a feeling it could get like this today when I bugged Ash about his coming back for Christmas and he said she wasn’t.
Millie’s been here for long enough for no one to censor themselves around her anymore, but there are still things she doesn’t know. The dark hue of Tilly’s past here in Oak Point is one of those secrets. Her recent divorce, however, isn’t.
Ash, who’s been in the kitchen with his dad for the last few minutes, sticks his head into the room and says, “Don’t start, Mom.”
“I’m not starting anything!”
Her son huffs, not buying it as he runs a hand over his shaggy blond hair. “You know why she’s not here. We’re not going to get into it today of all days.”
Millie slips her hand beneath the blanket on her lap and takes my hand, threading our fingers. I let her, squeezing with the silent promise of explaining things to her tonight once we’re home.
“Did you invite Rowe?” I ask Ash.
He frowns, nodding. “He couldn’t make it.”
Shelly’s husband, Kirk, walks past Ash and takes a seat on the armchair by the fireplace. His dark features have grown weathered, giving away his age. His eyes are still as sharp as they were the day I met him as a kid, though. It’s impossible to keep anything from him.
His son struggles beneath the weight of that stare, knowing better than I know the way it can break down even the strongest-willed man. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s the reason Rowe isn’t here today.
“We’ll save him a plate. You can bring it to him later,” Kirk says firmly.
“He’d appreciate that, Dad.”
Kirk tips his chin in agreement. His wife stares at him, her brows knitting together for a blink before she claps, her expression transforming.
She announces, “It’s time for presents.”
“We haven’t even had dessert yet,” Ash argues, patting his stomach.
Millie swings her gaze to him, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Don’t act like you weren’t in the kitchen eating all the mini cheesecakes I brought. There’s some on your collar.”
“You know, when you and Tilly meet, you’re going to get along great.” Ash stares down at his shirt, thumbing away some filling and licking it off. “It’s like I have a sign on my back, begging to be teased.”
“It’s more like a tattoo on your forehead.”
Ash looks at me like I’ll help him out here. When I shake my head, leaning closer to Millie, he mouths “traitor” at me.
Shelly ignores their bickering and moves to the Christmas tree, starting to sort the presents beneath it. Her husband watches with a soft, fond expression, looking so unlike the man he shows the rest of the world.
Millie moves the blanket over my lap, covering the both of us. My smile is instant as I look over at her, soaking up the warmth in her eyes and on her cheeks.
“I couldn’t exactly bring your present here with me,” I tell her, keeping my voice low so only she can hear.
“That’s okay. I’m saving yours for tomorrow.”
“Is it you in a sexy Santa outfit?”
A choked noise escapes her. “No. But I should have just saved my money and thought of that.”
“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” I scold lightly, nipping at the tip of her ear.
“Shut up.”
I pull back with a soft tease. “Such a sore loser, princess.”
When she pinches the back of my hand, I laugh, squeezing her fingers tighter. Shelly brings the two of us a present and sets it on our laps, waiting expectantly. It’s wrapped to perfection in pastel pink paper and a ribbon a few shades darker.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Open it,” she says, nearly squealing with excitement.
“Already? Nobody else has anything yet—”
Cutting off Millie with a pat to the head, Shelly rushes out, “I know you won’t stay for much longer before heading home, so please just indulge me and open one before you go.”
“You got it, Shelly,” I say, looking to Millie. “You do it.”
Her fingers fly over the ribbon, untying it before her nails are cutting through the paper. As the wrapping falls away, I narrow my eyes on what looks a lot like a photo album.
“It’s a memory book. Every couple should have one. Plus, now you’ll have somewhere besides your wallet to keep those photos of you two, Shade,” Shelly explains, eyes glittering.
That pulls Millie’s attention from the book. “What photos?”
“The ones from the photo booth,” I say, unashamed.
“You keep them in your wallet?”
Shelly sighs. “Oh, he does. I saw them a few weeks ago when he insisted on paying for my breakfast at Maggie’s. They’re quite . . . scandalous.”
“Mom, don’t snoop through people’s personal belongings,” Ash groans.
“What? I wasn’t snooping. They were clearly very intense photos, and—”
“Thank you for the gift, Shelly. It’s perfect,” Millie says, her cheeks so red they look painted.
I clear my throat to hide a laugh. “Yeah, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I hope I didn’t overstep with including a couple’s gift, but I just couldn’t help it.”
“No, this was really thoughtful,” Millie whispers, her heart exposed in the way she always seems to do around those she cares for.
I keep an eye on it, knowing there isn’t any boundary I wouldn’t cross to protect her. Even here, where I know nobody would so much as think anything that could hurt her.
Shelly beams down at her, a beat of silence passing between them. Once their silent conversation is over, Millie clutches my arm and watches our host move back to the tree and start grabbing more presents.
“Is it okay if we stay until all the presents are open?” she asks me softly, bright eyes lifting.
I press a kiss to her temple. “You don’t even have to ask. My only plans involve you, Millie. And if this is what you want to do, then we’ll stay.”
Fuck, I don’t remember ever being this happy.
Millie taps her bare feet on the floor, fidgeting.
“You’re so impatient,” I muse.
“For good reason! You can’t tell me that I’m going to love my present the entire drive home and not expect me to be antsy when I finally get to see it.”
“Were you doubting my gift-giving abilities prior to the drive, then? Because I don’t remember you being like this when we left for Shelly’s this morning.”
She blows out a dramatic breath. “You’re such a snake.”
Running my hands down her arms, I start guiding her down the hall, staring at the pink sleep mask I slipped over her eyes a few minutes ago.
“Careful. You know how much I love your insults.”
Her mouth twists into a sly smile. “My apologies.”
“Good girl,” I drawl, my grin rivalling hers.
“Shade.”
“Sorry, dear. No more talking until it’s time to take the mask off.”
“Thank you,” she mutters sarcastically.
It’s a quick journey to the spare bedroom. I shuffle her into position and then open the door.
“Okay, are you ready?” I ask, flicking the new light on.
“So ready.”
Once I’m standing behind her, I pinch the mask and carefully remove it. Her gasp is immediate, and I think I’m fucking blushing when she speaks, awestruck.
“A closet? You—you built me a closet? You got rid of the spare room for me?”
“The only person who ever spent any time in here was you, and now that you’ve moved into my room, it was just sitting empty.”
She spins to look at me, then glances back into the room. Her head moves on a swivel, like she can’t choose where she should be looking right now.
I swat her ass and give it a push into the room. “You can thank me after.”
Her eyes glisten when she nods and reaches for my hand.
I give it to her before she pulls me in behind her.
The pink room is incredibly bright, and I don’t know if that’s just because of the new fancy gold light in the ceiling or the pastel paint.
Either way, she doesn’t seem to mind. She does a slow sweep of the new space, focusing on the custom shelving units Rowe and I put up last night.
They took so fucking long to build that I had to ask Lacey to keep her out at Peakside long enough that by the time she finally got home, she was apologizing to Rowe for the thousandth time about the night they met the entire way out to his truck.
The sangria in her blood was the only reason she didn’t get snoopy and pop a look into the closed room, though. Plus, she’s the cutest goddamn drunk I’ve ever met.
“There are lights for all of the shelves and the mirror too,” I say.
“This is incredible.”
“I know you’ll probably want to move things around, but I didn’t want to show it to you without any clothes hung up and shoes on the ground. Nothing has to stay the way it is now.”
I’m rambling now, heat clinging to my neck and cheeks.
After another long moment, she turns to face me. The full weight of her attention is a welcome pressure as I use our joint hands to pull her close. She slides a hand up my chest to rest on my shoulder. Her fingers twirl a few strands of my hair curling behind my ear.
“This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received,” she declares, her eyes bright and clear.
“Yeah?”
“Hands down.”
I palm her cheek, keeping her head tilted back. “You deserve it. All of it.”
“I love you,” she murmurs.
They’re my favourite words she’s ever said to me, and they’ll remain that way forever.
With my mouth hovering over hers, I say, “I love you, princess.”
Then, she’s kissing me, and I’m responding in the only fitting way.
Like I’ll die if she stops.