Epilogue
EPILOGUE
“ W hat comes next?”
I look up from where I’m rolling out the pie crust. “Did you preheat the oven?”
“No. Fuck!” Allison’s face twists into a grimace when I raise a brow at her language. “Sorry, Bear.”
I shake my head at my great-granddaughter’s sheepish expression and her using the nickname she came up with for me when she couldn’t say my name properly as a toddler. I don’t bother hiding my grin. “I know your mom doesn’t like you cursing, but I’ve been around for more than a century, so frankly, I don’t give a shit.”
Her eyes go comically wide and her small iridescent wings flutter behind her in excitement, almost knocking the colander of washed berries onto the kitchen floor. “Really? You’re the coolest!”
I snort, grabbing the colander and moving it out of the way as she scurries over to turn the oven on. She’s as much of a ball of teenage energy as her mother was at her age, though her dad’s fae blood makes her even more excitable.
She’s staying the week here while her parents go on a much needed vacation, and I can already tell I’m going to be exhausted by the time they come back to pick her up. I thought I’d gotten taking care of children down to a science after raising a son, and watching his kids, but this is the first time doing most of the work alone.
“Alright, while you’re over there, go ahead and turn on the burner with the saucepan to medium,” I say, grabbing the berries, sugar, cinnamon I had her measure out. “Dump these all in there. We need to cook the fruit and then thicken it up so the pie will set.”
“How do you know how to do all this? I thought you didn’t eat food,” Allison says, staring intently down at the mixture as if watching it will make it cook faster.
It’s no secret that I’m a vampire. Moonvale’s protective ward has been in place for decades, allowing monsters living here to exist out in the open alongside humans. Thankfully, Allison doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest when I’m having blood for a meal.
She gets that unflappable mentality from her fae dad. Her mother, my granddaughter, can’t stand the sight of blood. You’d think a woman that’s one-eighth vampire wouldn’t be so squeamish, but monster genetics work in mysterious ways. That I was able to contribute to the creation of my son still boggles my mind, even knowing magic exists. Something dead shouldn’t be able to create life, and yet you can see me in Benedict’s face shape, coloring, and nose.
“I don’t eat,” I say with a shrug. “But back when I was a kid, a lot younger than you, my grandmother taught me. When I met GiGi, I got back into baking.”
She doesn’t need to know that I made my grandmother’s pie for Grace after she asked me what her scent and taste reminded me of. I fed it to her, then tasted it on her tongue and in her blood as we made love afterward. It’s one of my favorite memories.
We finish getting the pie ready for the oven, with only one mishap where Allison knocks the cornstarch onto the floor while excitedly gesticulating as she tells me about all the drama going on with her fellow freshmen at her high school. Apparently, a mothgirl named Sally is the hottest person in her class and everyone wants to date her, but she’s not-so-secretly hooking up with a junior on the swim team who says he’s full human but everyone thinks his dad is a merman.
Riveting stuff.
“It’s going to be a while before this is done, and then it’ll need to cool, so you’re free to go FaceChat or whatever kids are doing these days.”
Allison makes a disgusted face. “Eww, no one but creepy old dudes use FaceChat.”
“Noted.” I laugh, thinking about how Nic keeps trying to get me to download it so we can talk more often now that he’s retired in the mountains. He’s the opposite of creepy, but the man has got to be pushing 150 at this point. Shifters live two and a half to three centuries, so the bear still has some life left in him.
God, how did we get so old? It feels like it was just last year that he was bringing his twins over for a playdate with Ben.
My chest tightens at the reminder of how much time has slipped by. How much things have changed.
Allison scurries off upstairs to do god knows what, and once I’ve cleaned the kitchen up, I head to the den that’s been converted into a bedroom for the time being. I pause at the door, listening for a moment, then open it as quietly as possible.
The ache in my chest from earlier deepens at the sight of my wife, asleep on the pullout couch, her long hair that’s almost completely gray now splayed across the pillow. Despite my best efforts to come in quietly, she groans groggily.
“Shit, how long have I been asleep?” Grace asks, rubbing her eyes.
“About an hour. Don’t worry, I kept the gremlin entertained.”
Grace sits up, wincing as she moves her legs off the bed.
“You should’ve let me help you!” I protest, moving to her side in concern.
“Babe, it’s been almost three weeks since the surgery,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I’m supposed to move around and do things on my own.”
“I remember the physical therapist saying that you weren’t supposed to overdo it, yet you were standing for an hour earlier with Allison,” I grumble. “At least take some of my blood for the pain.”
“Yes, nurse.” Grace smiles playfully, the lines around her eyes crinkling as she does.
I bite my wrist and hold it out for her, and her first suck against my skin sends a zing of arousal through me like it does every time.
Grace sighs as the effects of my blood take hold, then gives my wrist a kiss before removing her mouth. “Thank you.” She rubs at her knee, testing it for any residual pain. Her smile falls and for a second I think it’s still bothering her, but then she speaks. “I’m sorry.”
“Why the hell are you sorry? I love it when you take my blood,” I say in reassurance, but Grace shakes her head.
“I know, but it’s got to be decidedly less sexy now that I’m relying on it so heavily. And…” Grace swallows heavily, her eyes growing watery. “I’ve had more time with you than I ever imagined I would. I’m over one hundred years old, with the body of a sixty-year-old, for fuck’s sake. But after having the knee replacement, it really hit me how it’s only going to get worse from here. I’m going to grow more and more decrepit, and you’re…” A tear slides down her cheek. “I’ve been really selfish. I’m sorry that you’re stuck taking care of me.”
Her worry and guilt make my chest ache for her. “I’m not.”
I haven’t forgotten for a moment about Grace’s mortality, though the accompanying fear and grief that comes along with it ebbs and flows. It’s gotten easier to handle since she asked me to stop checking in about turning her after the birth of our first great-grandchild. Before that, I’d ask every ten years, and every time she’d tell me to ask again in the future.
At first, we decided to put off the decision in order to have Benedict. The impracticality of raising a child while being unable to go out in the sun meant we needed to at least wait until he’d moved out to broach the subject. Even with Grace’s blood allowing me to be in the sun more than should be possible, raising a kid with one vampire parent was hard enough.
Then, it became a dance that was torturing us, but we were both too scared to admit that in our hearts, the decision had already been made.
Grace would’ve joined me in the darkness if I’d asked her to, but I couldn’t extinguish her light. And I would’ve turned her, if Grace decided death was too frightening a specter, but she didn’t, because the bravest person I know.
Knowing that it’s not on the table has allowed me to accept things for what they are. And seeing my beautiful wife sitting next to me, the lines of a life filled with joy together written across her features, knowing about the faded stretch marks on her breasts and belly from when she was pregnant with Benedict that I love to map with my tongue, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“People already think you’re my daughter or my live-in nurse, not my wife,” Grace says with a soft sigh. “Does that not bother you?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Since when have I ever given a shit about what anyone thinks? I only care about you and our family. The rest of them can go fuck themselves.” I give her an assessing look, reaching up to brush the hair from her neck to stroke the delicate skin there. “They’d be lucky to have such a beautiful, perfect wife.”
“I think your eyesight might be worse than mine,” Grace scoffs.
“Do you need me to prove how much I desire you?” I murmur, leaning in to kiss her neck, her sugared berry scent making my mouth water.
Grace’s heartbeat speeds up as I let my fangs press against her skin, and her breath hitches. “Later. The pie smells like it might be done and you know Allison will be down here banging on the door to share some silly random holo projection her friend sent her the second you sink your fangs into me.”
I chuckle, reluctantly pulling away. “True.”
I stand and offer her a hand, but she shakes her head with a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “I can do it on my own.”
I keep it held out, glaring her down. “How many damn times am I going to have to say this? Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to. Don’t forget, you’re mine to take care of as I see fit.” I let a hint of my dominance creep into my tone.
“Fine,” she says sharply, but there’s a hint of a flush to her cheeks as she does as I command .
I use my grip on her hand to move in closer and kiss her, pressing all my love to her lips.
She sighs and kisses me back, and I feel the same potent love in return.
“Eww, gross.” I break the kiss and turn to see Allison standing in the doorway.
Grace laughs at her reaction. “Love isn’t gross, Allie.”
“Debatable,” the feisty teen sasses back. “Is the pie ready? I’m starving.”
The oven timer goes off a moment later and Allison’s eyes light up. “Yes!” She races off toward the kitchen.
“It still needs to cool!” I shout behind her. “What are the odds that the pie is going to be intact when we get in there?” I mutter.
Grace laughs, the bubbly sound making affection swell inside me. She squeezes my shoulder. “About as good as my odds of getting carded.”
Sure enough, when we enter the kitchen, Allison is putting a slice of the pie on a plate, hissing as some of the burning hot filling touches her finger.
I pretend to give her a stern look, but inside my heart fills with a surge of happiness that only deepens when Grace goes over to cut a slice for herself and starts chatting with our great-granddaughter.
How is this my life?
The little girl who snuck bites of her grandma’s pie would never have dared to dream of this. The confused, fearful teen would’ve been desperately jealous of Allison’s happiness and ease. And the broken woman who thought it was better to feel nothing than to let herself get hurt again? She wouldn’t believe it was possible.
She was wrong.
Yes, there’s been plenty of pain alongside the happiness, and I dread the loss looming on the horizon. But imagining what my life would look like if I hadn’t let Grace in, it’s clear that would’ve been an infinitely worse fate.
So I’ll cherish Grace for as long as I can, soaking up every ray of happiness and pleasure until our time together ends. Even then, I know her light will still linger around me. In our family. In our friendships. In every facet of this incredible life we’ve built together.
I’m not scared of falling into darkness again, because I’ll spend the rest of my existence basking in the afterglow of her love.