Epilogue
FRANKIE
“Livvie’s going to love this one.”
“What are you torturing her with now?” Dante asks, looking up from his laptop behind his desk.
“Paint samples for the new house,” I say with a laugh. “She’s going to hate every second of it. And I’m going to keep sending them to her until she helps me pick out a color.”
Dante chuckles. “Cruel and unusual. You know she’s just going to pick some random color to shut you up.”
“Oh, I know. But it’s still fun to tease her.”
We’re in his office at the Bellanti house, where I’ve settled myself on a couple pillows on the floor, a rainbow arc of design palettes and paint and fabric samples spread out before me.
I snap a high-angle selfie of the setup before taking another big bite of one of Delores’s spiced fruit cups. Then I text it to Livvie with a caption that says, “My heaven, your hell.”
My baby sister notoriously hates anything that has to do with decorating—in fact, the closest thing I can imagine her having any design interest in is the layout of a horse stall. Sure enough, a second later, I get a vomiting emoji in response.
I return to my samples, mulling over shades of chalk paint in marine and French blue, muted tones that will make the living room a place of restfulness. Or do I want it to be more energetic? Bright whites with a few sunny yellow and poppy red accents? It’s so hard to choose.
I’m interrupted by my phone chiming with another text from Livvie—this time, she’s sent me a video. I wait for it to download and then press play.
Livvie’s on a black horse that must be Max, and she’s in a blue tank top with her golden hair pulled back.
Seated behind her on the horse is her new bodyguard, tan and blond and shirtless.
Although the picture is wobbly, thanks to Livvie’s grip on the phone being jostled, it looks like they’re riding through a pond.
Both of them are laughing. I can see Miggy splashing along with them under the bright Louisiana sun.
I watch the video again, studying this young man on the horse with Livvie. Her caption reads, “My heaven.”
That’s my sister’s bodyguard? Holy hell.
Mom had mentioned what he looked like and had said that she thought there might be something going on between the two of them, but I hadn’t expected...
this. In Mom’s opinion, the whole thing was charming and romantic, but she had supposedly cautioned Livvie against mixing safety with pleasure. She’s only eighteen, after all.
Still.
I can’t quite judge her. The dude is hot.
For a second, I think about showing Dante the picture, but then decide against it.
I’m sure showing him hot dude pictures is the same brand of torture that I’ve put my sister through with the paint samples she couldn’t care less about.
It doesn’t stop me from looking at the video again, though.
This time, I hit pause and study Livvie’s bodyguard more closely.
Beyond the male model good looks, he’s tall—or at least, taller than Livvie is while sitting behind her on a horse.
His eyes are light, a blue-green that almost matches my paint samples, and that tanned skin is pulled taut over some very well-developed chest and shoulder muscles.
In fact, the only thing keeping him from looking like sheer perfection is the large black tattoo I can just make out that stretches over his pecs and up the side of his neck.
I’m not the biggest fan of tattoos in general, though I admit it’s an interesting design...
it looks like a deer with huge antlers. Or maybe those are branches.
I can’t quite tell with the grainy quality of the video.
He has one possessive arm wrapped around Livvie’s middle. Or maybe he’s just holding on to her to keep his balance. There’s no way Livvie would allow him on the back of her horse if he wasn’t a decent rider and didn’t have a moderate understanding of riding. Sexy body notwithstanding.
I better pass this video on to Charlie, so she doesn’t miss the action. But first things first.
Sighing, I set down my phone. I have to use the bathroom. Again.
“Dante,” I call out pathetically, raising my hands in the air like a helpless child. “Help.”
He looks up from his laptop. “Again? What’s it been, ten minutes?”
“Hey, you did this to me. It’s only fair that we both suffer the consequences.”
With a laugh, he gets up and comes around the desk, takes both my hands in his, and pulls me gently to my feet. “You’re not allowed to use that line until you’re in labor.”
“No, no, no. I get to use that line any time I feel like you deserve it. It’s not my fault I have a bladder the size of a walnut right now.”
Dante shakes his head. “How about this. You work at the table in the dining room, or I’ll make room for you at my desk. If you sit in an actual chair, you won’t have to keep getting up and down from the floor.”
“It’s much more fun this way, trust me.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I kiss him on the cheek, utterly content.
And I can’t help thinking...maybe Livvie will find contentment with her hot, blond bodyguard, too…