Extended Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
“To Aubrey, the only woman I know who can strike a man down with nothing more than a glare!” Beck cheers, already lifting his beer into the air.
The rest of our group shouts, “To Aubrey!”
Illuminated by the hot pink lights in Pretty Little Pour, the woman of the hour tips her disco-ball glass back and finishes her drink. She’s trying not to grin as we shower her with love. It’s well-deserved, and she knows it.
After an incredibly stressful last few weeks, she and Lydia won the case against Nathan’s father.
I don’t know the details, and I didn’t ask, not wanting to put her in an uncomfortable position.
Instead, I held her a bit tighter in bed when her exhaustion peaked and made more trips to her office to visit when she spent nights trapped behind her desk.
There were days when I was on the road, and the only contact we had was before she left for work in the morning and when we’d call after she’d slipped into bed at night. Those were the hardest stretches.
By the time she told me that they’d finally won and Kevin had lost his right to guardianship, I’d gotten her so many bouquets of flowers that she had to start handing the vases off to anyone in the office who would take them.
My credit card saw more food delivery orders than my college days, and the usual seats at the stadium I grew used to buying for her went to strangers instead.
She’ll be there tomorrow, though. And I’m already planning on playing my best game of the season so far for her.
“Thank you,” she tells everyone.
Her little black dress crawls high up her thighs when I tug her back into my lap, where she belongs. She looks back at me and rolls her dark-lined eyes, the blue so damn bright tonight. I smirk before leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss to her cheek.
“I think you need another drink,” Brielle tells her, already sliding past my chair toward the bar.
Aubrey stares after her for a beat before bringing her attention back to me. She pushes my floppy hair back and pokes my nose. The flush on her cheeks is made brighter by the lights around us in this Barbie wonderland.
This bar was the one place she wanted to go to celebrate, and I wasn’t about to argue.
While it may be a bit pink and glittery for my taste, the food and drinks here are incredible.
I rented the entire bar out for the night so she could be completely comfortable without risking anyone taking photos of us here, and as she relaxes into my arms, I know I made the right decision.
“How’s your pop taste?” she teases.
“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
Dropping her gaze, she traces my bottom lip with her fingernail. “I already know what Dr Pepper tastes like.”
“Maybe the flavour has changed,” I argue, my grin turning lopsided.
She laughs, leaning in. “You’re ridiculous.”
Definitely. “Maybe.”
“I suppose I can give it a try, then.”
I place my hand on her belly, my fingers dancing over the soft curves. She tucks her chin when she palms the back of my neck and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft, just something to ease the desperation I feel for her while we’re stuck at the table with all of our friends.
“And there it is. They lasted an hour before making out,” Wes complains.
Without breaking away the kiss, I lift my middle finger and flash it to where I know he’s sitting across the table. Beside him, Jett chuckles. A hand smacks my back, and I finally lean back, still tasting strawberry lip gloss.
It’s Beck’s hand that drew me away, so I take it and squeeze hard enough to make him wince.
“I’m desperately waiting for the day one of you finds girlfriends to keep you busy,” I say, releasing him.
Brielle comes bouncing back to the table and sets a refill in front of Aubrey. “Or boyfriends.”
I tip my chin in agreement. “Yes, or boyfriends. As long as I get the chance to make fun of one of you for being in love sometime during the next decade, I’ll be happy.”
“And what about you, Brielle? Doesn’t she count, too?” Beck asks.
Wes reaches across the table and punches him in the chest. “Don’t ask my sister about her relationship status. What, are you into her or something?”
“Jesus Christ, Wes,” Brielle scolds, taking her seat on Aubrey’s other side. “You’re so annoying.”
“Annoying? I’m just looking out for you.”
“By scaring off potential suitors?” Aubrey smirks around her straw.
Wes points a finger at her, then looks at me for help. I shrug and tighten my hold on my girl, inhaling the scent of her shimmering body lotion.
Left stranded, he reluctantly relents. “Fine. But when Mr. Fucks A Lot breaks your heart, don’t come crying to me. I’ll change my locks so you can’t get into my house to cry in my arms.”
“You’re such a shitty liar. We all know you’ll want to hear her say you were right too much for that,” Jett calls him out.
I sit back and watch Beck puff out his chest. “And I don’t fuck a lot.”
“Yeah, don’t you know that he’s too busy stalking a barista for that?” I ask.
Beck immediately glares at me. Aubrey shakes against my chest with a silent laugh.
“I’m also not interested,” Brielle says. Her statement draws all of our eyes. She offers Beck an apologetic look before pulling her pink glass across the table toward her. “Sorry. You’re just not my type.”
“What does that mean?” He almost sounds offended.
She ignores the rest of us when she stares at him, completely nonchalant. “Exactly what it sounds like. I prefer older men.”
“Woah, okay. Since when?” Wes asks, his face paling.
“Don’t look at me like I just told you I wanted to marry some eighty-year-old.”
“Might wanna clarify before he malfunctions, Elle,” Aubrey suggests, resting her head back against my shoulder.
Brielle huffs dramatically while tucking her newly dyed blonde hair behind her ears. “I just mean that I like my men experienced. The kind who know what an RRSP is and that rubbing the outer lip of a vagina like they’re trying to see if a genie will pop out isn’t going to make us come.”
Kellan explodes into laughter while Wes’s face twists in disgust. I glance up at the ceiling then and hear Aubrey choke on her cocktail.
“Have a lot of experience with furious rubbers, do you, Elle? It makes sense now why you turned down Beck,” Kellan drawls.
The Havoc’s star closer grunts in offense. “Why am I catching a stray? I know where the clit is, dumbass.”
“Okay, maybe we should move on to a different topic before Wes’ head explodes,” Jett suggests.
“I agree.” Wes sits back in the booth and takes a swig of his Jack and Coke.
“Hey, look, it’s Asher!” Beck announces, desperate to avoid further embarrassment. He steps down from the booth to round the table.
I’m grateful for the distraction, even if he is late. Aubrey snaps her head to the side in search of her friend, and I loosen my hold on her.
Shaking out his wet hair, Asher moves through the empty tables toward us. Beck greets him with an awkward handshake and back slap.
“Hey, man,” Wes mutters, still pale.
Brielle gives Asher a brief look, taking in his wet hoodie and hair. “It’s still raining?”
“It isn’t supposed to stop until tomorrow,” I answer.
Asher ignores the weather talk and looks at Aubrey, forcing the corner of his mouth up into a small smile. “Congratulations, Aubrey.”
“Thank you, Ash.”
“No worries.”
He shifts awkwardly before I wave to the empty seat beside Brielle at the end of the table. He catches my motion and sits. The two women stare at him for a beat longer, like they’re trying to see if they can get a glimpse into his head, but eventually, they give up.
It doesn’t matter that all he did was come out here with us tonight.
He made Aubrey happy by showing up, and seeing her like that is all that matters to me.
I know she’s already thinking of how much harder she’s going to try and convince him to join the group of us more often.
He’s become a friend to her, and there’s no chance of shaking her off now.
That’s Aubrey for you.
I bring my lips to her temple and rest them against her hair, smelling her shampoo. The group manages to find a safer topic to talk about, and I let their conversation slip past me, not joining in just yet.
Keeping my voice low for Aubrey’s ears only, I ask, “Are you having a good night?”
“The best. This is exactly what I’ve been needing.”
“You deserve it.”
She turns her head into my neck, kissing my throat just once. “I’m excited to go to your game tomorrow. I feel like I’ve missed so many.”
“Which jersey are you going to wear?”
“I was thinking Jett’s, but maybe if Wes asks nicely enough, I’ll wear his,” she murmurs, smiling so wide against my skin that I can hear it.
“If you want to leave already, you can just ask me, sweetheart. There’s no need to provoke me.”
“But it’s more fun this way.”
“Brat,” I groan, reaching down to cup her thigh and haul her higher up my lap. “You’re not wearing anyone’s jersey but mine.”
“I never have, Finn. I wasn’t planning on starting now, as fun as it would be to have you punish me for it.”
Leaning back, she lets me see her eyes. The happiness in them ruins me. It cracks my chest wide open and makes more room for her to crawl inside of it.
“I love you,” I murmur, unable to hold it back.
She palms my jaw, her words a promise that I want to hear for the rest of my life.
“I love you, too.”