Epilogue
SIX YEARS LATER
“Gemma Gayle Dare! What have you done?”
Gemma’s little eyes grow wide hearing her mom’s voice call from the entrance of the barn where we hide in the back corner. I hold my finger to my lips to hush her while my hands continue to try and wipe away the mud.
“Gemma Gayle. I know you’re in here. I followed the muddy shoe prints. Show yourself.” I peak around the stall and see Dagen, standing at the door with her hands on her hips looking every bit the delectable little mouse she was six years ago when she first crashed into Cattywump Bay.
“Gemma,” she calls once more, baby Olivianna —Olive, as we call her— sleeping snuggly in the carrier that hangs from her shoulders.
“It’s G.G., mama. Not Gemma Gayle.” She pops up from where we hide, stamping her foot and balling her hands into fists.
My princess is a little too much like me at the young age of four. In fact, if she found out that I called her my princess she’d kick my ass. Getting her to put on this dress was quite a battle, but I had to remind her that it’s for her Uncle D. And now we are getting ready to face the wrath of her mother who is not going to be happy when she sees what G.G. has been up to.
“Actually, it’s Gemma Gayle and you are in trouble little missy. There is mud all over the back porch. Pops and Millie are going to be upset.” The sun that filters in is bright and Dagen has to squint, working hard to focus on G.G.
“Nuh uh. Pops is never mad at me. He said I’m perfect. And so does Unc Sloaney. Auntie AJ thinks I’m a brat, but she’s wrong.” G.G. looks at me and says, “Huh, daddy?”
I drop my head, still squatting down, and sigh. This little girl loves to call me out, and now it’s time to face the music.
I stand slowly, my muddy hands falling to my sides, and step out to face my fate.
“Don’t be mad at G.G., little mouse. It’s my fault.”
Dagen takes slow steps towards us and says, “Come closer, Gemma Gayle. What are you hiding back there?”
G.G.’s chest begins to rise and fall quickly as her breaths turn shallow, and her nostrils flare with dread. I touch her back and urge her forward. Better to get it over with now.
She takes a few shaky steps forward, and then a few more. Dagen gasps and covers her mouth with her hand when she sees what we’ve been hiding.
G.G.’s light blue dress is covered with mud as are her fancy shoes. Well, just one shoe. We still don’t know what happened to the other. My guess is that the other one is floating in the creek where she crashed her dirt bike.
“What did you do?” Dagen’s face turns bright red.
Just like Olive’s when she throws one of her famous tantrums. That little girl has the lung capacity of a swimmer and the shriek of a horror flick chick. Add in the sleep habits of an ER doctor on the night shift and it makes for a lot of sleepless nights.
“We thought we had time to take a small ride and had a little accident,” I explain.
“A little ? Hendrix…she looks like she walked through the swamps of Mississippi.” Her voice raises an octave and it stirs Olive.
She rocks from side to side, rubbing circles over her back and giving her soft pats.
“Little girls who wear dresses don’t play in the mud, Gemma.” Dagen lowers her voice just as Olive begins to calm.
“I’m not a little girl. I’m a bad ass, mommy. That’s different. Auntie Viv says so.” I snort with laughter and it earns me a glare from my wife. My beautiful wife, I might add.
“Oh Jesus,” she mumbles and smacks her forehead. “No more FaceTiming with Auntie Viv. She has a potty mouth. That dress is never going to come clean. Auntie Marcie is going to be so disappointed.”
The worry that was building in G.G.’s eyes turns to tears, and they rush over her lids and track down her face, leaving clean paths where mud once was.
Dammit I’m a sucker for this little girl. I can’t stand to see her cry. I reach down and pick her up, holding her to me as she sobs.
“Shh. It’s okay princess. We’ll find you something. Doesn’t Millie have clothes that she keeps here for you?” I ask G.G. but I really direct my question to Dagen.
We’re far from home but her mom and dad always have a closet full of clothes and toys waiting for the kids when we visit.
“Well,” Dagen starts. “Since little Miss Dare only likes to play in the dirt and in the creek, Millie has a load of jeans and shorts that are perfect for getting dirty. I don’t think she has any sort of dress that would be good for a flower girl in her uncles wedding.”
Danté, the man who swore he’d never settle down with just one woman, is settling down with one woman. But in all honesty, Marcie’s the only one who could ever match Danté. That woman is his equal in feminine form. Kind of feminine. Which is why I don’t think she’ll be too upset with the new development.
“Was someone talking about the greatest, most handsome uncle in the world? Well don’t worry. I’m here.” Danté comes swaggering into he barn, his usual devilish look on his face.
“Uncle D!” G.G. shouts and jumps from my arms.
She runs straight to him and leaps into his arms, hugging him tight. I witness the mud smear all over his clothes, and I’m thankful that he has yet to get his suit on. That black on black on black would be a horrible mess.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccups. “I was just playin’ and got dirty. Please tell Auntie Marcie not to be mad.”
A tattooed hand rubs her back and Danté kisses her head. “Aw, giggles. It’s okay. She won’t be mad.”
G.G. lifts her head, smiling through her tear soaked face at the nickname her uncle gave her, and asks, “Promise?”
“Promise. C’mon. We’ll get this taken care of. Let’s go find your Millie and then we can explain to her.” D squeezes G.G. tight to him and winks at us before turning and walking out of the barn.
I never thought I‘d see the day that Danté not only fell for a woman, but fell hard for a little girl he can’t live without.
Mal, yes. He’s probably going to hop on Sunny every chance he gets, making as many babies as he can convince her to. I have a feeling Calix is just one of many.
“Hendrix.” Dagen turns her attention on me and I gulp.
I step closer to her and place my hands on her shapely hips. Having babies has only made this woman sexier. I didn’t think it was possible, but just like as she always does, Dagen proved me wrong.
“You look delicious, little mouse.” I lean in to kiss her, maneuvering around Olive as she sleeps in her carrier.
Gemma favors me in looks —and obviously attitude— with her dark blonde hair and blue green eyes. But Olive, she’s all Dagen. Brown hair, soft and shiny, green eyes, and a smile that lights up my world.
A hand smooshes in my face, and I’m stopped dead in my tracks.
“No way, mister. I am mad at you. You couldn’t tell her no just once, could you? I swear, you give into that girl every time.”
I remove my face from her palm and pull out my best Mr. Wolf face and voice.
“Oh, little mouse. It’s so cute how you try to act tough.” I let my fingers dig into her waist and watch her shiver. “How about we let Olive have some special time with Auntie Sunny and Uncle Mal, and you and I can have our own special time.”
She tries very hard to look fierce, but I don’t miss that saucy smirk that comes through.
“You’re bad, you know that.” She scratches her fingers through my stubble and it’s all the indication I need to know I better find Malik… now .
“They don’t call me the Big Bad Wolf for nothing.” I turn my head and snap my teeth at her fingers.
“Who the fuck is they ? Show me who she is so I can kick her teeth in.”
My face lights up with joy seeing how much of my darkness has infiltrated my ray of sunshine. And in turn, her light now runs through my veins.
“It’s only you, little mouse. Now,” I reach around and smack her ass. “Give me Olive so I can pass her off. You… run run run, little mouse .”
I growl, my predator smile wide and menacing, and it only takes a minute for her to pull Olive from her little sling and practically toss her at me.
I take my chunky nugget and watch as my wife spins on her heels and begins to run out of the barn. She looks over her shoulder with a smile and a wink, and I bolt in search of Mal.
As the years have gone by, our little games only get more adventurous and more primal. And my little mouse craves the chase and the pain.
This time I had to be sure to leave my mark where people wouldn’t see it when she walked down the aisle in her bridesmaids dress. Her still flushed cheeks and erect nipples told me she was replaying the way I made her scream. Not even the fact that Gemma walked down the aisle in purple DARE Inc. riding pants and white DARE shirt could make her mad. I do give my G.G. credit for wearing her fancy shoes and a bow in her hair.
And she should thank me for giving her mama something else to think about besides the muddy mess she was just hours ago.
If anyone would have told me years ago that this would be my life, I would’ve called them a fucking liar. Who knew a silly dare and game of darts would lead to a happiness I never knew was possible. Nothing can ever take that away.
I fucking dare them to try.