Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
GENEVA
I sit in Peter’s apartment, staring out the window as the sun starts to set over Lake Austin. Calling it Peter’s apartment is a bit of a formality since I spend as much time here as he does. In my defense, the view is much better than from my apartment. He also has a king-size bed.
Bront? sits at the other end of the couch while Keats bounces between us. He’s two now, so this is as calm as he ever gets. The kid even moves in his sleep.
“You know what?” I say, and Bront? turns to look at me. The men are at the kitchen bar, trying to pretend it’s possible to hold a conversation without a toddler busting in every few seconds. “I just realized that it’s an anniversary for Peter and I. Hey,” I say toward the bar. “Did you know it’s our anniversary?”
“Which one?” he asks. “You keep expecting me to keep up with like four. First kiss, first adult kiss, the list goes on,” he complains to Rand.
“Our official first normal couple day anniversary,” I answer. You’d think he could at least remember that one. “As opposed to our first non-official couple anniversary.” Okay, I’m starting to see what he means.
“Now, now, if y’all would just get married, you’d just have to remember one,” Bront? points out.
“I figured Geneva would let me know when she’s ready to get married,” Peter replies.
“I’m supposed to tell you when we should get married?” I swear, I love him to the end of the earth and back, but sometimes he can be such a typical man. “Why am I responsible for that decision?”
“What would you do if I had proposed on some jumbotron six months ago?”
“I would have said no and dumped my beer on your head.”
“And if I put your ring in a piece of cake and asked you while I was down on one knee in a fancy restaurant?”
“I’d probably choke on the ring and pour champagne over your head.”
“Why does this always end with pouring a drink over his head?” Rand asks.
“It’s better than having the ring extracted from my lower intestine after I swallow it in a piece of cake.”
“Point taken.”
“You know I don’t like stupid public displays anyway,” I continue.
“Exactly,” Peter says. “So I figured when you’re ready, you’ll tell me how you want proposed to.”
“Huh,” I huff. My gaze settles back on the display over the river. Peter knows me so well. I don’t remember us even discussing marriage. Do I want to get married? We have such a good thing going right now. Do I want to take a chance on messing it up? But if we’re great together now, how would a piece of paper change that?
“Wait, I have a question.” Bront? turns to look over the back of the couch at Peter. “If you’re waiting for Geneva to tell you when to propose, how will you have a ring ready in time?”
“I have a ring already,” he says.
“Really?” I ask.
“Yeah, I bought it about six months ago.”
“Where is it?”
How does this make any sense? So Peter has thought enough about marrying me that he’s bought a ring but has never brought the subject up? He’s usually not this complicated. But then I am, and he knows that.
“In the safe in the bedroom closet.” I sit glaring at him until he rolls his eyes. “I’ll go get it.” He disappears into the bedroom. My heart amps up to double-time when he steps back into the room with a box. “I had it made for you, but if you don’t like it, we can hunt for something else.” He hands me the box.
Slowly, I open the lid. Bront? gasps, but I can’t even get enough oxygen in my lungs for that. It’s not the typical gold and diamond engagement ring.
I slip it on my finger so I can study it better. It’s white gold that looks silver. In the center is a large onyx stone with two smaller diamonds on either side of it. Accent diamonds swirl around them, encasing the main stones. It’s simply the most stunning ring I’ve ever seen.
“It couldn’t be like anyone else’s,” he says. “You’re not like anyone else. It has to be as unique as you are.”
I swallow back tears as I stare at it. Bront? picks up Keats and moves to the bar next to Rand. It’s just Peter and I in the living room now.
“I don’t want to take it off,” I whisper.
“Then this is you telling me it’s time.” Peter takes my hand and pulls me to the bay window I’ve fallen in love with. He gets down on one knee, taking my hands in his. “Geneva Selene Randolph,” he begins.
No, the fact that my initials stand for gunshot residue has not been lost on me.
“I knew from the first day you walked into my office in San Francisco and reamed me a new one for missing the deadline on the Holland building that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you. I just wasn’t sure how to do that.
“I fell in love with you then, and that’s never changed. This last year has been the best of my life. I don’t want it to ever end. Will you marry me so it never will?”
Tears are rolling down my face. I’m not sure I’ve ever cried tears of happiness until this year. Of course, the answer is yes. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to be too easy to get. After all, a girl needs to always keep her man on his toes. Peter would be disappointed if I didn’t.
“Am I expected to move in here?” I ask, raising one eyebrow.
“Yes,” he answers. I can see the corner of his mouth turn up slightly. He knows what I’m doing. “Fine, we can get a place big enough for your workout studio.” He rolls his eyes.
“But we’ll have to give up this window.”
“There are bigger houses on the lake with windows.” His smile spreads across his face.
“How about?—”
“Geneva,” I hear three voices ring out. I sink to my knees with a laugh.
“Then I’d better answer yes. I will marry you, Peter Winsloe.” I press my lips to his. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against him. “Do we get to honeymoon at the Grand Canyon?” I ask when he releases me.
“No,” he answers. “But I’m game to do some hiking in Waimea Canyon, Kauai. When I’m not too busy wrestling that Brazilian bikini off of you, that is.”
“You’ve got a deal, Winsloe.”
“Good to hear, Randolph.” Then his lips are back on mine.
* * *
PETER
Most people would think I’m insane for letting Geneva decide when we get engaged. But then they don’t know her like I do. She lets me tie her up in bed, but I have to give back what I take. She just as often ties me down.
Growing up with no control in life does funny things to a person. It takes a tremendous amount of trust for her to let me in, and I don’t take that for granted.
It’s also an odd choice to choose onyx for the main stone in an engagement ring, but Geneva is not like anyone I’ve ever known. I knew the ring had to speak to her on a level that says I know her heart. Anything less would never do. I also didn’t want whatever drink was nearest dumped on my head for getting it wrong.
The tears still rolling down her face as she holds her hand out for Bront? speaks volumes. I knew she wouldn’t want a public display, but having her brother here to share the moment was perfect. I caught him wiping away a tear or two also.
I suspect we’ll have a small wedding with just family. I wonder if she’ll even invite her father. It’s a given that I’ll have Tim and Rand by my side, of course. But I suspect she won’t stand for anyone to give her away.
“So after all of these years of acting like brothers, we’re finally going to become them?” Rand asks, shaking my hand. I pull him into a hug. After all, brothers hug, and this man is as close as a brother to me as my biological one. “Ooh, you’ll be the baby one at that since I beat you by a couple of months.”
“I still outweigh you by a good fifty pounds though. Keep that in mind.” He laughs and slaps me on the back. I can probably bench press him too, but I’ll let that go. “Thanks, man, for not holding me to that promise,” I add.
“Pssh. I think that was the best move I made. She’s all your problem now. No takebacks.”
“I heard that, asshat,” Geneva says from across the room.
Rand winces and ducks behind me. It’s all in fun though. Their love was built through the need to survive together. It’s unique and special. I would never come between them.
“We should go out to celebrate,” Bront? announces. “Let me see if I can get the sitter for a few hours.”
Rand moves to her side as she dials. Keats jumps from the couch into his arms.
“Think we can pull off a wedding in three months?” Geneva asks, sliding her arms around my neck.
“That fast?”
“I want to get to Hawaii before the crowds hit. It’ll just be family anyway and a few friends.”
“Baby, I’ll marry you wherever, whenever, and with whomever you want.”
“You just keep getting better with age, Winsloe.” She kisses me quickly before pulling back. We did have to promise Rand no more public displays after he almost walked in on me between her thighs on my desk.
“I hope so, Randolph. It’s not like I can get any younger.” I know my soon-to-be sister-in-law is in the process of setting up a babysitter, but all I want to do is get my fiancée spread out on the bed. It’s weird how easily that word rolls off my tongue. Fiancée. It has a nice ring to it. Wife will sound even better.
“So three months,” I say. “Well, if anyone can pull off a wedding in that time, it’s you.”
“Damn straight,” Rand adds. “My sister can do anything she sets her mind on.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Her face lights up at our words. Rand and I tell her this all the time. At first, she ignored us, but we’ve been wearing her down. I don’t let the sun go down without reminding her every day of everything she has accomplished.
Our business is thriving, thanks to her direction. We’ve found a group of friends because of her ability to nurture our social circle. She’s even getting the hang of slipping the word “y’all” into everyday language.
“Success!” Bront? announces. “We’ll drop Keats off and meet you downtown in a few?”
“Sounds perfect,” Geneva says.
“Come on.” Bront? hustles Keats and Rand out the door. The lock barely clicks behind them before Geneva is pulling her shirt over her head. Grabbing my hand, she tugs me toward the bedroom.
“Clothes off, Peter. There’s just enough time for that quickie we talked about on the way through the mountains.”
Be jealous. She’s that amazing. I toe my shoes off before jogging to the bedroom after her. I don’t bother to unbutton my shirt; I just pull it off over my head. She’ll be slick already, waiting for me.
I know she’ll still be up for more when we finally get home tonight. The best thing I’ve ever done is throw my integrity out the window on that snowy evening in Santa Fe.
I’ve never regretted that decision. I’d do it all again if it meant I’d still wind up with the gorgeous woman waiting on our bed on all fours. Did I think for a minute when we left San Francisco that I’d wind up here? Not for a second. Did I expect to lure Geneva into my bed? Not really. But I’m glad I’m the lucky bastard that did.
“Hurry, Peter. I need you inside me,” she moans, rocking toward where I’ve stepped to the edge of the bed. I slide inside. It never gets old knowing I’ll never get enough of her.
Finally, I’m that bastard that got the girl. A truly lucky bastard.
* * *
Thank you for reading Falling. I hope you enjoyed Peter and Geneva’s story.