Epilogue One
Mindy
(Four months later)
Rich yawns loudly as he enters the kitchen, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. It’s been a few months since Italy, but he and I haven’t stopped moving forward since.
When I pictured who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, his face isn’t what I envisioned. It’s way better.
Being with Rich has taught me that there’s so many good things in life people often ignore. How many women have passed up the opportunity to be worshipped by an amazing man, all because they were too shallow to see beyond his scars?
Not me.
His scars are what make him so unique, and why I’ve fallen head over heels deeply in love with him since the first time he looked my way.
I never really believed in insta-love until I met him, because our relationship moved fast—faster than anything I’ve ever had before, and I wouldn’t change a minute of it.
The engagement ring hugs my finger like a promise, the large stone a reminder of just how far we’ve come. After we left Italy, I knew that there wasn’t any other man for me in this world. I trust him with my life, and I know that no matter what, he’ll always be there to hold me when I fall.
“You doing okay?” he questions, staring at me with hungry eyes, even though he’s wearing my pink robe and my fuzzy pink slippers, looking anything but dark and brooding.
He does nothing but smile now, no longer able to hide the sunshine he didn’t let anyone but me see.
He still wears the mask when out in public, but at home with me or around his club, he no longer hides behind the flimsy plastic, allowing the real him to be exposed.
If he weren’t already named Krampus, I’d have them change it to something more fitting.
Like Knight, or Superman, something heroic that fits him just right.
He pulls me into his arms, giving me sweet kisses across my nose and cheeks. “I asked you a question, baby. Are you doing okay?”
“Pink’s really your color,” I tease, changing the subject.
He frowns. “Okay, spill. What aren’t you telling me?”
He hasn’t seen it yet. It’s laying right there on the table, but he’s too focused on me to see it.
“Maybe you should sit down.”
His smile drops. “Mindy, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” He fumbles with a chair, then drops into it, his hand inches away from the little stick on the table.
“Nothing,” I lie, wondering how he’s going to take it when he finds out.
“Everything’s fine.”
My eyes dart to the stick by his hand, the two little lines screaming at him for attention. One more inch and he’ll touch it.
“I swear, woman, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll—” His fingers touch the plastic, sending it skittering across the table.
That gets his attention.
The second he sees it, he freezes. Eyes drifting from it to me.
“Is that what I think it is?”
I nod.
Tears are already in his eyes. “Are you pregnant?”
“Mm hm,” I mumble, wiping a tear that falls down my cheek. “Is that okay?”
He’s out of his chair before I can stop him. “Are you kidding me? That’s fudging amazing!”
Oh yeah, that cussing thing… he’s working on it. I don’t think he realizes how much I’ve rubbed off on him.
He swings me around, kissing me at least seven times before my feet hit the floor.
“I’m gonna be a daddy!” He pauses, then looks at his phone. “I need to tell everyone!”
Giggling, I watch him fumble with his phone, already plugging in someone’s number.
“Hey now, can’t we just enjoy this for a little longer before letting other people in?”
He stops typing and drops the phone onto the table. “You’re right. This is about us right now.”
His arms circle around me, dragging me closer. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a daddy.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He nods, kissing my forehead sweetly. “Ever since I met you, it’s all I’ve wanted, Mindy. I love you.”
“I love you too, Rich. Just promise me one thing, okay?”
Those blue eyes drink me in, promising the world if I ask for it.
“What’s that?” he questions, lips dragging down my neck, igniting excited shivers only he can provide.
“Promise me you’ll always keep our family safe.”
The word hangs between us like an ornament hanging off the edge of a branch. One wrong move and the fragile glass drops, shattering beneath the tree we’re just starting to build together.
Rich stills. His mouth pauses at my throat, breath warm and uneven. Slowly, he pulls back enough to look at me, really look at me, like he’s committing every freckle and fear to memory.
“I promise,” he says without hesitation. No contracts. No stipulations. Just certainty. “Nothing touches you or our child without going through me first. I don’t care who it is or what it costs. I will always protect you both.”
Something in my chest cracks open, relief and love bleeding together. I cup his jaw, thumb brushing over the scars on his face, loving the way he lovingly nuzzles my palm like my touch breaks him.
“I need to hear it,” I whisper. “Not as Krampus, the man who deals with enemies and wears blood on his hands.” I swallow hard. “But as the Rich, the man who’ll always come home to us even when times are rough.”
His forehead drops to mine. “I swear it.”
My eyes burn with relieved tears, but I force out a smile, anyway. “Good,” I say softly. “Because I don’t want our babies growing up experiencing the fear we did this past year.”
He exhales a shaky laugh. “Babies?” he repeats, like he’s trying the word on for size. “I can’t wait to have more.”
I shrug casually, like my heart isn’t pounding hard enough to bruise my ribs. “Well, I hope you’re ready because they’re gonna be here soon.” I hand him the sonogram, watching his eyes widen with shock.
“Wait, there’s two?”
Giggling, I nod. “Yup, twins.”
His hands slide to my stomach, the look of excitement shimmering in his eyes. “This is better than I could’ve ever imagined. Next Christmas will be better,” he predicts. “Next year will be better, too.”
I huff out a hesitant breath, still scarred from the wounds Rico left me with. “This year was… a lot.”
“That’s one way to put it,” he says dryly.
I tilt my head, studying him with uncertainty.
“Next Christmas needs to be better,” I say.
“No bloodshed. No contracts. No hiding or running because we’re fearing for our lives.
Just stockings, trees, and feelings of joy.
Oh, and you can’t hate Christmas anymore.
Once we’re married, Krampus stays on the bike, and Rich comes home to enjoy the holiday season with his family. ”
He kisses me tenderly. “Deal.”
I run my fingers through his hair, tears finally spilling out of me that I’ve tried to suppress. “Looks like you’re officially outnumbered.”
He looks up at me, eyes red with happy tears, his smile unstoppable. “I don’t care,” he says fiercely. “I’ll protect all three of you. Every day. Every Christmas. Every lifetime.”
My lips find his out of instinct, sealing the promise between us like an unspoken contract we’ve both secretly signed.
“This family,” I whisper against his lips, “is going to survive.”
He holds me tighter, like he already knows the truth.
We’re not running from anyone anymore.
We’re creating roots, and building something together worth fighting for.
A family.