Epilogue
EPILOGUE
“Last check,” Sam said, running his finger down the laminated list. “Passport.”
Lacey dug it out of her purse. “Check.”
“Wallet.”
She held up her wallet. “Check.”
“Daisy’s vet paperwork.”
She opened her backpack and touched the folder. “Check.”
“Phone charger?”
Lacey dug through her purse, then her backpack.
“Shit.” She ran back to retrieve her charger from the hotel nightstand.
They had been on tour for a month, and Graham and Eloise’s cheeky wedding present—the laminated packing list—had saved them from forgetting things in four different cities. Sam did his check first, because usually running down the list reminded Lacey of the things she’d forgotten to grab.
Sam loved being on tour with Lacey. When the opportunity had been presented—meaning he’d twisted every arm he could find to get what he wanted—to open for Jenna, he jumped on the chance. It was even better that it wasn’t his tour, because every night he got to go on stage, do what he loved for forty-five minutes, then watch Jenna and his wife absolutely crush it for two hours.
They hadn’t taken an official honeymoon. There hadn’t been time. Someday, after Jenna’s tour and then his tour, which would start a few weeks after Jenna’s ended, wrapped, he would take Lacey on a long, leisurely vacation.
The week they’d had between tour preparation and the start of the tour had been spent in Crane Cove, soaking up all the small-town charm they could. They drank coffee at Stardust, ate Cole’s impeccable meat at Cranberry Brothers, and finally got to try the Spanish tapas place.
They agreed that pizza had been the right decision for their first date.
Returning to Crane Cove had felt like an extended wedding shower and reception, all rolled into one. Lacey spent the first few days with her hand extended in front of her body, showing off her sparkling ring to anyone who asked to see it. The ladies of the knitting circle ooh-ed and aww-ed, and surprised Sam with a stack of cards with marriage advice and a recipe box. His favorite piece of advice was “Be kind. Be considerate.”
Graham and Eloise hosted a private dinner reception for them at the hotel. Amara even made them a small, simple white wedding cake with yellow daisies for decoration. Sam and Lacey had said no gifts, so naturally their friends ignored them. Graham and Eloise gave them the packing list and a dry erase marker. Connor gave them a journal to record their first year of marriage. Kiki’s gift, which Lacey started to open and promptly stopped, was a whip.
Peter, the great sentimentalist, gifted them a collection of poems and love letters between John Keats and Fanny Brawne. To Sam’s surprise, Sybil gifted them the same collection, but a different edition .
Sam asked Cole to check in on the house periodically while he and Lacey were away on tour. Cole had mellowed as he progressed into his mid-twenties, and if he guarded the location of Sam’s house with half the vigor he guarded his brisket recipe, no one would ever find it. Peter had offered to stay there and house sit when he was scheduled to film a movie nearby, but Sam had heartily declined; he’d seen Peter start too many kitchen fires.
Lacey returned with her phone charger held triumphantly above her head.
“Charger! Check!”
“You are too excited about that.” Sam checked off the item. “Sex toys?”
“That’s not on the list, but I packed them last night after we cleaned them.” Lacey kissed his cheek. “Have I told you that I love you today?”
“Yes, but it never stops feeling good.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, sunshine.”
His phone dinged in his pocket. Sam waited until Lacey was distracted putting her charger in her backpack to check it. He was a little ashamed to admit that he’d set up news alerts for Jace Kieffer, but if that asshole stepped one toe out of line, Sam was ready to make good on his threat to end his career. But, karma was taking care of Lacey’s parasitic ex-boyfriend. His debut single had only gone as high as number nine, and his sophomore song was a complete flop.
Today’s little piece of news was benign. Only the lineup for the North Dakota State Fair. Sam pocketed his phone.
Lacey was bent over, adjusting Daisy’s harness and leash, and Sam ran a loving hand over the glorious curve of her ass.
“Do you think we have time?—”
A polite knock at the door interrupted his attempt to fuck his wife one more time in that particular hotel room .
Lacey twisted her hair into a high, messy bun. “They can’t be looking for us yet. We’re not even late.”
Sam kissed the delicate daisy tattoo behind her ear. He had a similar one in the same place. As soon as they could agree on a design, they were going to get matching tattoos to commemorate their time in Barcelona.
“Do you want to be late, Mrs. Shoop?”
The knock came again.
“It’s probably John Paul and Daisy,” she said, and went to open the door.
After his stellar performance above and beyond the call of duty in Las Vegas, Sam had hired John Paul to be the head of his security detail for Jenna’s tour and into his own tour. John Paul’s main job—and definitely his favorite job—was being Daisy’s nanny.
Lacey paused with her hand on the doorknob and smiled at Sam over her shoulder. “When we get to Minneapolis tonight, your ass is mine.”
She opened the door to greet their dog, who was a wiggly tornado of excited energy to see her mom, and contentment settled over him like a warm, weighted blanket.
This was the life he’d always wanted and had been afraid to reach for. He still had days where the clouds of his low moods refused to part, but they were easier, knowing Lacey’s warm sunshine remained on the other side. And he got to help her through her hard days, too.
Sam grabbed their suitcases and wheeled them to the door.
“Should we be early for a change?”
“Everyone else is going to think they’re late.” Lacey took Daisy’s leash from John Paul. “Let’s do it.”
Sam chuckled and followed his girls to the elevator.