Epilogue
Stella
“Don’t be nervous,” Tyler said.
I made a noncommittal sound.
It was twilight, mid-autumn, his hand firm on mine as he led me toward the back of a turn-of-the-century, Craftsman-style bungalow. Laughter floated from around the corner, where his friends were having one of their “family dinners.” This was my first time meeting them, so, yes, I was nervous.
Especially because of what Tyler had told me about them.
His best friend was the son a notorious serial killer.
His business partner was a reformed mobster.
And the rest of the group was no less intimidating, ranging from social justice warriors to a woman who saved lives every day.
I wanted to make a good impression, but also, I just had no idea what the vibes would be with such an eclectic group, and that’s what made me anxious.
“One second,” I said, slowing to lift the hem of my dress out of the way.
I wore yet another gown—this one a newly acquired piece, with a deep V neckline that flared wide to sit just off my shoulders, the sleeves embroidered lace, the skirt wide and tulle, with a silk underlay.
After dinner, we were due at my parents’ house for a cocktail party celebrating their acquisition of a second Morisot painting, which they planned to unveil later this evening.
Tyler wore a new suit in hunter green, exceptionally tailored, his shoulders impossibly broad in the jacket.
The white button-down beneath it made his skin look golden in contrast, and I couldn’t stop staring at his throat, remembering earlier, my hand wrapped around it while I rode his dick, and he begged me to squeeze harder.
I had no idea how I was supposed to get through tonight with that image tormenting me. My panties were already soaked, and I was desperate to get him inside me again.
His eyes scorched over me, and I could tell his thoughts were mirroring mine. “You know, that dress is almost wide enough for me to hide under the skirt.”
I leaned into him. “Maybe if you’re a good boy tonight, we can test that out.”
He made a low sound in his throat, close to a purr, and started dipping toward me before a fresh swell of laughter reminded us where we were.
I shook myself and straightened up, and Tyler recaptured my hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. He paused, hovering, a mischievous spark lighting his eyes.
“Don’t you dare,” I warned him.
His lips parted, and he nipped my skin hard enough to hurt.
“You’ll pay for that later,” I told him, even as my chest flooded with affection. I knew what he was doing: acting bratty to distract me from my nerves. It was sweet—something I’d once thought Tyler incapable of.
His signature smug grin spread over his face as he lowered our joined hands. Without another word, he tugged me around the corner of the house.
“Oh, wow,” I whispered.
The backyard looked like something out of a magazine.
White-clothed tables sat on a small patio, with a gorgeous center spread of flowers and candles running down the middle of them.
Overhead, café lights twinkled, strung through a series of tall garden stakes.
Potted plants surrounded the scene, white hydrangeas and mums interspersed with hurricane lanterns.
It was cozy, intimate, and only possible thanks to this late-season heat wave.
The sound of crickets and conversation filled the yard as Tyler towed me closer.
My jaw nearly dropped as I took in the people seated around the tables.
I don’t think I’d ever seen a more stunning group of human beings assembled in one place.
They didn’t notice us at first—too busy talking over each other—but once they did, all eyes turned our way.
“Walter!” someone yelled as a dog came pelting out from beneath a table. It was a monstrous shepherd mix, tail wagging, tongue lolling, obviously not a threat. Tyler stepped in front of me anyway.
“Don’t even think about jumping on her,” he ground out, sounding more like the old him than he had in weeks.
I put a steadying hand on his back, and felt him immediately relax.
“He’s like a reckless puppy,” Tyler explained, leaning forward to pet the wiggling, whining derp. “And he doesn’t know his own strength. I didn’t want him to take you out.”
I smiled and stepped around him, soothing my fingers down his spine before I joined him petting the dog, who seemed like he was in canine heaven with two people doting on him.
It only took me a second to realize the greatest threat came from his tail, whipping so fast it actually stung when it struck my shins.
He wound between us like a cat, whimpering and yipping, leaning hard into our legs.
“Sorry about that,” a stunning, petite brunette said, grabbing Walter’s harness to stop him. “Oh, Jesus, look at the dog hair.”
I glanced down to see Tyler and I both covered.
“I have a lint roller,” another gorgeous brunette said, almost as tall as I was, but with a muscle mommy build.
“Lauren and Aly?” I asked.
They looked impressed.
“Yes,” Aly said, extending a hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Stella.” Her smile was warm and welcoming, her expression filled with open curiosity.
“You, too,” I said, shaking her hand, relieved there wasn’t any awkwardness like I’d feared.
Meeting your partner’s ex was always weird, but Tyler had assured me there were no hurt feelings between them, and it had only ever been casual to begin with.
“Thank you for what you did, helping Tyler that day.”
Aly’s expression softened. “You’re welcome. How’s your head?”
Tyler choked. “Don’t ask her that.”
Aly cocked a brow at me in question.
“Inside joke,” I told her.
“You’ll have to explain that to us at some point,” Lauren said, stepping right up to hug me like we were old friends. “But first you have to tell me about this dress. I love it.”
“Same!” a lavender-haired woman exclaimed as she joined us. “Where’d you get it?”
I grinned. “One of my clients made it. Vern. She’s a lab tech by day, seamstress by night.”
Aly’s eyes flashed wide. “Vern Martinez?”
“Yes. Do you know her?”
“She’s one of my best friends,” Aly said. “We work together.”
I blinked. “Woah. Small world. Wait, so you must know Greg, too.”
Aly grimaced. “He’s my cousin.”
My head spun, and I mentally downgraded the world’s size from small to microscopic.
“He’s not nearly good enough for Vern, so I refuse to set the two of them up,” Aly added.
“Ah,” I said, not knowing how to tell her that even without her help, the two of them would probably end up involved if Vern got her way.
The lavender-haired woman looked between us. “Which one of you is giving me her number so I can buy a dress?”
The woman’s name was Taylor, I learned, and afterward, I met everyone else: Josh, Junior, Ryan, Ben, and Jackson.
Once the introductions were over, we sat, talk resuming, the conversation easy and light, the group quick to laugh and tease each other, the couples openly flirting—a far cry from the intensity I’d feared coming into this.
“So! Tyler!” Josh said at one point, his gaze shifting between us. “How did you and Stella meet?”
“Well, that’s kind of a long story,” Tyler said, his eyes sliding to me.
We’d known coming into this that people would be curious.
He hadn’t spent much time with them over the past six months, so absorbed in his Macbethian plot that everything else fell to the wayside.
He’d been trying to fix that lately, taking a more active role in Velvet, the play club he co-owned with Junior, and spending time with Josh, but he still hadn’t come clean about what he’d been up to.
Partly because he hadn’t been emotionally ready to handle the fallout—he was still recovering from everything that had happened over the summer, and since Junior and Lauren were tied up in his lies, he worried it might negatively affect the whole friend group.
I found his hand beneath the table and threaded my fingers through his, squeezing so he knew he wasn’t alone, silently telling him that no matter how he chose to play this, I’d support him.
He faced Josh. “The TL;DR version is I went into her tattoo parlor for a consultation.”
Josh frowned, looking like his feelings might be hurt.
The man was more heavily inked than anyone else at the table, and I recognized the artist he used from the designs alone—one of my competitors on the other side of the city who was famous for his dark, Gothic work.
“I thought you never wanted to get a tattoo?”
Tyler shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
“What’d you get?” Josh asked.
I took a sip of water to avoid meeting his searching look, a blush threatening to pink my cheeks. Not that I should be worried. Tyler was so private that there was no way he would—
“Stella’s teeth marks on my ass,” he said.
I choked, barely managing to keep from spraying Ryan and Ben across from us.
Beside me, Lauren howled with laughter. The rest of the table had mixed reactions.
Josh was clearly shocked. Aly smirked. Junior was draining the rest of his beer like he wished he were somewhere far, far away.
Taylor and Jackson looked like they were bursting with questions, while Ben and Ryan were still focused on me as I hacked, worried I might lose the battle and soak them.
Tyler rubbed my back, but his expression was anything but apologetic. One thing that hadn’t changed? His love for catching me off-guard like this.
Fine. Two could play at that game.
“Clearly, your training has failed,” I rasped.
“I guess you’ll just have to punish me harder,” he shot back, and I lost the fight against blushing.
Lauren rounded on Junior. “I told you he was a brat.”
“I’m not into all that shit,” Josh said, mimicking Tyler’s voice.
Tyler dropped a kiss on my shoulder. “Things . . . changed.”
“I understand,” Josh said, looking at Aly with hearts in his eyes. “You finally met the right person to unlock your kinks.”