Epilogue
RONAN - ONE YEAR LATER
Dinner at Lily’s mom’s house should feel normal by now.
We’ve been coming here every week for months.
A condition her mom suggested, and one I didn’t know I needed, but can’t imagine living without.
But this is Thanksgiving, which makes it different.
Last year, I spent it here, too, and I was on edge the entire time, hyper aware of the history I brought with me, as well as the second chance Lily was giving me.
A year ago, I never would have believed this would be my life—welcomed into a family, no longer feeling like I have one foot out of the door. Writing again. Showing up the way Edwards wanted me to, and learning what it means to be accountable to people who give a damn.
This year, it’s comfortable, easy. I’m surrounded by the kind of warmth I never thought I’d have.
The kitchen is filled with the scent of turkey and pie, full of the sound of conversation and laughter.
We finished eating an hour ago, and I’ve been helping her mom clear up, and talking about the book I’m working on—poetry and memoir woven together.
Cassidy, Lily, and her sister Rose, are bickering over something that none of them really care about, their voices a familiar backdrop to my life now.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, surprising me. Lily is here. So is Cassidy. It could be Tom, but he usually just shows up instead of texting.
When I pull it out, the message waiting for me detonates every rational thought in my head.
One photograph. One message.
Lily: Bet you can’t keep a straight face.
I tap on the image, and my lungs stop working.
It’s a photograph of Lily, spread out on our bed, naked, fingers between her legs, holding herself open to the camera. The image isn’t teasing. It’s obscene. It’s filthy. It’s fucking gorgeous. And she sent it while I’m in the middle of having a conversation with her mother.
Heat licks up my spine like fire, and my dick stands to attention. I spin to face the counter before anyone notices, arousal burning through every inch of control I thought I had. My grip on my beer bottle turns lethal.
Turning my head, I search her out. She’s sitting at the table, sipping wine, completely unfazed.
She knows exactly what she's doing to me.
I exhale hard, dragging my tongue across my bottom lip, fighting to keep my expression neutral. No one else in this room has any idea that she’s just declared war.
I keep my face blank while I type out a response.
Me: You’re going to pay for that.
Lily’s phone lights up on the table. She reads my message, her lips curving slightly before her thumbs fly over the screen.
Lily: I should hope so. Come find me.
Then, as if she hasn’t blown my goddamn mind already, she stretches lazily and stands. “I’m going to use the bathroom. Be right back.”
No one questions it. No one even looks up. She walks out, hips swaying, and disappears down the hall. I give it ten seconds before I push away from the counter.
“Left my phone charger in the car.”
Cassidy barely glances my way. Lily’s mom laughs. “Don’t freeze to death out there.”
I’m out of the door and down the hall before she’s finished speaking. Lily isn’t in the bathroom, but the door to the guest room is slightly ajar. I push it open, step inside, and close it behind me.
She’s leaning against the dresser, arms folded, with the smuggest expression I’ve ever seen on her face.
“Took you long enough.”
I respond by locking the door, then reach out for her, and shove her against it. Her gasp melts into a laugh, breathless and wicked when my fingers curl around her throat.
“You think you’re funny?” My other hand skims up her thigh, pushing her dress higher, and discover she’s not wearing panties. I groan.
She tilts her head back and smiles at me. “I think I’m hilarious.”
My fingers dip between her legs. She’s fucking soaked already. My fingers flex around her throat. “Dangerous game you’re playing.”
She hums, rocking her hips, rubbing against my fingers. “Then punish me for it.”
Fuck.
The last year has taught me a lot about this woman, about me, and who we are together. The more comfortable we got, the easier it was to share the things we liked, what turns us on, and what doesn’t.
Lily likes it when I take control. I love it when she teases.
I kiss her, hard, sucking her lower lip into my mouth before biting down just enough to make her moan. My fingers slide inside her, curling, and she gasps, nails digging into my biceps.
“Ronan.”
“Your mom is just down the hall.” My thumb circles her clit. “Don’t think she wants to hear her daughter coming all over my fingers.” My voice drops lower. “Or maybe this is what you wanted? Do you want me to lose my mind in the middle of your mom’s house?”
Her fingers fist into my shirt. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Her admission makes me laugh. Of course she fucking does. This woman knows exactly what to do to turn me on. Not that it takes much. All she has to do is look at me, and I’m considering the quickest way to get her naked.
I pull my fingers free, and take a step back, then pull the dress over her head. Her bra follows, and I take a moment to appreciate the way she looks. Her skin is flushed, nipples beaded, pussy … well, that’s a temptation I can’t ignore.
My fingers trace down her sides, while my mouth finds her throat, biting and sucking a path down to her breasts. My tongue flicks over her nipple, dragging a stifled moan from her. I drop to my knees, force her legs apart with my shoulders, and use my thumbs to spread her open.
“Of all the things I’m thankful for …” I rock back on my heels to look up at her. “This tops the list.”
The first swipe of my tongue over her clit brings her hands to the top of my head.
The second sends her nails scratching over my scalp.
And then she’s rocking forward, writhing against my mouth, chasing my tongue, taking everything I give her.
My fingers push inside her. First one, then two, a third, and she whimpers, pressing a hand over her lips to muffle the sounds she makes.
I take her to the edge, once … twice … then while she’s quivering, shaking, pleading, I pull away and stand up.
“You like torturing me, Phare?” My voice is rough, teasing, as I spin her to face the door, and push a finger back inside her.
“Ronan, please.” She pushes against my hand, her head falling back.
I tangle my free hand into her hair, and pull her face around so I can kiss her, my fingers working her pussy until she’s shaking with the need to come.
Only then, do I reach down to free my dick.
Her hand reaches back, wrapping around me, and stroking.
I pull her off me, pin her wrists above her head, and kiss a path down her throat.
“Not this time, baby.” I reach down between us, line my dick up, and slam home in one deep thrust.
She tries to muffle her cries by pressing her mouth against her arm.
“Is this what you were thinking about when you took that photograph?” I pull almost all the way out, then slam back in again.
She whimpers. “Yes.”
“Were you desperate for me?”
A broken sound escapes her lips. She’s close. I can feel it in the way she’s tensing around me. I pin her harder against the door, grinding into her the way I know she likes.
“Do you want to come?”
“Please.”
My hand covers her breast, my fingers pinch her nipple, and then drop down to find her clit, teasing and stroking until she’s writhing, unable to keep the sounds she’s making quiet.
When she finally shatters, her body clenching around mine, it triggers my own orgasm. I follow her over the edge, groaning against her skin as I spill everything inside her.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but the sound of our panting breaths. Then she laughs, the sound ragged. “You’re welcome.”
I ease out of her, looking around for something she can use to clean up the mess I left inside her. There’s a box of tissues on the dresser. I grab a handful and press them between her legs, helping her clean up.
And standing there, trying to catch my breath, looking at the gorgeous woman in front of me, I come to a decision.
I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment.
The right time. The romantic gesture she deserves.
But the ring has been burning a hole in my pocket for three months because I hadn’t found the right moment yet.
This is us. Real and messy and perfect.
I reach into my pocket and drop to one knee.
She looks at me, still laughing. “I don’t think I can go another round, not—”
Her expression changes. She stills. Her lips part, and her eyes lock on the small velvet box in my hand.
“Ronan …”
“I love you, Lily.” My heart is pounding in my ears. “Marry me?”
She blinks. Stares at me some more. “That’s not funny.”
I flip the box open, revealing the ring inside. A band with a diamond surrounded by rubies. Simple. Classic. Perfect.
Lily swallows. “How long have you been carrying that around?”
“A while, trying to figure out the right time.”
She releases a shaky breath. “And this is it?”
I tilt my head. “You sent me a naked photograph during Thanksgiving dinner at your mom’s house. You tell me.”
She stares at me for a second longer … then she launches herself at me, kissing me so hard we almost knock the lamp off the nightstand. She’s kissing me, crying, and laughing all at once.
“Yes,” she breathes against my mouth. “Yes … a thousand times yes. I love you so much.”
I slide the ring onto her finger, watching the way it catches the light. Perfect. Just like her. Wrapping my arms around her, I tilt her head up so I can kiss her.
“I think I’ve loved you since the first note you wrote me. I just didn’t think I would be allowed to keep you.”
“You know now, though?” Her voice is soft, vulnerable in a way that undoes me.
“Yeah.” I press my forehead to hers. “I know now.”
She kisses me again, then pulls back, eyes widening. “Oh god, now we have to go back out there. What do we say?”
I dip my head to kiss her shoulder. “We can tell them we got engaged in the guest room.”
“We are absolutely not telling them that.”
The smile on my lips feels more natural than it ever has before. “We’ll see.”
She gets dressed while I help, both of us stealing kisses, her looking at the ring every few seconds like she can’t believe it’s real. Before we leave the room, I pull her close one more time.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For writing those notes and seeing me. For not giving up on me.” I cup her face. “For teaching me that ghosts can stop haunting and start living.”
Her eyes fill with tears again. “I love you, Ronan.”
“I love you, too.”
I spent years believing some people were never meant to belong. That my story was written in disappearing ink—there one moment, and gone the next.
I believed that a story like mine wouldn’t have a happy ending.
But this one does.
Because she refused to let me disappear. She saw poetry in my words and possibility in my broken pieces. She taught me that love isn’t about being perfect, it’s about showing up, even when it’s hard.
Especially when it’s hard.
And because she’s in it.
Every page. Every word. Every moment.
The End
Thank you for reading Ghost’s Don’t Cry.