Epilogue
MARGOT
I type the last words of Chapter 32 and read them over with a nod of satisfaction. Only ten more chapters to go before my sequel will be ready for editing. When I published my debut thriller novel, The Final Betrayal, I never expected to turn it into a series, but readers fell in love with the main character, a spunky forensic psychologist named Dr. Evelyn Cross. Now I have five more books planned with her as the lead. The Final Betrayal sold better than I ever could have hoped. Now I get to craft stories full of mystery and intrigue for a living, and I’m loving every second of my new career.
As I save my changes and close the document, my phone lights up from its place on my desk, and my mom’s name flashes on the screen. I accept the call with a smile, leaning back in my chair.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, honey. How’s the book going?”
“It’s getting there. Slowly but surely. How are you?”
“Great! Really great.”
The divorce was finalized a while back, and my parents are so much happier for it. They’re not exactly best friends, but they’re civil when they see each other, and the blazing arguments are a thing of the past. Mom is treating it like a fresh start. She’s been doing a lot of solo traveling, letting her adventurous side run wild across the globe, from Morocco to Mongolia.
“I’m calling to invite you to dinner next week,” she says, a note of nervousness in her voice. “Thing is, honey, I met somebody.”
My heart flutters. “You did?”
“His name’s Richard. He’s an antique dealer.” There’s a pause before she adds, “Would you like to meet him?”
“Of course I would!” I grin at my phone. “Mom, this is amazing! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, baby. He’s a wonderful man. I think you’ll like him.”
“I’m sure I will. When can I meet him?”
Mom suggests a restaurant and we agree on a reservation for next week.
“We’ll be there,” I tell her. “Can’t wait.”
“Great.” She sounds relieved. “How’s the little one doing?”
“All good. I had a checkup last week. She’s still kicking like crazy.”
I rest a hand on my swollen belly, my heart squeezing with love as I think of my daughter curled up inside my womb, safe and sound. She’ll be here in just a couple more months, and I’m so excited to meet her.
“Maybe she’ll be a soccer player one day,” my mom says with a chuckle. “Or a breakdancer.”
With impeccable timing, I feel a hard kick against my hand, and I laugh with delight. It still gets me every time.
“At this rate, I think she’ll be both,” I say.
My mom and I talk for a few more minutes about Richard and the baby before we say our goodbyes and end the call. I grab onto my desk and push myself out of the chair—not an easy task when you’re seven months pregnant. Once I’m upright, I rub my lower back, looking out the window. My home office has the best view of any room in the cabin. The mountains loom in the distance, and rows of Christmas trees sprawl as far as the eye can see. I catch sight of Nolan and his wife, Aurora, walking hand in hand. She looks around furtively, making sure they’re not being watched before Nolan lifts her into his arms and kisses her urgently, pressing her back against a bushy pine tree. I giggle to myself and look away, heading downstairs and into the living room.
Declan is sitting at the table, examining a pile of papers. Since I got pregnant, he prefers to work from the cabin as much as possible, so he can make sure I’m safe. When he hears me coming, he looks up, eyes crinkling at the corners. My husband is aging like fine wine. His beard is more salt than pepper now, the lines on his face deeper, but it only makes him look sexier. His flannel sleeves are rolled up, revealing his thick, tattooed forearms as he stands up and pulls me into his arms.
“How’d it go, sugar? Did you finish the chapter?”
“Yep.” I smile at him, drinking him in. He smells like home, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to his gentle heartbeat. “My mom called. She met someone, a guy named Richard. I said we’d meet them for dinner next week.”
“Sounds good.” He presses a kiss on my head. “It’s great that she’s found somebody.”
“I know! I’m so happy for her.” With a sigh of contentment, I ask, “What about you? How’s your work going?”
“Good.” His chest vibrates as he speaks, his deep voice sending a familiar shiver through me. “I think we’re on track to have our best opening day yet.”
“That’s amazing!” I kiss his cheek, my lips brushing his beard. “You deserve it. I know how much work you’ve been putting in.”
In the years since I met Declan, Mistletoe Christmas Tree Farm has only gotten more successful. The barn includes a gift shop now, selling holiday decorations, chocolate, candy, and other festive treats. We even have our own Santa Claus to greet the kids and take photos with them, and Nolan hooked up speakers around the farm to play holiday music. It’s such a magical place, and I still help out there whenever I can.
These days, Declan seems much more confident in co-owning the place. He’s open to outside help and no longer seems afraid of ruining his dad’s legacy. Instead, he’s building his own, and I’m so proud of everything he’s accomplished.
“Thanks, beautiful,” he says, smiling at me. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” His eyes flicker down to my body. “Anyway, I think I’m done with work for today.”
“Is that so?” I knowingly raise an eyebrow. My husband has always been insatiable, but ever since I got pregnant, he’s like a man possessed. He can’t keep his hands off me, and I love it. He makes me feel so sexy. So wanted.
“Fuck, how do you get prettier every day?” he asks hoarsely, running his hands over my wide hips, my swollen breasts, the roundness of my belly. “You have no idea what you do to me, sugar.”
A familiar pulsing swells between my thighs, arousal pooling in my panties. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that pregnancy makes me insanely horny. All Declan has to do is look at me and I’m panting for him.
“So show me,” I murmur, trailing my hand down his chest. “Show me what I do to you.”
Declan groans before leaning down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. He tastes like warm cocoa and something raw, something animal that makes me shiver against his mouth. His tongue pushes inside, probing and urgent, and I let him guide me back toward the couch, his lips never leaving mine.
The fire is crackling in the hearth beside us, warming my skin as Declan undresses me, tearing everything off in a frenzy. He’s seen me naked a thousand times, but it doesn’t stop him staring at me like I’m a work of art, his hands running reverentially over my plump, rounded body.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Margot.” He kisses my neck, sucking on the sensitive spot at the base of my throat, his hands unbuttoning his shirt and jeans. Once he’s kicked off his boxers, I feel his thick length poking against me, warm and hard as rock. My body responds instinctively, wetness dripping down my thighs as I kneel on all fours by the fire, keeping the pressure off my belly as Declan kneels behind me. My core is aching to be filled, aching for my husband’s cock, and I moan with relief as he thrusts into me. His grip is tight on my hips, and he leans down to pepper kisses on my back before starting to move.
“Oh!”
His fat cock slams into me, his balls slapping against my clit until I’m gasping for breath. My tits bounce hard, eyes rolling back as pure pleasure courses through me. I will never, ever get tired of my husband fucking me like this. His cock hits every delicious spot inside of me, making me tremble and sob for him.
“Does that feel good, sugar?” he growls, bending down so his mouth brushes my ear. “Do you like having your husband’s cock deep inside you?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Good girl. Keep taking it. Just like that.”
I move against him, pushing back each time he thrusts forward, taking him deeper and deeper. He reaches a hand beneath my belly and rubs my clit, swirling his fingers in circles as he fucks me hard, stuffing me full of his cock again and again. My core throbs, tightening, every nerve pulled taut as raw ecstasy blooms inside me. I throw my head back and scream my husband’s name, shaking as my orgasm washes over me, my walls pulsing around Declan’s cock. A moment later, I hear his deep groan of release, feel a warm stream of cum shoot deep inside me.
We catch our breath and Declan kisses the back of my neck before slipping out of me. He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bathroom where we clean ourselves before cozying up on the couch together, drawing a blanket over our naked bodies. Snow is falling outside the window—giant flakes dancing to the ground—and I rest my head on Declan’s shoulder, sighing happily.
“I love you, Margot,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead.
“I love you too.”
The lake is visible from where we’re sitting, burning orange as the winter sun sets. I think back to the day I plunged through the ice, sinking into the darkness before Declan jumped in to rescue me. If I hadn’t fallen, if he hadn’t saved me and taken me back to his cabin, I might never have let myself open up to him. I wouldn’t be sitting here right now wrapped up in my husband’s loving embrace, our baby growing inside me. Things could have ended so differently if I let my fears win back then.
Love is a risk. I’ve always known that. In some ways, it’s like skating on a frozen lake, stumbling along, trying to find your balance. You could slip through the ice. You could fall and hurt yourself. Or maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll fly right across, gliding like a swan, happy and free.
I took a risk.
I put my heart on the line.
And as I look at my husband, the rugged lumberjack who has changed my whole world, I know that it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.