Epilogue #2
Dallas drops his head, taking a quick kiss as he reaches out, settling his hands on my hips. Pulling back just enough to meet my eyes even if he doesn’t let me go, he asks, “Something special you’re hoping to find under the tree?”
“When you give me everything I want before I can even ask for it?” A new wardrobe, a new life… “You spoil me.”
“You deserve to be spoiled,” is his husky response. “But I mean it, Lucy. You want it, it’s yours.”
My heart trips over itself. It’s the earnestness that nearly kills me. He means it. God, he’d dig a knife into his chest, carve out his heart, and hand it to me if he thought I wanted him to.
But that’s not what I want.
What I want…
“I want to get married,” I blurt out.
Dallas blinks. Once, twice, then his lips curl. “We are married. Remember? I’m your husband and nothing can change that.”
Because he told me he was. Because he made sure the only other man who could claim the position was eliminated from contention. Because, in the Order, little things like laws and consent and protocol mean jackshit when you’re one of the men at the top.
My fingers clutch the material of his black t-shirt, drawing him into me.
“I want it to be legal, Dal. I want it on paper. I want to sign something and file it somewhere so that it counts outside of Harmony Heights, and then I want to tell the whole goddamn world that you’re mine and I’m yours. That it’s ‘til death do us part.”
Dallas lifts his right hand, stroking the height of my cheek.
“I let you get away from me once. It was the biggest fucking mistake I’ve ever made.
You listen to me, Dandelion. The only way you’re getting away from me now is if I’m in a casket or you are.
So, yeah, ‘til death do we part is right. I don’t need some legal bullshit to tell me what I know: that you belong to me. But if this is what you want—”
“It is,” I promise. “I… I’ve been thinking about this for a while.” I’ve been thinking about this since I learned the devastating truth that he wasn’t my husband, even if he considered himself to be the moment he found me in that hospital bed. “You asked me to marry you once.”
Surprise twists his features. “You remember?”
I do. One of my most recurring memories that I’ve kept to myself includes a very intimate scene in the cab of Dallas’s truck, followed by the worst day of my life: when I ended things with Dallas all because his father threatened to kill him if I didn’t.
I thought I was saving him, and I liked to think I did.
He outlived Jack Collins, something I doubt he would’ve if I’d accepted his sudden proposal all those years ago.
“I remember you asking me,” I admit. “I remember how much it broke my heart to say no. How much I wanted to say yes, but your dad…” I shake my head.
No. The former King stole so much from us.
I refuse to let him have any more room in our heads these days, something I’m sure Dallas would agree on.
“I remember wishing I could be with you forever.”
Releasing his hold on my hip, Dallas snatches my hands. “You’re gonna. You want to get married? We get married. A big church wedding, if that’s what you want. White dress, flowers, organ-playing. Fuck. I’ll even deal with Father Francis eyeing me skeptically from the other side of the altar.”
At my confused look, Dallas snorts. “Sorry. He’s a good priest, but he still hasn’t forgiven Adrian and me for desecrating St. Catherine’s when my cousin interrupted Loni and Des’s wedding.”
It’s my turn to blink. “Is this something I don’t remember, or—”
“Nah. That happened while you were… gone. I can tell you the story—”
“Later,” I say firmly. “But I don’t need all that. A fancy church wedding… I mean, if that’s what you want…”
Another snort. “That’s not my style. I’m good with you wearing my ring and the blood oath backing up my claim to you.
But my Dandelion wants a wedding, so…” For a few seconds, Dallas studies my expression.
He dips his head again, a stray curl falling forward as his eyes brighten.
“How about a courthouse wedding? Something simple and quick.”
“And legal,” I cut in. “Yes. That would be perfect. We can find out when there’s a judge who can marry us—”
“Today.”
“—and we can.. Wait. Did you say today?”
“If the snow lets up, yeah. Why not?”
I can think of a million reasons why not, the least of all that: “It’s Christmas Eve, baby.
I want to make you my husband as soon as possible more than anything, but I don’t think we’ll be able to just drop everything and find someone to marry us.
” When Dallas thumbs the corner of his mouth before raising his eyebrows in a cocky dare, I sputter.
“The courthouse has gotta be closed. It’s Christmas Eve, Dallas! It’s snowing!”
“And you said it’s just a squall. Besides, I asked my Dandelion what she wants for Christmas and she wants to be my wife.
You think I’m not gonna make that happen?
” Dallas shoves his hand into his back pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone.
“What good is it being the former King of the Order… or knowing the new King… if you can’t do something as simple as getting hitched on Christmas Eve? ”
Then, before I can point out that there has to be some limits to what an Owed can accomplish in Harmony Heights, he presses a button on his phone, then holds it to his ear.
My heart thumps wildly as I wait for someone to answer—
“Adrian,” Dallas grates as his cousin gets on the line. “Change of plans. No, it’s not about dinner. We should be able to still make it by seven. But, first, there’s something else we need to do…”
The courthouse in Harmony Heights should be closed. If not closed completely, then shutting down early. It’s Christmas Eve, after all, but that means nothing when the Order of the Owed is involved.
From what I understand, every single judge in the city is a member of the Order.
Even if the courthouse was closed, all it took was a single call from Adrian and there was a marriage clerk and an officiant waiting for us to leave the Fortress and head to the downtown courthouse so that Dallas and I could get married.
I’m wearing a red sweater dress that Dallas bought for me after I admired it in the window of a local shop. It was meant to be the dress I wore to Christmas Eve dinner, and since that’s where we plan on heading after our quickie wedding, I figured it could do double-duty as a wedding dress.
Just like I said, the snow has slowed substantially an hour after I stood in front of the window, watching the thick flakes whirl around Harmony Heights.
It’s still drifting downward, almost lazily, leaving a small dusting on the coat Dallas wrapped around my shoulders before he bustled me into his truck.
To my stunned surprise, Dallas is wearing a suit that I’d wager belonged to Adrian at one point.
It fits Dallas well, and I almost decided to call the whole thing off just because I wanted to take his hand, drag him into the bedroom, and peel each layer of the three-piece suit off before I gave him a more physical Christmas gift of my own.
He looks so damn sexy, with both of his neck tattoos peeking out from the collar of his suit jacket, a hint of danger clinging to him in a way that the expensive suit can’t tame.
His hand is on the back of my coat, the snowflakes nestled on his curls. He found time to shave before we left the house, though his hair is tousled and his expression determined to do this before I change my mind.
As if I would…
I figured we would meet the judge that was waiting for us, sign a marriage license, have him do a quick ceremony, and borrow a witness or two so that this thing is official.
And while that’s exactly what happens for the most part, I should’ve known better.
When it comes to Dallas, Adrian isn’t the only family he has.
Oh, he might be the only blood relation left—along with Dallas’s aunt—but before we can get this whole thing started, another couple walks in behind us.
It’s Connor and Haven.
Snow is stuck to Connor’s dark coat, his expression light even though it’s impossible for me to miss the darkness lurking there after seeing how quick he was to use his knife if necessary.
Haven’s clutching his arm, eyes wide and nervous, but she’s here—and I know from her hesitant smile that my new friend only left the safety of her sanctuary to support me.
The second I saw them enter the courthouse, I knew what to expect next.
I’m right. Sebastien comes striding in, wrapped in a leather jacket.
Annaliese is tucked under his arm, her pretty brown hair windblown.
Sebastien points a finger at Dallas, saying, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, bro,” before he guides his wife over to stay hello to Connor and Haven.
Lastly, Adrian stalks into the courthouse like he owns the place. Loni is right at his side, the two of them holding hands despite the chilly winter weather outside. They march through the metal detector.
It goes off.
To be honest, I’d expected it to blare when Dallas went through. Same with Connor. My experience with the two men showed me that they were usually armed, though maybe even they drew the line at bringing a weapon to a Christmas Eve courthouse wedding.
Not Adrian.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry. He pats his hip. “Never go to a wedding without my Tomcat.” He glances at Dallas, a small smirk on his face. “Just in case.”
I wait to see if anyone is going to say anything about the King setting off the metal detector. Either there was no security called in or, because this is Harmony Heights, no one has the balls to question what sort of gun the leader of the Order is bringing into the courthouse.
Though, when I remember how Dallas mentioned that he and Adrian once desecrated St. Catherine’s, then I get a look at Loni’s slightly scandalous expression, I think I have a pretty good idea what might’ve happened—especially when it hits me that Dallas mentioned another guy’s name in conjunction with hers earlier…
Dallas goes behind me, easing me out of my coat. I have no idea where he got them from, but he has a small bouquet of white flowers in his hand. He offers them to me, and I take them with nervous flutters low in my belly.
“Everyone’s here,” he murmurs in a deep voice meant for me, as if answering an unsaid question. But I didn’t ask. I didn’t need to. Of course this is everyone… the three other men, plus their wives… they are Dallas’s family—and, one day, they might be mine, too. “You ready to do this, Dandelion?”
I nod.
Following his lead through the courthouse, suddenly we’re standing in a small courtroom decorated with a single wreath and a tired-looking poinsettia.
A grey-haired judge in wrinkled robes—like he had taken them off, only to put them back on when he got a call from the King—is standing behind a desk.
On top of it, there’s a printed-out piece of paper and a pen.
The judge tells us to go ahead and sign the marriage license so that the clerk can take it and file it for the county records.
Dallas waits for me to go first.
Lifting up the pen, I hesitate for half a heartbeat.
I never took Julian’s name. That much I know for sure. Even after I agreed to the arranged marriage, I was Lucy Wright. That’s what my phone said, and everything I’ve seen about my past since tells me that I never changed my last name.
I sneak a look over at Dallas.
Though his pose is casual, our six witnesses gathered on one side of the room, a single glimpse at him tells me that—to Dallas—we’re the only two people here at all. Holding his breath, he’s watching me like this moment matters more than anything.
And I know exactly what I’m going to sign.
Lucy Collins.
When I turn back to him, I lean in and kiss him before I offer him the pen.
Behind me, Sebastien makes a crack. Something about how the kiss comes after the ‘I do’, but I’m not paying him any attention.
Not when I’m waiting for Dallas to see what I wrote on the line…
I know when he does. Bending over the desk, his breath catches. His head swivels, searching for me. I nod, and he exhales roughly before scrawling his own signature next to mine.
As he joins me, I turn into my soon-to-be husband. My fingers slide up to his neck, brushing over the black spade tattoo on one side. Over the tat he got to mark the day I left him.
Then I drag the fingertips on my other hand lightly over the healed dandelion tattoo on his left side.
“I used to hate my last name,” he admits quietly. “With Jack Collins as my father, it felt like a motherfucking curse.”
I stroke his throat again. “It’s not,” I say. “Not anymore.”
His jaw goes tight, but his eyes are alive as he peers down at me.
“When I think of you as Lucy Collins and what that really means,” he says, voice rough, “I don’t hear him anymore. I only hear you. It’s always been you, Luce.”
And, when we finally remember that we have a small gathering waiting for us to get married, a large weight is finally lifted off of my shoulder because now we’re actually married, and it’ll always be us.
Nothing will ever separate us again.
Ever.