Epilogue
ROOK
I ran my thumb over my newly issued driver’s license, the card freshly made and shiny.
The pristine condition wouldn’t last long, especially when I had a habit of pulling out my wallet with oil- or paint-stained fingers.
But I was on the right side of the law and that was the most important thing.
PD was the one who’d convinced me to go back to the doc and get a medical certificate.
Then, I had to redo my physical, and once the DMV was happy, I took my photo again and they reprinted my license.
“How does it feel?” PD asked gently from where he sat on the passenger side of our truck.
I was behind the wheel. His gaze was tender, love sparkling in his eyes.
He made me feel special, and together, we grew and adapted to our new life.
It’d been about ten months since his surgery, and I was walking on clouds.
I’d attached my new studio to the Ink Well, and the opening day was beyond a success, especially since Quain had taken photos of the paintings I’d done for him and shared them on social media.
His son, KC, was a whiz with that stuff, and he was managing my accounts.
He called it “brand building,” whatever the hell that meant.
Everyone wanted my work on a canvas or their bike, and my presence around New Gothenburg skyrocketed.
Even PD’s tattoo parlor was getting more visitors because I suggested my clients pay him a visit if they liked tattoos.
Now that I had my license in my hand, the next step of a plan I’d been putting together for months was in motion.
“Where are we going to eat lunch?” PD grasped my hand and slid his fingers between mine, and I squeezed gently.
“I thought we could go to the clubhouse. King called a meeting,” I lied easily.
“He did?” PD frowned, his forehead crinkling. “I didn’t get a message.”
“He knew I’d be with you. He says we’re always together.
He’s not wrong.” I chuckled. King had told me that, after I admitted I wanted to propose to PD.
He’d said he couldn’t be happier for us.
When I further expressed how I’d love to get married at the clubhouse, maybe right away, the bastard went out and got ordained.
I knew there was probably a good story there, but I tried not to get overly involved in it.
“Weird.” PD didn’t argue, though. He raised my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I love you, do you know that?”
“Whaaat?” I gaped at him. “No way.”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop being an idiot. I’ve only told you a million times.”
I laughed, warmth spreading through my chest and into my veins. He made me happy in ways I couldn’t fully comprehend. I didn’t know why we’d ignored the chemistry for so long. “I love it when you tell me.”
“Good, because you’re stuck with me for life.” PD laid another kiss on my knuckles, and I breathed him in, happiness simmering low in my stomach until I thought I would burst.
PD told me about the tattoos he’d been inking lately, and I relaxed while I listened to his voice.
I wasn’t a religious man, but he could read Bible verses and I’d still listen to every word.
The boring stuff about who begat whom, not just the battles and debauchery.
He made me happy and there was no one else I wanted in this world.
When I veered into the junkyard’s driveway, avoiding the potholes that pitted the road, he went quiet as he took stock of the vehicles—cars, trucks, and bikes—lining the front of the clubhouse and spilling over onto the grass that King yelled about us killing all the time.
White roses in clear vases lined the front of the building and looked great against the navy blue siding.
“Is that your mom’s car?” He pointed at the impossible to miss yellow Kia, and I shrugged because I couldn’t deny it.
I didn’t ask them to hide their vehicles because there was no way PD had any idea what I’d planned.
As long as I got him here without him realizing what was happening, it would all be good.
“Will . . . .” He cocked his head toward me, eyebrows hiking up on his forehead. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t answer at first, sliding from the truck and making my way around to his side. I opened his door and held out my palm toward him. “Do you trust me?”
“As if that’s a question.” His lips quirked as he slipped his hand into mine and let me guide him from the truck. He’d recently gotten rid of the brace for good. “Of course I do.”
He linked our fingers together as I led him toward the front door.
Silence met us as we stepped over the threshold and through the hallway into the barroom.
The space was filled with our family and friends and brothers, everyone who was important to us, but they didn’t say a word as I led PD inside.
“Okay . . . .” PD chuckled as he glanced around at all the familiar faces. “What’s happening?”
Over fifty pairs of eyes watched us. Waiting for me.
I took a deep breath to steady myself, reminding my wayward brain that PD and I had been together half our lives at this point, in one way or another. We’d faced our greatest challenges, and neither of us walked away, even when we could’ve.
Stepping in front of PD, I exhaled and turned to face him before I slid to one knee.
I pulled out a box from my jeans pocket—it’d been there all morning.
He’d asked me what it was earlier, and I’d laughed and changed the topic.
He’d never questioned me. That was PD. He trusted me explicitly, and even when I was frustrated or unable to gather my thoughts, he stayed patient and helped me through it.
Most importantly, he stayed.
I opened the black box, showing him two chrome rings, simple in their design. They were plain silver with the words “Paris + Will” carved on the inside of each one.
PD sucked in a breath of surprise as he stared at the rings. He stayed silent.
“PD. Paris. You’ve been the love of my life longer than I really knew.
You are my rock. When I need hope, you give me that and so much more.
When I’m in pain, you do your best to take it away.
You complete me. I’ve never loved so hard as I do with you.
” My fingers trembled and I nearly fumbled the box.
“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Forever. Right here. Right now. Marry me. Become my husband today. I have a marriage license. King pulled some strings to get it, and he wants to be our officiant. All you need to do is marry me and sign the certificate. Will you become my husband in front of our family today?”
“Fuck yes.” There was no hesitation, but his voice was shaky and quiet, tears clinging to his lashes. His gray eyes gleamed like gems. “You want to marry me?”
I blinked at him, aware of the cheers and shouts of excitement behind me. I cradled his face between my palms, his skin warm under my clammy hands, and touched my forehead to his. “Always. We were meant for each other.”
He laughed, the joyful sound soaking into my pores and filling me with happiness I couldn’t describe. I could take on the world with PD at my side. Together, we could do anything.
A whistle cut through the air. PD and I turned to look at King, who stood in front of the bar with his arms open.
“Come on, lover boys. Let’s get you married.
All you other fuckers gather ’round. We’re going to party tonight.
” He shot side-eye at Grant and Reaper. “At least someone wants to get married with me in the room.”
Grant huffed and crossed his arms, but he was drowned out by the whoops that filled the room. The gossip around the club said that Reaper and Grant had gotten married at city hall.
And King was pissed about it.
But that drama was none of my damned business because I had everything I needed right here.
I tugged PD toward King.
In half an hour, he’d be my husband. How lucky could I get?