Epilogue - Wilder
Three Years Later
“I didn’t wear the proper shoes to traipse around the city at night!”
I chuckle. Leigh is wearing a short red dress and spiky heels.
Her straight hair cascades like a golden sheet down her back, faintly scented with violets.
Her jewelry is simple, but knowing her, it probably costs a fortune.
She looks perfect, but then again, my wife always does.
“Relax. It’s a surprise, and we’re almost there. ”
I cover Leigh’s eyes as we walk down the last stretch of the graffiti-lined street in the Burned-Over District of Borealis. This area is now well-known for its nightlife and festivals, a stark contrast to when I rescued her from Eos’s bomb six years ago.
It’s just after eleven p.m. Pedestrians crowd the sidewalks, cars honk at every stoplight, and even though the Spring Equinox is still a week away, people are already celebrating.
The bars are at capacity, lines spill onto the sidewalks, and thumping music mixes with shouts and laughter.
There’s bound to be trouble, but that’s not my concern tonight—it’s Soter’s.
My Domna knows how to handle things without me.
Tonight is about Leigh and me.
Soter already warned me that Leigh will leave the moment she figures out my plan.
He might be right; what I’m considering will cause pain, and she’ll do anything to avoid it.
She always says she’s a baby when it comes to pain.
But a bet’s a bet. Leigh won’t let me down—she hasn’t in nearly three years of marriage. Besides, this was originally her idea.
We pass beneath a neon red sign that reads Tartarus. My smile widens.
Fuck, this is going to be fun.
“You ready?” I ask.
Leigh sniffs the air. “What’s that smell?”
I pause. The air reeks of paint, ink, and stale cigarette smoke.
“That’s the smell of fun, princess.” I grip the shop’s smooth door handle.
She exhales a shaky breath. “Ugh, fine, but can we hurry up? I’m getting anxious.”
I laugh. “Your wish is my command.”
We step into a spacious reception area with brick walls adorned in glow-in-the-dark graffiti and hanging LED lights from the low ceiling.
Curtained-off rooms branch off from a central space filled with framed licenses lining the walls and red vinyl chairs.
Behind the counter, a green-haired girl covered in tattoos smiles at me.
I wink back. Diana and I have been planning this for weeks.
I even told her not to take no for an answer if Leigh protests.
I know my wife; she’ll cave. She made me a promise, and she never breaks her word, not since we got married.
That’s part of what makes her a great queen.
“Okay, surprise,” I say, uncovering Leigh’s eyes.
She blinks a few times, then gasps. “A tattoo parlor?”
I nod, a wicked smile on my lips. “We had a bet, remember? Soter and Isolde’s second kid—”
“You want me to get a tattoo?” She backs toward the door.
“The deal was if they had a girl, you’d get a tattoo of my choice.” I waggle my eyebrows for effect.
Leigh crosses her arms over her chest, but she’s grinning. “Absolutely not.”
Diana slides a consent form toward us. “He prepaid and everything,” she singsongs.
Leigh glances at Diana. “I’m sure he did.” To me, she says, “You’re insane if you think I’m going through with this.”
I give her my best reassuring grin. “Come on, Leigh, it’s not that scary. It’s just a little ink.”
But she shakes her head, biting her lip.
My smile falters. “Are you actually scared?”
With a little puff of laughter, she looks me dead in the eye. “No, baby, I’m not scared.” Her smile widens. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but the restaurant was swarming with press … but I see no excuse now.”
I pause, concern rising. “What is it?”
She slips her hand into mine, squeezing it. “Wilder, I’m pregnant.”
The bottom drops out of my world. My future rewrites itself in an instant.
“Pregnant?” I may float away.
“Yes.”
We’ve been trying, and it’s something we both want, but I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.
It’s only been two months since I stopped taking the contraceptive brew.
Don’t people usually try for months or even years before conceiving?
Is it too soon? We’ve been together for nearly six years.
Maybe I’m overreacting. I’ll have to tell Soter right away.
Get him prepared. I’ll need to cut back at work, cancel night shifts, and be home more—we need to figure out a nursery and call our parents …
Will Mom be her doctor, or is that weird?
“You’re turning green,” Leigh says.
“I—”
Leigh rubs her thumb across my knuckles. “Hey, breathe. Nothing has to change unless we want it to. I don’t want you giving up the things you love—I love our life. This baby is something we both wanted, Wilder. It’s a blessing, not a catastrophe.”
I breathe out slowly. “Of course it’s not a catastrophe,” I murmur, tearing up and grinning all at once. “I just want to be there for you.” I place my hand against her flat stomach, which’ll soon swell with my child. Holy shit. We’re having a baby. “Both of you.”
“Then, just be the man I fell in love with.”
I lean down to kiss her. “I can do that.”
I glance at Diana, who is pretending not to eavesdrop with a very obvious smile. “Well. We need to reschedule,” I say to Leigh, feeling thirteen different emotions at once. All of them are happy.
She lifts her chin in a lopsided grin. “I’m not against commemorating big moments, so maybe you should be the one getting tattooed tonight? Diana did stay late and all. I’m thinking my name, or something equally as nauseating.”
I laugh. “You want to mark me as yours?”
Leigh nudges me playfully. “I thought you already were.” She glances pointedly at the ring on my finger.
“Hmm,” I muse, teasing her. She narrows her eyes. “I’ll do it.”
Leigh grins, eyes soft and burning with something that makes me nervous. “Yay! I knew you would.”
Diana laughs and waves me over. I sit in the seat intended for my wife, bare my chest, and wait for Leigh to finish signing her name so Diana can use it as a stencil.
Once we’ve prepped everything and wiped my skin clean, Diana gets to work.
Leigh watches as her name—her real, sophisticated, queenly signature—gets etched in the space above my heart.
She brushes her lips over my ear and whispers over the sound of the tattoo gun whirring, “Forever.”
I smile. “And then some.”