Epilogue
ONE MONTH LATER
The front door swings open, and Drew draws me inside and into his arms before I even get my key in the lock. When our lips meet, his hand cups the back of my neck, and almost everything about the last eight hours ceases to feel important. Until he kisses along my cheek and whispers in my ear.
“At least five of us are dying to hear about your first day.”
Just as he says this, a big furry body presses against my thigh.
I look down to find Rufus wedged between Drew’s jeans and my black crepe skirt, wagging his tail with delight.
As he stands there, beaming up at me, Pudding, the bulldog, shoves between his legs until they resemble some kind of mashed-up mythical creature.
Drew’s German shepherd and border collie also circle us, albeit with a more respectful energy.
“You are the reasons I’ve had to invest in a lifetime supply of pet hair rollers,” I say, carefully slipping out of my brand new Louboutins and sinking down to greet the dogs.
Rufus licks my face in reply, which still makes me cringe, but I let him. He goes straight for the fading line where the stitches used to be at my temple, and I instinctively run my fingers over the shaved spot on his chest. Both of us are healed, but we check in on each other’s scars.
“Can’t blame them for missing you.” Drew’s eyes twinkle as he extends a hand and pulls me back to my feet. “Now, how did it go?”
I bite my lip, releasing a satisfied sigh. “Well . . . it was flipping amazing.”
He doesn’t say anything, just breaks into a grin. An expression I’m still getting used to, but quickly coming to adore.
“It was completely overwhelming, but I loved every single second,” I say as he picks up my heels, stowing them in a dog-proof cabinet.
“I had to start in HR and do all the new employee stuff. They have really tight security policies, so I appreciate that. Next, they gave me a tour of the entire building before introducing me to my department, which comprised about as many people as the entire staff at the Observer. And then I was shown to my office”—I can’t help giggling, saying it is still a thrill—“which, okay, isn’t truly mine.
I share it with another reporter. But it has a door and a window, and four entire more walls than I used to have around my desk. And Drew, my name is on the door.”
“Already my favorite room in the building.” He smirks. “Who’s your officemate?”
“Her name is Jessica. We hit it off right away and even compared notes on some future projects. We’re both interested in a couple of recent disappearances near Fort Collins.” I bite my lip. “I also had a meeting with Monique King.”
“Ooh, the new Randall?” He leads me toward the big, cushy sofa. “How’d that go?”
He pauses to toss a ball to Rufus, who has clearly made himself at home.
We worked out a custody agreement of sorts after what happened with my psycho stalker.
Rufus stays with me every night, but once the job offer came in from Denver Editorial, we decided he should spend his weekdays with Drew.
As we’ve spent more time together over the last month, though, the custody lines have started to blur.
“It was actually a great conversation, and she was super welcoming.” I make a face. “But she still scares the crap out of me.”
“I’m pretty sure she knows how lucky she is to have you.” He pulls us down to the couch and me into his lap. “She’s probably anxious to secure awards for the Editorial with the Colorado Press Club.”
My cheeks warm. “It was just a nomination. There’s no guarantee I’ll win.”
He folds his arms the way I’ve coached him to recently in his dog training videos—which instantly makes my throat go dry—then pins me with one of his adorable Clark Kent gazes. “There’s no guarantee you won’t.”
I cover my face with my hands, emitting an excited screech. “Agh, Drew! It’s just everything I used to imagine being a journalist would be like back in high school and college. It’s like I finally got my dream job.”
He tugs my hands away from my face, eyes crinkling as he draws me closer. “I think I know what that feels like.”
When our lips meet, he tastes like home—warm, and sweet, and safe.
His hand starts politely on my knee, but as our kisses grow more heated, he begins exploring the length of my thigh.
I sink into him, losing myself in the stroke of his hands and the warmth of his lips until a distinct ringtone cuts through the air.
We pause, staring into each other’s eyes.
Drew quirks an amused brow. “You better go see what’s happening.”
I plant one more big, wet kiss on his lips, then hustle across the room to where I set my phone down by the door.
“Is it time?” I ask before Lydia can say anything.
“No. I wish.” She pouts. “I can’t take much more of this. I feel like the Goodyear blimp.”
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and I mean it.
She must have her phone propped up in her kitchen.
Her belly fills most of the screen, and she’s wearing one of two dresses she claims are the only things that fit anymore, but she radiates health and beauty like she’s some kind of fertility goddess.
I guess this is how the human race manages to keep going.
“Thank you,” she says. “But I didn’t call fishing for compliments. I need to hear about your big day!”
Drew hops up to feed the dogs. Blitz and Rufus are circling at his heels, and the other two are close behind. So I settle into the warm spot he left on the couch and tell Lydia everything about being Denver Editorial’s newest feature writer.
“I’m so happy for you,” she squeals. “This job sounds like a dream.”
“It basically is. I still miss Randall, and maybe even Jana a little bit. And my commute. But I can’t complain about not having to see Brian’s smug face anymore.”
“Oh yeah, how are the new wheels?”
I shrug. Denver Editorial is too far downtown for me to walk, and since Rufus is now a permanent fixture in my life, I conceded to Theo and Drew’s urges and bought a modest used car. “I’ll admit, it was nice having air conditioning on the way home.”
She laughs. “Well, I hope the rest of the week is just as smooth, and I can’t wait to read your first feature. If I still haven’t gone into labor by next weekend, you and Drew should come over for Sunday dinner. I’m going to need people to distract me.”
It surprises me how quickly she’s accepted my boyfriend. Honestly, I’m still getting used to it. But she had been like a sister to Kyle in college, and once she and Drew started talking dogs, he was pretty much granted an all-access pass to our inner circle.
“You’re not due until tomorrow, right?”
“Today,” she says, moaning at the ceiling.
“Oh . . .” I clear my throat. “Well, why isn’t anything happening? Maybe you should eat a pineapple or something?”
“That’s an old wives’ tale. And I’ve already tried it. And eggplant parmesan. And Mexican food—”
“Have you had sex?”
She glares at me through the screen. But the way her face turns an immediate tomato red tells me they’ve checked that box too.
“Well, unless your family expands more than your waistline this week, we would be happy to join you for Sunday dinner.”
Drew settles back in beside me and peeks into the frame, his expression hard to discern. Maybe a little surprised? But then he smiles and gives me a squeeze. “That would be incredible. Thanks, Lydia.”
She beams at us through the camera, then mutters something about a glass of orange juice, and we say goodbye.
Drew nuzzles my ear with a light sigh, his gaze tracking across the room to his framed photo of Kyle and me. Suddenly, I understand what’s on his mind.
“Your parents used to do family dinners.”
He nods, leaning his head against mine. I don’t know all the details of what went down between Drew and his parents, but I guess he said some things on behalf of himself and Kyle, and now he’s blocked their numbers from his cell. It’s clearly been hard for him, but he also seems more at peace.
I place my hand over his.
“You want to order in tonight?” he whispers, laying spare little kisses along my neck until I shiver.
“Yes. If we can get something . . . spicy.” I walk my fingers down to his waist.
He catches my eye, one brow arching over his glasses. “Again?”
I hold his gaze, challenging him to suggest he’s not interested. My hand slides to the front of his pants, where it’s clear that’s not the case. “It’s a great way to start—and end—the day.”
He answers wordlessly, lips soft and warm against mine, cupping his hand where my hair is still gathered in a low chignon.
I take the urgent exploration of his tongue as an invitation to climb on top of him.
Which seems welcome enough when his big, warm hands find their way under my skirt.
I shiver as he traces my legs beneath the fabric, hands hot against my flesh.
He groans at my response, keeping his hands moving until they’ve rounded the contour of my hips and he’s grabbed two fistfuls of my silk panties.
I groan, closing my eyes and losing myself as I trace my lips and tongue over his stubbled jaw.
His voice is husky in my ear. “Stay here tonight?”
My mouth tugs to one side, his breath sending tingles over my skin.
I still land back at my apartment here and there, but it hasn’t felt the same since the night of the attack.
I won’t even enter the building without Rufus by my side, and even then, I seem to jump at every noise.
Without my truly realizing it, half my work wardrobe and a toothbrush have already ended up over here.
Drew has even started buying my favorite coffee creamer.
“Hmm, I don’t know . . . hard decision,” I whisper.
In response, he thrusts his rock-hard cock against my center through our clothes. I gasp, arching against him.
Until a cold, wet feeling against my thigh makes me shriek.