Epilogue
Leighton
Ten months later…
“Daddy’s gonna shit his pants.”
“Tillie!” I barked, clasping my hand over her mouth—just for her to lick it, as everyone burst out laughing.
“What? You look amazing .”
“Lead with that , you punk.”
Giggling, she grabbed my slimed hand and wiped it across her shirt. “He’s pacing in his room, just so you’re aware.”
“Aww,” I swooned, one hand fluttering to my heart. “Like I could ever walk away.”
“Nobody said love was logical.”
I thought about that for a long moment, because... “You’re not wrong.”
Love came in a million shades of every color on the spectrum, each story painted in its own unique light. We grew, laughed, danced, played, and made love through the marvelous monotony of everyday tasks—blessed to do it together. Love was found in the little things. The way he’d set the coffee maker before leaving in the morning so I wouldn’t have to make it myself. It hid in the two-item delivery consisting of a bouquet of flowers and my favorite soda—because he’d swiped the last one on his way to work and knew my shoulders would slump when I found the shelf empty at lunch. In the way he adjusted our meal service to make sure I got the calories I needed to nurse and get back in the gym.
And, occasionally, in momentous moments I’d never forget.
In the paperwork Katie drafted that would officially start the adoption process after today.
Or… if you were my brother-in-law, apparently in mysteriously unearthing enough scandal that Carly hit the road and got the fuck out of town. I mean, we assumed Grey and Alice had something to do with her dirty secrets coming to light in an anonymous delivery of a one-inch-thick manila envelope.
In a fucked-up way, that’s what family did, wasn’t it? Protected each other from the threats in the world, no matter what that entailed.
A knock at the door had me turning from the mirror just as Kaia pinned the last embellishment in place.
“Hey, punky,” Pax said from the doorway, and my eyes welled with tears. My big brother was a walking miracle these days. After everything that happened this winter, I’d never take a single chance to hug him for granted. “You make a beautiful bride.”
I was already halfway across the room when Kaia cried out, “ Are you serious? God, you’ve always been the worst at sitting still.”
I would’ve waved her away, but I was too busy hugging Paxton like my life depended on it, still nervous I could squeeze him too hard. His smile was blinding as he grabbed my hand and held me out for inspection.
“Ollie is a lucky man, sis.”
“Thanks, bubba. Daddy ready?”
“Just about. The boys were taking shots.”
“That tracks,” Kaia smirked, sidling up next to us and snaking her arm around his waist.
“Alcohol seems like an irrational risk for limited payout,” Tillie declared, earning a laugh from all three of us as my bridal party buzzed through the room.
“Good. Keep it that way.”
I was getting married today.
The love of my life was down the hall in Greyson’s other guest suite, probably sitting asses to elbows around a poker table much too small to accommodate my brothers and his. A squeal of laughter had us both turning in time to see Robert—his dark, spring-loaded curls bouncing—as he toddled into the room with maximum enthusiasm and minimal experience fleeing his older cousins, who were tight on his heels. I bent down and pressed a kiss to Quinn’s head as she wrapped her arms around his little belly with a victory screech, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Their mothers came in right behind them.
“Aww, Leigh, you look so beautiful,” Elora crooned, her eyes already misting.
“Seriously stunning,” Brex said—right before grunting, “Ouch!” as Noel collided with her backside. They all but tumbled into the room, Brex smirking and Noel beaming.
“He’s gonna plotz.”
“Skittles!” We all looked up when James entered the room with a huff, scowling at the hem of his sleeve. He glanced at me long enough to say, “Looking good, punky,” then immediately turned to his wife. “You insist on me wearing these things, so the least you can do is help me out.”
Noel grinned. “I watched you pull apart and reassemble an entire 1957 Chevy pickup, but you expect me to believe you can’t fasten cufflinks?”
I snickered, roping an arm around Tillie’s neck as she wandered by and pulling her against my belly. My brother said some smartass thing back, and the two of them bickered like they’d been married for a few decades instead of just one calendar year.
I dropped a kiss to the crown of my daughter’s head, then whispered, “Go get your dress on, beautiful.”
“I didn’t wanna dirty it.”
“Which is why I’ve let you wait until the last possible moment, darling. Now hurry up before Kaia slips into hers and then won’t touch a makeup brush.”
“I’m already done.”
“And let’s hope you still feel that way once you wrestle out of that,” I said, motioning to her skin-tight tank top. Because that phase had started, to my and her daddy’s chagrin.
By the time the chaos had been wrangled and I was walking arm-in-arm with my dad toward the beach aisle in Grey and Alice’s backyard, my nerves had finally caught up to me. Something about laying eyes on two hundred people here to witness this exact moment.
“Don’t let me fall,” I breathed, trying to steady myself.
“Never,” Dad assured, though when I looked up at him, I found misty eyes and a wobbling chin.
“Daddy,” I scolded.
“Shut up,” he blubbered, blinking skyward and wiping at his eyes.
“If you cry, I’m gonna cry. And then Kaia will kill us both.”
He gave a watery laugh and nodded. “Can’t have that.”
“No,” I agreed. The music changed when Tillie reached the end of the aisle, throwing her arms around her daddy’s waist where he stood facing the ocean.
“I don’t think I could do this if he was anyone less worthy, Leighton. Ollie is a blessing to this family, and still… it’s agonizing to officially let you go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Counting on it.” We reached the end of the aisle, and everyone stood as Ollie’s favorite string quartet began playing Somebody to Love, just like that night on the rooftop.
Hundreds of eyes landed on me, faces capturing every emotion on the spectrum. But it was Greyson tapping my groom on the shoulder that held my attention. The man had an evil smile on his face that made my stomach turn—but it was Ollie who finally sent it plummeting.
Because the man took one look at me and his face crumpled, his hand rising to cover his jaw as tears poured down his cheeks.
Aaaand there went my makeup.
The moment I locked on Ollie’s teary gaze, my own tears spilled over, and I fought to suck them back in.
Getting here wasn’t easy. I was fully aware that the road ahead wouldn’t be smooth either—how could it be? We were only human. But what I knew, with no doubt at all, was that it was worth it. Every bump in the road. Every scar. Every moment.
Trying pitifully to suck the snot back into my face—along with the emotions—I looked to the flowers in my other hand.
A stunning arrangement of asters, morning glories, and ranunculus blossoms wrapped in a soft blue ribbon, cute little butterfly clips tucked among the branches. Tillie and I had found them in a darling antique store, and she’d insisted they were a part of the day.
Our girl had great taste—what could I say?
By the time my dad presented me to Ollie, I’d gotten the tears mostly under control. My man tried to do the same, dabbing at his eyes with his silky blue pocket square. He accepted my hand and bowed low at the waist, pressing a kiss to my fingers without dropping his glassy gaze from mine, drawing a sob from my chest before I could stop it. When he straightened, Ollie pressed a kiss to my cheek, then turned to face the minister, sliding his hand into mine.
And my god, this bouquet was heavy as shit. And not just because I’d hidden something extra inside it.
As the officiant led us through the ceremony and we exchanged rings and vows, my eyes kept flicking between the ocean and Ollie’s face—where he brimmed with unfiltered joy.
When we were finally pronounced The Harts , he stepped into my space, robbing the breath from my lungs like he always did. He dipped me low enough to earn whoops and cheers, kissing me so passionately I was pretty sure I traveled through galaxies before landing back in my body.
But as we straightened, his expression faltered.
Because Jax was approaching the platform, scowl in place.
It took everything I had not to burst out laughing when I spotted Beau and Tillie in the front row, now wearing aviator-style sunglasses. Hell, Mama had somehow managed to wrestle a pair onto Beckham in his tiny baby suit and bow tie.
“Mr. Hart, a call for you,” Jax said with an impressively stony facade.
“Right now ? Are you kidding me?” Ollie growled, earning a disapproving nod from the mountain of a man I’d grown rather fond of.
Captain Reynolds handed him a phone, already on speaker, and my husband— holy shit , my husband —cocked his head to the side as the line crackled, audible to at least the first few rows of spectators.
“Good luck,” rasped Maverick with an impressive growl.
Ollie’s brow furrowed for a beat before Beau and Tillie popped up from the front row. I fished the tiny Nerf gun from my bouquet and, together, we all opened fire. The crowd erupted with laughter just as Ollie did—right before lunging.
I shrieked, sprinting barefoot down the hot sand, cackling. I didn’t even make it to the end of the rows of chairs before the man hooked an arm around my waist.
“Get her, Ollie!” one of my brothers shouted, while Beau and Tillie chased after us, giggling and firing foam darts like mini mercenaries.
The moment we were nose to nose, he swallowed my laughter with a kiss, threading his hand through my loose curls as cheers broke out behind us—naturally, the guys were the loudest.
Then Ollie bent low and threw me over his shoulder, landing a solid smack on my ass as I howled with laughter.
“That’s a wrap, folks!” he called, carrying me down the beach to more laughter and applause.
“Ollie!” I squeaked, cheeks aching from smiling so hard.
“You started it,” he pointed out, marching us inside—but bypassing the staging area where the photographer was supposed to meet us. “It’s only right I finish it.”
“ Ollie ,” I gasped as he rounded the corner into Greyson’s study, closed the door, and backed me against it with no ceremony at all. His mouth descended on mine in a kiss so bruising my head spun, heat blooming low in my belly as his hands swept over every inch of lace and ribbon painted onto my curves.
When he finally pulled back, breathless, he growled, “I fucking love you, Mrs . Hart.”
Smiling softly, I said, “I fucking love you too, Mr. Hart.”
“‘Til death do us part, huh?”
“I demand to go first.”
“You’re nine years younger than me.” He spun us, laughter bubbling in my throat as he pressed me against Grey’s floor-to-ceiling bookshelf.
“Then we’ll get struck by lightning or hit by a bus or something. I’m not picky, as long as we’re old.”
“That would be epic,” he muttered, barely holding onto composure before chuckling against my lips and stealing them again. His hand slipped through the slit in my dress, hiking my leg around his hip. A satisfied rumble vibrated in his chest as his hand slid up my thigh, then under the barely-there scrap of lace I called underwear. He groaned, head tipping back like it physically pained him when he found how wet I was. “That for me , trouble?”
“Always.”
“Where does my wife want to get fucked the first time as a Hart? In bed at the honeymoon suite at two a.m., or right here against the bookshelf?” One blunt finger slipped inside me, making my back arch.
“ Ollie ,” I gasped, his hand clamping over my mouth as a wicked grin curled his lips.
“Which is it, trouble?” he asked, curling his finger just right—he’d long ago mastered the art of detonating my orgasms on command. His thumb pressed against my clit, sending my eyes rolling back in my head.
“You own me,” I breathed, fighting to suck down enough air to think logically.
“Damn straight,” he murmured against my neck as he buried himself there.
Before I could think better of it, I was already unfastening his belt, then his suit pants, pushing his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.
“That’s my good fucking girl.” He smiled against my lips as he crowded in closer, tugging aside the lace and lining himself up, spreading my arousal over my folds. “Can my good girl be quiet?”
The instant I nodded, he thrust inside me with one claiming snap of his hips, his hand tightening on my thigh where he kept me pinned. My hands flew to his back, clawing at the muscles beneath his suit jacket as he fucked me like it was a soul-deep need.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
I must’ve muttered it against his palm, desperation clawing up my chest as his hold tightened.
“Eyes on me, Mrs. Hart.”
I peeled them open, locking on deep brown eyes so full of adoration they could’ve welded my broken pieces together—if I’d had any left to fix. A soft smile spread over his breathtaking face, and I slid a hand to his jaw as he drove into me with that relentless, ruinous rhythm he’d perfected.
This man had a gift for waking me up in the sexiest ways possible on his days off, so I should’ve known we wouldn’t make it to the hotel before he wrecked me again.
Books rattled on their shelves, our chests heaving in sync as pleasure ignited through our bodies on the best damn day of my life.
When my body clenched around him, Ollie growled, “Yes, baby, come with me.”
I did. We did. Our releases hit in perfect tandem—one surreal, electric moment. Like even our orgasms knew we’d just sealed something sacred.
I chuckled softly as he pulled his hand from my mouth and replaced it with kisses. Sweet. Adoring. Unending.
But he wasn’t done.
He squeezed my thigh and sank to his knees, throwing my leg over his shoulder. He pressed kisses along my inner thighs, shoving my dress up to trace the stretch-marked skin of my belly, then lower.
Much lower.
Burying himself between my pussy, Ollie ran the flat of his tongue straight up my center, like he’d just lap up our releases.
Holy filthy hotness.
“Ollie,” I gasped as he did it again, then circled my clit with practiced precision. My legs buckled, but he pinned me effortlessly, holding me open for him with one hand and a shoulder.
By the time he was satisfied, and my limbs were liquid, Ollie grabbed tissues from Greyson’s desk and cleaned me up with gentle, thorough care.
“You look like the cat that ate the canary,” I murmured, still panting as he straightened my dress.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the scar between my breasts. My fingers found the silky strands of his hair before I remembered we still had photos to take .
“An excellent code word.”
“Agreed. Canary time—should I say that when I want to bury myself in you until I know my seed is spilling down your thighs? Until I know you’ll feel me with every step you take?”
Grinning, I couldn’t help myself. “Funny you’d say it like that.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, brow lifting. “Why’s that?”
I pressed my lips to his throat, up the strong line of his neck to his ear, and whispered, “Because you and your ‘seed’ already planted our next adventure.”
Ollie leaned back, his palms dropping to my waist, eyes wide with awe. “Leighton, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
With watery eyes and a smile that ached, I nodded. “How’s another little Ollie sound?”
He kissed me hard, his tongue tasting like us and salt and insatiable need.
“Like I’m the luckiest man alive. But I gotta be honest.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
“It might be.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’m praying for a pint-sized version of you.”
“Oh,” I sighed. “Oh, wow .”
He brushed his lips over mine, then laced our fingers together.
“Come on, Mrs. Hart. Your court awaits.”
And with one last glance down the length of me, my husband opened the study door and led me out into the beginning of our forever.