Epilogue
“We could’ve gotten a minister in. Or a celebrant, if you wanted.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn to Evie, so chic in her teal cocktail dress.
“You.” As she points a finger my way, the pleats in the skirt swish. “Didn’t you realize you were humming ‘Going to the Chapel’?”
“Was I really?” I ask, suddenly feeling as pleased as punch. “Well, no need. Been there, done that.”
“Now it’s just time for the party,” she says, sliding her arm through mine.
My smile feels the size of half a cut watermelon as I pat her arm. “Thanks to you and Oliver.”
The pair had insisted on holding a celebration dinner for us, once it became apparent to them that we’d stopped fighting. And stopped making up. But what started as a wedding dinner quickly became a party for hundreds after our very own Pulse Tok video went viral. Not the video of our wedding mishap, or wedding wonder as I prefer, where a besotted Fin signed his name on the dotted line after mine.
The best mistake of our lives.
That video we chose to keep private, though we brought our friends in on the secret. Our friends, yes. What a change that’s been. They’re such good people, and Evie has very quickly become like a sister to me.
The Pulse Tok that went viral was a home movie, sort of. A carefully curated montage of holiday-wedding love, courtesy of Sarai. Complete with the Dirty Dancing lift, featuring a very enthusiastic me.
Fin is convinced she’ll be making a fortune from the video, but just as before, she’s inadvertently done us a huge favor. Once it hit the internet, the world was into us—rather than onto us—and anyone who had anything to do with Maven Inc. was suddenly so very charmed.
We’ve been showered with gifts by the world’s wealthy, and let me tell you, billionaires know how to gift! From his-and-hers matching Cartier watches to his-and-hers matching Mercedes. Yes—someone bought us cars!
Fin, ever the professional, suggested we extend the invitation to include clients, past and present. And I agreed. Especially as we’ll be auctioning off goodies and donating the proceeds to charity. Dementia research—I want to eradicate this thief of a disease.
“You know what we should’ve done,” Evie says as her feet slow to a stop.
“Dazzle me.” I’m not sure how she could top this party at all.
“We should’ve persuaded Oliver to complete one of those online wedding-officiant courses.”
“What for?”
“Just for shits and giggles. Could you imagine his face?”
“Doing funerals maybe, not weddings.”
Evie begins to laugh and almost falls over Mr. Bojangles as he contorts himself in an attempt to chew on his bow tie. The dapper doggy is dressed for the occasion.
“Damn dog!” she exclaims before ruffling his floofy body.
“Well, I’m going to get back to my checklist,” I say, pulling my iPad back in place.
“You should’ve let us get a company in,” she chastises playfully.
“I did let you. My company!” Because, of course, I’ll be sending Maven Inc. my bill.
“What time is Baba Roza due?”
These people. They’ve been so welcoming. Evie even put on a frightfully posh afternoon tea for Baba and me last month.
“She’ll be here within the hour.” Along with three of the nursing staff. I hope she’s having one of her good days. She so wanted to be here, to see me in my pretty dress, she said. I have a bouquet of flowers waiting for her; she’ll eat a little and drink a small champagne (with permission of her doctor); and Fin has already secured her first dance.
She’ll be safe in his arms, I know.
Evie’s phone begins to ring, and she excuses herself, leaving me to my checklist and the stunningly dressed ballroom. In truth, I feel a bit strange as I traverse the tables laden with white linens, crystal, and china. I’m usually dressed to blend, not to stun. And this gown, boy, she is a stunner. Jade silk that moves like water across my body as I move. Shoestring straps, a low-cut back, and all the internal support I need for the girls.
I still opt for demure when I’m running an event, but my clothing choices have become a little more ... daring outside of that. It’s hard to not to be comfortable in your own skin when someone else adores you. He doesn’t mind that I occasionally bite my nails or that I still say ridiculous stuff when I’m feeling under pressure. He treats me with love. And with grace. And that’s had an effect on the way I treat myself, I suppose.
God, I love him.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes.
Tables Too many to count. China, crystal, and flower arrangements all placed with such precision, thanks to Oliver’s hotel staff.
Dais and backdrop Looking like something from a high-end florist.
I move the pen down my list and find myself smiling as I notice my wedding ring. Fin wants to exchange it for something a little more opulent. Too bad I’m quite attached to what I have.
Back to my iPad and list.
Carpet aisle of rose petals Way over the top, but insisted on by Fin. But if he thinks I’m going to repeat that Dirty Dancing lift, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. The world almost seeing my knickers once was enough.
I move through the ballroom, just taking in the decoration and appreciating the heck out of my life when—“Hey!” A door opens, and I’m pulled in. “You ...,” I say, narrowing my eyes. And biting back my smile. My heart pounds, initially from shock but now thanks to the look in my husband’s eyes. He’s so bloody handsome in his evening suit, his hair a little longer now and sort of messy and dissolute.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he purrs. “Especially when you look so fucking edible.”
“You look pretty nice yourself.”
“ Nice? ”
“I knew you’d like that. Being called nice is so nice, right?”
He says nothing, but, oh, he looks. And I know that cocky glint. I’m about to relieve you of your panties, it says.
“Tell me the truth,” his low voice rumbles. “You guessed, didn’t you?”
“That you were planning on dragging me in here?” I smooth the silk over my thighs. I can’t let him muss me up before the start of the night. Can I?
Later in the night, however ...
“I thought for sure you saw one of the waiters clearing the closet out. It was full of chairs and tables. I thought you’d rumbled my plans.”
“You have plans?” I shake my head, more in exasperation than denial. “And I thought my surprise was going to be a three-way with a gay pastry chef at the end of tonight.”
My surprise for him is a courtesy of my wedding-day boudoir shoot. A book of sensual prints for his special alone times ... and a request to be his audience.
“Nothing says love and devotion like a three-way, huh?”
“What happened to ‘happy wife, happy life’ ?” I say with a pout.
“I’m saving that experience for our thirtieth anniversary, remember?”
“That’s one reason to stick around, I suppose.” I give a theatrical sigh.
“I can give you a million others,” he purrs.
But he’s already given me more than enough reasons to stay. He’s given me his love and his support. His devotion and his care. It was Fin who suggested we auction our elaborate wedding gifts, and he’s promised a portion of his wealth and his attention to social causes that he knows mean a lot to me.
The site near Baba’s old nursing home is to be demolished, and while it will be replaced by a commercial site, Fin has made sure there’s funding in place for so much more for the community. There’s to be affordable housing—no more dilapidated tower blocks—a community center, health services, and youth projects that are more than just empty promises. I even found him talking to the insult-wielding kids during my very last visit to Baba’s flat. Saying goodbye to the place was bittersweet, but to find him outside asking those kids what they’d like to see in the area? It was everything.
“I’m sure I can get you to kiss a man before then,” I whisper, fighting a flood of happy tears.
“The only lips I’m interested in kissing are these,” he says as he reaches for me.
His fingers thread through my hair, and our lips, mouths, and tongues work in perfect harmony. Breaths mingle, sighs becoming heavier, kisses becoming deeper and dirtier, because we just can’t help ourselves. Until ...
“Wait,” I whisper as Fin begins to slide down my body. I know what he’s about—we’ve been in this position once or twice before. And I want, I crave—but unlike some people, namely Fin, I have a sense of propriety. “Not in your friend’s hotel, surely? Not when they’re holding this party.”
“How scandalous!” he exclaims like an elderly aunt as he teasingly ruffles the bias-cut hem of my dress. “Wait, didn’t we already fuck in one of his rooms last night?”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And that was . . . encouraging.”
It’s then I realize he isn’t on his knees but his knee. He slides his hand into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a tiny velvet box.
“You won’t let me buy you a new wedding ring, so I got you this,” he says, pulling out a ring with a trio of diamonds. He takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger until it meets my wedding band. “Three stones. Yesterday, today, tomorrow,” he says, pressing his lips to my knuckles. “I’m yours. With everything I am and everything I have, I’m yours now and forever.”
Emotion wells inside as I stare at the ring. “Fin, it’s so perfect.”
“Just like you.”
I shake my head. “Not even close.”
“You are perfect for me,” he says, his voice teeming with emotion. “Now, let me show you the only other lips in the world I’m interested in.”
“Fin!” I fill his name with warning.
“Craving, more like,” he says, slipping his hands under my dress. “And you wouldn’t like to deprive me, would you, slut muffin.”
“That’s a horrible name.”
“That’s why you love it.”
The minute his fingers touch my skin, I’m done for, and the scrap of my underwear is sliding down my legs.
“Just a taste,” he whispers. “Just ... let me.”
“God, yes.” I let out a stuttering breath at the first brush of his tongue, my fingers curling in his hair. I no longer care about silk creasing or propriety. I just need him.
“Fuck,” he growls as his tongue swipes through the already-wet ribbon of my flesh again. “Better than anything.”
“We really shouldn’t—oh, my days,” I whisper as he licks long and lushly. “Do that again.”
“Again and again and for the rest of my life. Morning, noon, and night, my love, because I fucking love you. And I love fucking you.”
“Less talking,” I rasp, tightening my fingers in his hair as his lips engulf my clit. As he sucks and kisses, as he makes out with my pussy until my body thrashes against the wall.
“Fuck yes! Get there for me, darlin’. Come for me. Come on my tongue.”
His words, his mouth, tip me over the edge, my body flooding with heat and light and joy as my body rises to where his tongue meets my climax.
When I eventually sink back into my body, Fin smiles up at me so sweetly.
“Oh, my,” I whisper, my brain cells still rattling loose. So much for sweet , as he just lowers his head and licks at me again, working me with the full flat of his tongue. “Too much,” I say, twisting away.
“Not even. My wife is defeated by nothing.”
My heart hammers, my body pulses. And a crash sounds from beyond the door, followed by a shrill voice. One I recognize?
“Evie?” Fin’s brow flickers.
I push at his shoulders because I hear her voice too. “Quickly,” I say, pulling my dress straight.
“You stay here,” he orders, on his feet now.
“As if!” I retort, following him out the storeroom door.
“Mr. ... whatever your name was. You need to leave.” Evie seems to be embodying her husband, chin held high, tone icily frightening.
There’s glass on the floor, a plate or two. And Mr. Whatever is right. Though I know his name well enough.
“I’m not leaving until you give me my deposit back,” he says gruffly.
Adam. God, he looks rough. Dark-circled eyes and unkempt hair. He looks like he’s slept in his clothes too.
“As the gentleman on the front desk explained to you, your fiancée ... sorry”—Evie holds up her hand—“your ex-fiancée already claimed the refund when she canceled the wedding booking.”
No way. This is too trippy.
“You had no right to give it to that cheating whore!” he yells. “I paid the fucking deposit.”
“That, you will need to take up with her,” Evie retorts. “And speaking of rights, you have no right to be here. I don’t appreciate your tone, and if you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to—”
“—call me,” Fin growls, coming to Evie’s side.
“I was thinking more along the lines of Bo ,” Evie murmurs. “Where is the fluffy monster when you need him?”
“That’s an expensive-looking suit for security,” Adam retorts, his eyes flicking over my husband’s muscled frame. He does a double take as his gaze reaches Fin’s top pocket, but it doesn’t hold, as I come to a stop by Fin’s side. “Mila?”
“Hello, Adam,” I answer happily.
“Adam?” Fin’s gaze flicks down to me, half-disbelieving.
I give a short shrug, because the man does look rough.
“Fin, this is Adam,” I begin, as though Fin’s hair isn’t standing on end and those aren’t my knickers hanging out of his top pocket. “Adam, this is my husband, Fin DeWitt.”
“What?”
“Oh, this is so perfect!” I exclaim, practically shimmering with pleasure at the look on his face.
“Is it?” Fin asks, waiting for the punch line.
“Adam, you waste of space, I’m so happy to hear you’ve had a taste of your own medicine.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he begins, though he shrinks back as Fin jerks forward.
I press my hand over my husband’s arm. “I’ve got this,” I murmur, then turn back to the waste of space I once knew as my fiancé . “I’ve imagined this, you know? Bumping into you. But I couldn’t have dreamed up this perfection. See this room? This is to hold the celebration of our love, right?” I look to my husband.
“You got it, honeybuns.”
Honeybuns is good, but I would’ve settled for slut muffin too. His slut muffin.
“And look at you,” I say scrunching my nose as I give him a once-over. “All sad sack and dumped. Then look at me,” I demand happily, all game show hands as I indicate my luck, my friend, and my man. “This beats sesame chicken any day of the week!”
“Are you on drugs?” Adam frowns.
“Nature’s own! Excellent sex and horny hormones.”
Fin barks out a laugh, and Evie murmurs, “Go, Mila.”
“Anyway, it was nice to see you. Under the circumstances.” I grin again. I am loving this shit for me! “I’d leave if I were you, before Fin happily punches your lights out. Or Evie’s killer dog bites off your testicles.”
“I’m pleased I dumped you,” he mutters.
“Ditto!” I pucker my lips and press them to Fin’s cheek as I pull out my underwear from his pocket. “Because Fin is such a catch. And he loves me for me.”
“You’re off your fucking trolley.” Adam shakes his head.
“I tend to get a bit over the top when I’m coming down from an orgasm. Not that you’d know. See ya!” I say, giving my knickers a wave. They’re white, but this is no surrender as I slide my arm through Fin’s and hug him close.
There really isn’t anything for Adam to do but ... piss off.
“Buh-bye!” I call after him as my new friend cackles. “And thanks for the upgrade. He’s hung like a flippin’ horse!”
The door to the ballroom swings after his exit.
“Oh, man. That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” Evie runs her fingers under her eyes as she turns to me. “But, Mila, honey, I think you should go put your panties back on.”
“Who made you the fun police?” With a smile Evie’s way, Fin takes me in his arms. “Feel better?”
“I feel amazing.”
“Then tell me, do I beat sesame chicken?”
“You, Phineas Alexander Gunning Colton DeWitt, are the best thing in the world.”