Epilogue 3 Dexter
THREE YEARS LATER
The thing about promises—you keep them, or you’re not worth a damn.
It’s been three years since I carried Holly through a rain-soaked garden in London and promised her I wasn’t letting go. Standing at the altar half a year later, watching her walk toward me in white, I knew I meant every word.
Not ivory. Not champagne.
White.
When Holly strolled into the room in her wedding gown, the long fall of fabric trailing behind her, she stopped at the top of the aisle and locked eyes with me.
And when she smiled at me through that veil, I swear I damn near forgot how to breathe.
Kenzie let out a low whistle. Shelby, already seated beside Holly’s mom after walking the aisle as maid of honor, gasped louder than anyone else.
Reed stood and clapped (after spending all morning looking like he’d rather face a boardroom of hostile investors than sit through this), and Keith, next to me, clutched his chest and let out a sniff so loud half the church turned to him.
But the most profound jaw-drop… was mine.
Holly stood there, head high, every bit as breathtaking as I knew she would be.
When I finally tore my eyes away, I saw Reed move.
He climbed over people’s knees and squeezed past guests rising to their feet, murmuring “excuse me” and “pardon me” along the way, just enough to be polite, until he reached her side.
He leaned in, said something to her I couldn’t hear, and she nodded.
When he looked up, his eyes went straight to mine. He didn’t need to speak, but the question was clear. You good with this?
My answer came in a short nod. Do it.
Reed nodded back once, but hesitated. He glanced around, scanning the room. Instead of taking Holly’s arm and leading her down the aisle, he shot me another glance. Not a question this time. He had an idea. What kind, I had no clue. What the hell are you doing?
I watched him step away from her and work his way through the rows.
People moved faster now, clearing space without being asked.
He offered an apology or two anyway—until he stopped in front of Nico.
He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, bent down, said something that made Nico’s whole face light up.
A second later the kid was hurrying back with him, trying hard to play it cool.
They offered Holly their arms, each on either side of her, and the room erupted in claps, drawing everyone else who wasn’t already standing to their feet. A few sniffles carried through the crowd, Keith’s the loudest.
The three of them started down the aisle together.
Keith, beside me, half-snuffled it out, but I still caught it: “Hell yeah.” He pumped a winner’s fist, and his jacket pulled tight enough to outline the rings.
I almost choked. Almost. But my focus stayed locked on her, my bride, walking toward me with Reed on one side and Nico on the other.
They reached us. Keith held out a quick fist, low enough most people wouldn’t notice. Reed met it without a pause. For two men who usually kept their distance, it said plenty.
Reed didn’t rush it. He stayed where he was, hand settling back on her arm, just holding the moment. The applause had faded, and the church had gone quiet again. The room was thick with anticipation. Even the air felt different.
His eyes cut to mine.
He took her hand and placed it in mine.
In that second, the whole room disappeared.
One look into those hazel eyes, and every wish I’d ever had in my life narrowed down to one.
Three years later, I’m still catching my breath when I look at her.
For the wedding, we went with something traditional.
It felt right to bring a taste of home into it, and Shelby made sure of that.
She told us, “If you don’t have a proper British wedding cake, you might as well just elope in Vegas, darlings.
” So we went traditional: fruitcake base, rich with brandy, packed with dried fruit and nuts, marzipan under thick royal icing.
Or, as Keith said: “Concrete with frosting. Slice that thick and you’re full till Easter.
Then I had two slices. Then three. I’m tellin’ ye, it’s the best bloody cake I ever ate.
First slice, ye’re curious. Second slice, ye’re greedy.
Three slices, yer askin’ the baker for her number. ”
London gave us everything. The kindergarten Holly and Shelby opened is doing fine, and somehow those kids taught me more about patience than any boardroom ever could.
The London office I built during that first year is running at full strength.
Julian has got the day-to-day handled while Reed spends more time on my jet than I do, flying back and forth to close deals.
Officially it’s business. Unofficially… let’s just say London’s been keeping him busy.
More specifically, a certain sister who gave him a guest room might have made London a little more appealing.
Keith still calls twice a week just to gloat when Swan signs off on another budget.
Once Macro’s loss and our firm stepping in went public, word traveled fast. Ever since, the problem isn’t finding work. It’s choosing what to take on. I’m not killing myself to chase every deal, and I let Reed and Keith handle the calls.
We split our time: New York winters, London summers.
Now, we’re back in New York.
The penthouse doesn’t look like the one I left. Keith, the smug bastard, coordinated a full renovation while we were in London, merging my place with Holly’s old apartment. “Family-sized,” he’d said with that Irish grin when he sent the plans. And believe it or not, I didn’t argue.
The twins are out cold when we finally make it through the front door of our place. Ava is curled against my chest, soft breaths tickling my neck, while Evan insists on walking. He stumbles on his chubby little legs to the front door. Holly trails behind me.
Shelby is still in London, running the kindergarten full-time. Holly and her sister call it their little kingdom, and they’re not wrong. When Shelby’s kids are out for summer break, we head back, and Holly splits her days between the twins and helping at the kindergarten.
But tonight, home is here.
“Bedtime,” I murmur, scooping Evan up before he topples.
Both kiddos barely stir, only clutch their blankies tighter before going still.
Ava has got Holly’s face and my eyes, and already knows how to work a room, even at three. Evan has Holly’s eyes too, but softer. He always lets his sister have the toys, and it kills me how much of her heart he carries in him.
“They good?” Holly whispers from the doorway.
“Completely out,” I murmur, brushing past to pull her into me. “Good to be back.”
“Mm-hm,” Her smile curves against my chest. “I’ll miss London.”
“We’ll be back in June,” I tell her, steering us toward the kitchen for a drink. “Maybe earlier. Julian is overseeing the showrooms, and Reed will keep operations moving. We’ll still have the whole summer by the Thames.”
“And Keith?”
“Keith keeps reminding me on every call that I owe him pints for life.”
“And you’re actually honoring that?”
I pour us each a glass of apple juice. “I am. Told him he’d earned it.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen. “Speak of the devil.”
“How is it cuttin’, boss. Welcome home.”
“Thanks. Is that why you’re calling?”
A low chuckle comes on the other end. “No. I’m callin’ for a private matter.”
“Go on.”
“Remember at the weddin’ when Reed’s sister and I had a moment?”
I frown. “Reed’s sister?”
“Saw her downstairs last week, when she went out to lunch with Reed. And I swear, Dexter… I still can’t get her outta me head. I caught her lookin’ my way a few times… Think you could casually find out if she’s available?”
“Christ, Keith. You have a death wish?”
“Look at it this way, boss: Reed should be thankin’ me for showin’ interest in her, instead of lettin’ all the other birds chase after me.”
“Keith…”
“I know, I know. She’s Reed’s sister. Bloody awkward it is. But she’s right here in New York. Some of us appreciate a woman who doesn’t run halfway across the world. I’m serious, boss, I can’t get over it. Three years. And then one look last week, and I’m back where I started.”
“Which is?”
“Wonderin’ if she even remembers my name.”
I lean back and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Well. Hope you’ve got bigger balls than brains.”
“Lucky for me, boss, I’ve got loads of both.”
Before I can answer, I hear the soft patter of feet. “We’ll finish this another time.”
He knows the drill. “Ah, right. You have to play Daddy, do you? Go on then, I’ll let ya off the hook.”
“Night.” I hang up, and slide the phone onto the counter.
I glance toward the kitchen doorway, and there they are: two little sleepy intruders in pajamas, hair rumpled, eyes heavy with sleep. Ava enters in the kitchen first, blonde hair in two crooked braids sticking out like Pippi Longstocking, her rose nightgown swishing around her little legs.
She blinks up at Holly with those big eyes and says, “Apple juice, please,” while Evan shuffles in behind her, dark hair all over the place, trying to smuggle a pack of Oreos under his Spiderman shirt.
“And pancakes,” he adds, looking at me, hopeful as hell.
“Thought you said they were down for the night, babe,” Holly says, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“They were.”
She shakes her head, fighting a smile. “You’re a terrible influence.”
I low-key agree. “Correction: Persistent. Resourceful. Unpredictable.”
Her eyes say, that so, Mr. Thorne?
“You married me, Mrs. Thorne.”
With a conspiratorial smile, a healthy snack, and the “apple juice first, pancakes later” deal struck (and, yeah, after Evan’s Oreos have been confiscated for everyone’s safety), Holly herds the twins back.
Just by the door, she tosses me a look over her shoulder. “If I find chocolate fingerprints on the duvet, you’re scrubbing them.”
I crunch into an Oreo (classified as a controlled substance in this house, and tightly regulated for a reason), and immediately fish out two more. “I’d be shocked if you didn’t,” I say, chewing. If there’s a hill to die on, it’s this one. “I’ll just flip it over.”
“Don’t just flip it over.”
We say it at the exact same time.
This woman knows me far too well.
Persistent. Resourceful. Unpredictable. Mostly.
She smiles victoriously. “And I still married you, Mr. Thorne.” She disappears down the hall.
That’s my wife.
We unpack just enough to call it progress, and leave the rest for tomorrow.
The house has gone still. The kids are down.
I pause in the hall, peek in to be sure.
Ava is tangled in the sheets, Evan has kicked them off completely.
I fix their bedding, the small ritual that lets me breathe easier before I walk out.
Both sound asleep, for real this time. Good.
When I turn back, I scoop Holly up and carry my beautiful wife into our bedroom. Because I’ve waited all day for this.
Every time I look at her, I’m still surprised she’s here. That I get to hold her in my arms. I remember the moment I stopped thinking my life could stay the same without her. I see the girl I chased across the ocean. The one I went after, knowing exactly what it could cost me if it failed.
We both jumped, fully aware there was no guarantee where we’d land.
And still, we jumped.
Sometimes she catches me watching her and just smiles, like it’s nothing.
I smile back. Like it’s nothing.
When we’re apart, she conveniently manages to be everywhere. Mostly in my head. Mostly rearranging my priorities. She’s there when I try to focus on anything else. She’s in my days. She’s in my nights. She’s in the spaces that used to be empty until she filled them.
When we’re together, I don’t waste what we have. I know what I’m holding.
Call it controlling, call it obsession.
I won’t argue with either.
She’s my best friend. My babygirl. My perfect wife. My Hot Sauce. The only woman I’d ever kneel for.
And I’d do it again, every damn day. We nearly drowned, and came out stronger.
She’s mine to protect. Mine to love until my last breath.
She’s my everything.
My forever.
My Holly.
The two of us, flying.
The End