Epilogue
Evangeline
O ne year later...
“L INA!” SHEP CALLED up the stairs. “We’re gonna be late.”
“Keep your pants on!” I called back, sliding my shoe on.
“Might I remind you we’re late because I took them off to begin with?” he retorted from the doorway of our bedroom.
I wrinkled my nose as I grabbed my purse off the bed and closed the distance between us. “Technically, you dropped them to your ankles.”
He chuckled, leaning down to kiss me gently, stroking my cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, honey.”
“But you need to get your ass in the truck.”
“Lead on, big man.”
I followed him down the stairs, and out to the garage where he helped me into his truck. We were heading to the Institute of Contemporary Art where I was to be awarded Woman of the Year, which I felt was all a little over the top and ridiculous, but my man was giddy with excitement.
So much had happened over the last year. Once I’d disposed of Clarke, leaving Shep out of that process entirely for plausible deniability, I’d been a little nervous that perhaps someone might come looking for him, but no one did. Despite the fact the sheriff had been a pathological liar, he’d at least told the truth about leaving everything behind, so I had finally been able to relax.
Shep had closed up shop in Nashville, moved to Boston, and married me. He’d insisted that if he was going to move, marriage was non-negotiable. Plus, he’d argued that as my husband, he wouldn’t have to testify against me, should my past crimes ever catch up to me.
It really didn’t take much to convince me, to be honest. I was stupid in love with him, and how could I say no to the man who’d brought me into the light? The answer was, I couldn’t. He’d also figured out a way to help me curb my ‘itch.’
It was sex.
The dirtier the better.
So, to say the darkness was being beaten back with a stick, or a flogger, or a paddle, was an understatement. And a delicious understatement at that.
Shep had started an extremely successful catering business here in Boston, and in his ‘down time,’ he taught the kids at Papillon House how to cook. They adored him, and it gave them yet another skill to carry with them when they left.
Shep reached over and linked his fingers with mine. “Love you, beautiful.”
We had matching butterflies on our wrists with our wedding date, and I gave his hand a squeeze as I smiled. “Love you, too.”
For a little girl who had a rough start in life, this man had certainly healed her in ways she could have never imagined. Redemption never felt so good.