Epilogue
Sarina - Six Months Later
T he door to the salon opens just as I’m putting the last of my capes and towels into the laundry. Troy texted me to say he was close, so I don’t have to check to know he’s just entered the foyer.
And then I hear, “Goddammit, Snatch!” and it confirms my belief. Troy’s voice echoes inside the foyer, followed by Joshua’s muffled laugh and a familiar shuffling sound of what’s become my boyfriend’s recent dance steps.
“Why do you do this every single time?” Troy grumbles as I peek around the corner.
Sure enough, my boyfriend is trying to shake my cat off his pant leg while the little ninja hangs on. She’s dressed in a flower costume today to welcome spring, her little head poking out from the middle of the daisy. And while she’s not hissing or trying to bite him, she has that mischievous glint in her eyes she reserves just for him. At this point, it’s just become a game for her to mess with him.
Cursing under his breath, he finally seems to detach her from his leg, only to watch her prowl over to the communication buttons we have on the floor for all the cats and jump atop one, making it say, “Goodbye! Goodbye!”
Troy runs an exasperated hand through his hair, and I swallow back my giggle as I exit my room.
“Your cat literally tried to take off my leg.” Troy’s voice is a mix of distress and disbelief. “Tell me you saw her this time.”
“All I saw was a gorgeous man, in gray slacks and a pale-blue button-down shirt that looks like it might not come off unless I peel it off with my teeth, jump around like he was doing the Macarena on a trampoline. Very sexy, I must say.”
He stares at me incredulously for a moment as I come to a stop in front of him. “At this point, it’s no longer a secret that your cat hates me. She’s tried to hurt me right in front of you!”
I laugh at the absurdity of a muscular six-foot-something man struggling with a tiny cat, but sober when his expression morphs into disbelief again. This little exchange of ours—where he informs me that Snatch tried to kill him and I pretend not to believe him—has become our little ritual.
Unable to resist, I brush my fingertips into his beard before sliding my hands around the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, but he resists. “Aww, is the big, bad pussy cat bullying you, my love?”
Troy’s eyes narrow. “You’re clearly not taking my life-or-death situation seriously. That’s fine. But one day you’ll find me chopped into little pieces like cat food and Snatch hovering over me, offering the devil her latest sacrifice, and you’ll remember this moment.”
He finally lets me kiss him and I laugh against his lips. “You’re such a drama queen.”
His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me closer to deepen our kiss. A shudder wracks down my body when I feel his hardness against my belly, the warmth of his mouth telling me he’d like to punish me for this exchange once we get home.
When we finally break apart, slightly breathless, I notice Joshua pretending to be busy at the reception desk, though I catch his amused smile. He’s used to mine and Troy’s PDA by now.
I never thought I’d be the type of woman to partake in public displays of affection, but with the sexiest man to walk the green earth in my arms, I feel like I can’t get enough. I want to hold him, kiss him, and do him all the freaking time! Sometimes I wonder if that’s unhealthy, but then I laugh at my own idiocracy. One look at the panty-melting smile on this man and anyone can see that most women—and some men—would feel the same way. Of course it’s not unhealthy, especially when I’m the one who gets to have him!
“You ready to go?” Troy’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I made reservations for us at seven.”
God, even his crinkles are sexy!
“I am,” I reply before looking over at Joshua. “You good to close up shop, Josh?”
“Yup, just wrapping up for the night,” Joshua confirms with a nod. “Enjoy your evening, boss.”
Five minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of one of Troy’s cars. In the time we’ve been together, I’ve learned he has many. He has one hand on the wheel and the other linked with mine. His thumb rubs continuous circles on my skin, but his expression is serious, like he’s considering something.
I squeeze his hand. “Something on your mind?”
“We only have one extra bedroom.”
“One extra bedroom?” I echo, tilting my head. “Like at your house?”
“At our house. And yes, we only have one extra room.”
I chuckle softly, my brows coming together. “It’s a massive house with plenty of space for all of us. How much more do we need?”
The four of us—me, Troy, Rome, and Pearl—have been living together for six months now. There’s also been an occasional night or two where Troy’s had to sleep with one eye open when my vengeful cat stays over. And with his parents living in the separate full-sized home on the property, our extended family dinners have become a cherished routine. Sure, the house can sometimes feel like it’s straddling the lines of harmony and chaos, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Troy turns to glance at me, his eyes flicking to my lips before returning to the road. His throat bobs with a nervous swallow. What is going on?
“I’m just thinking, in case we want to expand . . .” He pauses, giving me enough time to know what he’s about to say. “Our family.”
My heart stutters, a warmth cascading down my chest and pooling in my belly.
“Plus,” he continues. “Pearl said she wants a dog, and Rome mentioned he wanted a putting green along with a batting cage. Maybe even a basketball court.”
A smile finds my lips as I’m momentarily distracted, thinking about how gracefully my son has been navigating two worlds.
Jamie has made a sincere effort to actually connect with Rome on Rome’s terms over the past several months, attending his baseball games and showing an interest in his space projects. Even with his recent tabloid scandal—photos of him kissing another woman while he was supposedly exclusive with his socialite girlfriend—he stayed committed to being present for Rome. I guess you can’t change a zebra’s stripes; Jamie will always be Jamie in some ways. I’m just happy that his efforts toward our son seem genuine.
Thank goodness he no longer shows up uninvited at our doorstep anymore, given we now live with Troy. I suspect it has a lot to do with the way my boyfriend gives him very little breathing room in his presence, letting him know in the most silent and intimidating way that his every move is being watched.
Okay, fine, I won’t lie; I do sort of miss the ritualistic bird poop or other random calamity befalling him whenever he showed up unannounced.
And though Rome has honed his diplomatic skills, maintaining his relationship with his dad but also standing his ground, the putting green is an olive branch—a way for him to practice an activity that gives them a common ground. So while I can’t change my son’s people-pleasing nature, I am proud of the way he’s been expressing his needs and creating boundaries, especially with Troy’s influence in his life.
And that powerful influence—his steady assurance that I’m worthy, beautiful, and perfect just as I am—has helped me become the person I am today as well. A person who cares more about what she thinks of herself than the thoughts of anyone else.
Does that mean I like being photographed without my permission almost anytime I’m out and about, especially when I’m with Troy? No. But it also means I care less. Who gives a shit what a bunch of faceless, nameless people think when the only people whose opinions matter to me are the ones I surround myself with?
“I know we have a yard big enough for a dog, but it’s not big enough for everything else.” Troy turns to look at me, taking me out of my tangent thoughts. His brows furrow at the smile on my face. “What?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking about the thing you said about expanding our family.”
“Do you not want to?”
“No, I definitely want to,” I reply, surprised by a longing that bubbles to the surface. I guess I hadn’t quite admitted it to myself that I wanted the same thing. “I’m just surprised you’ve thought about it—our future with more kids, that is.”
Troy brings the back of my hand to his lips, placing a kiss there while he continues to look ahead. “When it comes to you, I live in the present and think about our future.”
“Oh yeah? What else is on this wishlist of yours?”
He shrugs. “It might be better if I show you.”
My eyes drift to the road, and I realize we’re turning into the parking lot for the baseball field Troy and his dad now co-own. It’s the same field Rome has been playing at with their private kids’ league and the same field Troy coaches on full time, when he’s not doing MLB commentary.
“I thought we were going to dinner? Why are we here?”
Troy shuts off the engine before turning to me. He places a warm, possessive hand at my throat, bringing me to his mouth and pressing a deep kiss on my lips. “We are going to dinner. And afterward, we’re going home so I can have dessert.”
A hunger sparks in his eyes, making the silver around his burnt amber eyes darken to charcoal. But before I can ask what he means about us having dinner here, he exits the car, swinging around to open the passenger side for me.
Clearly, he wants to be elusive, so I decide to indulge him without asking any more questions. I let him lead me to the field, our fingers entangled as I follow behind him.
There’s an energy about him tonight—something I can’t name—that permeates through him in the subtle way his hand is wrapped around mine and his quickened steps.
Huh. The field is all lit up, glowing under the spring evening sky, even though it seems like we’re the only ones here. My heart starts to thump as we enter through the gates and my other hand tightens over the strap of my purse. I wonder what’s going on . . .
It’s when I get a glimpse of what—or rather who—is waiting in the middle of the field that my heart spins, eyes going wide as I take in the scene.
Dressed in their Sunday best—Rome in a button-down and slacks, much like Troy’s, and Pearl in a yellow dress that matches the one I’m wearing—our kids are gleaming from ear to ear, standing next to what looks to be a picnic dinner on a blanket.
“Wh-what’s going on?” I stutter breathlessly, my hand tightening around Troy’s as we close the distance between us and them. “I thought?—”
“Mom!” Rome runs toward me with Pearl in tow, her auburn hair waving in the breeze behind her.
I pull him to me before laying a kiss on the top of his head, noting the way his eyes sparkle behind his moon-rimmed glasses. Then I reach for Pearl, hugging her tightly.
“What are you guys doing here?” I sign to her. “Are we having dinner on the field? And you’re both so dressed up!”
Pearl’s hands fly excitedly as she pulls out of our hug. “It was a surprise! We helped Daddy make grilled cheeses for dinner!”
“Yeah, Mom!” Rome bounces on his toes, practically bubbling with excitement. He signs for Pearl’s benefit as he speaks. “Troy said he made you grilled cheese sandwiches on your first real date, so we wanted to recreate it. Don’t worry, we brought spicy mustard!”
I laugh, signing back. “Technically, that wasn’t supposed to be a date at all, but clearly, Troy wasn’t following our rules.”
I turn over my shoulder to narrow my eyes at the man in question, but he’s not behind me.
He’s down on one knee.
Wait.
He’s down on one knee!
The world seems to narrow, converging on this moment, as my hand flies up to my chest. Oh, my God. Is this really happening? Is he really down on one knee?
Pearl walks over to stand beside her dad, placing her hand on his shoulder as if she’s rehearsed this with him, before she flashes her little teeth at me. Like mine, her eyes have taken on a sheen as the enormity of the moment starts to sink in.
Rome finds my hand, smiling up at me with affection, telling me that yes, indeed this moment is real, that I’m not imagining anything.
My gaze travels back to Troy, whose warm ale-colored eyes look back at me with such intensity and emotion, I practically sway on my feet.
Signaling for Rome to sign for Pearl, Troy begins, “Rina, almost two years ago, a woman changed my entire world the moment she stepped in it, wearing ridiculous house slippers and carrying packets of mustard in her purse.”
I let out a watery laugh, tears gathering inside my lids as I recall the scene. Even in his rumpled hair and clothes, he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
“I thought I’d lost you after that night . . . I didn’t have your real name or any way of contacting you.” His voice softens. “Then, out of nowhere, the universe brought you back to me. Through Rome, through this field, and through a second chance I never knew I’d have.”
Troy swallows the emotion as Rome carefully translates his words for Pearl, who watches with rapt attention. For a moment I’m surprised that Rome’s able to decipher each word, but then I realize that this must have been rehearsed.
How long have they been planning this?
Troy’s hand moves to his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box, while Pearl bounces beside him as if it’s the moment she’s been waiting for. And when he opens the box, revealing a diamond fit for a queen, both Pearl and I take in a rushed breath.
“Troy . . .” I whisper as the tips of my fingers fly to cover my mouth.
“I want everything with you, Rina. From the lazy Sunday mornings in bed watching your beloved Unsolved Mysteries , to cheering for Rome at his games, to dressing up as fairies and running around the backyard with Pearl. I want the quiet and the chaos, the good days and the not-so-good ones.” He pauses, looking from Rome to Pearl. “I want to be there every step of the way with you and our kids.”
A tear rolls down my cheek, and I swear I’m going to burst with the love I have for this man.
“This isn’t about a ring,” he continues, and I see the sheen in his eyes. “It’s about a promise. A promise to love and support you. A promise to be the man you want, the man you deserve. And a promise to face everything that comes at us together. I’m so madly in love with you, Rina. I didn’t just fall for you the night we met; I plunged in headfirst, not caring if I’d ever catch my breath.”
“I love you, too,” I say, my voice catching.
His hand trembles as he holds the ring up. “Marry me, sweetheart. Make me the happiest man alive.”
The sob I’ve barely kept at bay breaks free, and I nod, my voice a broken whisper. “Yes. Yes to it all. Yes to you and to our beautiful little family.”
As Troy slips the ring onto my finger and our kids jump with joy beside us, cheers erupt from the bleachers. I can barely see through my tears, but it’s enough to make out my dad jumping and waving while Emanuel tries to calm him down. Next to them, Troy’s parents are hugging each other.
Have we had an audience this entire time?
I guess when you’re caught up in something this surreal and perfect, everything else dims into the background.
Troy rises to his feet as our kids go bounding toward their grandparents. He wipes off my tears before his hand curls around the back of my neck and he brings my mouth to his, kissing me so deeply, I feel like I’ll drown in him. Though he’ll always be the raft to carry me to shore.
He tucks a wayward curl behind my ear, repeating words he’s said to me before, “I’ll love you every day, long after today, baby.”
And I believe him with every ounce of my being.
My fingers trace his jaw and as I look into his beautiful hazel eyes, I realize he’s seen every part of me—the strong and the weak, the parts I kept hidden and the ones he helped me reveal and be proud of—and he’s loved me through it all.
“Good, because you’re getting my forever and every day after.”
THE END!