Epilogue
EPILOGUE
ONE WEEK LATER
ATLAS
I have to hand it to Kennedy…
As skeptical—and annoyed—as I was about her design choices for the wedding— especially these fucking tuxes—the result of her heavy-handedness and bridezilla behavior is nothing short of breathtaking.
I’ve never been one to be taken in or impressed by the opulence of any of the Hawke events. Maybe because I’ve always been surrounded by it. The charity galas. The fundraisers. The openings of Hawke Enterprises’ various businesses. None of them compared to this.
Not even last week’s extravaganza can.
Kennedy went all out.
Scanning the massive ballroom, with its elegant art deco styling and décor to match, watching everyone enjoy the reception, I can see now why Dad and Uncle Savage put her in charge of the hotel—and why they’re leaving the company to her when they finally decide to retire.
Or drop dead.
The latter is far more likely than the former.
Her type-A personality and keen eye are on display everywhere, from the full orchestra playing on the dais next to the dance floor to the perfectly timed waitstaff floating through the crowd with small bites to enjoy post-dinner to the stunning three-foot high centerpieces featuring massive stargazer lilies that perfectly match the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses.
The gauzy, ethereal material makes Wren look even more stunning—which I didn’t know was possible until I saw her in it. One moment, I was chatting with Pope, waiting for the girls to emerge, and the next, my breath was stolen the moment Wren walked out.
Mine.
It was the only word that filled my head in that moment.
A savage, feral possessiveness I will never stop feeling for that woman.
Leaning against the bar, waiting for my drink, I check over my shoulder and find the object of my obsession deep in conversation with Mom and Astrid, and my lips quirk up as the bartender pushes a rocks glass toward me.
I take it and start wading through the throngs of attendees, downing a sip of the smoky Islay scotch.
Liquid courage.
The nerves only came in the last few minutes as we grow closer to the single most important moment of my life. Because it wasn’t the fight. It wasn’t winning that belt. It all comes down to one very important question I plan to ask Wren tonight.
I sidle up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist, pressing my lips to the back of her head, where her thick, dark hair is coiled tightly, save for one single curled strand that trails over her left cheek.
She stops mid-sentence and glances at me. “Where did you come from?”
Holding up my drink, I incline it back the way I came. “The bar.”
One of three Kennedy ensured were placed strategically around the ballroom to ensure there wouldn’t be any lines for anyone seeking a libation.
Mom rolls her eyes, pursing her lips as she examines my scotch. “Shocked.”
“Hey, I’ve been—mostly—sober for three months. It’s time for me to have a little fun.”
Wren rolls her eyes this time. “I’m going to have to be sober for seven more months—she rests her hand over mine on her stomach—“so don’t complain.”
I nuzzle the back of her neck. “I would never complain about you being knocked up with my baby, Little Bird.”
Astrid watches the exchange, her eyes starting to shimmer as if she might cry.
Nope.
It’s too early for that.
Keep it together, sis.
If she starts the waterworks now, Wren will know something is up, and I don’t want anything—or any one— to ruin this surprise.
I pull away from Wren and hand her my glass. “You hang onto this for me for a minute.”
Her dark brows rise over smoky bourbon eyes. “Where are you going?”
Stepping forward, I hold out my hand to Astrid. “I’m going to take Astrid for a spin around the dance floor.”
Astrid gives me an incredulous look. “Oh, are you?”
I grab her hand and tug her against me. “Absolutely, whether you like it or not.”
She releases a little annoyed huff but allows me to lead her out onto the polished wood as the massive full orchestra strikes up a familiar tune.
I tug her up against me, settling one hand at her waist and holding the other firmly in mine.
Her lips twist, the almost-tears gone now that she isn’t watching me with Wren. “Since when do you want to dance with me?”
I watch her carefully, spinning her away and then pulling her back to me, both of us easily falling into the steps we were forced to learn over the years. “Since you almost cried and gave everything away…and because I want to talk to you…”
Astrid tenses slightly in my arms. “About what?”
Spinning her again, I give her a second to prepare herself for what she knows is coming. Despite everything that’s happened the last couple of weeks, I haven’t forgotten what she said to me at the gym that day before so much went to shit.
Everyone else might be worried about Satriano and Coen at the moment, but I’m more worried about her.
I pull her back, resuming our dance, easily falling into the practiced movements. “About what we should have talked about months ago.”
Her footsteps falter for a second before she shakes her head and clears it. “This isn’t the time nor the place.”
“Maybe it isn’t”—with a thousand friends and important business acquaintances here to celebrate with Kennedy and Cass—“but I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about it…and that I’m sorry.”
Her blond brows rise slowly. “For what?”
The words I should have said a long time ago clog in my throat, and I have to swallow past them and blink away the burn in my eyes. “For being so lost in my own pain that I didn’t see yours.”
With tears in hers, she shakes her head. “Don’t make me cry, you asshole. You’re going to ruin my makeup.”
I grin at her. “You’ve cried the whole ceremony, so did everyone else except me.”
She nudges my shoulder playfully. “Bullshit. I saw a tear.”
“If, and I do mean if that happened, it was only because I was looking at Wren.”
My gaze drifts to her now over Astrid’s shoulder, still talking with Mom and now Nana, Luca, and Byron, who have joined them.
When I turn back, Astrid gives me a goofy grin. “Is everything ready?”
I nod. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning. Taking the jet.”
“Does she know?”
Shaking my head, I fight a grin. “Absolutely not. The less time she has to argue about it and try to stop it, the better.” And I didn’t miss the fact that Astrid attempted to direct the subject away from herself. “But when I get back, you and I are going to talk.” I lock gazes with her, ensuring she sees how serious I am about this. “ Really talk. Promise you’re not going to dodge me?”
Those pale brows of hers rise. “You mean the way you’ve been dodging me?”
Shit.
“Okay, that’s totally fair. Yes.” I nod. “Just like I’ve been dodging you.”
She shakes her head. “I won’t.”
“Good.”
I plant a kiss on her forehead and spin her around the dance floor, but as the song starts to wind down, Cass and Kennedy—with her bouquet in hand—approach the stage.
My palms suddenly get very sweaty, and I pull away from Astrid, wiping them on my jacket as I scan the sea of people for two tiny ones. “Are the girls ready?”
Astrid helps me search for Viviana and Charlotte and points. “Right there.” She turns back to me, barely containing her grin. “You nervous?”
I shake my head. “No. Do I have reason to be? Do you know something I don’t?”
She smirks. “What makes you think I’d tell you if I did? It would be more entertaining to see you get down on one knee and have her say ‘no.’”
Discreetly flipping her the bird, I watch her head straight for the girls. She bends down and talks to them, and I turn back to Wren.
Here it goes.
I didn’t think I’d be nervous doing this. Not when I’m confident—or at least, I was until Astrid said that —Wren is going to say yes. But I can’t stop my hands from shaking even as I return to her side and she slides the glass back into my palm.
Hell…
She opens her mouth to say something, but I bring the glass to my lips and down the whole thing in one gulp.
The burn of the whiskey going down only makes me jumpier, and Wren’s eyes widen slightly.
“Okay, then…”
I know she’s about to ask me if something is wrong, and given everything that’s happened over the last week—our argument, the fight, the rush to secure Coen and the rest of the family once I filled in everyone on what was happening—there have been a lot of things that felt wrong.
But throwing Coen under the bus is the worst. It will never feel right to me not to do everything in my power to protect anyone I care about, but for this woman in my arms, it was a choice I had to make.
“Our turn.” I tug her toward the dance floor.
She laughs, allowing me to lead her through the friends and associates milling around. “What is it with you today?”
Finding an open space for us, I pull her against me. “What do you mean?”
“You seem so”—she shrugs—“I don’t know…different.”
I feather my lips over hers, needing to taste her, to feel her even closer. “Maybe because I don’t have the weight of the fight still hanging over me.”
She pulls back slightly and offers a sad smile. “No, you certainly don’t.”
Of everyone, she’s the only person who truly understands what making that decision has done to me, the guilt that claws at my chest each time I wonder when Satriano will come for Coen and what he’ll make him do.
I look over her shoulder at all the security milling about in their own tuxes, blending in with the guests so well that, hopefully, no one notices the overkill.
Post-fight, we knew we didn’t have a choice but to triple everything, and the reason stands at the end of the bar with a drink in his hand.
The hard set of Coen’s jaw makes me clench my own.
All of this is his fault, but the way he looks at me, the way he acts, he certainly doesn’t see it that way.
If Uncle Stone had his way, Coen would be tucked away somewhere safe, where he would be untouchable, but the wedding threw a wrench in any plans to spirit him out of New Orleans and Satriano’s clutches.
No matter how tense things may be, no one was going to miss this—including Coen.
But as soon as this shindig dies down. He’ll be off to only God, Dad, Uncle Savage, Stone, and Saint, know where until they can try to negotiate something with Satriano on his behalf.
Good fucking luck with that.
Wren threads her fingers through my hair. “What’s wrong? You got quiet all of a sudden.”
I tug my head back and grin at her. “Nothing. I promise.”
Nothing she needs to worry about.
The song winds down, and Kennedy steps up to the microphone, giving it a tap that makes everyone wince. In her custom-made Vera Wang dress that fits her like a glove, she truly looks like the princess she is today.
“Hi, everyone!” She flashes a white smile between red lips. “I just want to thank you all again for being here today to celebrate with Cass and Charlotte and me on our big day. This would typically be the time that I throw the bouquet and all the single women beat each other up trying to get to it…”
Everyone chuckles, including Wren, and she gives me a little grin before refocusing on the stage. I tighten my grip on her waist, pulling her up against me.
“But…”—Kennedy waves the bouquet back and forth—“I have a little something different planned today.”
Questioning murmurs float through the crowd as she carefully climbs from the stage, the long train flowing down the few steps, and makes her way across the dance floor toward us in the bright-red heels I know are hidden by yards of beaded fabric.
The sea of people parts as she approaches, and Wren watches her with a furrowed brow. She glances up at me. “What’s going on?”
Before I can answer her, Kennedy stops in front of us and holds out the bouquet to Wren. “I don’t need to throw this because you’re next.” Her gaze darts to Isaac and Jack, who stand watching. “Since those two seem intent on waiting until Gio is old enough to participate in their ceremony.”
“What?” Wren glances between Kennedy and me, confusion filling her eyes. “Atlas, what is she—”
Kennedy slips the flowers into Wren’s hand and winks at me. “Here’s your chance, killer.”
Shit.
This is it.
I motion for the girls to come over, and Vivi and Charlotte race from the edge of the stage where they’re standing with Astrid to me, carrying their little purses that match their flower girl dresses.
Taking a long, deep breath, I slowly sink to one knee on the dance floor.
Wren’s eyes widen as she stares down at me. “Atlas, what the hell are you doing?”
WREN
Atlas stares up at me, his warm Caribbean-blue eyes brimming with so much love that it’s almost painful. He takes my left hand in his and squeezes it tightly. “What I should have done months ago. What I should have done the moment you came back.”
My breath catches in my throat.
Oh, God…
“Wren Mason, I have been in love with you since I was eight years old, and all the years we’ve spent apart never changed that. I can’t wait for our baby to arrive, for our family to start finally, and for another Hawke to enter the world with you.”
The tears burn in my eyes and trickle down my cheeks, and I glance up to find Cass and Kennedy watching us, along with everyone else gathered around the dance floor.
“Atlas, this is your cousin’s wedding…”
He grins. “It was her idea to do it now, in front of all the people we love and care about. To make it a double celebration.” He turns to the girls and holds out his hand to Viviana. “Do you have it?”
She nods her dark head and opens her little purse, digging in and slipping something from it into his hand.
I can’t see much of anything through the tears, and it isn’t until he holds the tiny plastic ring to my pinky finger that I realize what he’s doing.
“Little Bird, you are the only one who has ever made my heart sing, who has ever made me want to be a better man, a better person. And I swear to God, even though I’m sure I’ll fail, I’ll try to be a good husband and father.”
Oh, God…
A sob carries up my throat.
“I have always thought of you as my wife. So will you please say, ‘I do’ again?”
Any hope of maintaining control shatters with his words, and I cover my mouth with my hand the best I can while holding the bouquet, trying to stifle an unladylike sound that wants to come out.
I nod—unable to form any words.
Atlas grins, his eyes glistening as he slips the familiar ring onto my smallest finger—again. Then he glances over at Charlotte and holds out his hand. She digs into her purse and comes out with a blue box, which she opens and turns toward him.
He pulls a massive diamond ring from it and slides it on the proper finger. “I promised to get you a better one this time.”
I can’t even look at it, too lost in swimming in his gaze that’s now filled with his own tears. He pushes to his feet and tugs me up against him, pressing his lips against mine in a slow, sweet kiss that perfectly matches the moment and the man.
Because despite all the attitude, all the ink, all the rebellion sewn into his DNA, Atlas is a Hawke, through and through.
He’s built on love and loyalty.
And he is sweet, no matter how many times he tries to deny it.
I fall into him, allowing my body to go completely limp in his arms, trusting him to hold me steady, like he always does. To protect this baby and me. To always do what’s right, even when it’s hard or hurts.
When we finally come back up for air to the clapping of everyone around us and the music starts back up again, he kisses the corner of my lips softly. “I can’t wait for tomorrow…”
“What’s tomorrow?”
He pulls back and grins, his eyes lighting with mischief. “I’m taking you on vacation.”
“You are?”
Nodding, he trails his fingers down the exposed skin of my back, sending a little shiver through me.
“Where are we going?”
Leaning in, he brushes his lips against my ear. “Bali.”
“Bali?” I jerk away slightly. “Atlas, I can’t go to Bali. I have the studio, doctors’ appointments. I—”
He silences me with another kiss. A slow, sensual melding that makes me groan and heat flare through my body. “Diane is coming to cover your classes.”
“What? How do you even know who she is?”
I know I never mentioned Diane to him in any of our talks about my life back in Texas.
He grins, nipping at my lips playfully. “I pay attention, Little Bird. I heard you talking to her on the phone one night and realized she was one of your former co-workers. I got her number out of your phone, explained the situation, and she was more than willing to come for the month.”
“A month?” I gape at him.
Has this man lost his fucking mind?
“Atlas, I can’t leave for a month.”
He kisses me again. “Yes.” Another kiss. “You.” Another. “Can.” One final, heavy press of his lips. “After the last several months, we deserve this. To get away, to just have time to be us. There’s absolutely nothing here that won’t wait.”
My stomach churns at the thought of leaving not only the studio but also the family when we’ve just pissed off a man like Satriano…
It clicks in my head as the music starts up again and couples begin moving around us on the dance floor.
“Are you really getting me out of town because you want to spend a month alone, or are you trying to hide from Satriano?”
His smile falters for a second. “Maybe a little of both. He’s definitely going to be pissed I didn’t throw the fight, and it’s only a matter of time before that comes back to bite me.”
“And what about Coen?”
He glances over at his cousin, who stands scowling next to Isaac near the bar, with his parents on either side. “They’ll take care of Coen, get him somewhere safe.” A little sigh slips from his mouth. “Coen’s going to have to learn that he’s responsible for the consequences of his actions.”
A smile pulls at my lips, and I thread my finger through the hair on the nape of his neck. “I’m glad you finally realized that you don’t always have to be the savior of the Hawkes. It isn’t your responsibility to protect them from any danger. You have a lot of people you pay for that.”
Who have been glued to us since we left that locker room after the fight and have become our shadows anywhere and everywhere we have gone since.
Neither of us is stupid enough to believe that Satriano won’t try to request some sort of reparation from Atlas, but if the man can’t get to him, it certainly makes it a lot harder.
Putting thousands of miles between us and him is starting to sound like a truly great idea.
“I know, Little Bird. And what you said that night before the fight made me realize that I can’t. There was no way to win, no matter what I did. And in the end, I wasn’t going to risk losing you and the baby—ever.”
I push up on my toes and press a kiss to his lips. “Me either.”
But even if we disappear for a while, this thing with Satriano isn’t just going to go away. He’ll still be here when we get back, and he will still be looking for Atlas and Coen.
Too much money was lost.
Too much leverage was given.
It’s only a matter of time before he comes calling on each of them.
Gabe walks up and smacks Atlas on the shoulder. “Congratulations, son.” He grins at me. “Welcome to the family officially, Wren, or I guess…again.”
I laugh and press my hand against Atlas’ chest, examining the tiny plastic ring on my pinky before I finally fully look at the real one next to it. “This ring is crazy.”
Atlas smiles and glances at his dad. “I had the family jeweler custom make it for you. Chose the solitaire diamond myself. Ten carats with another twenty carats around the band.”
“Holy shit.” I slide my hand over my mouth again. “Atlas, it’s too much.”
He presses a kiss to my temple. “It’s just right.”
Gabe smirks. “I told him he should have gone bigger.”
I shake my head, my cheeks heating with a blush at the ostentatiousness of the ring he chose. “I don’t need all this…”
“I know you don’t. Neither do I.” He waves his hand around. “We’re not doing a wedding like this. Small, intimate, close friends and family only.”
I laugh, scanning the crowd, filled with his cousins, aunts and uncles, and the rest of the people they consider Hawkes. “If it’s your whole family, it’s not going to be small and intimate.”
Gabe chuckles and points at me. “That’s a good point.” He leans in and drops a kiss on my cheek. “You let me know if he gets out of line.”
“What do you mean if ?” I raise a brow at my future father-in-law. “He’s always out of line.”
He smirks. “He may be the champ, but I’m still his father. I can take him down a peg or two, if I need to.”
I glance over his shoulder at Skye, where she talks with Astrid, Nana, Storm, Landon, Angie, and Jude. “I thought that was Skye’s job, or Astrid’s…”
Gabe drops his head back, barking out a laugh that carries over the orchestra’s tune. “Christ, you’re so perfect for him.”
He walks away, chuckling to himself, while Atlas takes my hand in his and pulls me from the dance floor.
Weaving between people, still clutching the bouquet tightly, I try to keep up with his hurried steps. “Where are we going?”
A smug smirk pulls at his lips. “Our hotel room to celebrate.”
“Oh, yeah. What kind of celebration do you have in mind?”
He stops at the edge of the dance floor and dips his head to graze his teeth along the shell of my ear in that way that makes my pussy clench. “The kind where I worship every fucking inch of you the way you deserve. An introduction to how I plan to spend the next month. With my tongue and cock buried inside you endlessly.”
My knees wobble, and I grip the lapels of his tux to stay upright.
His hand slides around my waist, holding me steady. “You like the sound of that, Little Bird?”
I nod. “Mmmhmm.”
“Good.” He drops his shoulder and scoops me up easily, settling me against his chest. “Because that is the only thing on my agenda the entire time we’re away.”
Looping my arms around his neck, I kiss my way to his ear. “I think you should hurry up to the room…”
A shiver rolls through him, and his cock presses against the side of my thigh, hardening despite still being in a room full of people. “Why’s that, Little Bird? I could bend you over one of these tables and fuck you right here, right now.”
I graze my teeth along his jaw. “But do you want them all to see me on my knees with your cock down my throat?”
His entire body twitches. “Jesus, Wren…”
Turnabout is fair play.
Atlas knows what talking like that does me, and I’ve learned that finding my voice only adds fuel to the fire.
There may be things left up in the air, an uncertain cloud hanging over us at the moment, but one thing is absolutely certain…
This man would burn down the world for me, and I would gladly jump into the flames with him.
COEN
I’ve really done it.
I fucked up.
Big time.
And sooner or later, the Devil will collect his due.
I hope you enjoyed Rebel Hawke. Delve further into the Hawke Family world with Coen’s story in Restless Hawke !