Epilogue
Happy Flag Day!
Ceres
“Mars?” On the outskirts of the starting line for a bikeathon I never signed up for, I blink at the bustling festival we’ve put together and realize two very important things.
First, there are flags, everywhere.
Second, sincerely not a single one is American.
“No, you can’t sit this out.” Mars clips my helmet into place after adjusting his own, because apparently helmets are mandatory for events like bikeathons.
Even when they weren’t mandatory for things like my learning to bike.
I bet he just wanted an excuse to catch me every time I started to fall.
He continues, “If I leave you alone for five minutes, you’ll become a people-pleasing pile of pudding, and half the town will fall in love with you and all the other women will understand what the Brian Effect is, but in gender-reverse, and Bandera just, actually, won’t survive that. ”
I drag my attention off the waving crimson—sans a single star and stripe—and fix it on my soon-to-be husband, who might be an actual villain. “I’m getting better about that people-pleasing stuff.”
“Are you? Or am I just getting bolder about stepping in and telling people to flag off?”
“I’m getting better.”
Dry, Mars says, “Mrs. Beverly.”
“I didn’t want her to drive through your carrots again.” So I put up a little marked path with clear reflectors to designate her shortcut to work after I learned that’s why she incurred Jove’s wrath before.
“Vivian.”
“I…wanted to learn how to be a barista. For book research. Very common career path for female leads.” It was rush hour at Sweet & Salty.
She needed help since her manager, Sol, was out sick.
Some kind of bug going around, I guess. I don’t know.
I never caught it. And also I didn’t actually expect her to take me up on my offer to jump behind the counter with her.
But now I have valuable information I can use to help my clients. So, basically, I win.
“Chrissy,” Mars drawls.
I grimace. I do not have an explanation for my behavior where it concerns Mr. Ferris’s granddaughter Chrissy .
We met at a boutique a few weeks ago while Lyra and I were perusing wedding gowns for tonight.
I’m just glad Lyra was there to send that woman packing, because in hindsight, I think she was shoplifting and I nearly helped.
Jutting my lip, I mutter, “Lyra tattled on me?”
“Bike buddies don’t have secrets.” Mars tightens my helmet strap. “And you can’t be left unsupervised.”
I fiddle with my heart lock and huff. “I’m sure Jupiter would be more than happy to supervise me while you wear yourself out right before we get married.”
He tugs extra on my helmet strap. “If there’s one thing I’m confident in, it’s my stamina, and, besides, Jovey is busy with his own fiancée.”
Yes, yes. Last I saw them, they were wandering around in a cloud of love, enjoying funnel cakes and fair rides—not prepping for a deathathon. “Why couldn’t we be cute like them?”
Mars flashes a smile and grips my own hand to force me to tug on my necklace. “Because, we’re demented, and they’re innocents.”
As the metal pinches, I blush and can’t exactly argue.
“You’re lucky I let you outside at all around so many people. What a danger zone.”
“I’m lucky my mother’s and father’s flights haven’t landed yet. I’m hoping that heat stroke will make our reunion before the wedding more bearable…considering how I might still need some practice where it concerns not volunteering my energy all the time.”
“Things with your mother and father will be fine.” Mars kisses my nose.
“If they’re not, Jove will slash their rentals’ tires, and I will find a way to destroy their professional lives without them ever knowing it was me.
If they dare start anything with each other at our wedding…
I will end them. So, you see? Nothing to worry about. ”
I sigh. “You derailed my thought. I wasn’t trying to back out of this pre-wedding torture.”
“Pre-wedding fun. Braden says it’s very important to appreciate all the phases of life together, and since our fiancé phase is so short, this is a very important time. But, anyway—” He swings onto his bike and kicks the stand up. “—what was it you wanted to say?”
“Flag Day is about America adopting the standard stars and stripes.”
He blinks at me.
“Despite that, there seriously aren’t any American flags here. Not a single one. Just red flags. Everywhere. I thought you were committing to the bit and not having me order any in the decoration list, but then—ha ha—I’d show up today and learn that you took care of it.”
Mars lifts a brow. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’m following.
You thought I was—gasp, horror— joking when I said we’d be focusing on the romantic side of Flag Day?
” His smile unfurls, the most beautifully-unhinged thing I have ever seen.
“Red flags only, little goddess. Because red is the color of romance. And Flag Day is the most romantic holiday of the year.”
My mouth opens, but I do not know how to reply. I’m marrying this man. This man who commits to a bit with a passion that I have only—ever—heard rivaled by Brian’s relationship with mail.
He laughs. “Don’t question it, darling. This festival was for Jove, and he only cares about Flag Day because he needed research for his book. In our genre, the flags aren’t American . They’re red.”
Absently, I mount my own bike and hum. “I…guess that makes sense. It was a good book. I’m glad it’s doing well this week…all things considered. I just wish I’d caught on sooner. Or put fewer American flags on the propaganda we passed out.”
“Nah.”
“What do you mean nah ? I’m known for being fairly honest, and it feels like we’ve scammed the entire town into participating in a red flag festival instead of a Flag Day one.”
His eyes twinkle. “It is a Flag Day festival. Just…a different sort of flag.”
Uh-huh.
“Because you know what book girlies love?” he asks.
Let me guess. “Flag Day?” I say, pinnacle of enthusiasm.
“ Flag Day ,” he concurs, setting a foot on his starting pedal. “And also…Grandparents’ Day.”
He pushes off before those words can settle inside my skull.
I blink at his back and the waving red flag attached to his bike a moment before I take off after him, yelling, “ Mars .”
He zips. He zooms.
“ Mars, what do you mean Grandparents’ Day? ”
His laughter rises above the chatter and the starting horn that sends everyone else streaking into the road. The opposite of reassuring, he says, “You’ll find out in August, Sara. You’ll find out in August.”
August. Great. I’m going to be editing a Grandparents’ Day dark romance .
Clearly, someone needs to stop these Rogue brothers before their nonsense schemes get way too out of hand. They can’t just keep doing whatever they want and getting away with it.
That said, when Mars stands on his pedals to coast, I catch up, and the unhindered joy spilling off him as our eyes meet warms me to the bone.
Well.
Whatever.
As long as it works…red flag, green light.
Let’s go.