Epilogue
SANTINO
Six months later…
I couldn’t be a happier man.
Bianchi has fled town, leaving everything behind and I’ve claimed his territory. I’ve doubled the amount of money I’ve made and thanks to Lorenzo, most of Bianchi’s men are dead too.
Luca is another story.
Instead of pressing charges, Jovie did something else instead.
She advocated for him to get help. Not only did he agree, but he also allowed me to be in charge of his life, for the most part.
In a way, I suppose it’s a conservatorship, but when he is ready, everything can be his again.
I’m not trying to rule his life. I only want to help.
His doctors are saying he has borderline personality disorder and is being treated with the correct therapies and medications.
I couldn’t ask for better news. Luca isn’t ready to leave the facility and I’m not sure if he’ll ever want to. He’s happy and healthy. That’s all I can ask for as a parent. We still have some mending to do with our relationship, but I don’t view him any differently.
Wounds take time to heal, and I haven’t been able to forget his betrayal so easily. Omar is officially next in line to take my place. I decided after the baby is born, it’s time for me to step back and let a fresh, younger mind take my place.
Jovie is amazing. As always.
After the fire, we were both worried about the baby surviving, but my daughter lived, and now I’m only two months away from meeting her.
“I’m so nervous,” Jovie says, bouncing on her heels while we wait for the judges to do their final walk through at the show.
She’s nervous? I’m the one with a four-carat diamond burning a hole in my pocket.
But I can understand why she’s scared. Me, her, Marlowe, even Lorenzo, Omar, and Terrance, helped her set up her beautiful flower display.
It’s a walk-through display, meant to take you to another world.
Twinkling lights sparkle through long vines and lush green leaves, flowers that hang with beautiful white blooms, and instead of grass beneath your feet, it’s clover.
Rose bushes are scattered throughout with lilies.
Bright colorful tulips are different lengths on the wall.
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and it took us three months to build the frame of the room, then another month to add all the different size holes in the walls where the flower stems would go, and the flowers themselves?
We only had three days to make the creation once we got here.
I don’t think any of us has slept for longer than thirty-minute intervals.
This entire experience has been a blur and yet, I would do it all over again to see the smiles that graced Jovie’s face.
“You’re going to win, Sweet Girl.” I stand behind her, burying my nose in her hair to smell the scent of lilies that have embedded itself into her DNA. I fucking love that scent. My arms wrap around her, my hands flat against her round stomach.
And my daughter kicks. It’s like she can sense I’m there waiting to hold her.
“You don’t know that. Everyone here is amazing. I’m with artists. Artists who have won shows before. This is just my first. I’m lucky to even be here,” she rambles, her nerves getting the best of her as the judges come closer.
They announce the second runner up a few minutes ago and they have really taken their time making their rounds.
“You’re going to win because what you made, not only art, but a way for people to explore another world, even if it only lasts for seconds.
You did that and if they don’t pick you as a winner—” I brush her hair away from her ear and whisper, “Then, I’ll kill them and the person who has your trophy. ”
“We have to have better sportsmanship than that, baby,” she giggles, leaning her head against my shoulder.
“I don’t give a damn about sportsmanship. I only care about you being happy.”
She spins around in my arms, her belly bumping against mine. I haven’t been able to feel her flat against me for awhile now. I miss it, but knowing it’s her pregnant belly against mine, my child safe and sound, has me addicted to Jovie being pregnant.
“You better calm down,” she warns, the judges stopping at an exhibit a few tables away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sweet Girl.”
She looks left and right. “You’re hard. Control yourself.”
I growl on a quiet hush. “How do you know that? You can’t tell.”
“I see it in your eyes, and you rub my belly a lot when you want me.”
“So constantly.”
She giggles, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle her loud bellows.
“I can’t help it. You look so fucking beautiful pregnant. Knowing you’re carrying my child awakens something primal inside me.”
“You better stop.” She fans herself, her cheeks flushing a bright red. “My pregnancy hormones are a rollercoaster and now I want you so bad, I could cry.”
I lick the shell of her ear, watching the judges come closer and lock eyes with me. “After you win, I’ll fuck you in your masterpiece.”
“Santino, you cannot fuck me here,” she hisses. “Absolutely not.”
The judges are only a few feet away now.
“We will see about that.” I get the final word in before the judges stop at our table.
“We would like one last walk through of your exhibit, Ms. Morgan,” A man with small round frames perched at the end of his nose informs us with a bright smile. He holds a clipboard to his chest, the bright lights reflecting off the polished bald head.
“Of course, please. Take your time. Let me know if you have any questions,” she replies, holding out her arm to welcome them into the exhibit.
“Can you please confirm the name of your exhibit, Ms. Morgan?” A woman with dyed black hair that resembles hay, asks, her red lipstick smeared across her front teeth.
Jovie clears her throat and grunts, her hand pressing against her stomach where the baby kicked. “Apologies. She’s active and just kicked me in the ribs. I lost my breath,” she chuckles.
All of the judges’ eyes fall to her belly, grinning like most people do when they are encountered with a pregnancy. It’s a happy occasion and most of the world loves to celebrate it.
“When are you due?” The woman with fried raven hair asks, taking a step closer to my soon-to-be fiancé.
If she dares to touch Jovie’s stomach without her permission, I’m going to put a bullet between her eyes.
“Two more months,” Jovie answers.
“How lovely. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Whew, I am so sorry about that. I needed a moment.”
“No problem at all, dearie,” an older man with a rotund stomach practically bellows. “Take your time.”
Jovie takes a deep breath. “The name is Salvati’s Enchantment,” she answers.
“My goal was to feel at peace, to be surrounded by love and safety. The concept of love and safety seems to be rare in reality, so I wanted to create an exhibit that teleported you to another world where you got to experience peace. Real peace.”
They each give us a nod as they walk by. The woman parts the weeping willow branch curtain, entering the world she created to mimic how she feels with me. There isn’t a better compliment knowing my love for her would look like this in physical form.
The judges whisper to one another inside. A minute passes, then two, then ten, and the judges are still inside the exhibit. Jovie is becoming antsy.
“It’s okay. They are taking their time. That’s good.”
“They didn’t stay this long in the other exhibits.” She chews on her thumbnail; a habit I’ve been trying to get her to break.
I lower her hand from her face. “That’s good. It means they are enjoying it.”
“Or hating it,” she mumbles, groaning again when my daughter kicks her in the ribs.
While I love Jovie being pregnant, I know it hasn’t been easy. I can’t imagine the discomfort.
I roll a padded leather chair I bought for her specially for this even and pat it, signaling for her to sit.
“I can’t sit down,” she scolds me. “That’s not professional.”
“Sit down,” I order with a tone that leaves no room for argument. “She will keep kicking you until you sit. That’s what always happens.”
She blows air out of the side of her mouth, a piece of hair flying out of her face before she reluctantly sits. Once she does, she groans so loud, a judge peeks his head out from the exhibit.
He chuckles when he notices Jovie’s head tossed back and her hands rubbing the globe of her belly.
“Better?” I kiss the side of her head.
“So much.”
The judges finally come out of the exhibit, showing no emotion on their faces. Jovie tries to push herself out of the seat and I press my hands on her shoulders to shove her down.
“Don’t even think about it,” I say through a smile.
Jovie wants to roll her eyes but stops herself when the judges surround her. “Sorry for sitting. She was kicking me so hard and usually she stops when I sit.”
“You can sit for as long as you like, Jovie. As you are the winner of the Twenty-Fifth Annual Floral Conference Show. Congratulations, and you will receive a check of one-hundred thousand dollars. You created a beautiful escape. I wish we could preserve it forever. It’s gorgeous.”
A hundred thousand dollars is change in my pocket. Jovie doesn’t ever have to worry about money with me, but I know how important this is to her. She worked hard for this. This money is hers and hers alone and I couldn’t be prouder.
She jumps out of the chair pretty fast for seven months pregnant. “I won? I really won?” She screams, bouncing on her feet. “Oh my God!” She covers her face when she starts to cry and I swoop in, swirling her around. “I did it. I won!”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to present to you the winner of the Twenty-Fifth Annual Floral Conference Show including one-hundred thousand dollars and the chance to provide flowers for a celebrity’s wedding, Jovie Morgan!
” The entire convention claps and cheers, the sound reminding me of a football stadium after a touchdown.
Yet it all fades when I look into Jovie’s eyes. She did this. She accomplished this on her own. “I’ve never been more proud of you,” I whisper.
She kisses me in front of all these strangers, and I cup the back of her head, knowing it’s me who really won here.
After the check is handed over, the celebrations end faster than I expected, and everyone starts to pack up their belongings to leave.
A lot of exhibitors leave their projects behind to be thrown away, but I’d never do that to my Jovie.
I’ve called for a refrigerated truck to haul this back home.
I’m going to do my best to preserve it forever.
There has to be a way and I’m going to figure it out.
“Ready?” She asks, the smile still glued to her face.
I hold out my hand for her to take. “Almost.”
She eyes me quizzically, slipping her palm across mine. I tug her behind me, spinning her until we are in the middle of the room. Instrumental string music plays in soft hushed tones from the corner, adding to the otherworldly experience.
What a better way to propose than doing so in the sanctuary she built to show our love?
The twinkling lights resemble stars above us as we dance. I tug her close, her belly bumping against mine and I smile, the kind that shows how lucky of a man I am. I brush my fingers through her hair, appreciating every beautiful part of her.
“I love you.”
She has her cheek pressed against my chest and tilts her head up to look at me, blinking those amazing copper eyes I’m obsessed with. “I love you, too.”
“No, I mean, I fucking love you, Jovie. I’m in awe of you every day.
I love how you see the world, bright and beautiful like the art you create with your flowers.
In the dark world I live in, you bring your light and remind me that there are so many reasons to live—not just exist. Flowers brought us together and I only think it’s right to have them a part of every monumental moment in our lives. ”
I kneel on one knee and pluck the ring out of my pocket.
“Oh my god,” she gasps in shock.
“Jovie Morgan, will you do me the honor of being my wife? I’ll protect you always, love you for eternity, and be the best father to our children. Make me the happiest man in the world.” My heart pounds, hammering against my chest while waiting for her answer.
“Yes!” She screeches and shuffles her feet in excitement, stretching out her hand for me to slip the ringer on her finger. “Of course, I’ll marry you!”
I do and the diamond shines nearly as bright as she does. “The perfect fit.”
She beams at me through watery eyes and all I can do is thank the universe for giving me a second chance.
Jovie pulled me from the gray, and now, I’m obsessed with copper.
No flower could ever compare.
The End.
Dear precious reader, thank you for reading Sexting His Son's Ex!
When I finished writing the book, I couldn’t put down my pen yet… not until I wrote a little something extra special just for you. If you want more of Jovie and Santino, click here to get your bonus epilogue.
P.S. If you enjoyed Sexting His Son's Ex, then I think you’ll enjoy Sexting the Boss! Swipe to the next page for a sneak peek…