Epilogue
ROWE
“When’s the last time you celebrated a holiday?” Tilly asks me.
She’s leaning over the gap between our chairs at her parents’ dining table with a hand fisting my thigh like she’s scared I’m going to hop up and take off.
I’m wearing my dinner jeans, as she called them this morning.
I don’t know what that says about me and my lack of clothing, because there are still stains on the hem of my left leg.
Granted, they’re from an oil leak, not horse shit or mud like my other pairs.
“Alone? I always acknowledged them.”
The corner of her painted red lips tugs downward. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s been a while.”
“Well, consider this the start of a new tradition. Mom’s never going to let you skip another now.”
I lift my water glass and take a drink. Tilly rubs my thigh and straightens, recrossing her legs beneath the table. With a quick look at the dress she decided to torture me with today, I have to take another sip of ice-cold water to chill my desire.
It’s the same sinful red colour as her lips, but it should be far less provocative.
Fucking surprise, but it isn’t. Not when she wears it so well.
It’s got full-length sleeves with elastics at the wrists and another at her middle.
Even with the innocent white dots all over it, she wears the ruffled fabric like it’s a slinky little scrap of fabric.
With her legs crossed, every inch of her still-tan thighs is exposed, taunting me.
It helps that she isn’t wearing those tall white boots anymore. They’ll be going back on the moment I get her home tonight. The dress can stay at the door.
She pulled the fucking thing from the back of the closet early this morning, but I know she went out and bought it with the girls this past week.
They spent two days up in Calgary on some impromptu shopping trip that I know was Millie’s idea.
She stole my woman and left me to entertain Shade the entire time.
He wouldn’t leave that night and wound up crashing on the couch just so he didn’t have to be home without her.
I’ll never admit it out loud, but I didn’t mind the company.
“Stop looking at me like that before someone notices.”
I blink, lazily drifting my eyes back up Tilly’s body. Her blue eyes gleam with smug satisfaction despite her warning.
I give her knee a squeeze. Her father clears his throat at the end of the table, drawing everyone’s attention, including mine. He’s cleaned up for Thanksgiving, almost like Shelly forced him into those clean, well-fitted jeans the way her daughter did to me.
“I don’t want to do any gushy bullshit, but I’d still like to say thank you for coming.
I’m sure we all know by now that my wife has a habit of cooking for a hundred people rather than the typical handful.
At least now, we’ll hopefully have a chance of working through all the food before it finds a permanent home in the back of my fridge. Cheers.”
Tilly snorts a laugh and lifts her wine glass, clinking it against her father’s whiskey tumbler. “Cheers, Dad.”
“Well, I, on the other hand, would love to show some real thanks this Thanksgiving, so if you all wouldn’t mind,” Shelly starts, flashing a farce of a scowl at her husband and daughter.
“I want to first just say that I’m happy we could all find the time to be here together.
It’s not easy to make time for these things when we’re all so busy, but it means the world to me. ”
My woman’s touch grows firmer as she listens to her mom.
I reciprocate the action and glance across the table, where Ash is nodding in his seat beside Lacey.
It’s my first holiday here since I was just a kid, but her first ever.
With Shade and Millie here too, it isn’t surprising she received an invitation.
Still, I can’t say that I expected her to be so antsy.
In the last hour alone, she’s excused herself from conversation a handful of times, always with her hand pressed to her mouth.
Ash has started watching her closer, almost obsessively, like even he doesn’t know what’s going on.
That’s rarely the case with them. If I had it in me to be jealous over more than one person, I’d have grown increasingly so with how easily it was for Lacey to snatch my best friend and make him hers too.
Shelly’s eyes glisten as she clears her throat and continues, unable to look away from her daughter.
“This is the first Thanksgiving in a long, long time where both of our children are home, and it feels like a blessing that I’m able to share this with everyone sitting here with us, as I have grown to see you all as family.
My heart is so very full today. I hope that this is just the first of many years where I get to look over this table and see this beautiful picture. ”
I let my mouth form a soft smile when she shifts her gaze to me.
For years now, I’ve turned down her invitations to join her family for the holidays.
It didn’t matter if it was Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, I always said no with a stupid excuse.
Being here without Tilly would have been more painful than spending them alone.
Now, I won’t be given that option again, and even I were, I wouldn’t take it.
Shifting in my chair, I bring my arm to rest along Tilly’s back. She turns to stare at me, and I let her see how happy I am to be here right now, with her. She touches the hand on her shoulder and drags her thumb over my knuckle.
Shade starts speaking, but I don’t hear a word of whatever speech he’s chosen to give. Tilly leans over that sliver of space between us again and whispers three words that I didn’t even fucking dream of hearing her speak aloud six months ago.
“I love you.”
Her curled hair slips down her shoulder and creates a curtain that shields our mouths as I connect them. She shuts her eyes and sighs contentedly. When I pull back, she lingers, already knowing I’m not quite done with her.
And she’s right. I’m a long fucking ways from done.
“I love you, hellcat.”
“This is going to go straight to my ass.”
I rasp a laugh and fold my arm behind my head. Hunched over like a goblin, Tilly keeps the extra pumpkin pie her mom made for her on her lap as she jabs her fork into it again. There’s no crust, so it isn’t a real pie. Just the goddamn filling that she can’t get enough of.
She pushes a bite between her lips and then hastily shoves the container onto the nightstand, shaking her head. “Don’t laugh. You just let me eat over half of that.”
“I don’t let you do anything, hellcat. Don’t blame this on me.”
“Fine. But you could have stolen the fork or something before I ate enough to make myself sick,” she complains.
With a groan, she flops onto her back, rubbing her stomach. I turn onto my side and take over for her, making slow circles that pull content little sighs from her lips. “You’re happy.”
“Are you asking me, or telling me that?”
“Telling. You still can’t stop smiling, even now,” I say, keeping my voice low.
“Of course I’m happy. I spent today on a ride with you, then stuffing myself as full as the turkey Mom cooked. Now, I get to lay here with you.”
“I don’t just mean today or now. I mean, in general.”
Her features tighten while she rolls over to face me. I keep my hand on her stomach, brushing my thumb back and forth over the fabric of my shirt she’s wearing.
“I’ve been happy for a long time now, Rowe.”
“Good.”
“Good? That’s all you wanted to say about it? Come on, tell me what you’re thinking about.”
It’s so easy to give in to her. She can ask for anything, and I’d give it. Fight any battle or spend my life savings. I’m a strong-willed man who has always ever been weak for one woman. That hasn’t changed since I was a teenager, and it won’t regardless of how old we grow.
But this, what I’ve been wanting to ask her . . . it feels daunting. Not because I’m too scared to ask, but because I don’t know what I’ll do if she tells me no.
Suddenly, I’m on my back, and she’s hovering above me.
Two soft, bare legs bracket my middle as she settles her weight onto my body and takes my face in her hands.
My shirt hangs loose from her shoulder, leaving her bare from her neck down to her elbow.
The sight of the fresh tattoo on her collarbone sends an electric current straight to my cock.
Each time I see it, I like it more than the last.
My bite mark has no fucking right looking so sexy. Yet there it is, black and permanent.
I pluck the fallen fabric and readjust it so it droops in the front instead. If I have to stare at my mark any longer, we’re going to be having this conversation with my dick inside of her.
She must feel it kick beneath her because she presses her ass against it and wiggles. I grind my teeth and grab her waist, stilling her. With a blink, she swallows and shimmies up my body until my cock is left cold in my briefs.
I watch her eyes drift down to the matching tattoo I had done in the same exact spot. Mine came first to make sure we knew where I could fit it amongst my other ink, and she was eager to agree on the placement.
“Talk to me, Rowe,” she murmurs, dusting her fingers over my cheekbones.
“Do you ever want to get married again? Or has that door shut for you?”
It comes out angrier than I intended it to. Still, she doesn’t pull away. As if I’d whispered the words gently, she plants her forearms against my chest and drapes herself over my body, blinking softly.
“That depends.”
“On?”
This time, she smirks at my tone.
“Unless I was marrying one very specific man, I wouldn’t be interested in going through that again.”
“Stop talking in circles. Tell me you’d marry me, Tilly.”
She lowers her head and rubs the tips of our noses together. “I would marry you. If you asked me to, I’d say yes. Is that what you’re doing right now?”
I glide my fingers up her sides and over her shoulders before threading them in her hair.
It’s as soft as silk, the curls from earlier looser now that she’s brushed them.
Her eyes are vibrant, so clear it’s like I can taste the bold, all-consuming love that’s flooding them.
It’s honest, and fuck, it twists the heart in my chest that I feared was too fucked up to feel like this. It’s far past simple adoration.
What I feel for this woman is possession in its purest form. I don’t fear that it will disappear or run its course. It’s almost sick in its intensity, but the last thing I feel is fear. I’ve accepted that this is the only woman I will ever want, ever love, and it’s a relief.
“Not yet,” I declare roughly. “I’m not asking you to marry me in bed while you have dried pumpkin pie filling on the corner of your lips.”
Her laugh flies from her, sounding more like a snort than anything else. “Jesus. Lick it off or something, then.”
“No.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
I use my thumb to wipe away the crusted orange filling and then slip it into my mouth, sucking it off and hiding my cringe at the taste. “I just wanted to know if I could expect to call you my wife someday, hellcat.”
“Mmm, and now you have your answer.”
“I do.”
“What now?”
“Now . . .” I trail off, guiding her mouth to mine. “I keep you.”
She slides down to her original place on my middle. “It’s that simple?”
“It’ll never be simple with us, but that’s not going to stop me from doing it anyway.”
Her wicked little grin is answer enough. Yeah, it might not be easy, but it never was.
We’re chaos, and together, we’re crazy enough to handle whatever comes next.