Epilogue
MATTY
“Shit,” I hiss, sucking my finger into my mouth and tasting blood.
It’s the third time I’ve cut myself on one of these damn thorns, and at this rate, the scene I’m trying to set up is going to wind up looking more like a haunted house than a romantic gesture.
Then again, maybe Blair would prefer that.
Grabbing for the box of tissues on the nightstand, I pull one out and wrap it around my finger, holding it tight to stem the bleed. I glance at the clock nervously as I give it a couple minutes to clot, mentally calculating how much time I’ve got left before Blair walks in. Not enough.
Tossing the bloodied tissue onto the nightstand to join the others, I resume the painstaking task of removing rose petals from the stems, scattering them over the white duvet on our bed. I’m so focused on dispersing them evenly that it takes a second for the scent of smoke to register.
Shit, shit, shit!
I whip my head toward the nightstand, finding the tissue I tossed there landed in one of the candles and is currently on fire. I quickly pluck it out, tossing the flaming tissue to the ground and stomping it out beneath my boot, coughing on the smoke.
Turns out candles and rose petals are great in theory, but hazardous in practice.
This entire thing is so cheesy it hurts, but two years with Blair Montrose has taught me how to handle the pain.
I mean, if I can survive her unpredictable mood swings and verbal barbs, I can survive a little candle-induced smoke inhalation, right?
I’m still fanning the air trying to clear the smoke when Blair enters the room.
My first instinct is to grab her, kiss her, but I stick to the script and wait for her to notice the display I’ve laid out for her.
She pauses at the threshold, one hand on the doorframe, like she might be ready to call an evacuation. "What's this?" she asks, blinking.
"Happy Anniversary, babe." I smirk, proud of the set-up but even prouder of her dramatic pause. That moment of shocked surprise is exactly what I was going for.
"It looks like Valentine's Day exploded in here," she deadpans, eyes moving from the rose petals to the candles to the way I've dimmed the lights. I wait for the sarcastic eye roll I know is coming, but instead, there's a smile twitching at the corner of her lips. She almost looks... impressed?
Nah. I must be getting delusional from oxygen deprivation.
Crossing the room in a few long strides, I pull her to me, breathing her in like she's fresh air. Her dark eyes catch the low light and my heart skips a damn beat. "I told you I’d win you over with my romantic side,” I drawl, winking.
"If by win me over you mean set off the fire alarm, then you're halfway there," she teases, leaning into me with a chuckle.
The warmth of her body leeches into mine as her eyes scan the room again, the soft, awestruck look on her face making the last hour of work more than worth it. "You've been busy."
"Ah, it was nothing,” I say, sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
The dancing flames of the candles scattered throughout the room reflect in her eyes as she shakes her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you did all this."
"Yeah, well. I wanted to get it right,” I murmur, brushing my lips against hers and trying to keep my nerves in check. It feels like the first day we moved in together all over again, my body buzzing with anxious energy and adrenaline.
"It's... it's really sweet, Matty,” she whispers, her throat bobbing with a swallow as she sweeps her gaze over the room again. “Now I feel dumb for only getting you a watch.”
I dig a hand into my pocket, brushing my fingertips against the velvet box.
“Blair,” I start, fumbling to pull it out, hoping that I don’t have nearly as much trouble with my carefully rehearsed speech.
“These past two years together have been the best of my life. I’m so in love with you, and I know I can’t give you a mate mark, but… ”
She arches an eyebrow, watching me suspiciously as I fish the box out and flip it open, dropping to a knee. Her eyes land on the ring inside– a two-carat black diamond solitaire in a six-prong platinum setting– and her mouth drops open.
I hold my breath as I watch her reaction, knowing that if I botch this moment, she'll never let me live it down. Her eyes widen, and for a second, I think I’ve actually gone and blown her mind.
Then I see the flicker of doubt, and I panic that maybe this was the wrong move– it’s too traditional, too human…
"Matty,” she rasps, voice wavering as her eyes ping back up to meet mine. “Is this…?”
"A commitment," I interrupt, hoping that maybe if I explain, I can still salvage this. "Since I can’t mark you with my teeth, I figured this would be the next best thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Blair. If you’ll have me."
The raw edge in my tone surprises even me, emotion bleeding into every word. I’ve said some version of the sentiment to her a million times, in a million different ways, but never quite like this. Never with a ring. The diamond catches the light, but it’s her face I can’t look away from.
"Matty…” Her eyes glisten as she takes the ring box from me with a delicate touch, the same hand that used to be so firm in pushing me away now trembling. "It’s beautiful."
"You’re beautiful," I say, not even caring that I’m coming off like a walking Hallmark card right now. “So…?”
Blair clutches the ring box tightly in her hands, and for a second, I worry she’s going to throw it at me. It’d be pretty on-brand for my feisty, fierce girlfriend. Instead, she bites her lip, her chin quivering as she looks down at me. “You really wanna be stuck with me forever?”
My lips split into a wide grin. "Is that a yes?”
"Yes,” she breathes, eyes going glassy with tears. “Yes, you big romantic idiot. Of course, yes."
The second she says it, I’m on my feet and her arms are around my neck, our mouths fusing in a kiss that makes the whole world fade away.
I sweep her up in a way that would’ve gotten me stabbed when we first met.
Now, it just earns me an enthusiastic moan as I kiss her within an inch of her life, tasting her ‘yes’ on her tongue, writing promises against it with my own.
She pulls away for air, gasping and laughing at once. "Put the ring on before I change my mind."
I pull it from the box and slip it on her finger, grinning like a madman when it fits perfectly. Just like us. "Guess this means you’re my fiancée,” I say proudly, beaming a smile at her.
She traces a finger down my chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "That’s such a human term. Why don’t we go with mate.”
“Yeah?” I ask, a little too enthusiastically.
“Yeah,” she laughs, glancing down at the ring, wiggling her fingers so it catches the light. “A black diamond?” she muses, her lips pulling into a smirk as she glances up at me through her eyelashes.
“Figured it went with your whole vibe,” I shrug, smirking right back.
She throws me onto the bed with a force that only a werewolf could muster, the petals fluttering around us in a frenzy.
"It’s perfect," she declares, kicking a leg over to straddle my waist. Her hair falls around my face as she leans down, dark eyes blazing with heat and affection and all the things I always wanted, but once thought I’d never get from her.
Her lips claim mine again, and it feels like sealing the moment, encapsulating it as a memory we’ll never forget. I wrap my arms around her and lose myself in it, cheesy candles and petals and all.
When we break apart to come up for air, Blair sits back and looks at me with so much adoration that it’s my turn to get choked up. I’ve wanted this for so long that it almost doesn’t feel real. It feels like I’m dreaming.
Only dreams don't usually get me quite this hard, this fast.
We crash together again, clothes coming off in a frenzy as we tangle in the sheets and each other. It’s a fight for who gets to be on top as we roll across the mattress, punctuated with laughter, desire, a little bit of her teeth and a lot of my hands.
“Mate,” she whispers against my lips, that single word spoken with so much reverence that my heart swells.
“Mate,” I say back, smiling against her mouth. I like the sound of that.
Blair
It only took half an hour, two epic tantrums, and one strategic applesauce bribe, but little Dylan is finally down for his nap.
I lean my head against the nursery door with a deep, exhausted sigh, listening to the glorious silence within for another minute before slowly backing away and tiptoeing down the stairs.
Hopefully he’s out for at least an hour.
As much as I love the kid, I need a break from his wild energy.
Caleb says he’s a lot like his namesake in that way, which warms my heart almost as much as when Matty suggested that we call our son Dylan.
Some men might be jealous or threatened by keeping the memory of my lost mate alive like that, but not my Matty.
He’s taught me to honor the past rather than running from it.
That it’s the only way to truly move forward.
I shove a wayward lock of hair behind my ear as I move through the small house in Matty and I bought when I got pregnant, making my way to the living room and flopping down beside him on the couch.
He looks up from his laptop and grins at me like I’m the best thing in the world, and damnit if that look on his face doesn’t melt my heart every time.
“Finally got him down?” Matty asks, a little too smug for someone who spent the last thirty minutes pretending to be productive while I was in the trenches.
“Yeah,” I sigh, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. “It only took half my sanity and most of my dignity.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, a laugh rumbling in his chest. “Sounds like our son.”
“No kidding,” I snort. “He’s a wild little wolf.”