Epilogue
brODAN
THREE MONTHS LATER
“I’m not sure we should be here,” Monroe whispered, like we were breaking into someone else’s home.
I shot a grin over my shoulder as I led her to the door, hand tight around hers. “We own it, Sunset. We’re allowed to be here.”
“But it’s not ready yet.”
“I need to show you something.” Unlocking the front door to our home that was but a two-minute walk to Arran’s and Arro’s homes and less than a ten-minute walk to Lachlan’s and Thane’s, I guided Monroe into what would eventually be our finished front entrance of the main house.
Like Thane, we had a secondary building, but while his was a guest annex, ours was a large secure garage with an apartment above it.
The garage was to protect my Black Shadow and the small collection of cars I’d had shipped from storage.
The Black Shadow made Monroe a bit uneasy, but as soon as she was no longer pregnant, I was determined to get her on the back of it.
She was an adventurer at heart, always jumping into whatever us boys were doing when we were kids, so I more than suspected she’d love it.
Besides, there was no way I was ridding myself of a vehicle that I felt was partly credited for bringing Monroe and me together.
I’d told her about my bet with Walker, and she’d laughed her arse off at Walker’s mischief that had forced me to spend time with her.
I think he endeared himself to her even more that day.
As for the main house, we’d opted for something more open than Thane’s and Lachlan’s, with an impressive staircase greeting us in the middle of a massive space.
To our left would be our finished kitchen and, to the right, our living room.
A wall of windows ran from one end to the other, giving us awesome views over the North Sea.
“What the …” Monroe gaped at what I had Arro do for me just minutes before our arrival.
In what would be our living room, a picnic blanket was laid out with pastries and petit fours Sloane had baked especially for the occasion, two glasses of non-alcoholic sparkling wine, and a bottle in a bucket.
And along the edges of the room were candles upon lit candles.
The flames flickered and glowed, dancing in the reflection of the windows.
“Come on.” I led her inside and helped her out of her light spring coat. I draped it carefully over one of the stacked boxes that contained pieces of our kitchen. Then I shrugged out of mine, my eyes going to Monroe’s small, rounded belly as she turned to gaze at the candles.
“What is all this?”
She was four months pregnant, and other than morning sickness that dissipated after her first trimester, Monroe was doing well.
Which was a good thing because who knew your fiancée being pregnant could make her hornier than a teenager?
Roe’s libido was in overdrive at the moment, and she was extremely sensitive.
We were taking advantage of it now since Arro and Robyn had warned Roe that she probably “wouldn’t want to touch me with a barge pole by the middle of the third trimester. ”
The candles cast a glow over Roe’s hair, making it dance like the sunset.
We didn’t know if we were having a boy or a girl yet, but I was hoping for a girl with hair like her mother’s.
And a heart like Roe’s. I’d love a boy, too, of course.
Whatever the universe saw fit, I would be grateful.
I was just bloody in awe and amazed that I was standing in a house that belonged to me and Monroe Sinclair, that she was pregnant with my child and wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.
Speaking of … “Come here.” I took her hand and led her over to the layers of picnic blankets.
“Stay there.” I lowered myself down to one knee and her eyes rounded as I raised the black velvet ring box before her, snapping it open to reveal the ring that had taken me weeks to pick from the selections jewelers had sent me.
I watched Roe’s face like a hawk for her reaction.
To my utter relief, her jaw dropped, and she lifted her hands as if to touch it, but then stopped, delight and disbelief dancing in her eyes. “Brodan.” Her gaze flew to mine. “It’s perfect.”
I hadn’t wanted to get her a ring that was too modern or too old-fashioned.
Finally, I’d found one that had a vintage edge that I immediately could see on Roe’s finger.
The jeweler told me it had a vertical marquise center, which I think was just a posh word for oval.
Smaller marquise diamond petals on either side, then two single horizontal marquise diamonds on a knife-edge, rose-gold band.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to make good on my promise to propose properly … but I wanted to find the perfect ring.”
Her eyes brightened with emotion. “You certainly did that.”
I grinned, relieved, and she reached out to clasp my face in her palms. I leaned into her touch, feeling so much, too much.
More than I could ever deserve to feel. “I have loved you, Monroe Sinclair, since I was a boy. I’ve loved you as my best friend, I’ve loved you as a teenage boy’s fantasy”—I laughed as she rolled her eyes—“I’ve loved you as a scared young man.
I’ve loved you even when I didn’t realize I loved you. ”
She nodded in tender understanding.
“I have loved you most of my life, and I know with a certainty that awes and terrifies me in equal measure … that I will love you until my last breath. Maybe even then.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she lowered to her knees beside me.
“And I promise I will love our child with the same fierceness. That I will do everything in my power to make our family happy. To spend the rest of our lives loving you the way you’ve always deserved to be loved.
” At her choked sob, I felt my emotion rise, and I released the ring from the box and took hold of Roe’s left hand.
“Will you spare me the agony of life without you, Monroe Sinclair, and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She laughed through her tears and nodded frantically. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Brodan.”
Even though I’d been pretty certain of her answer, I laughed with pure joy and slipped the ring on her finger. It winked in the candlelight, and she shook her head, marveling at it. “It’s so beautiful.”
“You’re so beautiful.” I cradled her face in my palms and drew her in for a deep kiss.
She melted into me, winding her arms around my neck, and I felt her baby bump rest against my stomach.
I kissed her like there was no tomorrow until she broke the kiss, panting for breath.
Resting her forehead to mine, she whispered against my lips, “I have loved you every minute, every second of my life too. There has been no one else. Only you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the magical pleasure pain of those words. So much time lost. So much time to make up for. But we’d do it.
“I can’t wait to make you my wife.” I settled onto the blanket, pulling her over my lap. “For us to begin our lives together.”
“We already have,” Monroe assured me, taking a hand to rest it on her belly. “And we deserve this, handsome. After everything we’ve been through to get here.”
She wasn’t just speaking of the eighteen years we’d spent apart, but of the night Ian Moffat attacked us.
It had taken weeks for Monroe to find sleep easily, and I knew guilt rode her.
But my constant assurances that she’d not only protected us but the life of our unborn child eventually seemed to sink in, and she was on the path to forgiving herself.
No charges were brought against Monroe as it was cut-and-dry self-defense.
Moreover, they found Vanessa’s father’s body, which confirmed everything we’d told the police.
Moffat had murdered the man horrifically, and while I wished no one ever had to meet such an end, I couldn’t feel too sorry for Mr. Woodridge.
He’d traumatized a bunch of college students, and I feared, from what Ian told us, that he’d done much worse to Vanessa over the years.
It was a tragedy I would never forget. However, it was a tragedy I was determined to move on from for the sake of my family.
We’d decided to move on together. And that included from Monroe’s parents too.
We’d driven south to Dumfries and Galloway, where we not only found Monroe’s father’s grave, but the woman he’d spent the rest of his life with.
Her name was Isabelle, and she’d paid for Roe’s dad’s funeral.
She’d also told Roe that he’d tried to get in touch with her while he was dying of cancer.
That he wanted to apologize for his abuse and abandonment.
It wasn’t everything, but I knew it gave Monroe some peace to know her father was sorry.
And while we stood at his grave, I held her while she cried and offered him a forgiveness I’m not sure many other people would.
As for Monroe’s mother, she was recovering from her hip replacement and we’d spotted her out in the village with her cane.
She ignored us, and Monroe knew from Belle that Mrs. Sinclair was aware of Roe’s pregnancy.
She didn’t reach out. But Roe had already decided she didn’t want our child around someone as toxic as her mother.
Their relationship was over, and while it was heartbreaking to see mother and daughter brought to such a place, I couldn’t help but feel relieved she was out of our lives.
I blamed her for the eighteen years we’d spent apart as much as I blamed myself.
But mostly, I blamed her for not loving her daughter the way she deserved to be loved.
So that was done.
Roe had a new family now, and we were determined to fill her life with so much love, she’d forget she’d ever been alone.
“Want cake?” I asked, reaching for the tray of petit fours.
“Sloane?” Roe literally rubbed her palms together in excitement, her engagement ring sparkling. Lust hit me hard, and I felt myself thicken beneath her arse.
Roe side-eyed me. “I thought I was the only one turned on by cake right now.”
“It’s not the cake,” I answered gruffly, holding the tray to her. “It’s that ring on your finger.”
Understanding dawned, and she grinned as she picked up a cake and commented, “You are such a caveman,” before popping it into her mouth.
I watched her eat, having to agree. My possessiveness over this woman was something I curbed and controlled on a daily basis. I never wanted to treat her like I owned her, but I couldn’t deny that she felt so intrinsically a part of me, I definitely saw her as mine. And I was hers.
She raised an eyebrow, feeling me grow harder. Wicked mischief gleamed in her eyes. “Do you need me?”
“Always.”
Biting her bottom lip with excitement, she turned in my lap until she was straddling me. “I’m already ready,” she murmured hotly against my lips.
Heat flushed through me with anticipation as I gripped her waist. “After this one, we’re knocking you up again.”
She laughed against my lips as she unzipped my jeans. “Let’s just see how we get on with this one.”
I grabbed her hand, the one with the ring, and brought it to my mouth to kiss her wrist. “I want to marry you this week.”
Monroe froze. “I … I thought we were going to wait until after the baby. Plan a proper wedding.”
“I don’t want to wait. Do you?”
She shook her head, a different excitement on her expression. “I don’t need a big fancy wedding, Brodan. That’s not me.” Her eyes widened with an idea. “Let’s get married, just you, me, and Lachlan to officiate … in the turret.”
A rightness moved through me at the plan. “I love it.”
Monroe beamed, wrapping her arms around my neck to pull me close. “So we’re getting married this week?”
“This week,” I promised.
“Okay, now that’s sorted, let’s get it on in our new home.”
I grinned. “Get it on? You’re so romantic.”
“I know.” She laughed against my lips and then kissed me. Deep. Sexy. Needful. Then she pulled back, suddenly serious as she promised in a husky whisper, “Only you, Brodan.”
“Only you,” I vowed in return.
THE END… ALMOST…
READ ON FOR A SPECIAL SECOND EPILOGUE