Epilogue
EMMETT
Seattle
Eleven Years Later—June
“How many goddamn floors does this building have?” I grumble to myself when I hit the twelfth floor and pause, gazing up at the seemingly endless stairwell.
Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, I pull out the map the security guard gave me down in the lobby and study it quickly. This floor is circled as the location of the new Seattle offices for Morgan Jones & Richards LLP, even if the new plaque hasn’t been fixed above the door.
As soon as I key in the security code and enter, the smell of fresh paint hits me, quickly followed by the scent of a thousand different flowers, all set in vases that line a wooden reception desk, which is located in the center of a vast white space.
I have no doubt that every single arrangement has been sent by clients and friends to celebrate Billie’s recent appointment as managing partner, one of them from my little brother, Beau, and his family.
For the past eleven years, my wife has been gradually conquering the world, with me riding along to enjoy the show.
After I won the Cup and we had a very public marriage proposal, my knee decided it was time to call it quits.
I spent the entire offseason convincing the trainers and my body that I had another season left in me, questioning and fearing what it would be like to live life without pro hockey in it.
The answer? Fucking spectacular. It wasn’t that I didn’t miss the buzz of the crowd each time my skates hit the ice—because I did.
I still do. But what I found in place of my career was a side to life I had been missing and trying to compensate for through hockey.
There are only so many seasons a pro athlete can last before it’s time to take a step back and enjoy what really counts.
Family. And, man, do I have it in spades.
“Can I help you?”
I spin around to find a small middle-aged woman dressed in a smart black suit. She must be a new member of staff since I’ve never seen her before.
She definitely recognizes me though, a warm smile spreading across her face.
Lifting the bouquet of blue roses I picked up a few blocks from here, I chuckle at my own foolish thoughts. Of course Billie doesn’t need another two dozen roses to go with the endless bouquets she already has.
“I’m looking for Billie. This morning, before she left home, she explained where her new office was located …” I trail off, gazing around at various wooden doors. “But since there aren’t any door plaques in here either, I’m a bit lost.”
Holding out a confident hand, she strides toward me. “Caroline Peach. Recently appointed senior partner. I’ve heard so much about you, Emmett.”
I take her hand and try not to wince when she squeezes my fingers in a vise grip.
Jesus, lawyers are scary people.
When she drops my hand and points toward a door on the right, I flex my fingers, checking all extremities are still attached.
“The workman who was supposed to be fitting the plaques this morning called ahead of time to say that he’d be running a little behind schedule.
He got caught in traffic while dropping his granddaughter off at school or something.
” She rolls her eyes, doubtful that it’s a genuine excuse for his tardiness, and I just smile at her.
“The traffic around Belltown is insane today, and my daughter, Blake, just started at a new school across the other side of town.”
Her eyes flare wide as she goes to apologize for her cynicism.
I hold up a hand. “Don’t worry about it.
Scott has never been the best timekeeper, and I’ll make sure to kick his ass for the both of us when he finally shows up.
” I shake my head and tut, pretending like I’m mad about it.
“No door plaques on office opening day. You just can’t get the staff these days, can you? ”
“Are you going to stand there all day with those roses or come say hi before my nine o’clock meeting?”
Wearing a fitted blue suit dress and matching heels, Billie stands in the doorway to a panoramic office I’ve seen the plans for more times than I can count, looking even more beautiful than when I first opened my eyes at five a.m.
With a parting smile for Caroline, I head toward my wife, arm outstretched so she can take the roses.
She pulls them into her chest and steps to one side so I can enter before she closes the door behind us.
Her office—if you can even describe it as that since it probably has its own point of gravity, as it’s that large—is even more spectacular than I expected.
Pretty much every place of interest Seattle has to offer can be seen from here, Billie’s desk and meeting area in a prime position to take in the sights.
“What do you think, Em? Do you like it?”
I watch my wife arrange the flowers in the center of her meeting table, and it’s like I’m transported to when I caught her dancing around the kitchen in her new Brooklyn apartment, baby Blake clutched to her chest.
Billie’s smile is as broad now as it was back then, a blush of pride accentuating the freckles across her cheekbones. Her rose gold bracelet catches the sunlight and love floods my insides. She’s worn it each day. Even on our wedding day.
“Come here,” I say, flipping my hands as I prop myself against her desk.
She saunters toward me, and my mouth runs dry.
Christ. When the fuck did I get so damn lucky? Married for over a decade, and I’m still insatiable for more of everything with—and from—this woman.
My hands land on her hips, and she steps between my parted thighs.
“How does it feel to rule the world, Mama?”
Luscious waves of red frame her stunning face, and I reach up and run my fingers through her hair, eventually resting my palm at the back of her head so I can pull her in for a kiss.
“Pretty damn good,” she whispers against my lips, more pink staining her cheeks.
I’d like to think that her coy response is down to the way my hand travels up the inside of her right thigh, fingers brushing against my favorite lacy thong.
And while that may be partially responsible, there’s no denying that my girl hasn’t changed an inch since the day I set eyes on her in Scott and Freya’s living room.
I think, deep down, that she’s aware of the enormity of her achievements—making managing partner at thirty-two years old is fucking extraordinary, even if she’d never let it go to her head.
When I slide my fingers through her wet pussy, her body goes limp in my grasp, small breaths leaving through parted lips that I immediately want to cover again with my own.
“Shouldn’t you be meeting up with Jessie Callaghan right about now? I thought you had coaching things to discuss.”
I push a finger inside her tight cunt, slowly stroking her front wall. “We’re meeting tomorrow now. He had a couple of errands to run, so I thought I’d take advantage and pay two of my favorite girls a visit.” Massaging her clit, I leave my wife in no doubt about who those two girls are.
A small gush of fluid coats my hand, and her head falls into the crook of my neck. “I’m going to be soaking all day, and I didn’t bring any spare panties with me.”
“Crying fucking shame,” I coo, absolutely delighted with myself, thinking of how she’ll be sitting at her meeting table in around a half hour, the legacy from my impromptu visit coating the inside of her legs.
When I insert another finger, Billie releases a low moan against my sensitive flesh. “I’m going to come, Em.”
“Such a bad boss,” I croon. “Setting naughty examples for your staff. It’s only your first day in charge, and you’re already dripping all over your fancy new office.”
“Your first day on the job and my last day on planet Earth now that I’ve seen this.”
Billie’s head darts up, and we stare at each other, neither of us daring to look at him. I don’t know when Scott opened Billie’s door or how much he’s seen, but I’m pretty sure that our friendship is back on the rocks.
“Dad,” Billie whispers, “I thought you said that you’d be stopping by with the door plaques after lunch so the traffic could subside.”
Slowly, my eyes connect with my best friend’s, hand still nestled between his daughter’s thighs.
“Hi.”
He scowls at me. “Remind me again why I decided to forgive you. I should’ve made you wait at least another six months.”
I smile sweetly at him, dying inside with each passing second he stands in the doorway. “Because you knew that I’d make the best son-in-law.”
He narrows his eyes at me, briefly flicking them to Billie. “I’m selling Shelby to fund your divorce.”
When he pulls the door closed, there’s a beat of silence before we both fall into fits of hysterical laughter, Billie resting her forehead against my chest as she giggles through the pain of being caught.
Hooking my finger under her chin, I’m eager to have her eyes back on mine so I can finish what I started.
Catching me with my hand between his daughter’s thighs or not, Scott Quinn knows—and has for several years now—that I’m the only man capable of loving his little princess how she deserves.
It took a long time to prove it to him, but in the end, he knew I wasn’t going anywhere, and now I get to kick his ass on golfing vacations and get away with it as family.
“What time will you be done today?”
Spinning us around, I plant her ass on the desk and roll her dress up for better access.
“Why?” She parts her thighs wider, tongue swiping across her bottom lip.
I stroke her again, thinking how inappropriate it would be to fuck her with Scott standing outside the room, fixing a plaque to her door.
I’m a bad fucking friend.
Popping the button on my pants, I free my cock and slide it all the way home, and our mouths meet so we can swallow down each other’s moans.
“You’ll need to leave your new DB5 in the office parking lot. Because once I’ve given you my cum and your workday is finished, I’ll need you in my Jaguar by five p.m.”
Billie pauses at the entrance to Luigi’s restaurant and bar in downtown Seattle.