Epilogue
It’s three days before Christmas, and Lily has a cold.
She’s all stuffed up, but the bright side of her congested nose—at least from my perspective—is that when she closes her eyes after my lullaby, I know for sure she’s asleep.
Because she snores.
And that’s my cue to tiptoe out of her room.
It’s been three months since Raphael knocked on my door and everything accelerated.
In October, Gaspard posted the video on the Internet and emailed it to Màma’s official address despite Raphael’s vigorous warnings.
She deleted the mail without opening.
As for the World Wide Web, I can only hope my sex tape will drown in the noise until we’ve forced Gaspard to withdraw it.
Raphael has sued him on my behalf. The case is still pending, but it’s clear we’ll win.
First, because what Gaspard did was against the law.
Second, because Raphael hired two hotshot attorneys while Gaspard was unable to afford any.
For once, there’s fairness in the unfairness of life.
In November, I defended my thesis and earned the right to be called “doctor of philosophy.”
Hello, everyone, I’m Mia Stoll, PhD.
In the days that followed, I landed the ma?tre de conférences job.
Two weeks ago, Lily and I moved in with Raphael. Before we did that, he’d had to make a few… er, a gazillion adjustments to his lifestyle, as well as to his open-concept loft.
He says it was no trouble at all.
I have my doubts, but I like to think he says that because having us here makes him forget the inconveniences.
He and Genevieve had a falling out shortly after the weekend on Ninossos.
He won’t give me the details, but I suspect she trashed me again and he decided he’d had enough.
Three days after Lily and I moved to Raphael’s place, Genevieve’s daddy bought her an apartment in Hollywood, where she’ll try her luck as a producer for one of the studios.
I would’ve given her a “free tip” to specialize in evil witch biopics if we were on speaking terms.
Quietly, I enter the living room and head to the couch where Raphael sits, reading.
I’m about to confess that he’s Lily’s dad.
Actually, “confirm” would be a better word because I’m sure he knows. We’ve never talked about it, but some time ago I stopped lying about her age, and he took to calling her “my little flammkuche.”
He must know.
“Of course I do,” he says after I fess up. “But I wanted to hear it from you, once you were ready.”
“Thank you for your patience.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Actually, I didn’t mind your silence so much. It allowed me to get used to the idea and readjust my priorities.”
I smile. “How long have you known?”
“From the moment I laid eyes on her.”
I frown in disbelief.
“Let me show you something,” he says, heading to his desk.
I follow him. Raphael pulls a photo out of the top drawer. It’s Lily, smiling her adorable double-dimpled smile. Except something is off…
“Her dress,” I say, pointing at the picture. “Lily doesn’t have a dress like that.”
He smiles. “This isn’t Lily. This is my mom when she was about the same age.”
A few moments later, I realize my mouth is gaping. I shut it.
Still smiling, he sets the picture on his desk and gathers me to him.
I wrap my arms around his waist and breathe him in.
He ruffles my hair. “You know, I’ve gotten so used to your pixie cut I actually prefer you with less hair on your head now.”
“Good,” I say.
His other hand cups me between my legs. “And with a full bush here.”
I snort against his chest.
Less than a minute later, we’re half-naked, my ass on the edge of his desk and him buried to the hilt inside me.
“Don’t hold back,” I say, meeting his measured thrusts. “I want it hard and fast tonight.”
“Yes, doctor.”
A few minutes later, we clutch each other, spent.
He kisses my forehead. “Marry me?”
I gasp.
Raphael’s heartbeat quickens against my chest. That he’s nervous like this about my answer is pure delight.
“Baby, if you need time to think, I totally—”
“No,” I say.
He tenses, making me realize how my reply sounded.
“No,” I say again, “I don’t need time to think. And yes, I’ll marry you. If you’re certain it’s what you want.”
“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my whole life.”
We both grin like idiots.
“Actually,” he says as his hand trails down my back to palm my ass. “I wasn’t planning on proposing tonight… like this. I was going to do it in a more classical way and with an appropriately sized rock tomorrow at Le Jules Verne.”
“This was perfect,” I say, planting a kiss on his mouth.
His grin widens.
“Except one major flaw,” I add.
“Which is?”
“What will we tell Lily the day she asks how daddy proposed?”
He frowns. “Hmm.”
“We’ll be forced to lie to her.”
He raises his index finger. “I have a solution!”
“Listening.”
“We’ll do another proposal tomorrow at the restaurant. I’ll get her to give you the ring.”
“She might decide to put it in her mouth instead,” I say.
“We’ll keep it inside the case, then. It won’t fit in her mouth.”
“OK.”
His face crinkles up in a smile. “That way, she’ll be part of the proposal, too. And the day she asks about it, we’ll have a cool, true story for her.”
I kiss his chin. “It’s a really sweet plan.”
“It’s because I’m a really sweet man,” he says smugly.
I begin to roll my eyes but stop halfway. “You know what, Raphael d’Arcy? You actually are.”
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