Epilogue
A month later
Skylar
I spread the mascarpone mixture evenly over the layer of coffee dipped Savoiardi cookies, or ladyfingers, as they’re called, then add the biscuit crumbs, before shaving dark chocolate over it.
My husband has a sweet tooth… Shouldn’t come as a surprise, considering he married me, but I learned about it by accident, when I was experimenting with recipes a few days ago.
He walked in while I was busy putting the finishing touches on a cake, and he licked the mixing-bowl clean.
When he caught me watching him, he flushed a little and confessed the coffee-cake mixture was his kryptonite.
He acquired a taste for coffee while posted overseas.
Combine that with bitter chocolate and cream, and I can get him to do anything…
Anything. Which is why I set out to make him the dessert in my home bakery.
Yes, he built me a bakery adjoining the kitchen in our home, so I can stay up as late as I want, messing around with ingredients and trying to create different cakes, and he won’t be worried about me.
He also insisted I continue interviewing and hiring more staff.
I agreed because he showed me proof of how, as businesses grow, entrepreneurs needed to delegate more of the admin work so they can focus on the creative part…
In my case, that’s the actual baking process, which is what I enjoy the most. And the focus on the desserts has paid off, along with the additional marketing.
Business is going so well, I’ve already bought space on Primrose High Street, near our home, and will be opening the second location of The Fearless Kitten.
Yes, we’re expanding. In more ways than one.
I smile to myself. I love going to work but I am never happier than when I’m pottering around in my home-bakery, trying out new formulas for my baked goodies, then recording the results in my diary, which I hope to, one day, make into a cookbook.
A few months ago, I barely dreamed about giving shape to my dreams. But then, I hadn’t married my soulmate.
It’s my husband who’d encourage me to aim high.
To be confident and go after what I wanted.
To believe I could do anything. Somewhere along the way, I’d reined in the possibilities in my life, imposing limitations on what I could achieve.
I didn’t allow myself to visualize the kind of future I wanted for myself.
Sure, I was audacious enough to start my own bakery in a city as expensive as London, but then, I hit a wall. Probably because I struggled to pay the bills and take care of Hugo and then… Subconsciously, I knew about Ben. I swallow.
It’s difficult to think about my brother without tears forming in my eyes.
But it’s getting better. I’m getting better at dealing with the reality that my brother is no longer around.
That he’ll never pop into our home or into The Fearless Kitten and tell me he’s proud of me.
After I said goodbye to him that day in my bakery, my visions of him vanished.
I don’t even dream about him anymore. Which makes me sad, but which also means I’m finally dealing with life.
I‘m finally facing the fact my brother… Is gone.
He gave up his life doing what he loved.
Yes, he took his own life, but it was because his service to his country damaged him. That has to count for something.
The compensation Luna has been getting since his death helps her with raising their child, but I realize just how insufficient it is. She needs emotional support with coping. She needs a therapist to help her make sense of what had happened. So do I.
My husband persuaded me to see someone. I agreed, on the condition he got help for his hearing. He agreed to wear hearing aids, which are so discreet, you can’t even see them. But it has helped alleviate his stress levels, as well.
I introduced my therapist to Luna, and the two got along.
So now, Luna and I meet at the therapist’s office weekly.
She arrives as I finish my session; I take care of Arrow while she has her session.
Then, the two of us get tea and cake while Arrow snoozes in his pram, tired out after our session in the nearby park, which is where I take him while she’s in therapy.
Nate and I discussed it and decided we wanted to pay for Luna’s appointments, but we knew she’d turn us down.
To avoid that, we pay the doctor directly, and she tells Luna she qualifies for a discounted rate.
Nate also joined forces with Knight Warren, an ex-Marine who started a charity to help vets cope with PTSD.
With Nate’s contribution, they’ve added services to help vets transition to civilian life and jobs.
It’s funded, not by Davenport money, but from the profits Nate made investing while he was in the military.
Quentin also helps out by holding weekly sessions with the vets, to help them figure out what they want to do for the rest of their life.
They’re still working on getting the other Davenport brothers to help out.
I am so proud of my husband. He’s still a strong, silent type, but now I know, beneath that forbidding exterior is a man who cares about his country and his brothers-in-arms. He’s also attentive.
He insists on waking me up every morning with a cup of my favorite tea.
I’m partial to the PG Tips brand, but he insisted on getting me a variety specially-created for me at one of the premier tea estates in the world, and when I tasted it, I had to admit, it’s good.
Not as good as PG Tips, which I’m not going to tell him, but good enough that I could substitute my morning cuppa with it.
Most days, he also insists on making breakfast, which I can’t complain about. It gives me a chance to stalk him as he moves around the kitchen wearing an apron over his suit. with his hair still wet from the shower and combed back from his face. Often, he’ll catch me staring and smirk at me.
I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes because, of course, there’s a reason the man has such a big ego.
Unfortunately, or fortunately for me, his ability to keep me satisfied in bed has more than earned him the right to look so pleased with himself.
Not that I’ll tell him that—but I don’t need to.
The way he makes me scream when I come is all the evidence he needs.
After breakfast, he’ll often drop me off at The Fearless Kitten.
Today, I woke up feeling exhausted, and he insisted I stay home.
I didn’t resist. Instead, I went back to sleep and woke up at 9 a.m.. It’s times like this, I’m so thankful I have staff who can open the bakery and keep things going. I called in and was reassured everything’s fine. So, I decided to spend the day in my home bakery, testing out some new recipes.
After breaking for lunch, I took a nap, then decided to make a Tiramisu… Mainly because I miss my husband, and also because I want to test his hypothesis that I can make him do anything if I bake him a dessert combining coffee and chocolate… and cream, of course.
I lay down more of the ladyfingers, another layer of the mascarpone, then dust the biscuit crumbs and the chocolate shavings. There, all done. I step back and eye the layered confection. Ooh, it looks so good.
My stomach heaves. I rub at my mid-section. Maybe what I ate at lunch didn’t agree with me? I reach for my glass of water and take a sip. That seems to help.
"Is that Tiramisu for me?" His voice rumbles from somewhere behind and over me.
A shiver zips up my spine. On cue, my nipples tighten. Before I can turn around, he wraps his arm about my waist and draws me against his hard chest. I melt against him, lean my head back and close my eyes. "You’re home early."
"I missed you."
"I missed you, too." I turn in the circle of his arms, raise my lips, and meet his. The kiss is long and slow, and satisfying, and soo dreamy. I feel like I’m wafting away on a cloud of heat and love, and all the yummy things in this world. "Mmm," I breathe against his lips.
A low growl rumbles up his chest. The sound sinks into my blood and ripples over my nerve-endings. It’s followed by a mewl. Huh?
I open one eyelid to find he’s staring straight at me.
Oh! I widen both eyelids and met his impenetrable gaze.
I’m married to this man. I know him better than anyone else alive and yet, I’m never able to decipher what lies behind that heterochromatic gaze of his.
Then the skin around his eye softens, one side of his lips lift, and I find myself smiling in reply.
"I love you," he murmurs.
My heart does that stupid skip and jump it always seems to do when I hear those three words.
"I love you." I lick at his lips.
His gaze narrows, and his arm around me tightens. "I’m going to—"
Meow.
"What the— Was that a—"
He sighs.
"Could we finish the kiss before—"
Meeeee-oww— the sound is insistent. Then I hear a scratching sound.
I look down to find he’s holding a basket in his hand.
Only reason I missed it is because, when I see my husband, the rest of the world disappears.
And when I smell him, my entire body seems to burst into flames.
And when I’m near him, all of my senses are focused on him. But a cat—
"You got me a cat?" I cry out.
"A kitten, actually."
I reach for the basket, then freeze. "Wait, let me put away the Tiramisu."
"Maybe I could get a taste?" He follows me to the island and scoops up some of the chocolate-streaked cream.
"Hey"—I slap at his hand—"this needs to set properly."
"Seems set enough for me." He manages to dip his forefinger in the cream and snatch up another dollop, which he smears on my mouth.
"Nate—" I begin, but he bends and captures my lips with his, and when I part them, he licks into my mouth. A moan bleeds from my lips, followed by a distinctly irate meow.