Epilogue
GREYSON
One Year Later
“Fancy meeting you here.”
Savvy whirls around to find me leaning against the building. “I thought you had meetings today?”
I stalk her slowly, loving how even now, her eyes darken with desire. “I did, and I do, but did you seriously think I wouldn’t check on you, knowing what you were discussing with Dr. Collins today?”
Yesterday, she gave her impact statement to a courtroom packed full of people. Her brother sat behind Riley and didn’t so much as glance in her direction once.
The last thing I wanted to do was come face-to-face with her family, but I did it for her, and it solidified what we already knew—we’re better off without them.
Her features soften, and then she buries her face into the crook of my neck.
“How’d it go?” I ask gently, rubbing little circles on the small of her back.
I read her impact statements for both Riley and Kristen last week, and they damn near destroyed me. She left nothing out in either letter. But Riley’s was particularly brutal. She didn’t hold back and detailed how every one of his decisions and cruelties had impacted her life.
I wasn’t sure I could finish the letter, but I’m glad I did. It allowed me to be strong for her yesterday. The fact that she did it in person when she didn’t have to is a testament to her strength and her resilience. And it showed me how far she’s come.
Kristen and Riley were both found guilty.
His convictions included attempted murder, stalking, and a host of other crimes; Kristen’s was reckless endangerment for feeding him information that led to the attack on Savvy.
While Kristen will see parole much sooner than I’d like, Riley will never be free again.
“It was hard, but Dr. Collins was patient while I got through it. Mostly we talked about Austin and how, even after hearing about everything I went through, he still didn’t believe me. It’ll take a while for that wound to heal.”
“Yeah, baby, I know.”
We’ve both been seeing Dr. Collins for about eight months, and when I’m not fighting my instinct to punch the guy, he’s given me valuable insight into how to break old habits and toxic family cycles.
He’s been an even bigger help for Savvy though. She sees him twice a week, and we do couples therapy once a month.
Since we’ve been working with him, she’s slowly gotten healthier, and her relationship with food is improving every day. He’s also been instrumental in giving me the tools I need to help, not hinder her recovery, which is all I ever really wanted anyway.
Savvy and I have become a team in every aspect of our lives, and because of that, we’re thriving.
“Hey, I have news,” I say.
She lifts her head to peer up at me. “Good news?”
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Can it wait for like, ten minutes?” Her smile takes my breath away.
“It can…but why?”
Taking my hand, she drags me down the steps toward her car, the limp on her left side barely noticeable after months of rehab. “I want to show you something.”
Her car beeps twice, and then she’s jumping into the driver’s seat while I fold myself uncomfortably into her passenger seat. No matter how much I push, she will not give up her ten-year-old Camry.
“Where are we going?” I ask when she heads out of town.
“Envy’s Edge.”
I peer at her thin yoga pants. “It’s a little cold to be up there, isn’t it?”
“No, Patch. It’s not.” Her words can still sound like an eye roll that makes me want to slap her ass until it’s red.
Ten minutes later, we pull into the empty lot that overlooks southeastern Georgia. It truly is beautiful up here.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, finally noticing the small picnic set up to the side of her car.
“Now, don’t get all bent out of shape. Braxton and Quinn rearranged your afternoon for me.”
Rubbing my jaw, I narrow my eyes. “Did they now? So when you said you thought I had meetings…”
“I was stalling. I knew you’d show up at Dr. Collins’ office today.” She smirks, and I return it. She knows me better than I know myself. “Come on,” she says, opening her door. “I want to hear your news first.”
She beats me to the table, which frustrates me, and she knows it. I would have liked to help her sit, but when she wrings her hands together, I see her nerves, so I fall onto my side of the bench without complaining.
“Spill,” she says, leaning over the table excitedly.
“Well, the Heartmark Podcast Awards were announced this morning.”
Savvy frowns. I thought she’d be more excited about this.
“You, Madi, and Clover were all nominated in each of your categories, as were four other Sunshine Studio podcasts.”
Finally, a smile breaks free. “They were? Oh my God. Clover and Madi will be so excited.”
“And what about you, my dear wife? It’s okay to celebrate your accomplishments too you know?”
She waves me away. “I know, but it’s more fun to celebrate theirs.”
“Dr. Collins would disagree,” I grumble, but not wanting to put a damper on the afternoon, I put my feelings on the matter aside. “Your turn. What’s your news?”
Her gaze dances around my face—nerves have her plucking at nonexistent lint on her sweatshirt.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” she squeaks out the word. “Nothing’s wrong. Here, Betty made you some meatloaf at the diner.”
I frown as she pulls out a Styrofoam container from the basket that sits at her side. I take it, attempting to hide a grimace. I hate meatloaf.
My brows dip into my hairline when her tinkling laughter comes next.
“Oh, you big baby. It’s a joke. It’s a BLT on wheat, light on the mayo, just like you like.”
“I’m confused,” I admit. “Why are you teasing me about meatloaf?”
“Because you said once that meatloaf at the diner wouldn’t cut it for our first date.”
Unease settles into my shoulders. “I do remember saying that, but we’re well past firsts, don’t you think?”
“Most of them,” she whispers. When she brings her thumb to her mouth to chew on her nail, I hit my limit for bullshit.
“Monroe,” I bite out. “You haven’t bitten your nails in six months. What has you all tied up into knots?”
She drops her hand from her mouth and scoffs. She still hates that I know all her tells.
“What is it, Savvy?”
“It’s a lot, actually.”
Just spit it out, sweetheart. I’m starting to sweat through my suit, and it’s not a pretty look.
“I can handle it.” I say to assure her, while silently hoping that I can.
“Well, Valen told me that the DeVanes and Ashfords are having some…money trouble in their casino’s. Do you happen to know anything about that?”
Yes.
“I’ve stayed out of that just as you asked.”
“Right. But your new BFF Roman, did he have anything to do with that?”
I shrug and work to control the twitch of my eyebrow that would alert her to my partial lie. I can’t help it that Roman felt so guilty about Savvy’s accident that he told me he would handle the other families.
I’m only pissed it’s taken him an entire year to bring it to fruition.
“I’m not Roman’s keeper, but he did mention that there might be some…unrest in Vegas. That’s all I know.” And it’s the truth.
“Right, well, that brings me to my next bit of news. I picked a date.”
I drop the water I had only just lifted from the table, and it spills all over my sandwich.
“You…did?” I ask cautiously. “A date for…”
She nods twice. “Our wedding.” She’s been putting it off until she felt she was in a good place with Dr. Collins, which I fully supported. I haven’t even pushed her once since I asked her to marry me in front of half the town.
I guess it helps that legally we’re already married.
Freaking Pops still hums the song “Fireflies” every time he sees me though.
“You did?” I confirm. I’m very careful not to push her. As much as I want her to have the wedding of her dreams, I wasn’t lying when I said I am perfectly happy exactly as we are.
“October twelfth.”
“That’s eleven months away,” I blurt, then I realize what date she chose. “Our anniversary.”
She smiles, and her cheeks flush pink. “The anniversary of the first time we met.”
“Our first fight.” I laugh.
“And our first kiss.” She blushes harder.
Damn, do I remember that kiss. It happened later that night at the inn. I was the fuse, and she was the match. We didn’t stand a chance.
“It’s a great date,” I say honestly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, but that also calls for a renegotiation.”
I groan and push my soggy sandwich away. If she brings up a post-nuptial agreement one more time, I will chain her to our bed until she promises to drop it for good.
“Monroe, we’ve been over this. I’m not signing any kind of agreement over our marriage. It’s done—we’re married. What’s mine is yours, and you are mine.”
She rolls her eyes, and I huff out a breath. Over the last year, fighting with her has become much less fun, and I find myself caving just so I can see her smile.
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
“This is a renegotiation of our other terms.”
“What other terms?”
She opens her to-go container and pulls out half of her turkey sandwich, then hands it to me before taking a bite of her own. I’d still prefer she eat her whole lunch, but she’s in charge of this particular journey, so I sit in silent support and eat the damn turkey.
After she takes a bite, she places the rest back down and pulls out a folder, peers into it, then slowly slides it across to me.
I stuff the rest of the sandwich into my mouth, dust off my hands, and pull the folder forward.
Opening the cover, my lunch sits like molasses in my throat.
The Ray of Sunshine Surrogacy Center logo stares up at me, and I want to vomit. Or rage. I’m not entirely sure what emotion I’ll go with yet.
“Explain,” I grumble through a mouthful of food.
She chuckles, then reaches across the table and flips the page to a new one.
This one is about IVF, and no matter how hard I try to swallow, I can’t get the food down.
I spit it on the ground instead.
“What is this?” I ask, and panic begins to curl in my gut.