Epilogue
EPILOGUE
It’s taken five years, but Noelle says she’s finally ready to meet Damien, the author of all the wounded soldier books. She’s read most of them, but every time I invite her to some event where he’ll be, she’s said she’s not ready.
But now she is. I’m not sure what’s changed. We’ve been married for nearly five years, made the decision not to have more kids and adopt a dog instead four years ago. (Much to Bea’s delight.) We sold both houses and bought a bigger one out in the country two years ago. (One more thing Bea approved of. Miranda was headed to college a few months later, so she, too, gave her blessing.)
This year, Valentine’s falls on a Friday so in lieu of a standard IPDIESAC meeting with incredibly low attendance due to almost everyone being hitched, someone suggested a steamy romance-themed party. All the men have to come bare-chested. The women get to come in bathrobes. I’m sure whichever wife suggested it was thinking something slinky and sexy, but I know from the scuttlebutt in the office that every woman there will be cocooned in neck to ankle fleece floof.
“I can’t meet some hot man romance author in a bathrobe like this, Sam!” Noelle grumbles as we head to the car.
“His wife is going to look exactly like you. Except I think hers is yellow,” I remark, glancing over to make sure she’s belted in before turning on the engine. “And you’re not allowed to think of him as hot.”
Noelle grins. “I promise I don’t. I’ve got the hottest male model ever sitting right next to me, which is why I want to talk to him.”
“How’s that work?” I’m already dreading the answer because I think I know what it is.
“The book club needs to do a calendar. For charity,” Noelle announces gleefully.
I groan, thankful for the red light, so I can rub my ears to see if I’m having auditory hallucinations. “Say that again?”
“The book club needs to organize a hot guy calendar so that we can raise money for the new veterans’ mental health clinic at the college,” she replies patiently.
Okay, I have to admit, that’s a worthy cause. Should I be hopeful that Damien shoots her down, anyway?
“But it turns out I’m the jealous type, so I don’t want you to be on it. We’ll focus on the single guys so that they too can find true love eventually when they land on the right wall.”
“You couldn’t have led with that?” I grumble as I make the turn towards the event hall.
“I could… but watching you sweat is more fun.” She pats my thigh lightly. “Love you, Sam,” she adds for the tenth time today. I’m definitely not complaining, but it does amuse me once I started counting that she makes sure to slip it in at least ten times every day. It makes me feel complete and like the day went well when she hits the tenth. And she’s never missed, even if she has to call me ten separate times when I’m occasionally out of town.
“Love you too, beautiful,” I remark casually to cover up the welling emotions as she pulls my open shirt off and tosses it back into the car. I tuck her hand into mine as we head into the party.
Thanks for reading! I hope you’ve enjoyed this series of recovering heroes and the healing power of a good smutty romance! If you think you missed one, you can find them all listed out on the next page…