Epilogue
EPILOGUE
KEIRA - SIX MONTHS LATER
Be Your Love - Bishop Briggs
M y hips sway to the filthy beat pumping out of the bathroom’s sound system and into our bedroom. The apartment is quiet otherwise. Harkin left earlier this afternoon, saying he had something to take care of with James for restarting his business. Shoving through the clothes in our closet, I can’t find the right thing to wear tonight. I wanted to be comfortable and relaxed, but Stacey demanded we get dressed up as a last hurrah to her pre-mommy life.
She insisted I needed a girls’ night out, even though that now looks like dinner and a movie instead of loud music and copious amounts of shots now that she’s creeping into her last month of pregnancy. She wasn’t wrong. I’ve been stressed and need to let off some steam with my best friend. Plus, we could both use a breather from our men. Since the shooting and the longest three weeks of my life, while Harkin was in a coma, neither of them has wanted to leave our sides.
We’ve been a closed-off unit, helping Harkin recoup and get back to his old self through much-needed therapy, both physical and psychological. He convinced me to seek my own psychiatrist when the night terrors got so bad I started getting physically harmed in my sleep. It’s been good. Not only have we talked about everything surrounding my father and the shooting, but she’s started prying into my childhood. There was more to unlock there than I remembered, and it’s been like removing cylinder blocks from my ankles by working through it. After all my tears from fearing I was going to lose Harkin for good, I thought my body was incapable of producing more. I was wrong. It’s a miracle if I can make it through a single session without going through a box of tissues, but it’s worth it.
The music swaps to something upbeat, and I bob my head back and forth, finally deciding on a little emerald slip dress from the back of my closet.
“Ahhh!” The dress flies from my hands when I feel an unexpected pressure on my shoulder.
Stacey’s boisterous laughter fills the closet as she hunches over, legs crossed. “Oh my god. That was totally worth almost peeing myself. Did you not hear me calling you?”
“Obviously, fucking not,” I deadpan.
Her laughter calms, and she looks me up and down. “You’re not ready.”
“I just have to get dressed. My hair and makeup are done.”
She lifts an eyebrow, inspecting me closer. It’s weird. Why does it matter if I only put on a little mascara and eyeliner? I didn’t want to bother with a full face for dinner and a movie. Plus, I was too lazy to curl my hair, so the natural half-tamed waves will have to do. She’s seen me way worse.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” She juts her chin to my dress, hanging haphazardly off the rest of the clothes.
“Yeah. Is that okay?” I ask, getting suspicious.
“Perfect! Hurry up, I don’t want to be late for our reservation. I’m starving. Eating for two and all,” she calls over her shoulder, heading back out of the closet and out of the bedroom door.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m changed and done up a little extra with gold jewelry to complement the rich hue of my dress. Since the guys are still busy, we hail a cab at the curb, and Stacey rattles off the restaurant’s address to the driver. We chat about nothing important while the car moves slowly through evening traffic. I didn’t realize we were trekking it all the way uptown, but I just went with whatever Stace wanted to do with her last night of freedom.
“Okay, here you are,” the driver announces, pulling up to the curb in front of a nondescript building.
“Uh, Stace. Where are we?”
“Come on! I found this place online; the food looks delicious.” She grabs my hand and pulls me toward the front door.
I’m more hesitant about the unknown these days, and I nearly yank her pregnant body back from opening the tinted door. But when we step inside, a woman waits near the door as if she’s expecting our arrival.
“Ms. Fitzpatrick, if you’ll follow me.”
I eye the two women suspiciously but follow her down a hall. I expect to see a quiet dining area, with cutlery clanking softly as people enjoy an evening out. It’s quiet, alright, because it’s empty. No one occupies the booths in the small nooks as we swiftly step into the open seating area. In the middle, surrounded by empty tables, Harkin looks dangerously delicious in an all-black tailored suit.
I stop on unsteady heels and whirl around to question Stacey about what’s happening, but she’s gone. Looking back at Harkin, I notice the woman who led me here has also disappeared.
“Are you just going to stand over there with your mouth hanging open, or should I give you something better to do with that face?”
His lewd statement pulls my wits back together, and I stumble into motion toward him. “Harkin, what—What’s going on?”
“Come here, sweetness,” he commands, stepping around the table to pull my chair out for me.
The tea-light candles flicker in the center of the table. Two wineglasses sit full of dark red, the notes of which dance in the air as I slide into my seat. The gentle music filters into the room, extinguishing the abandoned building vibes.
“We’ve had one hell of a year, sweetness. The last couple of months have been immensely arduous for both of us. I thought we deserved a nice night to ourselves,” he says, sitting back on the other side of the table.
“Harkin, I would have been happy to do that at home. With take-out and a lot less clothing.” I smirk.
“That’s any other night of the week. I wanted to do something special.”
“Stacey was in on it, huh?”
“How else was I supposed to pull this off?” His bright smile lights up his face.
The five-course meal of tiny dishes is fine. I don’t understand the hype over places where you drop a car payment to leave hungry. Maybe my palate isn’t sophisticated enough to appreciate it. The company, however, makes up for my dissatisfied tastebuds. I could watch him talk for hours, hanging on to every word he utters and appreciating how lucky we are to have this second chance together.
“Keira.” My name breaks through the haze.
“Sorry.”
“Did you hear what I just said?”
“I was distracted. Tell me again.”
“I asked if you were going to open your gift.”
I scrunch my eyes in confusion. But he nods down toward the table. The small box sits right in front of me. I don’t know how I missed him placing it there. My hands shake as I lift the lid off the sleek black box, revealing the thin, etched silver jewelry.
“Harkin,” I say with a gasp, my eyes growing heavy with unshed tears.
“Do you like it? It’s similar to the ones you not-so-sneakily saved on your computer. I had it made just for you.”
“It’s stunning.”
He pushes away from the table and moves around to my side. Reaching down, he grabs the delicate collar from the box and pulls a small tool from his pocket.
“I know society tells us that when you love someone and want to spend the rest of your life with them, you should drop down on one knee to propose. But what is marriage other than a commitment to each other and a costly piece of paper? I don’t care about the paper, Keira. I want the commitment. I promise to always care for you and prioritize your needs. To love you, day in and day out, even when I want to tie you to my bed and punish you for being a brat. I want the ups and the downs, little one. It’s an honor to have your faith and trust put into my hands, inside and out of the bedroom, and I promise to always uphold that significance to the best of my abilities until the day I die.”
I try to hold it together, but a sob escapes, and Harkin pauses. His thumb brushes away the tears, but there’s more the second he pulls away. I know what’s coming next. It’s been on my mind for months and in my dreams longer than I’ve admitted to him. Pushing away from the table, I slink to my knees on the restaurant’s hard floor and sit back, keeping my eyes trained on him the entire time. His gaze is full of adoration that lights my chest with a warmth I’ve never experienced with anyone else.
“I offer you my collar as a symbol and agreement of your submission to me and the promise it means between us. Will you accept it, little one?”
I’m nodding uncontrollably before he’s able to finish his question. “Yes, Sir. It would be my greatest honor and a dream come true,” I rush out, eager to confirm.
I wait on bated breath as Harkin steps around me, clasping the collar around my neck and closing it into place with the tool he holds firmly in his hand.
“Keira, with this symbol of our pledge to each other, I recognize the responsibility you’ve entrusted to me. I will always use it fairly and never under the guise of falsities or in anger. Your happiness, safety, and love are mine to covet and cherish for the rest of our lives. I love you, little one.”
Harkin holds out his hand, and I grasp it, using his strength to rise on shaky legs. The collar feels weighted around my neck. Not in the way life feels on your shoulders, pushing you down until you crumble into pieces. But like a protective hug holding you together in a space where you’re able to spread your wings and finally be free.
“I love you too, Sir.” I share his sentiment, drawing in a settling breath.
His lips crash into mine, coaxing them apart to dive inside and write our promise on my soul. I’m lost in his arms, giving in entirely and losing myself in the searing kiss. Something pings from his pocket, interrupting our moment, and he ignores it for a while longer before pulling away slowly and dropping a soft kiss on my forehead.
I’m love drunk and ready to take this back to the apartment, but Harkin has a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he tucks his phone back in his pocket.
“What was that about?”
“Part two of the evening. I have one more gift for you.”
He moves quickly, pulling a small bag from under the table to hand over.
“Harkin, I don’t need anything else.”
“Obstinate already, little one?”
“Ugh, you know that’s not what I meant,” I say with a huff.
With a smile, he shakes his head. “Well, then open this one as another gift to me.”
A mass of tissue paper hides the content in the small boutique store bag. Harkin holds it from underneath to make it easier for me to pull out the small piece of lingerie. It’s soft and beautiful, something I’d have easily picked out myself, with the green detailing of snakes stitched into the top and bottom.
“Well, it’s certainly a gift for you. But it’s stunning. I love it. Thank you, Sir.”
“That’s not all. Keep going.”
I don’t want to set the first half of his gift down, but it’s hard to get to whatever’s on the bottom. He holds out his hand to take it from me as if sensing my dilemma. Another small black box lies there. He said marriage wasn’t on his mind, and it failed compared to what he was offering me with the collar, but now I’m wondering if that was just a sleight of hand.
“Harkin?”
“Just open it, sweetness.”
I draw in a deep breath, preparing to be thrust back into a mess of tears. Lifting the lid, a bark of laughter spills from my lips. With everything going on, the same U-shaped silicone toy we haven’t played with in months sits nestled in its velvet bag.
“Now, take your gifts to the bathroom and change. We leave in ten minutes. I have a meeting to make at The Red Door.”
I don’t question him. Instead, I hustle to the bathroom and strip out of my dress, which is quick without anything underneath. Getting the toy in place doesn’t take much effort, but I shift back and forth on my heels to ensure it’ll stay and not embarrass me by falling out. Thankfully, the new lingerie set includes full-crotch panties that should help me out. I adjust to the fullness and straighten my dress back over my head. Doing a double check in the mirror, I see the natural rouge livening up my cheeks from the excitement for the rest of the night.
Harkin leans against the wall by the restaurant's front door, his phone pressed to his ear, but when he sees me approaching, he hangs up mid-sentence, turning his entire attention to me.
“Are you ready for our next adventure?” he asks.
“With you? I’m ready for anything.”
Dragging me into his chest, he drops his lips to my ear. “Remember that sentiment, little one.” He nips my sensitive flesh, and the toy inside me vibrates to life. “The Red Door awaits.”