Epilogue （Frankie, 6 months later）
“Attention, attention!” Mayor Greenberg called, tapping her champagne glass with gusto. “We are here to celebrate a most remarkable achievement!”
She gestured at the new watercolor painting hanging in the lobby of the Pemberley B&B.
It was a frankly fucking stunning piece of artwork, Ramshackle Bay at sunset, the vibrant reds and oranges and yellows all melting like butter into the sapphire waves that dashed on the store.
“Look what Mommy did!” I caroled to Blue as I held her high above my head so she could see above the crowd.
“To Jillian!”
“TO JILLIAN!” everyone choruses back, voices raised high, glasses even fuller, and my wife’s cheeks pink with a rosy flush as she acknowledges the praise with a gracious shy little wave.
She deserved all of it, every bit of praise.
And Jillian walked back next to me as Ramshackle Bay began to celebrate, Tuppy breaking out the ale as Jeremy started dancing a hornpipe with Athena.
“Things in town have never been better,” Bonnie said, and Ronnie had to agree.
“Indeed,” Augustus put in, snapping his fingers for Earnest to get him another glass of champagne.
Augustus was now the only lawyer in town, while Earnest was the harried assistant trying to work his way back into everyone’s good graces.
“Why, thanks to all the recent work by some visiting offenders on a work release program, every speck of trash in town has all been picked up!”
“I would hardly have recognized Christabelle without her makeup,” Mari put in, and everyone agreed Christabelle seemed hardly to enjoy the trip into town.
Unfortunately, my parents didn’t find trespassing on a private yacht to be very amusing, but in time Christabelle would be out for good behavior. And I didn’t think we’d see her around again.
“Why don’t you two go for a walk on the beach?” Mari suggested after a few dances.
Blue was napping already, and we laid her down carefully in her portable Pack ’n’ Play beside Mari. She was such a good sleeper she’d snooze right there all through the chess game Mari was about to play against Ronnie.
This late in the season, there were no tourists around whatsoever.
The beach was dark and deserted, and Jillian and I sat down behind a big clump of driftwood while I lit a late season fire.
I soon had it crackling away, and I took my wife’s hand as we watched the hypnotic pop and crackle of the flames.
When she laid her head on my shoulder, I couldn’t help a low, animalistic moan of joy, just at even this simple touch.
Because it had been such a long time.
Winning back my wife’s love had been a slow, careful process, and I had never let up once, never pushed, never rushed her, just showed her every day that I was here for her and put my family first.
My pulse was pounding as she snuggled in tighter, and I threaded my fingers through hers, delighting in each affectionate touch.
I craved so much, yearned for everything to go back the way it was, but I took my time. Jillian was worth waiting for.
Even though every cell on my body was pulsing with desire for her, half-mad with the need to touch her, feel her body under mine.
We sat there together for several long, glorious moments.
“I think,” Jillian said into the stillness of the beach. “It’s time for you to move back home.”
“Really?” I cried.
“Really,” she said. “Just for the body warmth, you know. It’s getting cold.”
But there was an adorable little smile on her face, and I could not resist kissing her deeply, passionately, loving the taste and smell of my wife, grateful for every single second with her.
And her fingers curled under my shirt, brushing by my skin, and as I gasped in shock, hardly daring to hope.
“Are you—”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
I was mad for her, wild for her, my hands crazed and awkward as I yanked her long skirt up, my shaking fingers reaching for her panties.
“Oh, baby, I missed this so much. Missed you so much!”
She tipped her hips up to me and every little breath, every movement of her body was like a dream.
Agony and ecstasy that I’d almost lost this forever.
The noise that broke from my throat as my cock pressed inside her tight wet entrance was barely human, a pained groaned right on the edge of so much pleasure I almost blacked out.
“This is perfect, you are so perfect, baby.”
Tears were pouring down my face now, but they were happy ones, inexpressibly joyful ones.
One stroke, then the next, each one so delicious that I was practically rutting her in the sand now, my sticky hands gripping her head, her hair, pulling her closer, tighter, never wanting to let her go.
“I love you, I love you,” I gasped, reaching a hand down to her slippery clit, stars clustering in my vision as I fought to stave off my orgasm.
“I love you too,” her breath whispered sweetly across my tongue, and I almost howled in relief and joy, grinding my wife across the sand of Ramshackle Bay like a mad man, clenching down on my jaw to stop the massive load hovering in the tip of my dick until her tight little pussy clenched around my cock, her body milking me in elegant little pulses, and I came with a howl, pumping cum into my wife as I kissed her lips, her eyelids, her face, her throat, her hair.
“I love you. So so much. Damn, that was hot, I can’t believe we just made love on the beach. Good thing it’s the offseason.”
She grinned at me.
“I love you too, Frankie. Let’s get our baby and go home.”