32. Epilogue
Epilogue
Thea
2 Months Later
“ I gotta go, the birthday boy is finally up,” I say into the phone, a smile stretching across my face as Cary rolls his eyes with a chuckle at my comment. I’m standing in the kitchen in front of the island, the flour, eggs, and sugar sitting out in front of me. I have Ripley on speaker so I could attempt to make breakfast to surprise my boyfriend, but of course, he woke up before I could finish.
“Alright, babe, call me later,” Ripley says, his voice echoing through the room. Cary’s face immediately goes stern at the nickname we still use. He hates it with a burning passion.
“She’s not your ‘babe,’ asshole,” Cary quips from the living room, his tattooed back on display as he picks up the blanket we tossed to the floor last night. In front of the fireplace has become one of our favorite places this winter. I have to hold in a groan at the sight of his ass in the jeans I love.
“Shit. Forgot I was on speaker. Sorry, Care Bear.” I try to hold in my laugh at the use of Cary’s nickname from his ex-fiancée. I swear to God, Ripley lives to push his buttons. “I can hear him glaring at me through the phone, so you have fun with that, Thea. Love you!” He hangs up so quickly I don’t even have the chance to say goodbye.
Cary walks toward me, his look of annoyance clearing with each stride. “What’s going on in here?” he asks, looking around the kitchen at the mess I’ve made despite not having anything to show for it yet.
“I…” I follow his gaze. There’s a huge mess from my first attempt at pancakes that resulted in me burning them. Flour covers the counters, there’s a cracked egg close to the sink, the sugar bag is tipped over, it looks like a baking bomb went off in my kitchen. The sink is even worse with dirty bowls stacked up on one side and a goopy whisk resting on the edge dripping into the basin. A nervous giggle leaves my lips as I find his eyes again. “I was going to make you pancakes but… I’ve only made a mess so far.”
He walks around the breakfast bar, not saying a word. The temperature in the room ticks up from the look in his eyes. His arms wrap around my waist from behind as his chin sits on my shoulder, and a shudder slides down my spine. He turns his head to whisper into my ear as his hands slide down my naked thighs, “You look so fucking hot in this apron, Lem.”
My cheeks immediately blush. I’m only wearing his button down shirt with a few of the buttons done up and the apron on top.
“Mhmm, I can say the same for you. Happy birthday, baby,” I say as I turn my face to meet his lips. The kiss is short but filled with the love we’ve poured into our relationship in the last couple months.
It’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster in the best way possible. After the night he told me he was choosing me and handed me the papers to RED, everything changed. We slipped into a life together. He moved in overnight. I called Rachel and let her know the position had been filled. I felt terrible about it, but Cary coming back permanently and taking the head chef position at RED was a dream come true—one I refused to let slip away.
We still have things to work through, and we are far from perfect, but I can confidently say I am happy. So fucking happy. I, of course, had fears we couldn’t work a second time around. I thought maybe it wasn’t just Seattle that was the issue.
Thankfully, I’d been wrong. Living with him, being with him, loving him in Indigo Hill felt right . It no longer felt like there was a piece missing or like something was wrong on a cellular level. It felt like we were kids again, back when our love was pure and not clouded by adult responsibilities and problems.
“You want help?” he asks into my ear.
I nod my head as I meet his eyes over my shoulder. “Always.”
He presses a kiss to my temple, and I spin around in his arms, my flour covered hands coming to the sides of his face, leaving a trail as I press my lips to his. He groans into my mouth, his hands falling to the edges of the counter, caging me in as he presses his hips into mine.
“You keep this up, and we’ll be making a baby on this counter, not pancakes.” His voice comes out in a rasp telling me that’s exactly what he’d rather be doing.
“Hmm, so are you hungry, or should I keep going?” I ask through the laughter bubbling in my chest. We’ve both been insatiable. It’s like we’re trying to make up for the eight years lost. It’s a wonder we’re able to leave the house, honestly.
“Lemon… you know I’m constantly hungry for you.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, still untamed from sleep. The long strands streaking white with flour. The sight makes me laugh as I pull back from him to take in the picture in front of me. “Oops, sorry. I got you a little dirty.” I try to wipe it away, but it doesn’t budge.
Suddenly, Cary lifts me up onto the counter, a surprised yelp leaving my lips. His mouth comes down to my neck instantly, nibbling at the skin then kissing the sting away.
“Hmm, looks like it’s my turn to get you a little dirty then,” he rasps, the husky tone has arousal pooling between my thighs. His lips slide down my neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he slowly leans me back onto the counter where the flour is scattered. Once his face is at the junction between my breasts, his elbow knocks over the bowl with the remaining flour, spilling it all over the floor. We both break out in laughter, the rumbling of his chest reverberating up through my body. His arms are wrapped around me now, my hands placed firmly on his neck. We’re both covered in the white powder, still laughing uncontrollably.
I throw my head back, just barely touching the counter as my leg wraps around his waist. Cary’s hand leaves my side and nudges my foot away from his ass. Before I have time to wonder why, he pulls me down from the counter and gets down on one knee.
I’ve barely had a moment to register what’s happening, when he pulls a small box from behind his back.
“Oh—oh my God, Cary!” My hands fly to my mouth, tears spring into my eyes, blurring my vision. He’s in front of me, down on one knee, opening the ring box.
“Lemon,” he starts, and a sob leaves my throat. “Baby,” he laughs, “let me get through this, okay?” I shake my head, not allowing myself to speak. “Years and years ago, I told you I’d put a ring on your finger one day. I vowed to again just two months ago. And I won’t lie, it wasn’t supposed to happen today. I only have it in my pocket because the jeweler got it back to me yesterday after getting it resized.”
Confusion sparks in my eyes, and he must see it because he stops his speech to say, “We’re getting there.” I just barely nod my head, silently asking him to keep going.
“I had a whole thing planned. But this, Lemon… I want to do this with you every day of my fucking life. I want to wake up and know you’ll be my wife, and I get to spend forever with you. So, fuck the plans,” he laughs nervously, “we were never good at them anyway.”
I blink away the tears still falling down my cheeks.
“I don’t want to live another day not knowing if you’ll be mine forever. I should have known the second I got the ring back that I’d be itching to put it on your finger. I didn’t even make it twenty-four hours.” A half-sob, half-laugh breaks through my lips. “You’re the one thing I need in this life, Thea. More than my career, more than any accolades I could ever get, more than the air I breathe, you are what keeps me going. You are what makes me feel alive. And my greatest accomplishment—if you say yes—will be being your husband. I’ve known I loved you since I was a kid—and if we’re being honest, I knew back then that I wanted to spend forever with you. No one else ever stood a chance. And I know, I know we got off track, and we lost so much time. And I know this is quick, I promise, I do. But I don’t want to waste any more time. So, Thea Carina Ashford,” he pauses to pull the ring from the box, and I swipe the tears from my eyes so I can see it. “Would you make me the happiest, luckiest fucking man in the world, and marry me?”
“How did you—” I start when I realize it’s Hazel’s ring that Owen proposed to her with, sobbing again at the sight of it.
“Brooks found it among their things. I took a chance by asking about it, and he immediately handed it over but surprisingly pocketed their wedding bands. And he of course had to add a sarcastic remark about me finally getting my shit together.”
I reach down to grab his elbows, pulling him up from the floor and crashing my lips into his. He pulls away but only enough so he can speak, “Is that… a yes, then?”
With our foreheads still pressed together, I look down at the ring in front of me, still clasped in his hands. “Yes, of course. The answer was always going to be yes.”
He slides the ring on my finger, and I reach around his neck as his hands run down my back until he’s cupping my ass and lifting me into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist as my lips find his.
In between kisses, I make sure to tell him, “I love you, Carrington Dillon Grant.”
The End