Epilogue
RHYLAND
Six months later
“S he’s screaming, kicking, and making a fuss.” My phone was glued to my ear, and I stared at the pitiful mess at my feet. “I had no idea the first day of preschool was going to be this stressful for her, Row.”
“My sister is only a hundred and twenty pounds. Get her off the floor, and take her back to your car,” my best friend grumbled. “How hard can it fucking be?”
“Four times a night, and sometimes when I’m still inside her.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“My jokes are my art, and I will die for my art.”
“Okay, Pic-ass-o, pick her up before the paparazzi arrive,” Row enunciated.
I was attracting all kinds of attention now that I was a semi-famous tech mogul.
“Fuck. She’ll use her claws, but okay.”
I hung up the phone and tucked it into my pocket. Dylan was still crying on the floor outside the preschool. Yeah, the same one she was supposed to give an answer to some months ago and never did. Luckily, I’d had the foresight to pay the application fees and fill out all the forms so Grav would have a spot there. I knew Dylan would end up going to college and would need to put Gravity in the three-day program. Cherrie was very accommodating of the fact that I’d signed a child who was not technically under my care to her school.
And the little stinker? She was a rock star about it. She was joining class during the second semester, so we skipped the fancy signs and photo shoots, but she showed up today with an apple to give to her teacher and the neon-green UGG boots I got her as a gift so she’d always remember her individuality, even if she needed to wear a uniform now.
She’d waved us goodbye without so much as a glance and run off to join her classmates and teachers. It was Dylan who was a hot mess.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” my fiancée hiccupped on the floor.
I followed her brother’s suggestion and hurled her up into my arms. A mental breakdown on the steps of the most prestigious preschool in Manhattan was not a great look.
“You’re going to be fine,” I muttered into her ear, carrying her honeymoon-style to the car while she burst out in another bout of weeping. Dylan was a tough cookie. Watching her crumble like that was jarring, to say the least. “May I remind you, you’ll be busy reading through books and studying your hot ass off?” I tried to avert her thoughts from Gravity.
“It’s February. I have six months before my semester starts,” she moaned into my neck, lolling her head back and forth.
“Good thing you have the wedding of the century to plan, then,” I grumbled. “That’ll keep you busy.”
Even though I was now richer than God, Dylan had turned out to be a thrifty bride. She was planning the wedding for August so she could focus on her studies later. She’d been accepted to Fordham’s premed program and was over the goddamn moon. She’d also moved out of Row’s apartment and up into my penthouse with Gravity the day I asked her to marry me for real, but she still took care of Row’s apartment for free, because she was a better human than I was.
“The wedding’s already planned. All we have to do is show up,” Dylan protested as I tucked her into the passenger seat.
“That, I can do.” I rounded the car and joined her in the driver’s seat. “Can I take you out on a date?” I turned to wink at her.
She checked the time on her phone. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the office?”
Ever since we soft-launched App-date three months ago and quite literally broke the App Store (and the internet, several times), I’d had my hands full and had been working fifteen-hour days. Fake dating had turned out to be lots of people’s favorite trope, because we offered a hundred bucks’ worth of dinner vouchers to any two users who sent us proof of marriage or engagement as a result of the app, and the couples just kept on coming, to the point that we’d had to start striking deals with restaurant chains.
“No. I’m supposed to be inside you,” I corrected her.
“Let’s skip to the food part then.” She rubbed her palms together. “I’m ready.”
“Nah. I wanna wine you and dine you and show you how much you mean to me.”
“Rhyland.” She sighed. “We’re getting married in a few months. I’m living off boiled eggs, coffee, and Pinterest inspo at this point. What makes you think I want to be wined and dined?”
“This right here.” I pulled out my phone and showed her a screenshot of a social media post I’d found of hers, dated back to when she was twenty. She was still with Tucker back then—yes, the same motherfucker who was serving four years in prison these days—and living in Maine.
Dylan squinted, reading the caption out loud. “‘My actual dream is to eat my weight in pasta alla ruota.’”
I raised my eyebrows meaningfully.
She laughed. “Rhyland, I’m supposed to get into a wedding dress next week for measurements.”
“And I’m supposed to pretend I don’t want as much of you as possible inside it?”
“That is a very kind way to tell me you’d love me in all sizes.”
“It’s the truth,” I said dryly. “And I want all your dreams to come true, so that’s where we’re going.”
But what Dylan didn’t know was that I was taking her to a restaurant downtown, where her brother would be waiting. Cal too. And Kieran. Her mom and Marty. Everyone.
She needed emotional support on this first day of Gravity going to school, so I’d set it up for her.
As it turned out, it was my shitty upbringing that drove me to want better for my own family. With us, things would be different. We would give our kids all the love and attention they needed and spare some for any friends who might have it tough at home too.
When Gravity came back from school, she’d have all her family celebrating this new milestone in her life.
“I can’t believe you took some time off and we’re not spending it having sex,” Dylan sulked.
At least I’d gotten her to stop crying about Gravity.
“Can we at least have a quickie in the restaurant’s restroom?”
“Not if you don’t want me and your brother to kill each other,” I muttered.
“Hmm?”
“Nothing.” I grabbed Dylan’s hand across the central console and brought her knuckles to my lips, kissing them softly. “Behave, Cosmos.”
“Make me,” she challenged, grinning.
I made a pit stop at our apartment, leaving everyone to wait for us, and I did.
DYLAN
The wedding day…
Rhyland Coltridge posted a picture.
Dylan_loves_Rhyland4ever commented: Gorgeous suit xo
Rhyland Coltridge commented: It’s chewable
Dylan_loves_Rhyland4ever commented: One day our child is going to see all this and need intense therapy.
Rhyland Coltridge commented: Nah. We’re raising the standard for her. That’s our moral duty. Can’t wait to marry you, Cosmos.
Dylan_loves_Rhyland4ever commented: Can’t wait to marry you, hot stuff.
TheRealKieranCarmichael commented: Last chance to make a run for it and marry me, Dyl. Just sayin’.
Rhyland Coltridge commented: I’m going to snap both your legs and make chopsticks out of them.
TheRealKieranCarmichael commented: was worth a shot.
“Holy shit, Dyl, this dress.” Cal cupped her mouth, staggering backward in my bridal suite.
“Christ almighty.” My mother made a cross sign with her fingers. “Goodness me.”
“You look…” Cal started.
Hideous?
Awful?
Ridiculous?
There was no way to sugarcoat it. The dress was objectively atrocious. They’d had a good amount of time to get used to it, but they never had.
There was a lot of puffiness—enough to make the bottom part look like a never-ending mountain of whipped cream. I’m talking layer upon layer of nausea-inducing foam. When you got to the upper part, it didn’t get any better. The strapless satin bust was fine, but I’d insisted on puffy lace sleeves, traditional tulle, and a huge pearl necklace. I looked completely over-the-top, but this was the wedding dress I’d wanted when I was a small child, and I’d decided to make all this girl’s dreams come true.
That could also explain my dubious choice of having a donut wall, pink flowers only, a pastel color scheme, and a champagne fountain.
A refined wedding, it was not. But a fun one, it surely would be.
“I know, right?” I twirled around in my wedding dress, taking a sip of my champagne. “I look outlandish.”
“I think you look like the most beautiful bride ever!” Gravity exclaimed loudly, sending Auntie Cal and my mother intense warning glares. “When I grow up, I want to get married in the same dress.”
“No,” Mama and Cal said in unison. We all laughed.
Gravity shook her head, leaning down to polish her cowgirl boots.
Oh yeah. I almost forgot. I decided it wasn’t only my dream that would be fulfilled today. My daughter was given full and complete control over her outfit. She’d promptly decided she wanted to dress like Uncle Bruce.
Yup. The wedding was a hot mess. But hot messes were the best kind of fun.
“Do you need anything?” Cal squeezed my shoulder, and for the first time in a long time, I thought to myself, No. I don’t. Everything I need, I already have.
“I’m okay, thanks.” I squeezed her hand on my shoulder with a smile. “When am I due to come out?”
“Not for another half an hour,” my mother assured me, fixing the top of her fancy hat. She too had gotten to fulfill her dreams today—Rhyland had restored her vintage car, the first she’d ever owned in America, and she and Marty had driven here in it. “You have time, cara. Do you want me to bring you anything to eat?”
I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”
There was a knock on the door.
“It’s probably Row.” Cal whirled and made her way to the door. She flung it open and then immediately slammed it in the person’s face. “Blasphemy!” she cried out.
“What’s happening?” My heart gave a dangerous leap.
Was it Tucker? Was he back? I knew logically he couldn’t be. Unless he escaped from prison, which would result in even more prison time. I knew my ex was a dumbass, but I suspected even he had his limits.
“It’s Rhyland.” Cal clutched her necklace.
“I want to speak to my bride,” I heard my fiancé say from the other side of the door and couldn’t contain my grin. I knew why he was here—he was worried I’d get cold feet.
I also knew it was one hundred percent not going to fly with my mother.
As expected, a string of unholy Italian curses left Mama’s mouth, punctuated by a clutch of her chest and her galloping toward the door. “You’re not getting inside, Rhyland! How dare you think you can see the bride before the wedding? It’s bad luck.”
“Don’t need luck. Got love.”
Mama flashed her daughter-in-law a “can you believe this prick?” glare. I doubled over laughing.
“Whatever you have, it is not common sense. You are not seeing my daughter before she walks down the aisle, and that is that.” My mother stomped.
“Rhy,” I called out. “I’m okay—really. You don’t have to check on me.”
“I still need to speak to you.” He sounded serious.
I looked between Cal, Mom, and Grav. “Give us a second.”
“You cannot be serious!” my mother cried out. “Dylan, it’s tradition that he doesn’t see you.”
“I know what she looks like,” Rhyland pointed out from behind the door.
“Not in her wedding dress,” my mother countered.
“To be honest, that’s not a bad thing, considering the dress.” I laughed.
“I actually have seen the wedding dress,” Rhyland confessed. “Dyl showed me an article about it. It won an award for ugliest wedding dress of the century. Impressive.”
Rhyland stepped inside, filling the small space with his presence. He looked like the best gift I could have been given.
He wore a flawless black tux and a bow tie. His hair had grown back almost fully and was now slicked back in a small bun. My heart swelled at the sight of him.
Mama sighed with exasperation. Cal hoisted Grav into her arms.
“Wait—no.” Rhyland stopped Cal. He had one hand behind his back and an unholy cocky smirk on his face. “Little stinker?”
“Yes, Daddy?” she squeaked.
My heart melted. Daddy. Gravity finally had one. And it was the best one she could ever have hoped for.
“I got you a little wedding gift.” He kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes.”
“Okay!”
“No peeking,” he warned.
She squeezed her eyes hard, and Rhyland moved his hand from his back, unveiling an identical replica of Mr. Mushroom.
He’d brought back the dick. I couldn’t help it. I fell over myself laughing.
“Oh no, not again,” my mother moaned.
“Again,” Rhyland confirmed. “Open your eyes, sweetie.”
When Gravity saw her new stuffie, she completely lost it. Grabbed it and pressed it to her chest, running in circles in her cowboy boots. Like Mama, I wasn’t exactly thrilled that my daughter would resume her attachment to a fluffy pink penis, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge. Rhyland’s penis had saved my life.
Mama, Cal, and Grav filed out of the room afterward, giving us a chance to talk—not before my mother cautioned she’d be outside listening in case there were any shenanigans.
Rhyland grinned, capturing my hands and bringing them to his lips.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hello.”
“I hope I didn’t interrupt.”
I shook my head, still smiling like a fool. “No, but I have to leave in about twenty minutes. I’m getting married.”
“Lucky guy.”
“What did you want?”
“To ensure I still have a bride, mostly.” He gave me a sheepish smirk.
I loved how careful he was with me, how considerate. He hadn’t let my bravado fool him into thinking I was braver than I was. We’d both sworn we’d never love, never marry. This was huge for both of us.
“You still have a bride,” I confirmed, reaching up on my toes to kiss his lips. “Do I still have a groom?”
“That was never in question.” He shook his head, his expression turning serious. “I have a confession to make.”
“If you cheated on me, I am going to murder you,” I said in a frighteningly even tone.
“I said I have a confession, not a death wish.”
“Carry on.” I nodded.
“I call you Cosmos, but not because of the sky.” Rhy brushed his knuckles along my cheekbones, tucking a stray lock back in place. “I call you that because of the flower. It is beautiful and resilient, a fighter for its species. It braves all weather and often reseeds itself without help. I call you Cosmos because you’re everything this seemingly gentle flower is—adaptable and tough while being graceful and mesmerizing at the same time. You are living proof anyone can blossom if they choose to, shitty circumstances be damned.”
“This is what you came here to say?” I bit down a smile. “That you named me after a flower?”
“After the best flower,” he corrected.
“Is it my turn to confess?” I asked.
There was a knock on the door. Apparently, we only had a few minutes left, not twenty like I’d thought.
“Yes.” Rhy gave me a confused look. “Unless it’s about fucking Kieran at some point in your life—in which case, I truly don’t want to know. I’d hate to finish his soccer career. He only has a few more years left.”
I snorted. If only he knew that Kieran wasn’t interested in me romantically.
“No. I can confirm we’ve never hooked up,” I assured him.
“Very good. What is it, then?”
“As I grow older and wiser, I realize people are made of memories and that my favorite memory is…well, you.”
There was another knock on the door. I hurried up, gulping in air.
“And as I look back at our memories, I can’t help but think we should create more of them together…” I was rambling, but I was grateful, a little drunk on alcohol, and a lot drunk on love.
“What are you saying?” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.
“I’m saying I might—not right now, but sometime in the future—want to have children with you.” My eyes clung to his. “And I’m also saying that a vasectomy is reversible and that you might, um, want to consider that.”
He pressed his lips together, trying to contain his amusement. “You want me to breed with you, Dylan? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No,” I protested. “I’m not a cow. I want you to give me a baby, and I’m asking you if you’d be open to that.”
Another knock on the door. Jesus Christ. People didn’t get the hint.
“Name the time and place,” he challenged.
“When I finish med school,” I said tentatively.
“Fine.” He kissed me. “You have a date, wifey.”
“Thank you for giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Now it was my turn to sound like I was cracking under the weight of all my feelings.
“All your wildest dreams, baby.”
The End
Thank you so much for reading Wildest Dreams . This book (and entire world) consumed my life for the better part of last year. If you have a few minutes, I’d be so grateful if you leave an honest review letting other readers know how you felt about Rhyland and Dylan’s story.
Love,
L.J. xo