Epilogue
Penny
One Month Later
If you’d told me a month ago I’d be standing in a gallery full of my work, with Edward Rogers of all people leaning against the back wall in an actual button-down shirt, I’d have laughed in your face.
But here we are.
Fairy lights string across the beams, wine sloshes into plastic cups of all my guests and everywhere you look, my canvases line the walls.
Some bright with color, others dark and jagged. And right there, in the best lit corner of the room, hangs one of his.
The showcase piece.
Edward’s soldier sketch. The one he swore would never leave his cabin.
It’s framed in rough oak he milled himself. It looks raw and alive, and I’ve caught at least three different people standing in front of it with tears in their eyes.
“Sunshine.” Edward's deep voice rumbles from behind me, low enough that only I hear. “You’re glowing, baby.”
I turn, my wine trembling in my hand. “That’s sweat. Do you have any idea how stressful it is pretending to understand when people use words like ‘hauntingly visceral’?”
His mouth twitches. “Pretty sure that means they like it.”
“I know what it means, grump.”
His blue eyes soften, just for me. “They’re not just talking about your work, Penny. They’re talking about mine too. And that’s your fault.”
I grin and bite my lip. “You’re welcome. I told you people needed to see it.”
Before he can argue, another voice breaks in.
“Penny, there you are, dear.”
I turn to see my mother dressed with a polish. Pearls and all. She clasps my shoulders, the judgement in her eyes shining.
“This is… wonderful. Truly, it is. I’m so proud of you.”
Behind her, Dad shakes Edward’s hand. I nearly choke on my drink. The handshake is firm and from what I can tell, completely respectful.
No glares. No suspicion.
Just… acceptance. Acceptance of the life choices I've made.
Edward inclines his head. “Good to meet you, sir.”
Dad nods. “She’s stubborn, but she’s got an eye. You take care of her now, won't you?”
“Always,” Edward says, so simply it melts my knees.
Mom’s tearing up again. “We’ll leave you two to mingle.” She squeezes me once more before slipping back into the crowd.
I exhale shakily. “Did that really just happen?”
Edward smirks. “Told you I clean up okay.”
The evening blurs after that. Sales are logged, hands are shaken, and compliments blushed at.
By the end of it, three of my canvases are gone, paid for with actual money, and the jar on the refreshment table is stuffed with donations for 'future exhibitions.'
I flop against Edward’s chest as the last guests shuffle out. “Well. That wasn’t a complete disaster.”
He loops an arm around my waist and presses his lips to my hair. “It was perfect. You were perfect.”
I tilt my head up. “Careful, mountain man. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment. That therapist is working wonders with you, you know that, right?
His eyes darken. He still doesn't like to talk about it, but he's making progress. And for me? That's all that matters.
“You have no idea how proud I am of you, sunshine. And I can’t wait to drag you back up the mountain and show you exactly how proud.”
My whole body tightens as desire sparks like lightning under my skin. But instead of waiting, I slide my arms around his neck, tugging him down until my lips brush his.
“Why wait?” I whisper. “We’ve got four walls, a lock on the door, and at least one sturdy table that you helped build.”
His breath hitches. “Penny…”
“Yes, Edward?” I grin wickedly. “You planning to lecture me on gallery etiquette? Or are you going to fuck me like you promised?”
His answer is a growl. He lifts me onto the table, sending custom branded sketchpads scattering. My legs wrap around his hips, holding his erection so close it rubs against my clit.
The kiss is deep, his tongue tangling with mine as his hands grip my ass, pulling me forward.
“Christ,” he rasps against my mouth. “You drive me insane.”
I tug his shirt open, buttons flying, scraping my nails over the hard planes of his chest. “Good. That’s the idea.”
He cups my breast through my dress, thumb flicking my nipple until I moan loud enough to echo off the gallery walls.
“Keep it down,” he teases, biting my lip. “Your parents might still be in the parking lot.”
“Then make it worth the scandal.”
His laugh is a dark rumble before he shoves my skirt up, dragging my panties aside with a rough tug. The cool air kisses my wet heat before his fingers do.
“Fuck, you’re soaked already.” His voice is reverent, wrecked. “All for me?”
“All for you,” I gasp, rocking against his hand.
He doesn’t waste time. Thick fingers slide inside, curling perfectly while his thumb circles my clit. My head falls back, the ceiling lights blurring as pleasure builds fast.
“Edward—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, mouth on my neck. “Come for me, sunshine. Right here in your gallery. Let the whole damn world know you’re mine.”
My body clamps around him, pulse after pulse of heat tearing through me as I cry out into his shoulder.
Before the aftershocks fade, he yanks his belt open, frees his cock, and pushes into me in one brutal, perfect thrust.
I scream, clutching his shoulders. He fills me so completely I can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel.
“Mine,” he growls, setting a punishing rhythm, each thrust rattling the table beneath us. “Say it.”
“Yes! Yours, Edward. Always yours.”
His mouth claims mine again, swallowing my cries as we lose ourselves in the furious, beautiful rhythm.
And when he finally groans my name and spills deep inside me, I know without doubt this is forever.
We collapse together, breathless and grinning, surrounded by my art, our art, our future.
I kiss him once more, soft and certain. “Told you the gallery would be a success.”
He chuckles, pressing his forehead to mine. “It is. But you’re the masterpiece, Penny Kaye. And I’ll never stop showing you off.”