Epilogue
ROMAN
ONE MONTH LATER
“I’ve never seen my sister happier,” Wesley says reverently.
He’s leaning against the table, close enough to me that I can smell the rum on his breath. I don’t tear my eyes from my fiancée as she pulls Aubrey in for a hug and kisses her fiercely on the top of her head.
Not only is she wearing this tiny pink skirt that I’ve already taken off her once tonight, but also a custom Vancouver Havoc Shore jersey that she slipped on only a few minutes ago just to tease me, I’m sure.
I can see the ring on her finger sparkling from here.
The diamond catches on every turn of the disco ball above the two women and twinkles so obviously you’d have to be blind to miss it. It’s making me feel incredibly smug.
“I plan on keeping it that way.”
His hand falls to my shoulder and squeezes. “I know. That’s the only reason I let you marry her.”
“Let him?” Finn snorts when he joins us.
The rain on his Havoc jacket drips to the floor as he shrugs out of it and hangs it on the back of an empty chair.
I nod at him, still learning how to navigate all of these new friendships.
It’s been a few weeks now since I proposed to Brielle and welcomed all of these people into my life, but it’s a learning curve.
After going so long without accepting anyone, it’s taken a lot of work to allow myself to let them all in.
They’ve made it worth it, though. Not only do they love Brielle as fiercely as any blood relative would, but I’ve come to realize they want to love me, too.
“Hey, if I’d said no, he wouldn’t have done it,” Wesley argues.
Finn folds himself into the chair claimed by his jacket and looks in the same direction I am. Only it isn’t Brielle his attention falls on.
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy. We both know she’d have proposed to him instead if he waited too long.”
“It’s only been two months.” Wesley’s grumble makes me laugh.
Finn twirls the watch on his wrist. “Time works differently when you have someone you love. It goes on warp speed.”
“In that case, you and Aubrey are way overdue for a wedding. You’ve been together for what, seventy-five years?”
I take a sip of my beer to hide my smile. Finn gives Wes a withering look over his shoulder.
“Aubrey doesn’t want to get married right now.”
Wesley lags a bit before asking, “Why not?”
“She’s at the peak of her career, and I have no intention of distracting her from that.”
“You could get engaged and then wait a few years,” I offer, setting my glass down.
“I know. I’m just enjoying finally being with her, I guess. Engaged or not.”
It makes complete sense to me, though from Wesley’s confused expression, I think it’s gone over his head.
Finn and Aubrey have spent decades together, but never like this.
I don’t blame either of them for wanting to take things slow and just enjoy the change, especially with how successful Aubrey’s career has been.
“Plus, Bree wants to focus on planning Brielle and Roman’s wedding, anyway. How much did this party cost you, Rome?” Finn asks with a giant smirk.
“You don’t want to know.”
I knew exactly what I was doing when I handed my bank details over to Brielle and told her to do whatever she wanted for our engagement party. My only saving grace was that she wanted to have it at Pretty Little Pour and not some private island.
One look from her and I’d have said yes, regardless of how much it cost.
The regular staff was brought in for the night to run the bar and serve the custom menu items that Brielle convinced the owner to have made specifically for us.
There are various signs set atop every table and scattered across the bar top with our names in fancy cursive writing.
A drink menu was curated by Aubrey and features the specialty pink martini that the girls usually order on their nights out, with the addition of an on-tap beer with my name attached to it.
All that’s missing are the desserts that haven’t arrived yet, designed and baked by the team at Blank Page.
Brielle was extremely adamant about ordering from Quinn, and I think that has more to do with the team’s closing pitcher, who’s sitting at the next table, than her baking abilities.
“Probably a drop in the water compared to the ring,” Wesley pokes, nodding at where Brielle’s turned our way.
She wiggles her eyebrows and lifts her hand in front of her, flashing her ring finger. My heart pounds viciously before I stand from the table, needing to get closer to her.
“I’ll be back.”
“Sure you will be,” Finn drawls as I walk away.
The grin that tugs at Brielle’s mouth sends fire through my gut. Every day that I see her, I tell myself that she’s never looked so beautiful, but tonight, I’ve been proven wrong once again.
I reach for her the moment I get close enough and grab a fistful of that jersey. She giggles as her body tumbles forward into my chest, and she presses her forearms to my chest, head tipping back. The healthy, happy glow in her eyes makes it impossible to look elsewhere.
She plants two hands to my sternum, letting them rest there. “I haven’t had the chance to ask you what you think.”
“About what, specifically?”
“The party, you ass.”
“Just wanted to make sure,” I drawl, releasing the fabric of her jersey just enough that I can push my hand back to rest above her ass. “There are so many things I’m thinking about right now.”
“Tell me you like the party first. After that, I’ll let you coax me into a broom closet or something.”
A chuckle rumbles up my throat. “Romantic.”
“Roman,” she scolds.
I trace a knuckle along the edge of her jaw until it taps the underside of her chin. “You did an incredible job, sweetheart. Everyone here has told me the same thing.”
“Your opinion is the only one I care about. This is for us more than anyone else here. I know it’s more my taste than yours, but you told me to do what I wanted—”
Pinching her chin, I tip her head back further and drop my mouth to hers. She meets my kiss instantly, melting beneath my lips as her words drift somewhere far away.
It’s nearly impossible to keep from deepening it and tasting her the way I want to right now.
Especially when she makes a soft mewling noise in the back of her throat and curls her fingers in my dress shirt, tugging the top button free.
My hand spasms over the curve of her ass, travelling further south before I collect myself.
She’s pouting the moment I break the kiss and open my eyes.
“So, broom closet?”
“You’re insatiable.”
“I keep you young,” she coos.
“Yeah, you do. I’ve got no doubt I’ll be in my sixties, still chasing you around this place.”
“Brave of you to think you won’t have a walker by then.”
My teeth flash before I nip the tip of her nose. “Do you want to be punished, baby?”
“Is that a promise? Because here I’ve been, just waiting for you to finally ravish me.”
“I did that before we left the house.”
“And you thought that would be enough? I didn’t wear this dress because I love having to tug it down all the time.”
I trap a growl in my throat and fill my hand with her ass, gripping it roughly. Her pupils expand as her breathing kicks up.
“Like I said, insatiable,” I grit out.
My cock pulses in my briefs, pressing ruthlessly against my pants. If we weren’t surrounded by so many watchful eyes—including her brother’s—I’d have reached down to adjust myself by now.
She beams up at me, sensing exactly that. “Uncomfortable, are you?”
Shifting my stance a bit, I bring my mouth to her ear. My first exhale has her shivering against me.
“I know you’re wet enough to have already ruined those cocktease panties you left our house wearing. Are your thighs slick with it yet, Brielle?”
“Look for yourself.”
My vision goes in and out of focus. “Not here.”
“Somewhere else, then,” she all but whines.
The flush eating at the apples of her cheeks has me giving in. We’ll only be gone a few minutes, and even that’s generous, considering how keyed up we both are.
I don’t know if it will ever stop being like this, but I sure as fuck hope not. I hope we spend the rest of our lives feeling like if we don’t get our hands on each other, we might just go up in flames.
A warm breeze cuts through the bar and ruffles Brielle’s loose curls. The scent of exhaust and the Italian restaurant down the street distracts the both of us long enough that we freeze and turn to the entrance of the bar.
“A little help, please!”
I don’t recognize the voice as quickly as Brielle does. My hands fall to my sides, suddenly empty when she steps out of my grasp and rushes to help the woman balancing a giant three-tiered platter of pink- and gold-coloured desserts in her arms.
Both Brielle and Aubrey step in instantly and push the doors open for her to step inside.
After she’s balanced herself, they take the tray from her and drop it off at the designated table.
I quickly piece together that this woman is the same one whom my fiancée has mentioned a time or two over the last few weeks.
Though usually, her name is brought up in relation to Beck.
Glancing to the table he’s been sitting at, I find him staring directly at the newcomer. There’s nothing subtle in the way he regards her like a man who’s seeing the sun for the first time after a life spent underground. It’s a dangerous way to look at someone unless they share the same feeling.
I imagine that’s how I stare at Brielle.
“You should have called and told me you were here! We’d have gone out to help you,” Brielle rambles.
I look away from Beck and take the few steps it takes to reach Brielle’s side once again. The three women turn to regard me.
“You must be Quinn,” I say, offering her my hand.
The small smile she offers me is the furthest thing from shy. “That’s me. And I’m assuming you’re the groom?”
She has the most startlingly blue-grey eyes I’ve ever seen.
It’s like she’s altered the saturation of them and drained the original colour out.
Compared to the pin-straight auburn hair, they almost look out of place.
Almost. Because as jarring the combination is at first sight, they somehow begin to blend together after a few moments.
“Soon-to-be.” Brielle hugs my side and pinches the bottom of my shirt, nearly catching my skin.
My lips quirk at the not-so-subtle claiming as I palm her back. “That’s me.”
“I’m sorry for being late. There was a rush at the café as I was on my way out, and I’d already sent my barista home.”
“You’re right on time, actually. Do you want to stay for the rest of the party?” Brielle asks eagerly.
Quinn tries to be subtle, but I notice the way she looks around the room, searching for something—someone. Once she finds him, she stills for a beat. When her eyes snap back to Brielle, she shakes her head.
“I appreciate the invite, but I’ve had a long day. I’d love some pictures of everything after, though.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we have them,” Aubrey tells her.
Evie’s been snapping them all night with the new camera Brielle helped her pick out last week. It’s the first purchase they made with Soft Body in mind. Which reminds me that I haven’t seen her in a while . . .
“Great. I’ll head out, then. Congratulations, by the way,” Quinn says, already backing up to the door.
Aubrey’s on the move to the bar, but Brielle lingers at my side until Quinn’s out of sight, the door swinging shut behind her.
“Territorial,” I muse before pressing a kiss to the top of Brielle’s hair.
“She’s beautiful.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“Liar. You’d have had to be blind not to notice,” she grumbles.
I take her hand into mine and twist the ring on her fourth finger. “You’re wrong, and I’m up to proving it to you all night if that’s what you want.”
“I’ve got many other plans that don’t include another woman, actually.”
I hum. “That’s what I thought. Do those plans start now?”
“Right this second.”
I take the invitation and kiss her, so fucking ready to spend an eternity just like this.