Epilogue
The End.
I type the last two words with immense satisfaction.
There’s still the editing to do, but the first draft is finished.
My debut novel, a paranormal romance with vampires, a kick-ass heroine, and a heartthrob leading man. Vampire. Whatever.
It’ll probably never be published, but Alex likes it, and that’s what matters. He demands a new chapter a day, laughs in all the right places when I read it to him, and doesn’t let me skip the sex scenes.
I tried to get it finished before he left, but didn’t quite make it. Now I can’t wait for him to get back, so I can read him the three chapters he’s missed.
A knock on my door breaks my reverie.
“Pasa, Sofía,” I call.
The door opens, and she puts her head around, accompanied by the noise of a soft neh-neh. “I’m sorry to disturb you, senorita,” she says in Spanish, “but Alejandro wants you.” She has a squirming bundle in her arms, and I smile and reach out.
Sofía passes me my son. I drop the shoulder strap of my dress, and help him latch on.
We both watch him for a moment, for there’s nothing more peaceful than the sight of my baby feeding. He’s seven months old, wearing only a diaper, his wrap a thin muslin. Andalusia in September is still hot, and though the house has A/C, I don’t like to use it. The stone walls keep it cool inside.
Sofía glances at my screen. “Ah, you have finished?”
“Sí.” I give her a smile. “It ends on a cliffhanger.”
She covers her mouth with her hand. “He won’t like that.”
“No, he won’t, will he?”
“You’ll be writing another one, or he’ll spank you.”
I give her a mock offended gasp, but she only laughs in her matronly way, eyes dancing mischievously.
“I always intended to anyway. I have the writing bug, now.” I gaze down at Alejandro, who I’m delighted has his father’s gorgeous eyes. He smiles up at me, leaking milk from the corner of his mouth.
“You can’t look at that baby while he eats,” Sofía says. “He loves you more than his food.”
“Just like his papa.”
“Sí.” Sofía reaches out and strokes his soft, dark hair. “Oh, I didn’t mention. Carmen came by while you were at the market. She and Clara want to take you out tomorrow night. Keep you distracted until Alex returns.”
“That’s not necessary,” I say. “I’m capable of managing a few nights without him.”
“Apanármelas,” Sofía corrects. “Not manejar. It means…” She switches to English. “‘get by’, and manejar means ‘to handle.’”
“Gracias, but I can do both: get by and handle him.”
She giggles. “Only you can, senorita.”
I switch back to Spanish. “You’re wicked. Do you know that?”
“So my husband tells—”
My phone rings, and Alejandro comes off the nipple to yell his protest. Sofía is quick to take him from me.
“It’s his bedtime anyway,” she says.
I give her a distracted nod. It’s Alex’s number on the screen, and I hit accept. “Why are you calling me?” I say. “You’re much too busy and important.”
“Far from it,” he drawls. “The auction was a disaster. Nothing of interest at all.”
“There are still two days left. You might yet find something.”
“The rest of it is breeding stock, and I don’t need more.”
“Well, quite. You have me.”
“That, I do.” He chuckles. “The dressage geldings were all too old, and fully trained.”
“Alas,” I tease. “How boring for you when there’s no fight left.”
“You would know,” he says pointedly.
Sofía cackles, clearly able to hear him, and I glare at her through my blush and shoo her out. She leaves with Alejandro, pulling the door closed behind her with a trailing foot.
“Still, there are two more days. Make new contacts? Go for a dinner? Find a nice wench to torment?”
“No, I have a better idea.” A pause. “I’m coming home to my wife, instead.”
I straighten in my chair, my heart rate picking up. “When will you be here?”
“That’s why I’m calling you,” he says. “I’ve just passed Marbella.”
An hour away. “Wonderful. You’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“Mmm hmm. But that’s not what I’m hungry for,” he says, his voice lower. “Take a bath, Tink.”