Epilogue
EPILOGUE
VALERIE
"HOW ARE YOU feeling, Darling?" Fynn has one palm spread across my lower back as he directs me into the main ballroom of The Pearl, a super swanky, recently updated hotel just outside Sweet Side.
"If you don’t take into consideration that I’m waddling like a duck and my ankles are so swollen none of my shoes fit," I give him a bright smile, "I feel wonderful." I'm actually not exaggerating as much as he probably thinks I am.
Am I a little uncomfortable? Yes. But that's kind of to be expected when there's an entire additional human occupying your insides.
Fynn's brows pinch together in concern, the same way they do no fewer than ten times a day. "Do you want me to take you home? I'm sure we can reschedule—"
I start to laugh because there's no freaking way we can reschedule tonight. Not again. "If we try to bump this back one more time, your mother is going to be devastated. She’s been waiting so long and has worked so hard. There’s no way we're taking this away from her."
It took Helena a little while longer than expected to bounce back from her last round of chemotherapy. But finally, after a few months of fighting exhaustion and occasional nausea, she is cancer free and better than ever.
And beyond ready to announce not only my marriage to Fynn, but also the fact that she is about to be a grandmother.
"You know she would do anything for you, Val, so if this is going to be too much…" Fynn tries again. He’s had a hard time witnessing me struggle with all the discomforts pregnancy brings. I'm sure it's connected to how close he came to losing me that day on the boat, but I almost think he would have been just as concerned if that had never happened. That's just the way he is. He is entirely committed to caring for the people he loves and ensuring their comfort and happiness. That's part of why what Jessica did to him was so awful. At one point he genuinely cared about her, and seeing how easily she would ruin him was a tough pill for Fynn to swallow.
That's why I was a little upset to discover she was still walking around Sweet Side instead of hanging out with Warren at the bottom of the ocean.
Then I saw her.
It turns out, not only is Elaine dangerous to anyone who dares to cross her, she is also petty as hell, and I am one hundred percent here for it. It took everything I had to keep from laughing out loud when Helena and I bumped into Jessica at a fundraiser. I don’t know how much make-up she used trying to cover up the word BITCH tattooed across her forehead in thick black letters, but it wasn’t enough.
At least she’s labeled now, so everyone will know what’s coming.
We reach the steps leading down into the sunken portion of the space where all the tables are set up. Before I can angle my big belly to maneuver my way down, Arny is at my other side, gently holding my elbow and providing extra support and balance. He gives me a wide grin and a wink. "You look ravishing, my dear."
"Thank you." I wobble my way down the handful of steps, waiting until both feet are flat on the floor before smoothing down the front of my flowing dress. I turn to Arny and look him over, taking in the clean lines of his cream-colored suit. "You don't look so bad yourself."
He tugs the lapels cutting down the front of his chest, straightening them over the matching button-up spread open at his neck. "You think? Brian picked it out for me."
I reach out to adjust the pink pocket square that serves as the single pop of color in his ensemble. “Well, we already knew Brian has good taste, didn’t we?"
Arny beams. “We did.”
I hadn't been working in Fynn's office long when he decided I should also have flowers delivered there each week. Arny brought the first arrangement himself, and he and Brian hit it off almost immediately and they’ve been nearly inseparable since. Their coupling is one I’m immensely grateful for, because Arny's cool, calm presence has brought Brian's high-strung tendencies down a peg or two. Without that shift, it's likely I would have murdered him by now, because the man gets his panties in a bunch over just about everything.
I love him anyway, but I still probably would have killed him.
Arny double checks to make sure I'm steady on my feet, then leaves to finish checking over the arrangements his employees delivered. The man is a perfectionist so I’m sure he won’t relax until each and every one has been inspected.
It’s one of the reasons Fynn and I decided to help him expand his business. So far the investment has been a great one, especially since Arny now provides flowers to all the upscale salons and boutiques Elaine developed that cater to women of a certain age.
Which then resulted in all those women of a certain age hiring Arny for their own events. It's been pretty freaking amazing to watch things snowball for him. Especially since I’m guessing it won’t be long before he’s planning some events of his own.
Hopefully he waits until I push this kid out so I can help.
"Come on, Love. Let's go find you a place to sit down." Fynn’s steady palm presses against my spine, urging me across the beautifully decorated room.
I want to tell him I'm fine, but we both know I'm not. If I hope to spend even a portion of this party on my feet, then I’ll need to stay on my ass until the guests start to arrive. It's not at all how I first envisioned tonight going, but I can make it work.
When Helena and I began planning our marriage celebration six months ago, we both expected me to be a cute, five-month-pregnant ball of sunshine, with a little basketball belly and maternal glow oozing out my pores. But, as the date kept having to be pushed back more and more, I started to realize our initial plan wasn't going to happen. That's when this became a doubleheader, celebrating both our wedding, and the new addition to our family at once.
Luckily, I know someone who makes the world's most beautiful and comfortable caftans, so I have a custom-made gown to get me through the night.
As Fynn and I make our way across the large space, I double check all the table arrangements and centerpieces. Since we didn't find out what we’re having, everything is in beautiful shades of pale green and creamy off-white, making for a classy, but still appropriate, color scheme.
A color scheme Fynn and I chose to adhere to. Like Arny, Fynn is wearing a crisp, cream suit. But instead of a matching button up, his shirt is the same seafoam hue as my draping dress. Pumps are no longer an option for me, so instead I'm sporting strappy, gold braided flat sandals. They are pretty and comfortable, and give my feet plenty of room to grow, as I'm sure they will over the course of the evening.
I spot the table set up specifically for Fynn and I, and head for the bar-stool-height chair that will help keep me almost eye level as I greet our guests. It's also situated close to the refreshments and the bathroom. Both locations I will probably visit plenty of times over the course of the next few hours.
I'm just getting settled in my seat when Helena comes breezing in, looking stunning, as usual. Her hair is now long enough that she skips a wig most days. Tonight her cropped, silvery strands are styled into a sophisticated and sleek pixie that shows off the dropped diamonds gracing her earlobes.
Her bright eyes scan the space, lighting up when they find me. Helena clasps her hands together, smiling wide as she comes my way. The warmth in her expression is something I will never take for granted, and I bask in it, beaming back at her, the way I always do.
All my hopes that Fynn's closeness with his mother meant I would get to be close with her turned out to be spot on. In the year we've been married, Finn and I have spent practically every afternoon at his mother's apartment. At first, keeping her company as she continued to recover, and more recently helping with any number of her many endeavors. The woman doesn't know how to sit still, and she's never met a business idea she didn't like.
I love it. Almost as much as I love her.
She's the reason I haven't spent my entire pregnancy filled with panic and dread, worried my past set me up to be a shitty mother. Helena has packed an insane amount of mothering into the twelve months I've known her. And, while I'm sure there will be some bumps in the road, I'm not worried because I have her to help me. I have her to be my example of what a mother should be.
“You look lovely, Darling.” She squeezes me in a tight embrace before leaning back to look me over. “Are you feeling okay? We can reschedule if you need to.”
“That’s what I told her.” Fynn watches me with a narrowed gaze. “She insists she’s fine.”
“I am fine.” I give them each a reassuring smile. “I promise.” I don’t know why they’re both so worried. I still have two more weeks before I’m due and from what I’ve heard, plenty of first-time mothers are overdue.
Helena studies me a second longer, her head tilting to one side. “Why don’t I go get you some water.”
She doesn’t give me a chance to tell her, once again, that I’m fine. As she glides toward the beverage station, I roll my eyes even though I love being mothered. “I should be the one getting her water.”
“You should do nothing of the sort.” Fynn steps in front of me, sliding his hands through my hair, smoothing along the straightened strands. “Are you happy with how it’s turned out, wife?”
I relax a little at his petting, letting my eyes fall closed. “Everything looks perfect. So worth all the work.”
“You did put in quite a bit of work making this party perfect.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve done a brilliant job. Not that I expected anything less.”
My lips curve in a smile because just like Helena’s mothering, I will never take Fynn’s praise and appreciation for granted. “Thank you.”
“So polite.” His thumb slides across my lower lip, igniting the flame my over-hormoned body keeps burning at all times now. “I’m sure there’s a storage closet here somewhere. Maybe I should whisk you away and give you more to thank me for.”
It’s not a terrible idea. My lust for my irresistible husband was nearly insatiable before I got pregnant, but now I practically start to salivate at the mere thought of him touching me. Or the thought of me touching him. Or the thought of him touching himself.
“Let’s do that.” I slide from the chair, but Helena appears at Fynn’s side with a frosty glass of water just as my feet hit the floor.
“Here. Drink this.” She all but shoves it in my hands. “You look thirsty.”
“I’m fine.” I take the glass anyway, planning to guzzle it down so she’ll go back to what she was doing and I can sneak off with my husband. “But thank you for—” I must have moved wrong because the water spills onto my mostly exposed feet. “Oops.” I look at the glass and find it’s still filled to the brim.
That’s when I realize the water on my feet isn’t cold.
And it’s also running down the inside of my thighs.
“Oh no.” I lift the hem of my caftan. “No, no, no, no.”
Helena’s eyes snap from the puddle on the floor to my face. She practically bounces in place as she loudly announces. “Cancel the party. We’re having a baby.”
Thank you so much for reading Filthy Liar! I hope you enjoyed Fynn and Val’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Are you excited to find out more about their little bundle of joy AND to see ‘Uncle’ Gavin leave his bed-bouncing ways behind?
Christmas has never been my favorite holiday.
I have to deal with my family—and their friends—being loud, eggnog-drunk idiots. It’s my introverted self’s worst nightmare.
I also have to deal with Gavin. My older brother’s giant, rugby star of a best friend.
The man is as handsome as he is charming, but if you look player up in the dictionary, his face takes up half the page. Every year he jokingly flirts with me and every year I do my best to ignore his fraudulent advances.
Not anymore. This Christmas, I’m calling his bluff.
Only Gavin doesn’t balk when I dare him to take me outside and show me what he’s got, and before I know it, I’m sprawled across the floor of my childhood treehouse, ready for the festivities.
Unfortunately, they’re… unimpressive.
When Gavin shows up at my apartment the next morning asking for a do-over, I’m half tempted to turn him down. But he’s so forlorn looking, I figure why not?
Thank goodness I believe in second chances, because he more than redeems himself.
Now Gavin’s in my bed more often than not.
And I’m about to find out what happens when the world discovers rugby’s biggest player has fallen.