Epilogue
MILES
Ihop into the back of the Escalade next to Ruby and pull up the hefty armrest separating us so I can slide closer. Her hands are already rammed between her legs, and she’s staring into space.
“Rubes?” Nothing. “Ruby?” Still nothing. “Darling?”
She turns her eyes toward me, her focus drifting for a moment before sharpening. “Oh, sorry. Were you saying something?”
“Only your name, Lady Burlington.” Reaching over, I ease one of her hands out. “It's going to be fine.”
Before she replies, the boot slams shut and the driver gets into his seat. Turning around, he gives us a polite smile. “All set, sir, ma’am?”
“We're all set, thank you,” I reply for us both.
“Journey time to Green Grove should be about two hours.”
“Thank you.” I smile, waiting for him to turn back around before my attention is fully on Ruby again. Throughout our flight here, she’s gotten quieter and quieter, and now she’s to the point of mute. “Rubes, babe, what's going on?”
She’s chewing on the side of her thumb, and I have to stifle a laugh because I’ve never seen her so nervous. Not when we got married, not when she played her first match, not even when she met my family.
“What if they don't like you?” she mumbles eventually.
I place a hand against my chest. “I’m offended. You know I can charm the pants off anyone within fifteen minutes.”
She groans, and her eyes roll. “You haven't met my family—”
“Hey, they can't be any worse than mine.”
That gets a chuckle out of her, and she reaches out to take the hand I have waiting for her to hold.
“What are we going to tell them about us?”
“Darling, we can tell them whatever you want. I think the truth would be better, especially as everyone knows we’re married—”
“Polo news doesn’t make it out to Green Grove, Iowa.” She scoffs. “But it’s not like they’ll care either way.”
Lifting her hand, I kiss her palm. I can’t believe they wouldn’t care. But equally, Ruby only ever talks about her family when prompted, so who knows.
“Have you heard from Clementine?”
Ruby might not want to talk about her family or acknowledge that we just landed in Iowa specifically to visit them. But I don’t particularly want to acknowledge the state of my family, either.
The England’s Cup Final was two days ago, and there’s a ten-day break in the polo calendar for all teams to recover and recalibrate from the first half of the season. Since then, no one has seen or heard from Clementine.
Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, because according to Hendricks and Alex, Story and Haven have heard from her. She’s just been missing from the family group chat.
I've used the break to fly out to Iowa with Ruby and visit her family.
My sister, meanwhile, has used it to spend time with Santiago Torres. And honestly, I can't tell you how I feel about it. I'm trying to be cool. I'm trying to be indifferent. But the thought makes me want to hurl.
The only saving grace is that I know Lando, Alex, and Hendricks don't quite understand what's going on either. I want to say I hope it blows over—that she just needs to get something out of her system—but from the way Ruby’s talked about it, I don't think he's going anywhere.
And luckily, every time I feel a rage descending, Ruby’s there to keep me sane. Like now, squeezing my hand.
She smiles, and I swear to God my mind clears and I forget everything. I truly don’t know what I used to do before Ruby Lanson came into my life. I can barely remember functioning. And that’s why I wanted to meet her parents and be with her when we told them about our relationship.
It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a few weeks, since we decided to stay married. We still don’t know everything about each other, and I want to. If we’d done this properly, I would have asked her dad for permission beforehand.
Hopefully, he’ll grant it, even if it’s too late for him to do anything about it.
Whether he likes it or not, he’s stuck with me for life.
I figured I might have to talk Ruby into it, but after I suggested it following the Cup win, she agreed.
I don’t think she thought I meant the next day, however. But no time like the present . . .
I shake my head. “Let's try not to think about our crazy families.”
“That's easy for you to say. We're seeing mine in two hours,” she grumbles, her head flopping back onto the rest.
“Then tell me what to expect.”
The car surges into traffic, and Ruby takes a deep breath.
“My dad, Bobby, will be out in the fields or in the workshop. He probably won’t come in until dinnertime. My brothers . . .” She shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe with him. My mom, Lou-Anne, will be in the house, probably pickling something. Making her famous tomato chutney—”
“It’s famous?”
“Best tomato chutney in the tri-county area,” she says, with pride in her voice.
“I can’t wait.” I wink, which earns me a smile. “When was the last time you went home?”
“Two and a half years ago—”
Jesus. I can’t imagine not seeing my family for two and a half years, even with how annoying they are, and how much I wish I could divorce them.
But we—myself included—are all too fucking nosy to let any of us disappear.
Even Clementine. I know that by tomorrow, there’ll be half a dozen messages on the family group chat wanting to know what’s going on. Mostly from Alex.
It makes me sad, because Ruby deserves their support. They should be so fucking proud of what she’s achieved. I’m proud, and I’ve only known her seven months.
As usual, she reads my mind. “It’s okay, they just don’t really understand polo.
Barrel racing, they could have gotten behind, but polo is a bit far out for them.
” She smiles, though I can see the disappointment behind it.
“My mom updates me on the farm, what they’re doing, sends me pictures of her pickles, that kind of thing . . .”
“And what do you share in return?”
“Pictures.” She shrugs and turns toward the window again.
It didn’t take long for us to speed out of the congested airport surroundings until we’re traveling along the kind of straight roads you only seem to find in America, wide expanses with vast fields stretching out so far on either side they seem to reach the edges of the earth.
We pass walls of cornstalks neatly sown in rows stretching miles, reminding me of that baseball movie, Field of Dreams. Every now and then, the yellow fields are broken up and we see a couple of horses and cows grazing.
The closer we get, the more obvious her nerves become. Even if I couldn't see the map on the satnav, I'd know exactly how close we were from the way her body stiffens.
“Babe.”
“Hmm?”
“What's the worst that's going to happen if they don't like me?”
She shakes her head. “I don't know.”
“Exactly. Literally nothing—”
“What if you don't like them?”
I shrug. “Again, nothing.”
“Really?” she replies, her tone so unsure, her voice verges on shaky.
I’m trying to read between the lines, but the only thing I can come up with is, “Ruby, do you think that if I don't like your parents, it’ll come between us?” Her head drops, and I tuck two fingers under her chin and gently tug it up to face me. “Hey, you’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah?”
Her hair is styled in long, thick waves today, and I tuck my fingers underneath it, pushing into her nape.
The movement pulls her toward me, her mouth on mine.
Teasing along the seam of her lips, she opens enough that I can sweep my tongue against hers.
She tastes like the mints we were given as we left the plane, along with remnants of a vanilla lip balm.
I fucking love kissing her, I love the way she sinks into me with a quiet moan. It’s like a permanent reset to my nervous system.
But knowing we’re in the back of a car with no privacy divider, she pulls away before it gets too deep and shoots me a smile.
“Yes. Forever.”
“I kind of like the idea of forever.”
“What a relief,” I reply with a laugh, smacking my lips to hers again.
“Do you think everyone's okay at the yard? Do you think Mav’s okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. I think everyone will survive the five days we're gone.”
“Five? Five days?” she asks, eyes flaring. “I thought we were only seeing my parents today. We’re not staying five days.”
I grin. “No, we’re not.”
Her nose scrunches with confusion. “Then . . . ?”
“How d’you feel about taking a little detour home via the Bahamas—”
“Shut up.” She slaps me hard on the chest. “Seriously?”
I laugh hard. I mean, a trip to the Bahamas always warrants the kind of delight rivaling a child on Christmas morning, but I get such a kick out of seeing it on Ruby’s face, especially because I put it there.
And it’s with that enthusiasm we arrive at her parents’ farm—a big, white house, with a wraparound porch, a swinging bench, and a garden filled with fruit trees.
Chickens roam freely, a couple of cats are lying on the balustrade, and at the sound of the car approaching, a pack of dogs appears from around the corner, rushing out to welcome us just like at Burlington.
In the distance is an enormous workshop, its big doors wide open, and I count three John Deere tractors of varying sizes, plus a combine harvester. Mr. Lanson is running a serious operation here.
“Is this where you grew up?”
Ruby nods, her eyes dropping. “It’s not fancy—”
“Don’t do that. I like it.”
What I do find odd, however, is that only the animals arrive in greeting, even when we get out and take our bags from the boot, and the driver leaves. I peer around, waiting for someone to run out and hug Ruby, but no one comes.
“You told them we’re coming, right?”
Ruby nods. “They know. But it won’t interrupt anything they’re already doing. Work takes priority.”
My brows rise in question, and she shrugs, but I can see the disappointment. I take it back; it’s nothing like the welcome you get at Burlington.
“Let’s go inside. We can leave our bags and go find everyone.”