Epilogue 1
Epilogue
A few months later…
Bunny
“ I don’t wanna dance, Rabbit, ” grumps Nolan from the white backyard bench he’s been sitting on since we finished cutting our wedding cake. “I wanna sit here. Drink a beer. And not have fuckin’ flashes goin’ off in my face every twenty seconds.”
Folding my ivory, long sleeve, chiffon covered arms over my tits that have grown almost a full cup size during my pregnancy is attached to a firm expression. “ It’s our wedding day- ”
“Only reason I let Garcia and Demián talk me into wearing this fuckin’ suit.”
“And you look so fucking sexy in it.”
He struggles not to grin behind the Pilsner pressing against his lips.
What can I say?
Mutt in a suit?
Win column.
The “ please repeat ” side of the sheet.
Does he look good in his typical day-to-day jeans and whatever shirt is clean getup?
Of course.
It’s just like Kid – who is rocking the shit out of burnt orange, brown jacket and matching polka dotted bowtie along with light dress pants and dark shoes – he looks even more fuckable all dressed up.
I love that Nolan chose a light gray suit and tie.
I love that it reflects him the same way the playful but formal attire Kid picked out mirrors himself.
And what I love even more is that they each had a separate “father, son” like shopping trip with Demián to acquire them.
The Garcias – all four of them – have become family.
Val for her doctor meets bestie meets future auntie level of care.
Garcia – Vic – for everything he’s done in the past as well as everything he helped setup for us and our little one to have a safe , stalker free, along with prison free, future.
Demián and Eva for not only taking over wardrobe prep – he took them, she took me, Posie, and Val on a pampering excursion to find what I wanted for our special day – but for taking over the entire cost of this and a mini beachside honeymoon.
After recovering from ending last year in literal flames, we took a couple days as a whole to talk.
Actually. Talk.
We discussed what we saw in our futures – together and separately.
We went over the house and new office plans – which included eventually hiring help so they could be present in our child’s life.
We talked about baby names, baby prep, and lastly what sort of celebration we wanted for both our bundle of joy – who managed to survive all the trauma unscathed – and for uniting us.
We came to the collective consensus that what we wanted was something small but away from the town itself, so over dinner one night, when Garcia suggested his parents’ beautiful backyard – the backyard to the place where we got engaged – it sounded perfect.
We were so grateful when they said yes, but flabbergasted when they offered to pay for it all.
Our refusal fell on deaf ears yet our requests – blue velvet cake, bright colorful bouquets of flowers, a limited number of guests – were all welcomed with open arms.
Jokes that their kids may never get married while they’re still alive to witness it were at the forefront of everything, but honestly?
It was easy to see that they have always viewed Nolan like an additional son.
And caring for him, giving him a special day, was all they were trying to do.
Which they definitely succeeded in.
As grumpy as he is now , he’s been all smiles the rest of the day.
The only time I’ve seen him smile more was when we discovered I am actually having a boy.
Ugh.
The amount of gloating I suffered through had me threatening not to walk down the aisle with them at all.
They immediately called my bluff creating a very long, very sticky drive back to Death Canyon that afternoon.
I actually don’t mind that we’re having a little guy.
You know…as long as no one tries to name him Jr.
“ Mutt… ” leaves me in a soft, sweet, seductive tone alongside a small sway of my lace front, boho gown that flatters my five-month pregnant stomach. “ Please… ”
Grumbles of unhappiness precede another sip of his beer. “ Promise you’ll beg me like that later tonight, you dirty, little whore, and I just might. ”
It’s impossible not to whimper, but thankfully, the person approaching is one welcomed to hear it. “I love when our wife makes that sound.” Kid slides an arm around my lower back and flashes our husband a mischievous grin. “ Have her make it again, Sir. ”
This time it’s Nolan who releases a low note to express unsated hunger.
We didn’t wake up all together in our bed this morning.
In fact, we slept in three separate locations prior to getting ready in the same fashion to “build to the big moment”.
I would definitely put the big jaw-dropping reveals in the “worth it” file; however, I wouldn’t have minded being breakfast rather being brought breakfast.
What can I say?
This pregnancy thing keeps me feigning for multiple orgasms like some sort of drug addict.
Thankfully, there’s always someone willing to offer a hand.
Or tongue.
Or cock.
Or a vibrator if they’re just totally wiped for the day.
“I wanna dance with both of you,” I state while wiping away wedding cake crumbs near the corner of Kid’s mouth, “at least once tonight.”
Kid lovingly grins at my cleaning gesture. “Like all together?”
“Yes.”
“We can do that,” he warmly announces prior to shifting his stare to our partner. “We can be good husbands and dance with our wife at our wedding .” The abundant use of the terms gets underneath Mutt’s skin like he knew it would. “ Right, Sir? ”
“ Forfuckssake, ” grouses Nolan at the same time he abandons his bottle of beer. “Fine. You can have one dance, Rabbit.”
“ Wife ,” sassily escapes on a sexy smirk.
“ Fuck, I love the sound of that too goddamn much .” Mutt grumbles during the rising to his feet.
“So does your husband ,” Kid playfully pokes, grin matching mine.
“ Fuck, I love the sound of that too ,” the man who put back nine mini burgers in between photos contentedly murmurs against his own volition. “Like a C8 Corvette, you two have too much fuckin’ power.”
Mirth-filled eyebrow wiggles are given as I guide them both by the hand towards the fake-wood dance floor space in the middle of the yard. “Just wait until the first time you hear our son say dadda.”
“ Fuck . Me. ” He huffs in tandem with Kid laughing. “I’m never gonna have balls again.”
“You’ve got the best balls,” our younger hubs teases on a wink. “And I can’t wait to put them in my mouth later.”
Nolan groans and sloppily smashes his mouth against Kipp’s for a less than chaste kiss.
Once we’re on the dance floor, the DJ changes the song that I specifically picked for this moment.
I did the math.
Weighed my options.
Calculated the timing.
I knew Mutt would only give up one dance tonight – once he had successfully eaten a full plate and chugged back at bit of beer – so I wanted the song to be one he not only knew but would appreciate.
Familiar notes from Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” begin flowing out of the speakers, instantly pulling the corners of his lips upwards.
“An oldie but goodie like you,” sassily leaves me resulting in an unsuspecting kiss to the back of my hand.
The melody effortlessly summons others from their seats to join us in the special moment, and we smile in unison.
Post – while still solo – doesn’t let it stop him from snapping and shuffling near the edge of the space beside the Cotterells, clearly a fan of the song.
His injury healed without complication, and gratefully, he – along with everyone else in town – stuck to the story concocted regarding the series of events that unfolded on his watch.
Getting the case to be declared open and shut didn’t require much from anyone due to him.
Hell, even labeling the fire to be a space heater fiasco rather than arson was easy courtesy of his string pulling.
Between proper paperwork and proper compensation, we were gifted a true, new beginning.
And Post?
He received a few upgrades to the department to guarantee he can continue to serve the community at his best.
Pretty sure his dedication to keeping the town safe is the reason he’s still single.
We can put that level of devotion on the reasons why I’m happy to be raising our family where he’s the sheriff spreadsheet.
Gently swinging my hips from side to side to the same rhythm Mutt and Kid are blissfully bouncing their shoulders gets me grinning wider.
Giggling.
Glancing around at the others in the crowd casually enjoying the classic tune.
Like Posie and Paolo – who hasn’t proposed quite yet – Braxton and Val serenade each other from a close embrace, revealing that while they may have come here dateless, they may not be leaving that way.
“Watch this,” Nolan commands and slips out of my hold to unexpectedly execute a smooth slide on a crooning note.
Warmer laughs escape us both; however, it’s Kid who teases, “ Save something for us later, Sir. ”
“You like that shit?” He jovially pokes back. “How about this?” Our husband’s hand lands on his heart as he tips his head back to loudly sing the words towards the sky.
“ Sí, ” Demián compliments dancing in a similar fashion beside Eva. “ Cántala, muchacho mío. ” Pointed fingers on each hand are extended up towards the sky. “Sing it.”
“Ohhhhh, I like those moves,” Kid calls out before joining them in the motions.
“You look good doin’ ‘em,” Mutt warmly praises, “unlike Garcia over there.”
“Fuck you, Ace,” chuckles his other best friend who is clutching the hand of the random woman he brought as his date.
Yeah.
That was unexpected.
For Zero too considering he bailed before the cake was even cut.
I don’t entirely understand their situation, but I don’t think they do either.
I hope they figure it out though.
Everyone deserves love.
Happiness.
And everything else our man Al here sings about.