EPILOGUE
Shawn
FIVE YEARS LATER...
Five years and I still don’t know how I got here.
Five years of waking up next to the woman who turns my insides to mush. Five years of building our home together. Five years of more happiness than one man should ever be allowed.
The second it seemed appropriate — exactly six months since crashing into her hotel room — I put my ring on her finger. Fuck waiting. She was mine and I wasn’t taking any chances.
Plus, I wanted my life with hers. I wanted all her things mixed with mine. I wanted our photos on the walls. Our clothes in the same closet. I wanted to get mail with Mr. and Mrs. Miller stamped all over them.
Now, I have it.
Have her.
There isn’t a damn thing else I could ask for, except...
The truck rumbles into the driveway. Gravel pops under the tires.
The air freshener — a grinning cat she’d chosen — swings wildly from the rearview mirror.
Our house rises up in front of me, warm with yellow sidings she picked and a porch swing I built.
Windchimes tinkle from the awning over the steps, sounding perfect in the January afternoon.
I pocket the keys and kick open my door. I’m jogging up the path and to the door in less time than it would take to take a breath.
“Chrissy? I’m home,” I yell from the foyer cluttered with a brimming coat rack and a shelf filled with shoes — mainly hers.
“One second!” I hear from upstairs.
I shrug out of my coat and hook it on the only available peg on the rack. I’m working on my laces when I hear the creak of boards.
Still as devastatingly beautiful as ever, Chrissy descends the steps in a flowy, baby pink dress with puffy, sheer sleeves and a skirt that hangs over the bulging bump at her middle.
And like every time I see her, my heart flips. My focus wavers as I take her in like she’s the only light in the world.
“Do you like it?”
I somehow find myself on the step just beneath her, arms around her wide hips. Her hands fall to my shoulders.
“You’re fucking beautiful, baby,” I breathe, peering up into her eyes.
Five years ago, Jefferson knew what took me too long to realize — that I was hopelessly, madly in love with Chrissy Turner. A few speculated and raised their eyebrows when the news hit the town. But it never stuck. No one seemed to care when it was never really scandalous.
I just cared that I finally got my girl. She was truly and wholly mine at last.
“Dad says he’ll meet us at the restaurant,” she’s saying when I can focus again.
Gingerly, I settle my palms on either side of her bump and gently rub the taut skin through the soft cotton.
“Are you up for that drive?” I ask her softly.
Four hours is a long drive when she wasn’t seven months pregnant.
“You are not depriving me of my pasta,” she teases.
“I wouldn’t deprive you of anything. Just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”
Her hands frame my face, and she kisses me, slow and sweet.
“I’m fine. Now, let’s go before Dad comes here to repaint the nursery ... again.”
I groan and she chuckles.
“I don’t even remember what color we started with,” I mutter.
“Eggshell,” she says simply. “But Dad said his grandbaby wasn’t going to leave a white hospital to live in a white room.”
“He’s insane. He’s painted that room six times in the last five months.”
Chrissy shrugs. “He’s excited. Probably more than we are.”
I can’t even be annoyed about it.
From the moment Mark found out, he’s made it his mission to make sure this kid has everything. Literally. I had to put my foot down on the crib, demanding to build it myself.
“He’s Grandpa,” I mumble, reminding myself. “Let him have his fun.”
Chrissy beams and kisses me again.
“Love you, Daddy.”
My cock immediately perks at the new nickname. Definitely never thought I’d like it, but...
“Stop that or I will fuck you and you’ll have to explain to your dad why we were late.”
Her eyebrow quirks to mirror the impish smirk on her lips. “Why do you think I’m not wearing underwear?”
THE END
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