Epilogue
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Happily Ever After
Alister
Later that evening…
“August,” I murmur as I carry my sleepy not-quite-legal wife over the threshold and into her bright yellow house.
Softly, she snuggles in, a small breath leaving her as she mumbles what in Japanese.
It must be past three in the morning. Which means…it’s the perfect time to get whatever I want out of her.
Plopping her on her couch, I kneel in the train of her flowing, lacy gown and cup her cheeks in my hands. “Hi.”
An exhausted smile lifts into her eyes, and she touches my wrist before she annihilates my heart, ever so simply, with just two words. “Hi, Ali.”
“How’d you find out?”
A little laugh escapes her, and she closes her eyes to nestle against my hand. “I went to your grandparents’ house. I was planning to play Sherlock and interrogate them because I thought Beth was the least involved party. Unfortunately, she has a photo of your graduation in the entry hall.”
“Ah. That thing.”
Letting her hand skim up my arm, she ruffles my dark hair. “Not blond.”
“Nope, not blond.” I drift into the peace of her presence. “Hope that’s okay?”
“I just…” Her chest trembles as she subdues a laugh. “I can’t believe you said, Crap, she wants a blond. This is of utmost importance and will be the deciding factor in whether or not we live happily ever after.”
“You deserve your every desire. Besides, I wanted my chances to be as good as possible.”
“Uh-huh.” Sleepily, she tips forward and plants a sloppy kiss to my forehead. “I love that you started this scheme so wickedly ready to fool me into falling for you.”
“I told you we were inevitable. One way or another, I was going to get us to right here, to right now.” I peer into her tired, deliriously happy eyes. “Does anything disappoint you, my lovely author? I’m open and available for edits. I even still have the blond wig.”
She slips off the couch and into my lap, a puddle of soft and small as her arms come around me. “No, you’re perfect. Just the way you are. Because just the way you are is totally going to love my idea for our boring courthouse visit.”
“Historical arranged marriage?” I ask.
She gasps. “How’d you know?”
“You said something about top hats and corsets, used my phone to order them at the reception, rambled the bones of your idea to December—who went around to everyone trying to get them to sign a napkin petition that you include a million kisses before she got pass-out drunk—and have just in general not been that quiet about it.”
“Oh, right.” Her brown eyes glitter. “I’m not discreet about my ideas unless I’m plotting a cozy mystery.”
“Mm. I’ll bet.” I trace an image into the thick stars on her cheeks. “You’re so tired.”
“Yeah.” Unrivaled bliss consumes her. “I know we’re getting married in a week, but…do you think we might explore a beloved trope tonight?”
“Why, August. What a suggestion. I can’t believe you want to wear one of my t-shirts before we’re wed.”
A tiny gasp escapes her. “I mean…yes. Let’s absolutely add that to it.”
“Add?” I let my eyes widen. “Wait. Were you… No, you couldn’t be. Are you suggesting…only one casket?”
August snorts, descending into a weary fit.
“Scandalous,” I drone.
“You’re so…” She squishes my face. “Ali.”
The peace invades my blood, secure and warm and laced in unlimited possibility. Being with her is like…summer break as a child. Back before the world became dull and convinced us to conform to its gray. Back when anything was probable. Anything at all.
I cradle her. As close as I can. Lips brushing her throat, I say, “Yes, well. I suppose I am.”
Breath leaves her stunned and so enchanting. “I love you, Ali.”
My muscles seize as my thoughts freeze.
“So much,” she adds, softly.
I stare at her, stricken with adoration. When my lips part, though, all I can say is: “We still have work tomorrow. Don’t think being this precious will get you out of it.”
Her jaw drops. “What about our honeymoon?”
“I planned that for after we get the papers signed.”
“You’re evil.”
“Just the way you like me.”
Heat skates across her cheeks, and she rests one against my shoulder.
I comb my fingers through her hair. “August, honey?”
“Mm?”
“I was going to save this for the morning, but I like the way you’re half conscious and so submissive right now.”
“You’re going to take advantage of me in my weariness?” She smiles, lifting her face to kiss my jaw. “I don’t deserve you.”
She deserves so much more. Which is why I’m going to give her absolutely everything. Always.
Letting my eyes close, I soak in her touch, hypnotized by the way it trails down my jawline, to my pulse. She licks her lips against me, and I shudder, asking, “Do you want children?”
Her torture ceases and she meets my eyes. “Yikes. Are we really having this conversation right now?”
“Yes. I think I’ll like the way you respond when you’re like this.”
The hue of her cheeks deepens before she tucks against my dress suit, gripping her hands in my shirt.
“No, I don’t want kids. Not right now at least. I probably shouldn’t ever.
I’m of the mindset that trauma builds character, and I’d hate to have lame 2D children, so I might be a rotten mother on purpose. ”
Good thing Wynnter wants kids, then.
I press on. “Where would you like to live?”
“Can we stay here, or do you have important things to get back to in the great Mont Business Headquarters?”
My breath catches. “Would you really move for me?”
Her little brow furrows, and she leans back to tilt her head. “Sure. This small town with city airs leaves me stuck in between tropes. You may take me to an actual city, if you’d like. I’m sure there will be tons of stories for me to find there.”
I love this woman. “We can stay here. I’ve grown somewhat attached to the area.” I coddle her. “Finances. How are we going to handle our finances?”
“Are we speedrunning all the important pre-marriage questions right now? At three in the morning? Because I’m delirious with happiness and you want to take advantage of my lowered cognitive function?”
“Yes, obviously.”
“Ah, well, carry on then. Finances…” She ponders them for a moment.
“You may spoil me. But only a little bit. I, out of the benevolence of my heart, shall continue to work for your company and simultaneously distract you from your important company business with my anime recommendations. You’re welcome.
We can alternate on who pays the bills. You’re responsible for taxes.
I’m not even glancing at them once the government knows we’re together.
Your lawyer might want to know that Granee pays me under the table when I take shifts at Bear’s.
I hope that doesn’t get you arrested or anything. ”
Somehow, I think her working a few hours a few days a month is gonna slide under the IRS radar a little longer.
Thus far, this is going incredibly well.
She says, “We should probably get checked out by a doctor before next week. In case there have been any consequences from previous spicy behavior.”
My brows rise, and a prick of vivid distaste for all the men in the universe overcomes me. “Oh? My goodness, little saint. I wasn’t aware you’d dabbled in that genre.”
“I haven’t, but…” She clears her throat and gives me a once-over.
“I haven’t either.”
Her lashes flutter. “What did you do? Beat potential admirers off with a stick? You’re kind of gorgeous, Ali. Did you know that?”
My face heats. “Mostly, I stayed in my office, have a male PA, and don’t do anything outside of work.”
“Except watch anime with your endearing little VA.”
I chuckle. “Yes, exactly. Very few opportunities to heighten the heat level of my life. And, to be honest, for a while I thought you were a guy, so I was doomed to perish alone.”
Far too much aghast enters her expression. “What?”
“You thought I was a girl until mere weeks ago.”
“Yes, a compliment! I assumed your left and right brain communicated with one another. Meanwhile, you thought I, as adorable as I am, was a boy.”
“While I appreciate your assumptions regarding my cognitive function, it stands to reason that you thought a strapping young lad like myself was a girl.”
“You fangirled with me. About Usui. I have a mile-long email from you about him.”
I’m fairly sure it was a modest three paragraphs, but whatever. “Usui is the ideal no matter what gender I am, so. I don’t even know what point you’re trying to make right now.”
Losing her determination, she snuggles. “Neither am I, actually. I’m tired.”
I rise, lifting her back into my arms. “I suppose it’s time to get you in one of my shirts, then.”
Drowsy, she says, “We should probably still get checked for any medical issues. Just in case we have anything from our parents to consider.”
“A wise plan. I’ll bribe a local doctor in the morning to get us appointments before the arranged marriage takes place next week.”
“Yay,” she murmurs while I navigate the labyrinth of bookshelves that lead to her bed.
Setting her in the sunshine-yellow plush, I soak in the way her open window casts the full moonlight across her skin and her gown. When she reaches to turn on her fairy lights, I find myself momentarily blinded, then struck.
She glows.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, she looks at me.
Moments pass.
It all sinks in.
I can’t believe she’s mine. Finally mine.
Her foot lifts from the ripples of her gown, and I lower my attention to her shoe. Obedient, I free her from the laces and straps of one, then the other. Immediately after, she starfishes and wiggles her toes, hissing, “Freedom.”
Warm, I say, “Is there anything else we need to talk about tonight?”
“No. I’m sure I’ll still be happy and pliant in the morning. You can persist in manipulating me into acting like an adult on the verge of a massive life-changing milestone then, if you’d like.”
“I might. I’ll do it over breakfast. Which I’ll make for you.”
“Not if I make it for you first.”
“There is no she cooks for him trope.”
Her brow lurches. “Well, there is. We just call it traditional expectations and go ewwww.”
Yeah, so, we’ll be keeping those out of our stories, thanks. “Ready for me to get you a t-shirt, my darling author?”
Her lashes kiss her cheeks. “Mm.”
I turn, pause at the start of the bookcases leading toward the door, and look back.
Chin dipped toward her shoulder, August lies in the sunshine shades, out cold. Fragile breaths fill her. The lights dapple her skin, kissing her freckles. The scene steals my heart, my mind, and my soul.
Returning to her, I brace a hand beside her precious face, lower myself, and touch a chaste kiss to her lips. “I love you.” In her slumber, she echoes the intonations of the declaration, so I kiss her again, and say, “I can’t wait to see where our next story leads.”
Because, while this world might be full of probabilities, I know one thing for sure.
No matter what story we wind up in next, I’m looking forward to facing every chapter together.
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This concludes Probably Summer! Thank you for reading about August and Alister! Tales from Amarella, Georgia continue with December and Wynnter’s story in Surely Christmas
Keep reading for an unedited preview!