Epilogue
DARCY
One year later…
I landed the account on a Wednesday. An independent Italian restaurant in the North End, third-generation and family-owned, with an actual story worth telling instead of a branding committee trying to manufacture one.
I’d pitched for it back in May, spent two weeks building a campaign I’m genuinely proud of, and when the call finally came, I did a small, completely undignified victory lap around the apartment before texting the boys.
Mack had replied, “Good,” which, from him, is basically confetti cannons. Tyler called me immediately.
“We should go check it out,” he’d said. “Take you to dinner to celebrate.”
“You mean eat pasta.”
“I mean support your client professionally through chicken parm.”
It seemed obvious after that. I had the account, and now we had an excuse to dress up on a Tuesday in June.
When the date finally rolls around, we almost don’t make it out the door.
I come downstairs in my black silk midi dress, cream dots scattered across the fabric and kitten heels low enough to survive cobblestone.
Tyler looks at me with the expression that means I’m about to be thoroughly ruined before I even reach the last stair.
Mack notices his face, then follows his gaze toward me.
“Fuck, Darcy,” he mutters before Tyler’s even standing.
Ninety seconds later, I’m bent over the couch with my dress shoved up around my hips and both of them taking turns filling me like I’m the main event, which I suppose I am.
I come twice in under fifteen minutes.
By the time I’m standing in front of the bathroom mirror fixing my lipstick, my hair’s ruined, my knees feel unreliable at best, and they’re both leaning in the doorway watching me with zero remorse.
“If either of you touches this dress again before we get out the door,” I say, looking at both of them in the mirror, “I will go to dinner alone.”
Tyler’s hand slides slowly up the silk anyway, making Mack smirk.
I swat him away against my better judgment, and we make it out the door.
Barely.
The restaurant sits on a corner in the North End with all the doors thrown open to the summer evening. Warm air moves through the dining room carrying fresh basil, garlic, and the smell of freshly baked bread, making my mouth water.
The original bones of the building are still visible beneath everything newer
dark wood, a marble bar, black-and-white photographs lining the walls. I step inside behind Tyler and stop so abruptly that Mack nearly plows into me.
Coop’s already halfway out of his chair at the far end of the room, grinning so hard he looks physically incapable of sitting still. Marco’s beside him nursing a beer and looking entirely too calm for whatever is clearly happening. Trick lifts one hand from the end of the table.
Then I see Ryan near the bar.
And Bex beside him, wearing the dress she’s been texting me screenshots of since April. She supposedly needed another month before fully moving to Boston, and now she’s looking at me with a smug smile like she knows something I’m only just catching up to.
Story of my life.
My parents are there too, standing two feet away talking to the MacAllisters like this is somehow a completely normal Tuesday night.
My mother keeps rubbing her thumb against the stem of her wineglass. My father shoves both hands into his pockets and gives me a glossy-eyed smile the second he notices me staring at him.
Oh my god.
The first phone call after West Chester lasted almost two hours.
My mother barely spoke for half of it. My father asked if they made me happy, and I said yes so fast I surprised myself.
After that, there were more calls. Then the weekend me, Mack, and Tyler drove out to Pennsylvania and sat in my parents’ kitchen while my mother asked increasingly direct questions and my father argued football with Tyler for so long they missed half a movie afterward.
“In this house,” my father told them at one point, raising his beer bottle for emphasis, “you are either Steelers fans or you are wrong.”
Mack had agreed without hesitation. Tyler just said, “We’ll work on it,” which my father decided was acceptable diplomacy.
Now my mother’s standing beside Carmela discussing restaurant lighting while my father laughs at something Jim says near the bar.
Everybody’s here.
Station 37, Bex, Ryan, my parents, and theirs.
All of them.
I can already feel myself starting to cry.
“Surprise,” Mack says against my ear.
My eyes go wide.
“What is all of this?”
“We’re getting to that,” Tyler says with a small nod past my shoulder. “Stay right there.”
Mack’s hand slips away from the small of my back as he and Tyler move in front of me together. Around us, the conversation starts fading out one voice at a time until the whole room’s watching, Coop included, which honestly feels historic.
I rub my palms against the sides of my dress, suddenly very aware of what my hands are doing.
Then they’re both dropping down on one knee.
My hands fly to my mouth before I can fully embarrass myself in front of thirty people.
I’ve done this once before.
I’ve stood in front of a man holding out a ring and felt mostly stunned by the fact that it was happening at all.
I remember smiling because that was the right response and trying very hard to locate the feeling underneath it everyone always talks about.
Relief, maybe. Gratitude. Panic wearing a nice outfit.
I kept waiting for certainty to arrive after the fact, like marriage was something you grew into if you behaved correctly long enough.
I loved Brett.
But standing in front of him never felt like standing in front of my person.
Standing in front of Mack and Tyler now feels so different it almost makes me angry at the woman who once thought the first time was enough.
The only thing in my body right now is yes.
They both look up at me, but the words spill out before either of them can say a thing.
“Yes,” I say, laughing through the tears. “Obviously yes. A thousand times yes.”
The room erupts around us, and the relief that flashes across Tyler’s face makes me laugh again as he takes the ring box from Mack. He opens it with hands that are steadier than mine feel right now, and a moment later the ring slides onto my finger.
I stare down at it for a second, turning my hand beneath the low restaurant lights.
Two carats, marquise cut, elongated and pointed at both ends, set low in a simple platinum band.
Clean. Uncluttered. Exactly the kind of ring I’ve always stopped to stare at for too long in jewelry store windows before pretending I wasn’t looking.
Mack is in front of me before I can say anything, both hands warm against my cheeks as he presses his forehead to mine. I feel the breath leave him, followed by the tiny shake that tells me just how hard he’s been holding himself together.
Then Tyler’s arms come around me, and he’s laughing against my hair while I cry into his shoulder because apparently there are no limits to how publicly emotional I’m capable of becoming.
Around us, the room slowly comes back to life.
Chairs scrape against the floor. Glasses clink.
Carmela is openly crying now, while Jim claps both boys on the shoulder hard enough to nearly knock Tyler sideways.
My father hugs Mack first, which almost takes me out completely, then pulls Tyler into the same embrace while pretending his eyes aren’t red.
When my mother finally reaches me, she pulls me into her arms and holds me there.
“You look happy.”
I close my eyes.
“I am.”
And for once, there’s nothing complicated underneath it.
Home feels different afterward.
The apartment still smells faintly like the sandalwood candle I lit before we left, the air conditioning humming steadily against the summer heat.
Tyler’s tie lands somewhere near the kitchen as we head up the loft stairs, and Mack’s suit jacket ends up over the back of the couch before he follows us down the hall, already looking at me like he’s hungry for me again.
My heels come off beside the bed, and I’m still turning the ring slowly around my finger when Tyler sits on the edge of the mattress and reaches for me.
“Fiancée,” he says softly, like he’s trying the word out.
“Wife,” Mack corrects from behind him.
My stomach flips.
“Not officially. Not yet.” I look between them.
Tyler catches his lower lip between his teeth, then smiles.
“A matter of paperwork. Now come here.”
He draws me into his lap, and I barely have time to laugh before his mouth finds mine. His hands slide beneath the silk at my waist, and I feel him smile when his fingers find the zipper at my back.
“We’re keeping this dress,” he murmurs.
“We almost didn’t make it out of the house in this dress.”
“All the more reason,” Mack says, closer now.
His loosened tie lands somewhere beside my abandoned heels.
Tyler’s hands move over me like he already knows every reaction he’s going to pull from me before I make it. I feel the wetness between my legs already pooling, already aching for both of them, and I instinctively start to grind on his hard length before our clothes have even come off.
“Better hurry up, Ty,” Mack taunts, his hard body against my back now. “Looks like our girl is extra desperate tonight.”
“Just how we like her,” Tyler chuckles. “You needy to come all over your fiancés’ cocks, Trouble?”
God, yes.
The way he says it makes my pussy pulsate.
“Yes,” I sigh.
Mack presses into me harder, pushing my tits forward into Tyler’s face, who then begins to trace them with his tongue.
“Yes, what, baby?”
My head tips back, eyes peering directly up to Mack’s.
“Yes…sir.”
His hand comes around my throat with a growl, keeping my head in place as he leans down, his tongue parting my lips instantly while Tyler slips my arms out of my dress, fully exposing my chest.
He latches onto my nipple and sucks, drawing a hiss from my mouth without breaking my kiss with Mack. Then Tyler’s jutting his hips forward while I continue grinding down on him, giving me the friction I’m craving, but it’s still not enough.
I need them both. Everywhere.
Tyler lifts me briefly with one arm to kick off his dress pants while Mack undresses behind me. I slip my dress off over my head before he pulls me back down onto his lap and directly onto his throbbing cock.
I wiggle through that sweet ache of him filling me up until I’m fully settled. He leans back on the mattress, pulling me forward with him so my hands rest on his chest. I hear the sound of lube behind me before Mack’s tip is rubbing against my rear.
I suck in a breath and Tyler captures my mouth as Mack slowly pushes his way through my tight hole.
“Breathe, baby,” his voice gravelly. “We’ve got you.”
I do, even though it takes effort to remember how. I’m so full of them everywhere it hurts in the most satisfying way. And then they begin to move, slow at first, setting a rhythm as their hips pump in and out of me in both directions.
My fingers knot against Tyler’s chest just to keep myself tethered somewhere inside my own body.
“You’re fucking perfect, Darcy,” Tyler murmurs.
“Ty—” I mew.
Mack’s hand slides slowly up my spine then, fingertips dragging lightly against my gooseflesh before one hand settles on my shoulder and he picks up the pace.
“Mason—” I moan, the sensation inside me coiling tighter.
Something in him snaps. He bends over me, catches my jaw, and turns my face toward his, stealing my mouth in a desperate kiss as Tyler keeps me moving with him.
Both of them pound into me as my body goes taut, my head moving back and forth between both of them in sloppy tongue kisses until I can barely keep track of anything.
Their voices overlap, and the words push me over the edge.
“Come for us, baby.”
“I wanna feel you dripping down my cock.”
The words do it, sending my body into a violent shiver as I clench around Tyler’s thick length with a sharp moan.
“Oh, fuck…” Tyler calls out as I feel him explode inside of me right after.
But Mack isn’t finished. He keeps sliding in and out of me like a man unhinged. The feeling of him behind me paired with Tyler’s cock still warm inside of me makes my belly coil all over again. Tyler reads my face as my mouth falls open and begins circling his hips.
“Come on, Trouble, I know you got at least one more in you,” he teases. “Wanna come on my cock again while my brother fills up that sweet little ass?”
“Uh-huh,” I manage, my voice wrecked.
His arms close around me, holding me exactly where he wants me while Mack stays close behind me.
“Come on, baby,” Mack grunts. “Give us more.”
He captures my lips again, and I groan into his mouth as I come for the second time, my whole body tightening around them. Mack follows a moment later.
Much later, I’m stretched between them, my engagement ring pressed cool against Mack’s chest where my hand found its way sometime in the middle of the night. Tyler is half asleep behind me, one arm heavy across my waist, while Mack’s fingertips drift along my arm in slow, absentminded passes.
I turn my hand slightly, watching the ring catch the low bedroom light.
A year and a half ago, I was picking centerpieces for a wedding that made me feel numb whenever someone asked if I was excited.
Tonight, I’m between two men I love who looked at me across a crowded restaurant and made forever sound like an adventure instead of a death sentence.
Like this was always where I was headed once I finally stopped trying to force myself into lives that never quite fit.
My throat tightens.
“Oh no,” Tyler murmurs sleepily against my hair without opening his eyes. “She’s crying again.”
I laugh because, unfortunately, he’s right.
Mack’s hand slides higher to my shoulder and squeezes.
“C’mere, baby.”
I tuck myself closer between them while Tyler presses a sleepy kiss against my head and somewhere in the middle of it, the last bit of tension I’ve been carrying finally eases.
I look down at the ring one more time, resting against Mack’s chest before I let my eyes close.
“Hey,” Tyler murmurs softly, already halfway asleep again.
“Hmm?”
“Welcome home.”
This time, when I smile, it comes without effort, without fear, without needing to convince myself it’s real. Mack kisses the corner of my mouth in the dark, and I let myself sink into the life I spent so long being afraid to choose.