72. Astor
THREE YEARS LATER…
“ W ho do you think will have the slutty wedding sex?” Alessia asks, leaning into me as we watch the wedding reception unfold.
“I hope us,” I say back as she laughs. She’s so full of life. Three years ago was the end to who she used to be and the beginning of who she wants to be. She’s strong and resilient. And fuck, my girl is badass. I sure as fuck wouldn’t cross her.
“Dance with me?” she asks. I pull her up and twirl her into my arms. We’re swaying back and forth when Caroline comes up and kisses her cheek.
“You two are so having the slutty wedding sex tonight,” she says. I can’t help but to laugh at her, but secretly hope that she’s right.
“Alright, Mrs. Pavlov, I’ve had enough sharing of you tonight. Let me take you home.”
“Ahh, I have a better place in mind.” She winks at me and pulls a black bracelet out of her clutch.
“Oh, you want to play tonight, little devil?”
“I rented the watch room and playroom.” I pull her into me and kiss her mindlessly.
“Then let’s go play, wife.”
Going to the sex club has become something we do often. We’re twenty-five and twenty-seven-years-old, and we’re doing exactly what we want to do.
Everyone keeps asking her how’s she’s doing, like they’re expecting her to collapse at any second. But the truth is, the night Miles died, Alessia truly and fully came back to me. And if he had to die all over again, then so be it. My wife is my purpose, my wife is my everything. And if I play my cards right, then my wife will be pregnant by the end of this night.