26. Epilogue
Shiloh's hand is warm in mine as we weave through the crowded fairground, the scent of candy floss and roasted nuts thick in the air.
“Baby, look!” Shiloh tugs on my arm, pointing to an elaborate display of animatronic witches cackling over a steaming cauldron. “So fucking cool!”
I nod absentmindedly, more captivated by the way her eyes dance with childlike wonder than the admittedly impressive Halloween setup. “It's not bad,” I concede, allowing a small smile to tug at my lips.
We've been at this fair for hours now, and Shiloh's enthusiasm hasn't waned for a second. It's infectious, really. I find myself actually enjoying the tacky decorations and overpriced games, if only because they bring her such joy.
As we pass a ring toss booth, the bloody scarecrow behind the counter calls out to us in that bizarre sort of garbled British accent I still can’t get used to. “Step right up, sir! Win a prize for the lovely lady?”
I'm about to decline when Shiloh squeezes my hand. “Oh, come on, Dom. Have a go!”
With a dramatic sigh that makes her giggle, I hand over a five pound note and accept the plastic rings. “You know these games are rigged, right?”
Shiloh just shrugs, her grin widening. “Then I guess you'll have to use those legendary negotiation skills of yours, won't you?”
I can't help but chuckle at that. It still blows my mind how different my life is now compared to a year ago. No more boardroom battles or high-stakes deals. Just this–traveling the world with the woman I love, chasing whatever whim strikes our fancy.
To my surprise, I manage to land two of the five rings on the bottlenecks. It's probably not enough to win the oversized stuffed animal Shiloh's eyeing, but the scarecrow seems impressed.
“Not bad, mister! How about we make it double or nothing? Land one more and you can have any prize on the top shelf.”
I glance at my girl, who's practically bouncing with excitement. “What do you think, baby? Should I risk it?”
She nods emphatically, and I turn back to the scarecrow with a confident smirk. “You're on.”
The ring sails through the air, wobbling slightly before settling around the neck of a bottle with a satisfying clink. Shiloh lets out a whoop of joy, throwing her arms around me. “Oh shit, you did it! You actually did it!”
Holding her tight, I breathe in the berry scent of her hair. “Of course I did. I always get what I want, don't I?”
She pulls back, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Is that so? Then I want that one.” She points to an enormous plush bat with cartoonishly large eyes.
The scarecrow hands it over, and Shiloh immediately buries her face in its soft fur. “I'm going to name him Vlad.”
I roll my eyes again but can't keep the fondness out of my voice. “Of course you are.”
“Oh! Cotton candy!” She’s already dragging me towards a nearby vendor, fishing in her purse for her wallet. I swear, she turns into a toddler at these things.
I beat her to it, handing over a crisp note before she can protest. “My treat.”
The vendor–a pale-skinned Dracula–passes over an enormous cloud of pink spun sugar, and Shiloh wastes no time tearing into it. I watch, bemused, as she devours the confection with gusto, leaving a sticky residue all over her lips and fingers.
“Want some?” she mumbles around a mouthful, holding out the rapidly diminishing treat.
I shake my head. “I'll leave the sugar high to you, thanks.”
Shiloh shrugs, popping another piece into her mouth. “Your loss. This stuff is heaven.”
“I'm more interested in how you manage to eat your body weight in sugar and still keep this tight ass,” I tease, running my hand down her side before giving said ass a playful spank. She swats at me away with a muffled laugh, still chowing down on her tenth dessert of the evening.
We wander past more carnival games and food stalls, eventually finding ourselves in front of the ominous-looking structure with " HAUNTED HOUSE " spelled out in dripping, blood-red letters.
Shiloh's eyes light up. “Oh, we have to go in again!”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Again? We've already been through twice.”
“Third time's the charm,” she insists, tugging on my arm. “Come on, it'll be fun.”
“We already know every scare,” I point out bluntly, even as I allow her to pull me towards the entrance. “Where's the thrill in that?”
Shiloh's grin turns devious. “Who says we have to be the ones getting scared? Imagine how funny it would be if I jumped out at them instead!"
I can already picture the chaos that would ensue–fake zombies and ghouls scrambling away from my pint-sized terror of a girlfriend. The mental image is almost enough to make me agree on the spot.
I chew on my cheek for a moment, already knowing I've lost this battle. “Fine. But when we get kicked out and banned for life, I'm blaming you.”
Shiloh's victorious whoop draws curious glances from nearby fairgoers. She throws her arms around my neck, peppering my face with sticky, cotton candy-flavored kisses. “You're the best, you know that?”
“I do know that, actually,” I reply dryly, but I can't keep the smile off my face. “Now come on, let's go terrorize some minimum wage workers.”
Several hours and countless scares later, we're finally pulling up to the quaint cottage we've rented for our stay here in Cornwall, England. The narrow, tree-lined road is bathed in moonlight, casting eerie shadows that would be right at home in any of the horror movies Shiloh loves so much.
As I cut the engine, Shiloh is already unbuckling her seatbelt, practically vibrating with excitement. “That may have been the best Halloween date night ever ,” she gushes. “But we need to get some sleep before the best part of this whole trip tomorrow. Did you know the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic has over three thousand objects and books related to folk magic and witchcraft? There's even a recreation of a witch's cottage!”
I smirk at her enthusiasm, vaguely wondering how much I truly smiled before I sauntered back into this adorable woman’s life. “Is that so?" I ask, playing along as we stroll up the charming garden path.
Shiloh nods emphatically, following me to the cottage door. “And they have all sorts of exhibits on the history of magical practice in Cornwall. Did you know this area was known for its 'pellers’ –people who used charms and rituals to heal the sick?”
“I did not,” I admit, turning the key in the stiff, old-fashioned lock. “But I'm sure I'll know all about it by the time we leave.”
Shiloh cackles, unrepentant. “You bet you will! I've got our whole itinerary planned out. We're going to learn so much!”
As the door swings open, revealing the cozy interior of our temporary home, an idea strikes me for how to manage her seemingly unlimited energy before we finally call it a night. I set the keys down on the table just inside the threshold and turn to Shiloh, placing my hands on her shoulders to stop her from darting inside.
I lean down, my lips brushing against her ear as I whisper, “Thirty seconds… Run and hide .”
Her eyes widen comically as I straighten up again. Without hesitation, she leaps past me, her giggles echoing through the cottage as she disappears from view.
I close my eyes, counting down slowly. “Thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight…” The familiar thrill of the hunt courses through my veins. “Three... two... one.” My eyes snap open, a predatory grin spreading across my face. “Ready or not, here I come, Shy Girl.”
I move through the cottage with deliberate slowness, listening for any telltale sounds. A loud creak rings out from above me and I chuckle to myself as I ascend the stairs, my footsteps purposefully heavy on the old wood.
“Oh, Shy Girl,” I call out, my voice low and teasing. “Where could you be hiding?”
A muffled giggle from the bedroom gives her away. She would truly make a terrible criminal. I push the door open, quickly scanning the room. The edge of her shoe peeking out from under the bed is enough to make me sigh with disappointment at her pathetic attempt to evade capture.
In one swift motion, I drop to my knees and reach under the bed, my hands closing around her ankles. Shiloh shrieks with laughter as I drag her out, all the while scrabbling for purchase on the carpet.
“Caught you,” I growl playfully, pinning her beneath me.
Shiloh squirms, still laughing breathlessly. “No fair,” she protests. “You always find me too quickly.”
I lean down, nuzzling at her neck. “Maybe you're just not very good at hiding, baby.”
She huffs indignantly, but her retort is cut off as I capture her lips in a hungry kiss. The taste of candy and popcorn still lingers on her tongue, sickeningly sweet but somehow addictive when mixed with the taste of her .
When I pull back, Shiloh's cheeks are flushed, her blue eyes bright with desire. The sight of her like this–disheveled, panting, and all mine–sends a surge of primal yearning through me so strong, my brain short circuits.
The words tumble out before I can stop them. “Marry me.”
Shiloh's glistening lips pop open in shock. “What? Did you just...?”
“Marry me,” I repeat, more firmly this time. It's not really a question –she’s always preferred my commands.
“Are you…are you serious?” she stammers. “You're not fucking with me?”
I shake my head, suddenly mad at myself for going about this all wrong. “I had it all planned out,” I admit. “Romantic dinner tomorrow night, giant diamond hidden away in my underwear drawer... But I couldn't wait. I don't want to wait another second to make you mine in every way possible.”
Tears well up in Shiloh's eyes, and for a heart-stopping moment, I worry I've miscalculated. But then she's nodding, a radiant smile splitting her face until I can practically count all her teeth.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, of course I'll marry you!”
Relief and joy flood through me in equal measure. I devour her lips again, pouring every ounce of love and passion I feel for this woman into the searing kiss.
Sick of kneeling on the floor, I stand abruptly, pulling my new fiancée up with me. She lets out a surprised squeak as I lift her off her feet and toss her onto the bed before crawling over her.
Shiloh hums her contentment, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. “I can't believe this is happening,” she murmurs against my lips. “We're actually getting married. You and me.”
I trail kisses along her jaw, reveling in the soft sounds she makes. “Believe it, Shy Girl. You're stuck with me forever.”
Running her fingers through my hair, she tugs gently at my scalp to make me look at her. “How do you think Charlie and Viv will take the news?”
I consider it for a moment. Our parents' reactions to our relationship have been... hesitant , to say the least. But things have been improving, slowly but surely.
“Well,” I eventually say, dipping down to kiss her temple, “they did invite us to Thanksgiving in Avalon. That's got to be a good sign, right?”
“I suppose so...Do you think they're really coming around to the idea of us being together? That it’s not some gross crime?”
I pull back slightly, meeting her worried gaze again. “I think they're trying. They don’t really have a choice. It’s either get over it or never see us again. Not that they have ever cared that much about keeping us close…”
She snorts at that unfortunate truth, but I can see the hope in her eyes as she chews on her bottom lip. “Alright… Avalon Thanksgiving it is. And then what? What's next for the future Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood? More travel? Settling down somewhere?”
I haven’t got an immediate answer for her. The truth is, I haven't thought much beyond making Shiloh my wife. The details seem inconsequential as long as we're together. After selling my shares in Blackwood Enterprises and nailing several perfectly timed investments, we’re more or less set for life. Not many people can say that before they’ve even turned thirty.
“Whatever you want,” I tell her honestly. “I don't care where we go or what we do, as long as I'm with you.”
Shiloh's expression softens, tearing up again. “I love you,” she whispers, the naked truth of it glistening in those crystalline eyes of hers.
“I love you too, baby. In my own twisted way, I always have. That will never change.”