Epilogue
Lawson
Ten Years Later
All is warm when I wake, the surface beneath me moving steadily like the tide. It takes me a second to orient myself, the feeling of being shipborne dissipating.
I can almost remember pirates, but that, too, floats into mist.
“Morning,” Oakley rumbles, his voice like thunder beneath my ear.
I pull in a deep breath, contentment secure around me like a blanket. “Morning. Your sword is poking my thigh.”
Oakley snickers, his hand rubbing down my back. His fingers slip under the band of my sleep pants, a suggestive little dance that has me smiling. “Feel like dueling this morning?”
My laugh has Oakley chuckling in response. But then I remember what today is, and tension creeps into my frame. Oakley senses it, his hand slipping free.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
I nod against his chest. “Yeah, I just… I’m a little nervous about today.”
“It’s not the first time Wendy has introduced you to a partner.”
“No,” I agree. “But this time is different. I can tell. The way she talks about her…”
Oakley hums. “You think it’ll stick.”
“I do. And I’m glad,” I put in quickly. “If she makes Wendy happy, of course I am. But when the hell did my little girl grow up, Oak? She’s twenty-eight now, living on her own and paying her bills, and pretty soon she might be having kids of her own. I’m gonna be a goddamn grandpa.”
Oakley’s muffled laughter has me swatting his side.
“Stop. This is serious.”
“Of course,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. “Very serious, these hypothetical grandkids.”
“You’re sassing me.”
“What? Nooo. How about this? I’ll pick out a crib while you—”
Oakley squawks when I dig my fingers into his ribs.
“Mercy,” he shouts, his twisting subsiding when I quit my torture. He heaves out a breath. “It’ll be okay, Law. Whatever comes down the road.”
“I know. I just worry.”
“Mhm.” He squeezes me in his arms, a soft sigh leaving his lungs. “Should we get ready?”
“Hold on. What about your sword?”
He snorts. “Happy to sheathe it.”
I shake my head, turning my face into his neck and placing a kiss there. “Fuck my fist?”
His groan is low. “And you?”
“Maybe later,” I tell him, slipping my hand down beneath his boxer briefs, curling around the morning wood that springs further to life at my touch. “Show me how good I make you feel, Oak?”
“Fuck, princess,” the man rasps, rolling his hips into my grip as I twist and stroke. “You make me feel like no one ever has.”
I run my lips over his neck, pressing kisses, breathing him in. “Yeah? And how’s that?”
“Safe. Loved. Wanted.”
“Always,” I tell him earnestly. Because I understand what he means.
It’s not just about sex. Intimacy is far more than that. Wanting a person can mean so much more than that.
And the way I want Oakley?
It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s unique to him. To me and him.
I slip my lips to Oakley’s ear, my hand pumping him as he swells in my grip. “C’mon, cowboy. Make a mess of your husband.”
That does it. Oakley spills over my fist, his groan a familiar song, the feel of his cock emptying as mesmerizing to me as it always is, whether it’s him spilling into my hand or my ass.
I wring him lightly until he falls lax, his breathing slowing.
I run my fingers along his softening cock until Oakley presses a kiss to my hair.
“Now we really need to shower,” he murmurs, his arm still around me tight.
I nod. “Time to meet the girlfriend.”
We eat a quick breakfast before we go, Oakley latching the back door so Bell can’t wander in. Even in her senior age, the Miniature Galloway cow gets into her fair share of trouble.
The drive to Wendy’s takes about an hour, although we don’t go straight to her house.
We’re meeting just outside the city. Even so, Wendy’s apartment isn’t far from Darling, all things considered.
It’s easy for her to come visit on the weekends or for us to do the same.
Every once in a while, all four of us get together, my ex included.
Although the times Oakley and I are in the same vicinity as Laura are rare these days.
True to his word, Oakley has never forgiven her, and I haven’t asked him to.
She didn’t attend our wedding. She wasn’t invited.
Part of me would have loved for Wendy to have returned to Darling after her college graduation, but it’s not what she wanted. And I can respect that her choices, her life, are her own.
My stress starts to melt away the closer we get to our destination. Oakley seems to notice, a bemused smile on his face when I glance his way.
“I’m doing better,” I tell him.
“I can see that. Ready to meet the grandkids then?”
He has the slap to his chest coming. He really does.
The skydiving facility is out in the middle of nowhere. Elyse, Wendy’s girlfriend, is an instructor here. I find a spot to park, and Oakley and I seek them out.
We find the pair standing outside the building, clearly waiting for us. This is the first time we’re meeting Elyse in person, but Wendy has shown me pictures. She’s a striking woman, her jet-black hair pulled back in a thick braid, amber-colored eyes warm, if not a little nervous.
Wendy splits away to greet us, giving me a tight hug. “Hey, Dad,” she says, emotion heavy in her voice, even though she tries to hide it.
“It’s all right,” I tell her quietly, rubbing her shoulder. “We’re gonna love her.”
She lets loose a breath, nodding before stepping back. She hugs Oakley next, Elyse waiting with a patient smile on her face. As soon as Wendy is free, she steps back to give introductions.
“Dad, Oak, this is Elyse, my girlfriend. Elyse, these are my dads.”
I hold out my hand as Oakley bends at the waist beside me. Wendy’s eyes go wide, and even Elyse looks alarmed, even as she shakes my hand.
“It’s a pleasure, Elyse,” I tell the woman. “I’m really glad to meet you.”
“You, too,” she replies. “Is, uh, he all right?”
“Oakley’s fine,” I assure her, the man nearly wheezing. “He’s just having a moment.”
“Nice to meet you,” Oakley manages hoarsely, straightening enough to offer his hand for Elyse to shake. “Ah, God.”
“Oak?” Wendy asks.
“Fine,” he says, waving a hand through the air. “Holy shit, Lawson.”
I rub his back soothingly. “I know.”
As Oakley comes to terms with his hypothetical grandkids, I assure the girls everything is all right. We head inside soon enough, and Elyse sets us up in a small room where an instructional video plays. Oakley and I filled out all the necessary waivers ahead of time.
“Are you scared?” he asks me.
I take a second to truly think it over. “No.”
Oakley huffs a laugh. “Your brothers think this is dangerous.”
“So is driving a vehicle,” I point out, the truth of that something we all remember, long ago as it was. “Are you worried?”
“No,” Oakley says quickly. “Just a little anxious. I’ve never jumped out of a plane before.”
“You’ll have a parachute. And a guide. All you have to do is…fall.”
“That’s the part that makes me anxious.”
I slip my hand around to the back of Oakley’s neck, kissing him while we’re still alone. It’s soft and simple, but his shoulders come down some. “You don’t have to do it,” I tell him.
“Are you kidding? Like I’d let you have all the fun on your own.” Oakley stands, holding out his hand. I grab on, and he tugs me to my feet. “Ready to fly?”
My chest squeezes tight. “With you? Always.”
It takes some time to get outfitted in the proper gear. Oakley, Wendy, and I are each matched with a tandem guide. We’re hooked in pairs before the plane leaves the ground, Wendy being strapped to Elyse. Oakley holds my hand as the engine roars, the small plane lifting into the air.
It feels surreal, flying up into the clouds. The ground stretches far and wide, a mixture of landscape that looks like a tiny toy replica from so high above. It’s loud, so no one speaks. But a tug on my hand has me looking Oakley’s way.
Clear goggles cover his eyes, a small, crooked smile on his face. I know that smile intimately. Excitement. Adventure. Love. I know every nuance of the blue-and-brown-painted eyes staring back at me. I know the sound of Oakley’s, “I love you,” even if I can’t hear it.
I mouth the words back, shifting my grip so it’s our pinkies clasped tight.
Oakley Beaumont always was the boy I flew through the clouds with, since the time we were young. Back when a kiss was a token, when pixie dust was so common it filled the very air, slanting through sunbeams and falling on the snow.
I haven’t stopped believing, I suppose. Believing I can fly. Believing that magic exists.
Because what else can you call love if not magic?
It’s there every day my heart beats alongside my husband’s.
And now, as we fall once again?
Oh, how we fly.
The End