Epilogue
XAVIER
I was in trouble.
Not the usual kind. I knew how to handle those. A sheepish grin, a promise to do better, a check from Sebastian, and life went on.
This was different.
This was the kind of trouble that made a man sit alone in his apartment at two in the morning, staring at a glass of whiskey like it held the answers to the universe.
Spoiler: it didn't.
I needed to find a wife.
A wife. Me. The guy who once faked a family emergency to escape a breakfast date.
The guy whose longest relationship lasted six weeks, and three of those weeks she was in Paris.
The guy who had "commitment issues" printed on a t-shirt somewhere, probably worn ironically to a party I couldn't remember.
That guy needed to find a wife.
I drained the whiskey. Poured another.
The thing was, I liked my life. I liked waking up whenever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, and answering to absolutely no one. I liked last-minute trips to Vegas and spontaneous weekends in the Hamptons. I liked flirting with beautiful women who expected nothing from me except a good time.
Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated.
Now I was supposed to find someone willing to stand next to me in a church and promise forever? Someone who'd want to wake up to this face every morning, deal with my habits, and tolerate my family?
I almost felt sorry for her already. Whoever she was.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts.
Name after name after name. A greatest hits album of my romantic disasters.
There was the model who threw a shoe at my head.
The actress who sold a story about me to a tabloid.
The heiress who was lovely until she started naming our future children on the second date.
Somewhere in this city, there had to be a woman crazy enough to marry me.
Or desperate enough.
Or maybe just drunk enough. I wasn't picky at this point.
I tossed the phone aside and laughed. The sound bounced off the walls of my empty apartment, and for a second, the silence that followed felt heavier than it should.
Three months. That's all I had. Three months to find a bride, or everything I'd built my life around would disappear.
Well. "Built" was generous. "Coasted through" was more accurate.
I raised my glass to the New York skyline glittering beyond my window.
Watch out, ladies. Xavier Dubois was officially on the hunt for a wife.
This was going to be a disaster.
Xavier’s story continues in Shattered Throne