Epilogue - RILEY
My Favorite Getaway Driver
Afew months later
Quinn had to bribe two people to get me out of the house today.
Easton first, by promising she’d drive, that she wouldn’t let me carry a single bag, and that she’d have me home by three.
Then me, because I’ve reached the stage of this pregnancy where leaving the couch feels like a negotiation, and my ankles stage a protest every time I spend more than twenty minutes on my feet.
And yet, here we are. I’m eight months pregnant, sporting a bump so big I haven’t seen my feet in weeks, and the back seat of Quinn’s car is already full of tiny clothes.
“This one,” Quinn says, holding up a onesie the size of my hand with a little embroidered bear on the front. “Non-negotiable. I’m buying it.”
I shake my head. “Whatever you think is good, Quinn. I’m past negotiating with you.”
“Good. You’re a fast learner.” She winks at me.
I shake my head again and lean against the nearest wall, because even standing still has somehow become an athletic event.
She’s been like this all afternoon, overly enthusiastic and determined to keep herself busy by throwing everything she has into helping me shop for baby clothes. I’ve known her long enough by now, though, to recognize when something is bothering her.
I don’t ask because I’ve learned that about Quinn too. She’ll tell me when she’s ready, and pushing only makes her more secretive, so for now I’ll be the friend she needs and let her get there in her own time.
By the time we’re done, my feet ache, my bladder has been used as a trampoline for the past hour, and I’m hungry enough that I’m seriously considering eating one of the protein bars at the register before I’ve paid for it.
“Quinn, you promised to feed me, and you’re running late.” I glare at her.
She laughs. “Come on. I saw a café around the corner. Let’s have lunch, and I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
She takes my hand, and I follow her lead like an obedient toddler who has been promised snacks.
We get a table toward the back, away from the windows, and I order enough food for three people because apparently growing a human has turned my stomach into a bottomless pit.
Our food has barely arrived when the café door opens, and I glance up automatically.
Wyatt walks in.
Huh. What is he doing here?
He steps inside, looks around, and his eyes land on our table almost immediately. He lifts a hand in greeting before heading over.
“Well, look who it is.”
“Wyatt,” I say.
“Riley.” His gaze drops to my stomach. “Still pregnant, I see.”
“How charming of you to notice.”
“That’s why the ladies love me.”
Quinn snorts beside me, and Wyatt looks at her.
Something about his expression changes, although it’s so subtle I almost wonder if I imagined it. There’s just the slightest pause before his usual cocky grin slides back into place.
“Brennan.”
“Larkin.”
“You two always this excited to see each other?” I ask.
“Yes,” Wyatt says at the exact same time Quinn says, “No.”
I laugh while Quinn rolls her eyes and reaches for her drink.
“Shouldn’t you be at practice?”
“Finished early.”
“Did Coach Brennan finally give up on you?”
“Your dad loves me.”
“My dad tolerates you because trading you would involve paperwork.”
Wyatt grins. “Pretty sure I’m his favorite.”
“You’re not even his favorite Wyatt.”
“There are no other Wyatts.”
“Exactly.”
I glance between them, because apparently this is a thing they do, although I’m not entirely sure when that happened.
Wyatt looks like he’s about to say something else when his phone buzzes. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen, and sighs.
“Gotta go.” He looks at me. “See you around, Riley.”
“Bye.”
His eyes flick to Quinn again. “Brennan.”
“Larkin.”
He heads toward the counter, and Quinn goes right back to her sandwich like the exchange never happened. I watch her for a second before looking over at Wyatt.
He’s standing in line checking his phone, but a moment later, his eyes lift and go straight to our table.
Interesting.
“What?” Quinn asks.
I turn back to her. “Nothing.”
She narrows her eyes but doesn’t say anything, and I hide my smile behind another bite of my sandwich.
The café door opens again a few minutes later, and this time I don’t have to wonder who it is.
Easton.
He spots me in the corner and heads straight over, and I can’t stop my face from lighting up as he approaches.
He’s still in his practice gear under a hoodie, his hair slightly damp, and he bends to kiss the top of my head before crouching beside my chair because apparently he can’t help himself anymore. One hand settles flat against my bump.
“There you are,” he says to it.
Quinn makes an exaggerated “Awww” sound.
Easton looks up. “I know we’re cute as fuck. Deal with it, Brennan.”
“I was going to say nauseatingly adorable, but sure.”
“You’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“Giving you something to aspire to.”
Quinn laughs. “Now I just need someone who’ll adore me like that. No biggie, right?”
“Set your standards high,” Easton tells her.
“Oh, I do.” Quinn picks up her sandwich. “That’s probably the problem.”
Easton gets back to his feet and bends to kiss me, quick and soft this time. “You ready to go home?”
I glance pointedly at the half-eaten food in front of me. “I’m still eating.”
Without a word, he pulls out the empty chair beside me and sits down.
Quinn smiles. “Look at that. Hockey’s golden boy can be trained.”
“Only by her.”
The answer comes so easily that my stupid heart does that stupid little squeeze it still does around him, because apparently eight months together haven’t made me remotely immune to this man.
Easton reaches across the table and steals one of my fries.
“Hey.”
“You said you were eating. You didn’t say you were eating all of them.”
“I’m growing your child.”
“Which is why I ordered you dinner for later.”
I stop with another fry halfway to my mouth. “You did?”
“It’ll be at the house by six.”
“You really know my love language.”
He grins, and his hand settles casually on my thigh beneath the table.
This is what my life looks like now. Easton shows up after practice because he knows I’ll be tired, dinner is already taken care of because he knows I’ll be hungry, and his hand rests on my thigh like touching me has become as natural to him as breathing.
There was a time when I thought I’d have a very different life, with a different husband, a different home, and a completely different future stretching out in front of me.
Thank God I ran.
Quinn finishes her drink and checks the time. “Okay, now that your personal chauffeur is here, I’m officially off duty.”
She smiles at Easton as she reaches for her bag. “Good luck. We bought half the store, so I hope you brought the big car.”
“I came prepared.”
“Of course you did.”
I look up at him as he starts gathering the shopping bags from beside my chair, and the sight of him makes a smile tug at my mouth.
The big, intimidating hockey star who once had a runaway bride climb into his car and order him to drive is now standing in a café carrying tiny onesies and a shopping bag with a stuffed giraffe poking out of the top.
Easton catches me staring. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That face isn’t nothing.”
“I was just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I kick his shin lightly with the toe of my shoe, which only makes his grin widen.
“What were you thinking?”
I hold out my hand, and he takes it immediately, helping me carefully to my feet.
“That you’re still my favorite getaway driver.”
Something in his expression changes at that, the teasing fading from his eyes and being replaced by that look he still gives me sometimes, the one that somehow makes the rest of the room feel very far away.
“And I couldn’t be happier that I get to be the one who takes care of you.”
My chest tightens as he slides an arm around my waist, and when I look over, I find Quinn smiling at us.
“What?” I ask.
“You two really are disgustingly happy.”
Easton presses a kiss to my temple, and for once, he doesn’t have a smart-ass response waiting.
“Yeah,” he says simply, his arm tightening around me.
And God, we really are.
THE END.
Think you’ve seen the last of Easton and Riley?
Not even close.
There’s one more scene waiting for you, and let’s just say Easton has some very specific plans for his favorite runaway bride. ??
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Before Connor became the hockey star he is today, he was my best friend—and my crush’s little brother.
Kieran was the goal I could never score.
Connor was the boy who made me laugh. Then Kieran shattered my heart.
And I lost them both. Until now. Now Connor is all muscle, money, and dirty smirks, looking at me like I’m his next hat trick.
He's become a man. One look at him naked and my brain shorts out over just how much man there is. We strike a deal: fake date to drive his brother crazy. But Connor is too convincing as a boyfriend. One wicked kiss turns into another. Every touch has me forgetting the game plan. And I realize this was never just a pucking deal. Because now I’m pregnant with my best friend’s baby.