Epilogue
MIA
It’s Halloween.
A whole three hundred and sixty-five days after one wild night changed the course of my future forever.
I can barely believe it's been that long because the time’s gone by in the blink of an eye.
I’ve literally had the best year of my life.
When I quoted the statistics about sixty-six percent of friendships becoming successful romantic relationships to Hopelessly Devoted—they’re expecting a baby, by the way, still together and very much devoted, awwwww—I had no idea I was days away from becoming one of those odds.
Swayze struck me like a bullet train, out of nowhere, when it turns out I’d been waiting at the station for it all along.
He is everything I never dreamed I’d find and now I get to call him mine for the bargain price of fifteen thousand dollars. We argued because he tried to pay for it, but I won.
My bid. My money. My man.
And he’s worth every penny of the bonus money I got from work, which I guess he did kinda help me get, thanks to our sex toy article being another smash hit. The company can’t restock the Clone-a-Cock’s fast enough.
Besides, along with raising money for the first responders, they also give a portion to charity, and since I had the biggest single donation of the night—yay me—I got to pick their charity of choice.
I chose one that supports women rebuilding their lives after escaping abusive situations. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.
And you’ll be pleased to note my Wolfie did upgrade my Wendy’s date to a week's stay back where it all started in Santorini, in our same suite, the following spring.
We did nothing but eat, sleep, and fuck under the stars the entire time.
Now that trip was heaven.
But he did also get me that Five Guys.
“Angel, I'm home.”
I can hear the smile in my man’s voice as he comes through the door.
Finally, I thought he’d never get here.
“Mia?—Oh.”
He found the Post-it telling him I’m in my old room, I'm guessing. I hear him open the door and the sexy as fuck disgruntled growl that follows when he finds it empty.
He chuckles when he follows the note I’d left on my old bed into our bathroom, going as far as opening the shower curtain, to discover I’m not in fact in there either.
“You got jokes today, huh, Angel? We need to talk about where you display Clone-a-Wolff. Centre stage on the bathroom vanity is not an acceptable location. Our friends don’t need to see an exact replica of the shit I’m packing.”
A giggle escapes me, despite the nerves fluttering in my tummy, and I sing-song my response.
“I don’t know. I happen to like it there. It glows in the dark so I can see when I go pee at night.”
I hear his laughter before the handle turns on his—or should I say our—bedroom door slowly.
He prowls in, looking ridiculously hot in his uniform. His hands flex on the door handle, the light glinting off the silver rings on his fingers, still wearing his flight jacket and… oh my god, he’s in the Ghostface mask.
Fuck me. I wasn’t expecting that.
Arousal rips through me so fast it leaves me dizzy and I’m so ready to open my legs and demand he take me now, I forget all about my little surprise.
The minute his eyes snag on the bandage wrapped around my wrist, his hand comes up to rip the mask away. His face morphs from sexy seduction to horror in less than a second and he runs across our bedroom, collapsing to his knees in front of me to grip my hand gently.
“What the fuck? Baby, what happened?” His silver-blue eyes punch me with concern, his thumb stroking the back of my hand while he nervously worries his lip between his teeth.
“Angel, talk to me. What happened? Are you okay?”
I planned to draw this out a bit more, but I can’t bring myself to, seeing the worry etched on his face.
“Wolfie… don’t be mad, okay?”
His face morphs from worry to confusion, arching a sexy brow in that way he does.
Tugging my hand slowly out of his grip, I unstick the bandage I wrapped around my wrist earlier, slowly unravelling the length while he watches.
Once I’ve removed it all, I tilt my arm down so he can see my inner wrist… or more specifically, the wolf howling at the moon I had tattooed there.
“Mia, are you fucking serious right now? Is that real?” He traces the edge of my wrist, away from the fresh ink, in amazement.
“Yep.” I put a little extra pop on the P, smiling smugly down at my guy, who seems a little shell-shocked, still kneeling on our bedroom floor right now.
“You did that, for me?”
“No, I did it for Derek Hale in Teen Wolf… what do you think, dumbass?”
“Ohh? It’s like that, is it, you minx?”
With a grin, he surges up, slamming his lips to mine in a hungry kiss.
“Where did you get that done?” he asks once he’s done planting little tiny kisses all over my face.
I won’t admit it to him, but I swear this big bad wolf really is a puppy when it comes to me. He’s been affectionate non-stop ever since we made it official at the first responder fundraiser.
“I drove into Sparkwood this morning and saw your guy Ash at Black Lotus.” His shocked gaze meets mine.
“The cheeky fucker never said anything.”
“Well, I can’t imagine he’s texting clients every time their partner gets new ink. Besides, wouldn't that be tattooist-client privilege?”
Swayze chuckles, tossing his jacket to the floor before his fingers work to undo his belt.
“I’m not sure that’s a thing, babe.”
“Well, if it’s not, it should be. I don’t need him running to tell you every time I decide to add some new ink, thank you very much.”
He smirks down at me.
“Oh yeah? You got more planned, Angel?”
“Well, I was thinking a lioness on the thigh could look cool, especially since I’m a Leo. Actually wait… is that why you’ve got that huge-ass lion?” I slap his chest and he jerks back, chuckling.
“Hey, easy there, Angel, that hurt. And I’ll never tell if you’re the reason I got the lion.”
“Oh my god. Don’t be a baby or I’m gonna start calling you puppy again, Wolff. That wasn’t even hard. Now tell meeee. Was it because of me?”
“Yes, you brat. It was because of you. But I didn’t want to make it obvious and lame by having a lioness tattooed, so I went for a big fuck-off manly lion. Plus, your hair always reminds me of a mane, so…”
He chuckles, pulling his shirt out from his pants and undoing the buttons, exposing his mouthwateringly tanned, solid abs as he works his way up.
Yes.
I totally just drooled.
It’s allowed now. Encouraged, even.
“And if you ever call me puppy again, you’re gonna get a spanking. You might not have hit me hard, but this makes it real fucking sore.”
My eyes trace up his chest until they halt at his left pec, which is usually bare.
But now he’s had something new tattooed on there, covered in film.
“Wait! What?! You got new ink today?! Weren't you at work?”
“I took the afternoon off to go see Ash. That’s why I was shocked he didn’t mention seeing you.”
I lean up on my knees to get a closer look at his chest. It’s a little hard to see given how fresh it is, liquid already starting to pool under the barrier film, but when he walks up to me, close enough for me to rest my hand on his lion, I see it.
“Is that me?!”
It’s a grayscale angel on his left pec. Well I say grayscale, but her eyes are violet like mine. She looks just like me, in a dress very similar to the one I wore to his fundraiser.
Tears flood my eyes.
“Oh my god, why are you so annoying? You always manage to one-up me.”
Swayze throws his head back, roaring with laughter, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“You’re gonna love the next bit then…”
Wait, what?
Smirking at my confused expression, he nods down at his chest.
“Look again. What else do you see?”
I look a little closer and see numbers written just below her—err, I mean me.
Inky me.
Not numbers.
A date.
Wait. Today’s date?
October 31.
“Why do you have today’s date tattooed on you?”
"Well, Angel…” He drops to his knee on the bed. “This is going ass backwards, just so you know, because you threw my plans into total disarray. As usual.”
His disgruntled face morphs into a smile again when he pulls out a ring box from his pocket. Flicking it open, he exposes a huge, radiant-cut, solitaire diamond with a Post-it folded into the lid.
“To answer your question, I got today’s date tattooed on me because it’s the day you agree to be mine forever.”
My heart starts thundering wildly in my chest, butterflies having a whole-ass rave inside me. Is he actually doing what I think he is? Because if he is, hell yes! I am so down to marry this man.
“If that’s your way of asking me to marry you, Wolfie, you suck at it.”
He leans forward, a cocky smirk on his face.
“I wasn’t asking, Angel.”
He pulls the ring from the box, sliding it onto my ring finger—of course it’s the perfect fit because Mr. Perfect picked it—and kisses me softly.
Pulling away, he threads a hand through my hair, meeting my eyes with a smirk.
“I figured if you needed time to ease into the idea, we’d just tell people it was fake for now.”