Epilogue #2
“Sweet potato casserole is fucking delicious, and I don’t care who disagrees,” Tate says.
I see Maks shaking his head on the sofa next to ours. “I was a fan of the pecan pie. Fucking perfection, Tate. I thought pumpkin would always be #1, but… bravo.”
“The power of the pecan is strong, and—yo, grab that fucking ball!” Tate shouts at the TV as the wide receiver fumbles a pass.
I love seeing him get passionate about football after it being a sore spot for months.
He turns around angrily, shaking his head, but when his eyes land on me he brightens back up instantly.
“Kiss me before I launch myself at that TV screen,” he says.
I pull him close, kissing his lips, then his temple, and then his hair. “Still pretty when you’re mad,” I murmur in his ear.
“Damn. Kind of want them to miss another pass, now, if it makes you say these things to me.”
“I’ll say them anytime, sweet. Whenever you need.”
I find a moment to get Tate alone an hour later, when everyone else is caught up watching the halftime show.
I gesture toward the staircase, and I take his hand, leading him upstairs.
“Hi,” I tell him once we get to the top, gently pushing his body up against the wall.
He hums, reaching up to pull my head down toward his. He kisses me slowly, letting his tongue linger there, sliding wet and hot along mine.
“Hi.”
“This is the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had,” I tell him.
“You said it’s the first real Thanksgiving you’ve ever had.”
“True. And also the best.”
He laughs, running his palm over my chest. “I love you. I love you for being here, and for being so good with my family.”
“Well, your family is fucking awesome.”
“Oh. Hang on a second,” Tate says, sliding out of my grasp for a moment and jogging off toward the guest room we’ve been staying in here at Luke’s house.
Tate pops back out a moment later with a small gold gift bag in his hands.
“What is this?”
“A gift for you.”
“What? This isn’t Christmas. I didn’t know Thanksgiving comes with gifts.”
“It doesn’t,” he tells me. “But I really wanted to give you this.”
I reach in past the tissue paper and pull out a heavy photo frame. Inside is a collage. Dozens and dozens of photos are put together, side by side.
And every photo is one of me and my mother together, from my childhood.
My throat goes tight all of a sudden.
I haven’t seen some of these photos in years.
Some of them, I’ve never seen before.
There’s one of my mother and me, sitting on the hood of our old black Cadillac, and she has her arm wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me close. She’s smiling, and I am, too. I must be ten or eleven in the photo.
I swallow past the tightness in my throat.
“Tate… how? How did you…”
“I can’t claim all of the credit,” he says. “Maks didn’t tell you, but a few days after both of you cut ties with the family, he did a tiny little mission.”
“Mission?”
“A B&E.”
“Breaking and fucking entering? What?”
“Maks said he always knew of one of the windows in your father’s house that didn’t have a good angle for the security cameras. He went in and nabbed a few things he cared about, or thought you would care about. One of them was an old photo album.”
“Holy shit, Tate.”
“He gave me the album, saying that you might want it one day, even if you didn’t right now. I went through and found each photo that was just you and your mom.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
A stray tear drops off from my eye and down onto the glass front of the frame. I put it down on the hall table nearby and pull Tate into a close hug.
“I’m so glad you like it.”
“Fuck. I am not smothering you, am I?” I murmur against his hair, clutching him so tight against me.
“No. Well, maybe a little, but I love being smothered by you.”
I puff out a laugh as one more stray tear falls down my cheek. I finally release Tate and he leans back, kissing me at the bottom of my jaw.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “This is what I want to think when I remember I am a Petrov. This is more important, anyway.”
“She loved you so much, Roman. You can see it in every picture.”
“God, I love you, Tate. I love you—”
I barely have time to finish saying it before I crush my lips against his in a kiss. It’s never been so obvious that Tate is my person.
I will love him for the rest of my life.
I’ll fuck him for the rest of my life, too, making him shake, scream, and beg for me, and keeping him as happy as I possibly can.
And if anyone ever tries to hurt him, he knows that I will protect him to my dying breath.
Tate was the first bit of sunshine in a darkness that was swallowing me whole.
I could never change what I was born into, but the family I choose is right here, tucked into my arms in the way both of us love so much. He fits with me perfectly, in every sense of the term.
And if my past is what it took to lead me to Tate…
Then every goddamn moment was worth it.
My beauty.
And the man I will love until I take my last breath.
Thank you for reading!