Epilogue
Wesley
I was nervous.
So nervous that I couldn’t focus on what I’d planned to do.
“What’s wrong with you?” Albany asked, her soft voice filtering through my thoughts.
I blinked. “Huh?”
Eyeing me skeptically, she placed a quick kiss to my chin.
“You’re distracted.” She settled between my legs on the outdoor chaise I’d ordered for the rooftop deck above the carriage house.
It was the first housewarming gift I’d purchased for her, and we’d christened it the day we’d arrived. “You’ve been this way all night.”
Thunder rumbled in the sky far to the east. The severe thunderstorm I was expecting had fizzled to a light sprinkle followed by a clear night sky, but it looked like it was building momentum now that it had passed Detroit.
The forecast had cemented my plan for tonight, but the actual weather conditions ruined the moment. Instead of lightning and torrential downfall, instead of the perfect storm, instead of making love in the rain, I was forced to improvise.
Albany was still naked, pressed against me, though. Which was right where I wanted her to be. Where I always wanted her to be.
“I’m good”—I kissed the top of her head—“just thinking about everything that happened today.”
The summer had been busy with big moves and a surprise wedding.
I moved into a new promotion and a corner office on the executive floor at Batchelor Corp.
Albany moved out shortly after Grandma Liv handed her the deed to the house.
The office of Keyes Investigations was now located in Albany’s old apartment.
This morning, Grandma Liv invited us to breakfast at her new house.
Instead of pancakes and eggs, we were treated to a full buffet along with a side of nuptials.
Because Grandma Liv and Ace had a quick wedding right before the pastor blessed the food.
There were less than twenty people in attendance.
“I know,” she said. “But I’m happy for Grandma. It was perfect, though. Early wedding and good food. Lots of laughter. Everything she wanted.”
“On her terms,” I added.
“Exactly.” She kissed the top of my hand. “Granny Joyce wants to meet with me next week.”
Frowning, I asked, “Did she tell you why?”
Albany shook her head. “No, just that she had an important job for me.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah. I love the work. But I feel like I could do more, ya know?”
I nibbled her earlobe, brushed her nipple with my thumb. “Like open that gym?”
She giggled. “You read my mind.”
A couple of weeks ago, Albany had admitted that she wanted to open a fitness center for women and children, specializing in Krav Maga and self-defense training.
“You have the money to invest in it now,” I said. “Go for it.”
She tipped her head to peer at me. “You’ll help me?”
I kissed her nose. “You know I will.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
I always knew that I’d do anything for her, but the last few months had cemented that notion.
I would walk through fire for her, give my life for her.
The feeling was simultaneously frightening and freeing.
For the first time since my father died, I felt like a whole man.
Not just pieces held together with thin threads and tape. It had everything to do with her.
“Bug, I …” The question I wanted to ask her seemed lodged in my throat.
Last week, we drove to Wellspring to visit my mother. I rented a private space in the Little Red Winery and Vineyard, had everything I wanted to say in mind … but one phone call had derailed everything.
Every day since then, there was always something.
A call, a text, an emergency … The perfect moments were never quite perfect enough.
Which was why I decided to take us back to the beginning.
The carriage house held sad memories, but being here had healed our hearts and breathed new life into our relationship.
“Baby,” she called. “You’re doing it again.”
I chuckled. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Marry me.”
She froze.
The silence stretched from seconds to a minute. Then, another minute. Finally, I said, “In case you were wondering … I don’t want to marry you at breakfast tomorrow, but I—”
She laughed.
Then I laughed.
Albany shifted to face me, linking her fingers with mine. “It’s so funny you said that because I immediately thought about marrying you at breakfast tomorrow.”
I trailed a finger down her cheek. “Did you?”
She searched my eyes. “I told myself I never wanted to get married again.”
“I know. We had that discussion, remember?”
“Right.”
I lifted her palm to my mouth, brushed her knuckles with my lips. “We’ve spent too much time apart. I don’t want to spend another night away from you.”
A smirk formed on her lips. “Why not just ask to move in?”
Chuckling, I whispered, “That’s not enough. I want more. I want everything.”
“Don’t you think it’s too fast?”
“It feels like a long time coming.”
“So”—she shifted again, wrapping her legs around my waist—“I don’t hate the idea.”
“But?”
“Shit”—she gasped when I pressed my growing erection against her—“you’re not playing fair.”
“I play to win.”
“Before we go there, and we will, I just feel like we need to kind of get to know each other a little more.”
“I already know who you are.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I have a lot of baggage, Wes.”
“And I don’t care.” I kissed her cheek where a lone tear fell. “I just want you with me.”
“I am with you.”
“Officially.”
She closed her eyes, counted to ten softly. “You’re definitely not playing fair,” she repeated, finally meeting my waiting gaze again. “No secrets. I want the truth. All the time.”
“I promise.”
“Promise me that we will love each other through everything. The bad times, the good times, the quiet times, the loud times. Even when we get on each other’s nerves. Even when we want to walk away, we have to stay and fight for us.”
“Bug, I love you. And I promise to always love you.”
Her chin trembled. “Always,” she whispered.
“You never have to ask,” I assured her. “And I couldn’t walk away from you again.”
She kissed me. “Never again,” she murmured against my mouth.
“Never again,” I promised.
“Long engagement,” she added. “No dates. Not yet.”
“As long as you promise me it won’t be another sixteen years.”
A whisper of a smile formed on her lips. “I promise.”
“Well?”
“Then, yes. I’ll marry you.”
I pressed my mouth to hers as I slowly inched inside her. We made love slowly, leisurely, under the stars. And I knew that I would always want this, that I would always want her.
The little girl with fire in her eyes had become the love of my life, my reason why. This was where I was supposed to be. With her. I couldn’t wait to celebrate the small and big things life brought us. I couldn’t wait to see her pregnant with my child. I couldn’t wait to make her Mrs. Batchelor.
She chose me.
And I would always choose her.