Epilogue
EPILOGUE
MICHAEL
THREE WEEKS LATER
It was late by the time I finally made it home.
I’d had a terrible day, and the only thing that would make it better was her.
She had a way of always making everything better.
“Azara?” I called out softly as I stepped inside my flat, hoping she wasn’t already asleep. She’d finished work earlier this evening and texted to say she’d be staying the night, even though this place was as much hers as it was mine.
I’d hinted at her moving in permanently since she was here most days anyway, but we’d only officially been together for three weeks, and didn’t want her thinking I was rushing things.
Even though I really wanted to.
“In here,” she called, her voice floating over the gentle sound of a bath filling.
I placed my messenger bag on the kitchen island and made my way upstairs, following the sound of the running water. When I stepped into the ensuite bathroom attached to my bedroom, I found her with her feet propped on the edge of the tub, water spilling between them as her fingers trailed lazily through the milky water that barely covered the top of her breasts.
She looked almost ethereal, and the thought that she was all mine made my heart soar. She turned to look up at me, offering me a warm smile that made its way straight to my heart. There was something to be said about having her attention that made me feel invincible.
I forced a smile as I walked toward her, but she saw right through it.
“Bad day?” she asked gently.
I crouched down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “An absolute nightmare,” I replied, my exhaustion from the day bleeding into my voice.
I’d been inundated with meetings and logistical issues to deal with, on top of losing two patients from post-op complications.
Death was unfortunately an inevitable downside of our line of work. We couldn’t save everyone—it was naive to think otherwise—but it didn’t take away the grief we felt when we lost someone.
“Come here, baby,” she said, beckoning me to join her.
Wordlessly, I stripped out of my clothes, tossing them on the floor before turning off the tap and stepping into the massive tub. She sat up, patting the water in front of her. The water rose dangerously close to the top as I lowered myself in, but I didn’t care if it spilled over. I would never pass up an opportunity to be close to her, and right now, I really needed it.
Once I was settled, she brushed my hair back, pulling my head gently against her chest. I let out a long sigh, the tension of the day slowly melting away. She kept playing with my hair as I sank deeper into the water, getting lost in her presence.
It was like coming home, where no words were needed.
Where being together was always more than enough.
These past three weeks had been something out of a dream, and I’d never felt more at peace. Yes, we’d had difficult conversations about everything that happened with her father, about the House, and what our future would look like, but she was still here.
She wanted me, and everything that came with me being a Young.
“Move in with me,” I blurted, tilting my head to look up at her. I’d been thinking about it for weeks and I was tired of dancing around it.
Her fingers paused, and when she didn’t answer immediately, I started listing all the reasons why it made perfect sense. “I know it might be early days and probably sounds a bit mad, but you’re already here most days, and my place is closer to Orion, so you wouldn’t have to commute as much. Plus, I’m an excellent cook and just… I really want to make this our home. Or we can move to yours, or anywhere you like.”
After the longest pause known to man, she raised her brow and asked, “Are you done?”
“Yes,” I said, my shoulders tense.
Please, say yes.
“Good,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I was already going to say yes, but watching you nervously try to convince me was rather endearing.”
My eyes narrowed at her mocking me and so, the only appropriate answer I had was to splash her.
“No, you didn’t,” she gasped and I couldn’t help but laugh at the look of outrage on her face. Before I could register what was happening, she threw a retaliatory splash straight at my face.
I ran a hand over my face, and we both burst out laughing, my heart swelling with so much joy I thought it would explode. I twisted in her arms and firmly grabbed her face in my hands.
“God, I love you so fucking much,” I said, before closing the gap and pressing my lips to hers. The kiss started off slow, just a soft brush of our lips, but when one of her hands found its way to my throat, it transformed into something more potent.
My body ignited with urgency; and I needed more.
But just as things were beginning to heat up, the shrill ring of my mobile sliced through the air, echoing off the walls. I ignored it at first, until the ringtone I’d set for Amar finally registered. I wanted nothing more than to return to our peaceful, warm bubble, but Amar wasn’t exactly known for adhering to social constructs.
I groaned, eyes still closed for a moment as if I could will the interruption away.
But my phone rang again.
“He’ll just keep calling if I don’t answer,” I muttered against her lips. Reluctantly, I pulled away, letting go of her face and stretching out my arm to reach for my trousers. I fumbled around, until I found it.
“What is it, Amar?” I said, already irritated. “It’s midnight.”
It was only 11:00 p.m. here, but he was in Paris for the weekend to celebrate his last birthday—his words—since next year he’d get his Order. Sofiane and I had both told him how terrible of an idea it was, but Amar insisted that if he was about to be tied down for the rest of his life, he wanted to go out in style.
Whatever that meant in Amar terms.
I just really hoped his call wouldn’t require me to fly out to drag him out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into this time. It was the first weekend Azara and I both had off work, and I had every intention of making the most of it.
“I’m going to marry this girl,” Amar’s voice bubbled through the phone, dreamy and far too cheerful.
“What?” I muttered, confused.
I’d expected him to be drunk, asking me for money, or worse, calling me from jail.
Not to talk to me about one of the girls he’d set his eyes onto.
He sighed. “Michael, you don’t get it. I just met this girl…”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, mate, unless this is an emergency, I’m a little busy. But we can totally talk about it tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, I hung up and tossed the phone somewhere on the floor.
It pinged with a barrage of text messages, likely from him flooding our group chat about whoever this girl was, but I’d check on him tomorrow.
I turned my attention back onto something far more important.
Azara squealed in surprise when I lunged for her, water flying everywhere as I pulled her into my arms, and kissed her again, a peaceful warmth crackling under my skin.
I never imagined I’d get the chance to experience what it felt like to really love someone, to have my own happy ending.
But this, with her. It was the best thing I’d ever felt.
And I couldn’t wait to make more memories and create our own version of forever.
THE END
If you’re intrigued about what’s to come in the Sons of the Atlas and who the next book is about, then keep reading for a sneak peek…