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He jerks his face back, brows lower into a V. Ethan’s voice is serious when he asks, “What about whiskey, Fallon?”
My head ducks to the side before I admit shyly, “In my head, whenever you’d call Devil’s Lair, I’d started calling you Whiskey. Me, all the operators, we all had nicknames for our callers. That’s what I used to call you.”
To my astonishment, Ethan tosses his head back and roars with laughter. I slap my hand against his chest. “It’s not that funny.”
“Actually,” he starts. Then he leans down and whispers in my ear. By the time he’s done, my body’s molded against his, and my mind is whirling at how I unknowingly gave him a nickname that was the drink he used to consume on every call and was his Agency code name. “No way. You’re kidding, right?”
He pulls back and flashes a smile at me I’ve dreamed about for five long years. “There’s no way I’d kid about something like that. When you meet him, ask Thorn to confirm it.”
When I meet him. His words imply I will be a part of his world for a long time to come.
When we first met, I never meant to pursue Ethan Kensington. I’m just grateful, in the end, we each followed our own path and still managed to be right here.
With each other.
EPILOGUE
SUFFOLK COUNTY, NEW YORK
One Year Later
I stare down at the lines on the test before asking the house, “Any words of wisdom?”
Kids are the one topic Ethan and I haven’t touched on in the year since we’ve reconciled. Like he promised, he and I started from scratch. Openly dating, we ate at some of Centerport’s finest restaurants, danced at their festivals, and strolled hand in hand along the beach.
And because I never wanted to fall into the trap we ended up in, Ethan agreed to counseling. When I broached the subject with him, he was reluctant at first. That is until I played my ace card and said, “The woman holding your hand in this picture would never have allowed you to get to a place where you felt like you were nothing but a liar. The woman who wants to hold your hand for the rest of your life wants to make sure you’ve made peace with it.”
He called the counselor the next day, not me.
I didn’t just participate in our joint sessions. In my own individual sessions, I learned how to handle the loss of my mother in a healthy way and identified when it’s okay for me to break a promise so I don’t end up devastated or being the person to bring about destruction. I also now acknowledge what triggers will set me off about what Ethan did to destroy us the first time around, despite my forgiveness having been granted due to the work we put into our joint sessions.
Ethan attacked his therapy much like he did a black hat. In learning he could only control his actions, he needed the tools to control his reactions when they were outside his control. He also accepted he needs to be more forthcoming—particularly with me. Most importantly he accepted it’s okay to be emotional—particularly over loss. Not only was he grieving the loss of his mother, he grieved the loss of the man he knew his father to be. One night, while we were lying in bed, his eyes were welled with tears as he wept over the senseless loss of his childhood.
I explained, “You didn’t lose the memories, E. You just lost how you perceived them.”
He pulled me tightly against him, holding me in place for a long period of time. “So, it wasn’t all a lie.”
I shook my head. “I think for that, you’d have to talk with Paige and Jesse to get their perspective.”
So he did. Due to those talks, he, his brother, and his sister are closer than ever. As for me and Austyn, dynamite may have to blast the two of us apart, even if she does needle me about becoming her “Aunt Fallon.”
One of these days. Not today. I glance down at the test results. “And depending on how Ethan reacts, who knows if that will ever happen.”
Instead of flipping out, I use the tools from therapy to consider how I’m going to tell him. “Ethan, there’s something we need to talk about…”
Nah, it sounds too cold. Too clinical. Then I snap my fingers. “Maybe I’ll take him down to the beach!”
It’s on those walks that we get into some heavy discussions. Maybe that’s why the first time we slept together months after we reconciled, we forgot the condom. That or the fact that I had just baked a cake and placed it proudly in the center of the dining room table.
I swear I did it subconsciously because Ethan and I were coming back for dessert at my house, but we never left to have dinner. Instead, he rucked up the back of my dress, grabbed hold of my panties with his teeth, and dragged them down my legs.
I didn’t worry about it too much. After all, Ethan pulled out before coming all over the cheeks of my ass.
But the little lines on my test tell me I should have been a bit more concerned. “What the hell am I going to tell him?”
Then, as if I conjured him, he is leaning against the open door jamb. “Tell who, what, witch?”
I don’t even hesitate. Lies are an absolute non-starter between us. Instead of trying to find the right words, I just hand him the test and remain sitting on the toilet with my pants kicked into the corner as I wait for his reaction.