Page 28

Epilogue

Darcy—1 year later

“ Y ou’re such a nerd.”

I roll my eyes and glare up at West. “He says as he reads Jane Eyre out loud to his boyfriend.”

West gives me a sweet smile and laughs. His eyes go a little soft as he brushes his thumb over my cheek. “I’m just distracted, thinking about what I’m going to do without you for the next eight million years.”

“I’m getting a PhD, West. Not going to space. It’s not like I won’t be coming home to you every night. Pretty much nothing changes. Besides, you’ll be plenty busy with those teenagers of yours.”

He sighs, letting his fingers trail up my face and into my hair. “That’s fair.” For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just gazes down at me and plays with my hair. “Do you want me to keep reading?”

I hum, settling deeper in his lap. “Yes, please. ”

I close my eyes, not needing any encouragement to listen to his voice. He chuckles, but a few seconds later, goes back to reading. I let his voice wash over me, let my mind see the picture he’s painting with his tone, with the highs and lows, the joy and the love. “We should get married. I want you to be my husband.”

My eyes pop open, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. “I don’t quite recall that line in Jane Eyre. ”

He bites his lower lip, fighting a smile. “It’s a special edition. Only available in my head.”

I let out a laugh. It’s breathless, and I work way too hard to get my pulse under control. “It’s indecent to slip a proposal like that into Bronte. Almost criminal.”

West grins. “I’ve been trying to come up with some sweet, romantic way to ask, but then here you are, lying in my lap with that stupid, gorgeous smile on your face and—I don’t know. This felt perfect.”

My heart squeezes. His fingers leave my hair and drag down my jaw before he brushes his thumb along my bottom lip. “You’re serious?” I whisper.

“Dead serious. I want a million nights like this. Reading with you in my lap, watching your goofy history documentaries I pretend to hate, listening to your monologues about the bad and good guys of the past, spending my nights with you wrapped around me like you might die if you can’t get closer.”

I blink at him, my stomach doing acrobatics and my heart swelling to the point of almost pain. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” West says, laughter in his voice. “Think of the dominos, baby.”

“The… dominos?”

He nods, a bright smile overtaking his face. “Yes. The dominos. All the things that added up and tipped everything over until we landed right here. We need to get married, Darcy. It would be a shame for the dominos to stop here.”

I’m stunned into silence for half a second, then I’m laughing and sitting up, tackling him to the bed and slamming my lips down on his. “Oh my God. Yes. I’ll marry you.”

Weston—1 year later

Elle pats my chest, giving me a smile. “Are you nervous?”

I shake my head. “About getting married? No. About seeing my dad? Possibly.”

She nods, a solemn expression on her face. “We won’t let him cause drama.”

“I know. Thank you.” I lean over and press a kiss to her cheek.

My dad showed up at my graduation last year, and even though I expected the worst, he apologized and wanted to make amends. We’re taking tiny baby steps toward a relationship. Part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come in with the asshole routine, but so far, he hasn’t. I’m hopeful it’ll stay that way, especially today.

I follow Elle from the room and meet Darcy in the hallway leading into the venue. His suit is fitted and crisp and he looks so fucking gorgeous that I’m worried my legs won’t hold me up. He takes a step toward me, his shoulders rising and falling quickly. I glance down and my lips twitch into a smile when I realize his tie is a little crooked. Parker must have noticed it at the same time as me because they grab Darcy and spin him around, fixing it and patting his cheek.

When Darcy makes his way to me, we stand in front of one another, drinking each other in for a few minutes. Everyone clears out and walks away, joining the rest of our guests.

“You ready?” I ask, breaking the silence .

Darcy nods. “So ready.”

I take his hand and turn, leading him through the double doors and down the aisle toward the officiant who’s marrying us.

The crowd is small—our families and a few close friends. The people who matter most to us. It’s simple and lowkey and so perfectly us that my eyes and nose burn with the threat of incoming tears. Darcy sniffles beside me as we make it to the front of the room.

I barely hear the standard vows, barely hear myself repeating them, barely hear anything because all I can focus on is the sweet way Darcy smiles when he says, “I do.” How that smile grows when I say the same.

My blood is rushing through my ears when I vaguely hear that I can kiss my groom. And kiss my fucking groom, I do. It’s probably a little indecent, and I’ll remember to be embarrassed about that later, but for now, all that exists is Darcy’s soft lips, the hitch in his breath, and the growing grin I can feel against my own.

Darcy-4 years later

I blink down at my phone, reading the words PhD conferred over and over again.

That’s it. The culmination of years of work and study and late nights and endless revisions, and West’s gentle voice telling me to keep going—that I’ve got it, that I can do it.

PhD conferred.

Something wet hits my face and I swipe at it, realizing that it’s tears. A huge smile spreads across my face and I exit off the email, pulling up my text thread with West as I make my way to my car.

Me

I’m on my way home. Are you there?

I have a response before I’ve even gotten my key in the ignition.

West

Ready and waiting, baby.

I’m giddy, half excitement and half relief, and all of me ready to get home to my husband.

When I pull into the driveway, West is waiting outside, a bottle of champagne in his hand. I jump out of the car and rush to him, not stopping until I’m slamming into his body. He chuckles, wrapping his free arm around me and squeezing me half to death. “You did it.”

“I did it,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

West pulls back and cups my face, slamming his mouth down on mine. “My beautiful, brilliant overachiever. I am so fucking proud of you.”

I bury my face in his throat and force deep breaths into my lungs. “Thank you. And thank you for not letting me give up.”

“You would have never given up anyway, baby, but you’re welcome.”

For a few minutes, West just holds me, letting me soak in his warmth. I thought this would never be over, and occasionally, I even had my doubts I’d make it at all, but I did. Thank God.

Finally, West tugs me into the house and leads me to the kitchen, where there’s a cake on the counter and two champagne flutes. “Did you bake this?” I ask suspiciously, remembering the time I came home to a smoked out kitchen and charcoal cookies .

West laughs. “Fuck no. I bought it like this.”

He fills the two glasses, handing me one with a grin. “Congratulations, Dr. Sinclair. I am so fucking proud to be your husband. How would you like to spend the evening? It’s your show, baby.”

My cock thickens at the heated promise in his voice. “I think I’d quite like to spend the night buried in your body.”

West’s eyes widen and he takes the flute from my hand before I’ve even taken a sip, ushering me out of the kitchen and into our bedroom.

Weston—2 years later

Darcy’s feet are tucked under my thigh, his arm draped over the back of the couch, a red pen in his hand that he’s tapping against his cheek. “Someone confused about The Treaty of Versailles again?” I ask.

Darcy groans. “I wish. No, they’re confused about The Cold War. Why do they think The Cold War is called that because it ‘happened during winter’?”

He says the last part with air quotes. I can’t help but laugh. “To be fair, it sounds like something I would have thought before I met you.”

He pins me with a look that screams be serious. “No.”

I give him a pointed look. “Okay, fine. Maybe, but you wouldn’t have said it with so much conviction. You wouldn’t have written an entire research paper on it. Research being the key word there.”

He drops his head against the back of the couch with another irritated groan. “Is it too much to ask that they do just the smallest amount of research? Like a Google search. I’d kill for a Google search at this point.”

I can’t help but grin at his exasperated expression. “Living the dream, huh, baby? ”

He turns to me with a soft smile. “Yes. Of course.”

We stare at each other for a couple of minutes, and like always, I’m lost in his eyes, in his smile, in him. The years haven’t dimmed my feelings for him at all. If anything, they’re stronger. “What about you?” he asks. “Are you living the dream?”

“I have a kid who keeps calling Edgar Allan Poe Edward Allan Poe in his poetry analysis, but other than that? Yes.”

Darcy grins and goes back to his grading, slashing things with his pen and making notes in the margins. I watch him for a second before going back to my own grading. Leaning forward, I pick up a cookie from the box Darcy brought home with him and break a small piece off before turning and holding it to his lips.

He eats it from my fingers without even glancing up from his paper, and a few seconds later opens his mouth again. I grin, picking up the cookie and feeding it to him bite by bite, trying not to laugh as he opens his mouth like a baby bird between each one.

“I like this,” Darcy says, laying his pen on the table.

“Oh? Being hand-fed cookies? I bet you do.”

He rolls his eyes. “No. Well, yes. Duh, but I mean this,” he says, waving a hand between us.

I draw him toward me, giving him a gentle kiss before sitting back. “Me too. You know, back in college, not long after we first met, we were standing in the bathroom brushing our teeth together, and I pictured this.”

Darcy’s lips tilt up. “Grading papers about The Cold War being because of winter and Edward Allan Poe?”

“No,” I laugh, shaking my head. “This. You and me, sitting together. Dim lighting. Grading papers. Just living our best lives together and happy and in love. ”

The smile I get in return makes my heart jump into my throat. “Ugh. I love you, you big sap. I can’t read another word of this tonight or my brain’s going to explode. Wanna read to me for a bit before bed?”

“I love you too.” I stand, offering him my hand. “It would be my pleasure.”

THE END.