Epilogue
Mark
“Mark! Baby, where are you?”Fran let himself in the back door and the screen door shut with a snap. “I have something to show you!”
I grinned to myself as I stirred potato salad in a bowl. “Only your father could make it sound like we had an enormous house with multiple corners where I could be hiding, rather than one large open space,” I told our cat, Blue, who sat on the counter watching me with unimpressed eyes.
Blue had adopted us back in May when one of Julian Ross and Daniel Michaelson’s cats had kittens, and I’d begged Fran to take one home. Fran hadn’t hesitated. Once we were together again, it was like he had an endless supply of love to give. And I was just lucky I was one of the people he chose to give it to, because being loved by Francis Goode was a rare and wonderful thing.
Fran folded his arms over his chest and my grin widened as my eyes ate him up. His hair was a little shorter than it had been over the winter, he’d trimmed his beard just slightly, and he wore a short-sleeved shirt and cargo shorts with his hiking boots instead of a parka, but other than that he looked the same as he ever had. Same bright smile I’d swear he only smiled for me. Same dark eyes that told me every second he adored me.
Oh, and the ring on his finger.Thatwas new, too.
Fran had asked me to marry him in March on a trip to San Diego to visit my sister and her kids. We’d stopped by Uptown Egg and ordered blueberry pancakes for old time’s sake, and when they’d come, Fran had gotten down on one knee, right there beside our red vinyl booth.
“I want us to do all of our adventures together from this day forward, and I never want to be without you again. Will you marry me, Mark? Mind if I see you again every night for the rest of our lives?”
To which I’d replied with extra awkward energy and zero chill, “No! Absolutely not!” Then, in horror, “I mean, yes! Yes, I’ll marry you, no I won’t mind. Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”
Fran had slid the ring on my finger with no hesitation whatsoever, and had asked me to put the matching band on his. They’d stayed there ever since.
Fran came into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I think you mean to say, ‘Yes, Francis, my darling, I’m eager to see whatever you have to show me.’” He reached into the bowl and plucked out a piece of potato.
“Hey!”
“Mmm. Approved.”
“Good, ’cause Brian, Dare, Liam, Gideon, Everett, and Silas will be over to eat it in two hours. Now…” I put the salad in the fridge and turned around so I could wrap my arms around Fran’s waist and press a kiss to his chin. “Fran, my darling? I’m eager to see whatever you have to show me,” I said softly.
He shivered and gave me a severe look. “Don’t say it in that distracting sexy way… at least not yet. Now come on outside and let me cover your eyes.” He grabbed my hand and led me toward the back door. Phoebe jumped off the cool tile hearth where she’d been sleeping so she could join us.
“Cover my eyes?” I demanded. Then I thought about it for a second. “Blindfolds could be fun.”
Fran slapped my ass lightly. “No blindfolds.” He paused. “Or okay,yesblindfolds… but later. Not yet. Busy now.”
Light sparkled through the slanted windows of the cabin and a summer breeze carded through the chimes on the back porch as Fran led me down the steps.
“This thing you wanna show me… is it like the time you wanted to show me the grubs that were eating the cucumbers?” I demanded. “Or more like the time when you wanted to show me the huge commission check you got for the painting of the cabin? I need to know how to prepare myself.”
He laughed out loud. “Only yourfather,” he told Phoebe in a teasing voice, “could take more time trying to prepare himself for what I’m about to show him than it would take for him to head for the workshop andlet meshow him. Besides, we’re ‘no risks, no rewards’ in this family, aren’t we?”
In this family.
I grinned. “Fine, then.”
He circled behind me and put his hands over my eyes. “You ready?”
“Totally.”
“No need to prepare yourself further?”
“You said workshop,” I said smugly. “There are no grubs in the workshop. Unless… wait,arethere?” I tried to turn around but Fran wouldn’t let me.
“No grubs,” he promised. “Wait until you see.”
He led me out to the workshop, which was now mine as well as Fran’s, thanks to the addition of a recliner, a sturdy desk, and the world’s most expensive ergonomic desk chair—a chair Fran insisted every author needed, even if the closest I’d come to publishing any books was a dozen polite refusals… at least so far.
Fran turned me toward his desk and then stopped.
