“Oh, Bolt,” I whisper, reaching out and touching the ring. Holding out my hand, I answer, “I’d love nothing more.”
I’m smiling as he slips the ring over my finger and then flat out laughing as he shouts out, “She said yes!”
A cheer rises behind us as those we left behind at the clubhouse join us in our happiness. Brass and Iron speed up, shouting their congratulations back at us as we continue with my sleigh ride, sleigh bells chiming the whole way.
I’m smiling wide, happy, and content, wrapped in the arms of the man who I love more than anything.
I have to pinch myself, because so much has changed in such a short time. I’m grateful the stars aligned—from the way we met and connected that first night, to getting pregnant despite doing everything to prevent it, to discovering that the man of my dreams is tied to my family in so many ways.
Brass and Iron slow down and do a wide sweeping turn back towards the clubhouse.
I look up at the sky and the bright stars. As one shoots across the sky, I smile. Sometimes it is best not to question the whys and what-ifs and just live in the moment.
“Merry Christmas, Bolt.”
“Merry Christmas, Jeanie.”
EPILOGUE
Eighteen Years Later
BOLT
“Fuck me. I get it now,” I mumble to Sam. It’s summer, and we’re at the Crow MC annual summer fair. It’s hot, busy, and there are little fuckheads crowding around my girls and their cousins.
I’m not the slightest bit impressed.
“What do you get?” Sam wants to know, and he sounds just as pissed as me. Considering where his attention is focused, I’m not surprised.
“That I need to find Adam and apologise. If he felt even half of what I’m feeling right now, then the man has better control than me.
“Does it make me an asshole that I want to go over there and wrap my girls up in a blanket and keep them beside me?” I’m quiet for a bit then admit, “It makes me an asshole. But fuck me, Sam, I hate that our girls aren’t babies anymore. Why the fuck did they have to grow up, and how did it happen so quickly?”
“Tell me about it, brother.” Sam sighs then growls when one of the lads puts his arm around Matty, Sam’s daughter’s shoulders. We both snigger when she elbows him and turns to glower towards the lad.
Our girls are not wilting flowers by any means. With families like ours, they know how to look after themselves.
Addy, my girl, takes her cousin by the arm and they move to the tent where their moms have a table.
At the age of fifteen, our girls are gorgeous.
All our girls are; how could they not be when they look exactly like their mothers.
Between Jeanie and I and Sam and Ally, we have eight children, and out of the eight four are girls.
I’m not sure what jiggery pokery Ally and Jeanie did or if it is just luck of the Irish but somehow, we managed to each have a boy asour eldest, born within a few weeks of each other followed by two girls each and our lasts were boys.
All our children are close. Closer than most cousins and spend a lot of time together. Ally and Jeanie wouldn’t have it any other way.
That our girls look exactly like their mothers is both a curse and a blessing.
“What’s the matter with you two?” Adam wants to know as he comes to a stop next to us.
Turning my head slightly, I look at my father-in-law.
“I owe you an apology,” I tell him.
He jerks his head back in surprise. “What the feck for?”
