Do I love him?CanI love him?
Looping my arms around his shoulders, I say what I’ve avoided saying for far too long. “I love you too, Makhi.”
Grinning, he draws me into a deep hug and starts laughing. “Jesus, I can’t believe we did this here. Vonn is going to lay me out when he hears about this.”
“I could kiss him to distract him,” I offer. “You know, to get him off your back?”
Snorting, he pulls back to frame my face. “Baby, the second he learns that you asked me to fuck you on my bike, he’ll be dragging you out here hoping you’ll ask him the same.”
“No, he won’t.”
He kisses me. Hard and hot. “He absolutely will because that man is not an idiot. Let me take you out on this ride, and if you’re nice to me, I’ll give you your first lesson.”
I disregard the being nice to him comment because from his wink, he’s only teasing. Instead, I beam at him. “Really?”
“Fuck. So damn beautiful.” Contentment softens his face. “Really.”
Epilogue
Byrdie
18 months later…
Ahappy giggle is my favorite sound in the world.
Yawning as I shake off the last remnants of sleep, I climb out of bed and stuff my feet into the slippers beside my bed. Slipping into my bathrobe and belting it, I make the same journey I look forward to every morning.
It’s been a year since we settled into our new home, a five-bedroom cottage in the English countryside with dark green ivy creeping up the front.
We all loved Provence. Peaceful surroundings. The field of lavender. The villa was where we all found peace and happiness. Three months in the south of France was exactly what we all needed to decompress from everything that had happened in Massey. But it never felt like home.
None of us were interested in going back to Arizona. Nowhere else called to us until Nash stumbled upon an online listing for a fairytale-style house in the English countryside, available to rent for six months.
Nash looked at us and said, “How about we try Ivy Cottage for a couple of months?”
A couple of months turned into an offer to buy the place. We loved the house, the green spaces, and the village, a twenty-minute walk away, filled with friendly locals. And when we wanted to see a show or go shopping, a fast train got us to London in just over an hour.
Nash’s offer was accepted, and after several months spent buying the place and renovating it, we moved in just before I gave birth to Juliana.
I quietly push open the nursery door, rest my head on the door, and smile as I watch the men sprawled across the nursery rug.
Vonn is holding our giggly daughter when he says, “I still think she has my eyes.”
“Ana definitely has my eyes.” Makhi tickles her feet and grins when she giggles. “See.”
Nash takes Jules from Vonn with a wide smile. “Makhi’s temperament, maybe. Our little girl definitely has Vonn’s eyes.”
They talk quietly, not wanting to wake me.
Makhi lies back and folds his arms behind his head. “You say that as if having my temperament is a bad thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing,” Nash says, rubbing her back. “Except in the middle of the night when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs because she wants attention.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting attention,” Makhi mutters irritably, “and I have never screamed a day in my life.”
“She doesn’t have much of me,” Nash says.
“Don’t be silly,” I say, stepping into the room. “She has your smile, bright enough to light up a room.”
