“Get out of here, you two,” Luna says fondly, giving Isla a bright smile before she turns to me with a look of death. “Be warned. I love you, but if you break my bestie’s heart, I’m going to chop off your balls and throw them into the river.”
“I have every intention of keeping her heart and my balls perfectly safe, thank you very much.”
That shatters the tension of the moment, and even Scorpion laughs. With a wave, I tug my woman back toward the elevator, eager to have her where she belongs and show her just how much I worship her.
Now and forever.
“Let’s go home,” I tell her.
“I already am home with you,” she says, and then she kisses me as the doors slide closed.
Epilogue
SAINT
Reaching into the pumpkin, I pull out a handful of slimy guts and seeds.
“The things I do for love,” I say grimly before depositing the guts into a big metal bowl set out on the table.
Isla snorts, disemboweling her big jack-o’-lantern with gusto, scooping orange innards onto mine. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this.”
We’re on the balcony of our new penthouse, chosen specifically for its convenient proximity to the college where she started teaching creative writing this fall semester. Every morning, we have breakfast together, and I walk her to campus. I fucking love it.
And I fucking loveher. More and more with each passing day. Which is why I’m about to do something crazy, like hide a million-dollar ring inside a bunch of pumpkin entrails.
“It’s kind of okay, I guess,” I grumble.
In truth, I’m having a blast, but I’m nervous. Isla told me one of her favorite family traditions was carving pumpkins with her mom, sister, and dad. It’s something my brothers and I never did because our old man wasn’t the kind of guy who gave ashit about tradition unless it had to do with guns, violence, and greed. When I picked out her engagement ring a few weeks ago, I decided this would be the perfect way to propose.
Because I’m astronzo, clearly. And now I’m rethinking my plans, questions running through my mind. What if she doesn’t find the ring? What if my plan to distract her so I can drop the ring into the pumpkin doesn’t work? What if the ring gets all full of pumpkin innards and she can’t see the diamond? What if she says no?
“You’re taking the whole domestic bliss thing seriously.” Isla grins at me. “I love how you suggested carving our own pumpkins.”
We drove to an orchard outside the city, picked apples together, drank apple cider, and ate way too many cider donuts. We got lost in a corn maze and chose pumpkins and came back to the city with a G-Wagon full of potted mums that Isla scattered all over the penthouse. She’s also decorated the place in a cozy-chic vibe that looks like it could be a spread in a magazine. But what really makes this place a home is her.
The old me would never have dreamed of doing something so sappy. It wouldn’t have even been on my radar. But being with Isla has changed me. I haven’t gone soft. I’m still the best damn consigliere I can be to Priest. Our businesses are steadily growing, and I’ve even grudgingly made a tentative peace with Antonella at Isla’s urging. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to call her Mom the way Lucky does, but it’s a start, and letting go of my anger and resentment has been a relief.
“The next thing I know, you’re going to expect me to sit around and watch Thanksgiving movies with you,” I say. “And just so we’re on the same page, that shit is never happening.”
“Thanksgiving movies aren’t really that much of a thing,” she tells me, pulling out another heaping scoop of orange goo.
“Home Alone,” I point out. “You know, the one with the house with all the lights on it and the cousin who kidnaps Clark’s boss?”
“First of all, that’s not a Thanksgiving movie. And second, you’re confusingHome AlonewithChristmas Vacation.” She looks up from her pumpkin, clearly horrified at my lack of holiday-movie savvy, until she sees the expression on my face and laughs. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
“I love fucking with you.” I send her a wink. “Not quite as much as I loveactuallyfucking you, but it’s still fun.”
“You’re terrible.”
She’s smiling at me like I’m the best damn thing she’s ever seen. Fuck, I love the way this woman looks at me. I want her to keep looking at me like that until my last day on earth.
“I know I’m terrible, but you love me anyway,” I tell her, unapologetic.
“I do.” She gives me a tender look and pulls out another pumpkin glob.
Damn. I have to put my plan into motion before she runs out of guts to remove.
“Could you pop into the kitchen for me and check the timer on the lasagna,tesoro? I don’t want to burn our dinner.ZiaMaria would never forgive me.”
