It feels like the weight of the world falls off my shoulders and it’s no longer Penny and me against the world.
EPILOGUES ARE FOR LOVERS
I hangthe last dress onto the hook on my side of the closet, the dress I married Lincoln in, knowing the closet will never be as organized as it is now.
It’s wild thinking about how I got here. A freaking glory hole brought me to my future husband, who was right in front of my face the whole time. It hasn’t been easy going, at least in the sense of getting to where we are now. But when I think about my relationship with Lincoln? It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
I slide my fingers against the sparkly material, thinking back to that day and how happy I was, how I still am. But there is a lingering sensation of wishing our families were there to watch us get married.
Lincoln’s parents and brothers were onboard quickly. I think because they never expected him to get married, and it was easy for them to see the change in him. It’s been slower for my parents—mainly my mother—but she’s finally coming around. She’s even coming over tomorrow to check the new house out and help me design.
I rub the material between my fingers sighing, not knowing how my life got here, but happy that it did.
As soon as I turn around, there’s a huge clang, making me jump and clutch my chest as I gasp. I spin around and the entire fucking rack, with all the clothes I just hung, is on the floor.
I sigh, considering shutting the door and making this a problem for another day.
The door flies wide open, to where it was previously ajar.
“Are you okay?” Lincoln says louder and more aggressively than the situation requires. Clearly having run down the hall worried for my safety, I like it more than I should.
I wave a hand at the disaster before me, indicating the noise and that I’m perfectly fine.
“Yeah, the shelf just fell down.”
“What the fuck? This is a new house.”
“I guess new construction isn’t as great as people say it is,” I joke.
He arches a brow at me. He’s wearing mesh athletic shorts that show the bulge of his dick and a tight black t-shirt. Casual Lincoln is my favorite, and he’s all mine.
“You know, we haven’t christened the house yet,” he says. Eyeing the absolute mess behind me. Both of us are clearly on the same page—fuck this closet.
I smirk, thinking about what we watched together a few weeks ago and what I’d like to emulate. One of the best things about Lincoln is he’s ready to try anything at least once, and so am I.
When I can keep the man on his toes, I take the opportunity.
“Meet me in the laundry room in five minutes,” I tell him.
He arches a brow at me. “The laundry room?”
I rub my hands over his chest. He’s a little sweaty from moving shit, and I like it. I know that when he takes off his shirt, his chest will be speckled with a glossy sheen that I’d happily lick off. But that’s not in the plans for tonight.
Honestly, most nights we just have sex, in a numerous amount of positions. But now and then we like to play.
And I really feel like playing right now—with my husband—in our new house that we bought together. Both of our names ending in Carlson as I signed the dotted line.
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I swear to God if you bring me in there to hang something up... my arms hurt.”
I lightly tap his biceps.
“Poor strong man. If you’re too tired…”
“I’ll meet you in the laundry room,” he replies sharply.
“Excellent.”
