I don’t break my own rules.
Fifty-five.
Fifty-six.
Fifty-seven.
I step out onto the porch, letting the door swing shut behind me. The forest is alive with sound. There’s crickets, wind in the trees, and the distant call of an owl.
Also, somewhere out there, my wife.
Fifty-nine.
Sixty.
I smile behind the mask.
“Ready or not,” I say to the darkness.
And then I run.
Bonus Epilogue Three
Maxton
Sage didn’t have a single drink all day. I didn’t notice it until we were all giving our toasts. When everyone raised their glasses, she would lift hers but never took a sip of her champagne.
After that, I noticed it during dinner when she pushed her wine glass away. I noticed it when Daemon tried to hand her a shot, and she laughed and shook her head.
At first, I thought maybe she's just being careful. Maybe she wants to remember every moment of Holden and Angelina's wedding, considering Angelina is one of her best friends.
It is also possible that she’s just tired, and she wasn’t in the mood to drink. She’s been running around trying to get this wedding together for the last few weeks.
Both of those options seemed possible until now. We're back in our cabin, and she's sitting on the edge of the bed, still in that bridesmaid dress. The dress that's been driving me crazy all night, and I’ve desperate to take off.
She looks nervous, sitting there fidgeting with her hands.
Sage doesn't get nervous.
“Hey,” I say, crossing to her. I kneel in front of her and place my hands on her knees. “Are you okay, Dollface? Are you feeling sick or something?”
She bites her lip to stop it from shaking, and I can see her eyes getting glassy.
“Sage.” My heart kicks into overdrive. “What's wrong, baby? You are really starting to scare me, and I need you to talk to me.”
She takes a shaky breath, then reaches into her purse on the nightstand. When she pulls her hand back out, she's holding something.
Three somethings made of plastic.
Three pregnancy tests.
My brain short circuits, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. I stare at the tests. I can’t take my eyes away from the little windows on each one. I can’t look away from the unmistakable lines.
It ispositive. All three of them arepositive.
“I took them this morning,” she whispers, and I hear the clear shame in her words. “I took them while you were helping Holden get ready. I've been carrying them around all day, trying to figure out when to tell you.”
I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't do anything except stare at those tests and then at her face; her beautiful, terrified, hopeful face.
