He lifts a shoulder but says nothing more.
“Are you going to want a bachelor party?” I don’t know why the idea strikes me. Or why it scrapes at my insides.
“Not a bachelor, Wifey. Not mourning a life and hoping to have a little fun before a death. I’m exactly where I want to be. You going to take a girls’ trip or have some last second crazy thing?”
I shake my head. “I won’t argue with one of Ayla’s spa staycations but otherwise, no. What you see is what you get.”
“I like what I see,” he whispers to the room.
That’s good. Because it’s his. All of me is.
For as long as we both shall live.
fade away
Lorien
“Where’d you go, Lolo?”
Everywhere. Nowhere. It’s May, a year to the day after my wedding certificate is dated and a month shy of the actual anniversary of signing papers over tacos at Cian and Sariah’s.
They moved. That island, where my life changed so drastically, is now mine. It’s not our forever home, but our two townhomes are rentals. Being landlords sucks. Having enough income we don’t have a mortgage on the new house sucks less.
Liam promises we’ll get our house further out eventually. For now, we have a home that is full of memories, walls full of Ayla’s photography, and an island commemorating our union. It’s also a place where he’s reminded me how good life with my husband is. In more ways than one.
Poe is as much trouble as she’s ever been. I can’t recount how many things she’s knocked from the countertops. My baking almost never happens anymore. She swats flour or sugar or any number of ingredients to the floor almost every time I preheat the oven.
I’ve complained to Liam until I’ve given up. It seems to amuse him more than annoy him and that, frankly, annoys me.
My husband changed in January. And it wasn’t a bad thing. Two things went down; both were good as far as we’re concerned.
One, we reversed strategy and sued the moving company and the men who attacked me. The movers themselves were convicted and are serving time. We got a settlement from the moving company that was pathetic for what I went through, but it paid off my student loans and put a little nest egg in the bank. It also created enough bad press for the owner and his family that they boarded up shop and moved to Florida. It might still be too close for Liam’s liking, but I’m good with it.
Secondly, Seamus was sentenced to thirty-five years in prison, no chance for parole or early release. His trial was quick. His guilt was never in question. It was simply a matter of how much time he’d get, not whether a jury would ever find him guilty. The evidence was overwhelming.
His kidnapping of me in order to get to my husband never came to light.
Nor has Briggs’ body.
Fitz moved to Texas and with him went the secrets of where that man rots. I thought early on it would eat at me, the not knowing, but instead, it’s a relief. He’s not a thought anymore. It was a bad day. An extremely bad day that left me with broken ribs. But by the time those healed, the nightmares had stopped.
I was free of him by the time the physical wounds were back to rights.
Come to think of it, Troy Smith was never heard of again after Fitz moved either. I don’t want to consider what that means, but I also can’t bring myself to care.
In celebration of Seamus’ incarceration, we had a party at Cian and Sariah’s new house. We drank until we sang and danced. I even convinced Liam to let me play Madonna. She brought us together after all.
We didn’t make it through two songs before all the men decided we’d had enough and changed it to yacht rock. No. Just no. We’re too young for that—I’m definitely too young for that—though they seemed to think it worked.
Apparently that night was for celebrating. In fact, they celebrated so hard, I’m the only one currently not pregnant. Convenient seeing as how I’m getting married today.
Sam, Sariah, Ayla, Renée, and Mirren are standing at my side. Christian, Cian, Ren, and Fitz are at Liam’s.
And Strider? He’s officiating. His official blessing on my ceremony. Yes, it’s unconventional, but everything about me and Liam is. Even if no one knows the full extent.
My brother is engaged. I never thought I’d live to see the day. His fiancée, Mirren Jones, blindsided us all in the best possible way, and I’m loving getting to know her.
His business trip this past fall became much more than that and Strider—who I wanted so desperately to survive—is thriving in Alabama of all places. It’s a great story.
