EXTENDED EPILOGUE
ONE MONTH LATER
“To Aubrey, the only woman I know who can strike a man down with nothing more than a glare!” Beck cheers, already lifting his beer into the air.
The rest of our group shouts, “To Aubrey!”
Illuminated by the hot pink lights in Pretty Little Pour, the woman of the hour tips her disco-ball glass back and finishes her drink. She’s trying not to grin as we shower her with love. It’s well-deserved, and she knows it.
After an incredibly stressful last few weeks, she and Lydia won the case against Nathan’s father. I don’t know the details, and I didn’t ask, not wanting to put her in an uncomfortable position. Instead, I held her a bit tighter in bed when her exhaustion peaked and made more trips to her office to visit when she spent nights trapped behind her desk. There were days when I was on the road, and the only contact we had was before she left for work in the morning and when we’d call after she’d slipped into bed at night. Those were the hardest stretches.
By the time she told me that they’d finally won and Kevin had lost his right to guardianship, I’d gotten her so many bouquetsof flowers that she had to start handing the vases off to anyone in the office who would take them. My credit card saw more food delivery orders than my college days, and the usual seats at the stadium I grew used to buying for her went to strangers instead.
She’ll be there tomorrow, though. And I’m already planning on playing my best game of the season so far for her.
“Thank you,” she tells everyone.
Her little black dress crawls high up her thighs when I tug her back into my lap, where she belongs. She looks back at me and rolls her dark-lined eyes, the blue so damn bright tonight. I smirk before leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss to her cheek.
“I think you need another drink,” Brielle tells her, already sliding past my chair toward the bar.
Aubrey stares after her for a beat before bringing her attention back to me. She pushes my floppy hair back and pokes my nose. The flush on her cheeks is made brighter by the lights around us in this Barbie wonderland.
This bar was the one place she wanted to go to celebrate, and I wasn’t about to argue. While it may be a bit pink and glittery for my taste, the food and drinks here are incredible. I rented the entire bar out for the night so she could be completely comfortable without risking anyone taking photos of us here, and as she relaxes into my arms, I know I made the right decision.
“How’s your pop taste?” she teases.
“Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
Dropping her gaze, she traces my bottom lip with her fingernail. “I already know what Dr Pepper tastes like.”
“Maybe the flavour has changed,” I argue, my grin turning lopsided.
She laughs, leaning in. “You’re ridiculous.”
Definitely.“Maybe.”
“I suppose I can give it a try, then.”
I place my hand on her belly, my fingers dancing over the soft curves. She tucks her chin when she palms the back of my neck and presses her lips to mine. The kiss is soft, just something to ease the desperation I feel for her while we’re stuck at the table with all of our friends.
“And there it is. They lasted an hour before making out,” Wes complains.
Without breaking away the kiss, I lift my middle finger and flash it to where I know he’s sitting across the table. Beside him, Jett chuckles. A hand smacks my back, and I finally lean back, still tasting strawberry lip gloss.
It’s Beck’s hand that drew me away, so I take it and squeeze hard enough to make him wince.
“I’m desperately waiting for the day one of you finds girlfriends to keep you busy,” I say, releasing him.
Brielle comes bouncing back to the table and sets a refill in front of Aubrey. “Or boyfriends.”
I tip my chin in agreement. “Yes, or boyfriends. As long as I get the chance to make fun of one of you for being in love sometime during the next decade, I’ll be happy.”
“And what about you, Brielle? Doesn’t she count, too?” Beck asks.
Wes reaches across the table and punches him in the chest. “Don’t ask my sister about her relationship status. What, are you into her or something?”
“Jesus Christ, Wes,” Brielle scolds, taking her seat on Aubrey’s other side. “You’re so annoying.”
