Lawson’s brother looks despondent as he steps into the hall. “How’d she get out?”
“That cow,” I say evenly, “is the worst.”
Lawson clasps the back of my neck, pulling my focus. I’m not expecting the cake he smashes down my face. There’s another gasp, and more footsteps join us.
“Holy shit,” Remi says in awe.
“There was cow drool on that,” I put in, horrified.
Lawson’s laugh is as bright as the snow outside. He bends over, clutching his side, the frosting on his hand leaving a white patch on his suit jacket. But it’s the joy in his eyes that has my heart pattering anew.
I pull him upright, wiping my face against his before he can protest. He doesn’t once stop laughing, his lips finding mine through the mess of frosting and cake. It’s horrible andwonderful and the same fireworks I felt the first time my lips met his.
I don’t care about the, “Gross,” Remi affectionately mumbles. Or the fact that our reception got upended by a cow. I barely hear Ash declaring he’ll get the frosting started or notice the folks moving around us to help set the house to rights.
There’s only Lawson, who once gave me a thimble, a gift so much bigger than I ever knew it’d be. It was love, plain and simple. A piece of his heart he promised to me.
Promises don’t always keep.
But Lawson’s? Him and me?
It’s a fairy tale that has nothing to do with make-believe.
“Love you, hubby,” I whisper against Lawson’s lips.
He smiles. Oh, how he smiles. “Oak?”
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me again? And this time, don’t stop.”
And what can I possibly do but give my husband exactly what he wants? A kiss.
His first.
His last.
“Anything you want, princess. I’m yours.”
Epilogue
Lawson
Ten Years Later
All is warm when I wake, the surface beneath me moving steadily like the tide. It takes me a second to orient myself, the feeling of being shipborne dissipating.
I can almost remember pirates, but that, too, floats into mist.
“Morning,” Oakley rumbles, his voice like thunder beneath my ear.
I pull in a deep breath, contentment secure around me like a blanket. “Morning. Your sword is pokingmy thigh.”
Oakley snickers, his hand rubbing down my back. His fingers slip under the band of my sleep pants, a suggestive little dance that has me smiling. “Feel like dueling this morning?”
My laugh has Oakley chuckling in response. But then I remember what today is, and tension creeps into my frame. Oakley senses it, his hand slipping free.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
