Epilogue
“Hurry. We’re going to be late!” I love Maddox Finch to the point of madness, but the man is slower than a snail when it comes to getting ready for events. I’m not sure how it’s possible he took longer than me to get ready; he only owns five pairs of trousers.
“I cannot do this,” he groans from his barrel top before stomping out into the bright day.
“You’re not going to a temple without a shirt.”
“Look at these.” He points to the sleeves clinging to his biceps.
Oh, I’m looking. And the view is glorious.
“They are strangling my arms.” He flexes, and the material bunches, but there’s nothing we can do about it now.
“I told you to try it on when we went to Madame Ella’s so that she could make adjustments.” The wedding starts in twenty minutes. There’s barely enough time to make it to the square, let alone to find my husband another bloody shirt.
“Do I have to wear?—”
“Yes. Now, come on.”
Maddox trudges to the waiting carriage—something else he loathes. He wanted to ride Dusk into town, but I spent an houron my hair, and this is a new dress. I don’t want to smell like unicorn sweat.
I poke his firm arm, secretly despising the layer of linen between my skin and his as well. “Stop sulking about the shirt.”
“I am no longer concerned about the shirt. I am afraid my Biscuits will be lonely.”
Poppycock. “Biscuits is surrounded by flowers and bushes. He is far happier in the garden than he would be in town.”
I can think of one way to keep his frown from growing.
I set my handbag aside and climb onto his lap, letting my knees fall to either side of his hips. “What are we going to do about this?” I press my index fingers to the corners of his mouth, forcing his lips into a smile.
Even in the dim light, his dark eyes sparkle. “I can think of one thing.”
“Hmmm . . . Can you? I wonder what that thing could be.”
Maddox climbs out of the carriage like a strutting peacock with its feathers on full display. “I do love carriages. Always have.”
I slip out after him, tucking my hair behind my ear and fixing my skirts so they’re not a disaster. “Liar.”
Chuckling, he takes my hand, leading me down the red carpet stretching across the cobbles. The sweet scent of roses hangs in the air as we pass beneath the rows of arches in front of the temple. Maddox ducks through the doorframe and into the packed room just as the string quartet begins playing a beautiful tune.
I am so glad Maddox and I eloped, though it was much to my mother’s chagrin.
Imagine all these people you barely know staring at you. No, thank you. We sit next to Maddox’s friend Gryffin, who must not understand proper wedding attire because he has forgotten a shirt.
Maddox tugs at his starched collar with a wince. “I told you not everyone would be wearing shirts.”
“Gryffin doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not married to him.”
Gryffin’s lips twitch into an almost-smile. Unlike Maddox, this Unseelie doesn’t seem to realize his lips can go up as well as down. “Nice shirt. Does it come in Unseelie sizes as well?”
Maddox elbows him. “I despise you.”
“Another one of your many lies,” Gryff mutters under his breath.
