"Even though we ended up stranded on the side of the road?"
"Especially because we ended up stranded on the side of the road."
I smile against his chest. "Take me to bed?"
"I haven't showered yet."
"I don't care."
"You should care. I smell like—"
"Like us," I interrupt. "And I like it."
He groans. "You're going to be the death of me."
"But what a way to go."
He stands, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing, and carries me up the stairs to his bedroom.
We have all day. We have all the time in the world. And this time, when he lays me down on his bed and covers my body with his, it's not fake.
It's not pretend. It's real. It's us.
It's perfect.
Epilogue - Nash
Four Years Later
The house smells like vanilla cake and chaos.
I'm standing in the kitchen, frosting a two-tier monstrosity that's supposed to look like a princess castle, and I'm pretty sure I'm failing spectacularly.
"How's it going in there?" Claire calls from the living room.
"Great," I lie.
"Liar."
I smile despite myself. Four years of marriage and she can still read me like a book.
Through the doorway, I can see her hanging pink streamers across the ceiling while our daughter, Sophia, toddles around her feet, clutching a stuffed rabbit that's nearly as big as she is.
Sophia. Two years old today. Dark hair like her mother, my eyes, and a stubborn streak that came from both of us.
The best thing I've ever had a hand in creating.
"Dada!" Sophia spots me and makes a beeline for the kitchen, her little legs pumping.
I scoop her up before she can grab the counter. "Hey, princess. You're supposed to be helping Mama."
"Cake!" She points at my disaster with sticky fingers.
"Yeah, cake. But it's not ready yet."
"Cake now!"
"Cake later. When everyone gets here."
