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EPILOGUE ONE

Zayn

“Does this shade fit better, or this one?” Selene asks, holding up two fabric samples in almost identical tones.

“Either?” Kai answers, sounding like he’s asking a question himself.

“So this one then,” she decides, even though she probably already knew that’s the shade she’s going to use.

“I don’t know how we end up working on Theo’s hotels every single night,” Ethan complains as he and Sierra press a strip of wallpaper onto the wall.

“I think you’re starting to like it,” Selene calls from the bathroom of the room we’re in.

“How much longer for you guys?” Nick sticks his head through the doorway. “We’re almost done with room 1007, and I really need to eat already.”

“And we finished 1010,” Colt says, appearing beside him.

“Perfect.” Selene walks out of the bathroom. “I’m starving.” She wipes the back of her hand across her forehead, then shoots me a playful wink.

“We’re done too,” Sierra announces, immediately throwing herself into her husband’s arms as though she hasn’t seen him in days.

I barely have time to react before my wife walks straight into my arms too, her lips finding mine with enough hunger to make the others fade into the background.

“Thanks for the help, guys,” she says once she settles back against me. “Seeing all of you here feels like déjà vu. It takes me right back to the very beginning,” she adds with a laugh.

Looking at her, captivated, I can’t help but realize that we’ve come full circle.

We started working together on my project when there was nothing between us, and now we’re working together on Theo’s project, except this time, she’s my wife.

And the most important project we work on every single day is our love.

Because it keeps growing with every passing second.

Back then, I said my first finally when I kissed her.

And recently, I said my last finally when I made her my wife.

Because she’s fucking finally mine forever.

EPILOGUE TWO

Selene

“Babe, where are you?”

“In the kitchen,” I hear Zayn answer.

From the top of the stairs, I spot him wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants as he places food onto the plates.

I rest my hand on the railing, captivated by the sight of him. Sometimes, it still feels unreal that this man is in love with me, that he’s my husband, that I get to spend the rest of my life beside him.

“Hey,” he says with a chuckle. “Why’d you stop there?”

He walks to the bottom of the stairs and looks up at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Because I was trying to convince myself you’re actually my husband,” I answer, making my way down to him.

Shaking his head, he laughs freely. By now, he’s already used to my confessions because this definitely isn’t the first time we’ve had a conversation like this.