Chapter 139 Epilogue

Chapter 139 Epilogue
The bedroom door is barely closed before David's hands are on me, sliding up under the thin silk of my robe as he backs me against the wall.

I tilt my head back against the cool plaster, letting him kiss down the column of my throat while my fingers work the buttons of his shirt open. His skin is still firm under my palms, though the muscle has softened slightly with the years, the hair on his chest is more silver than dark now. I love every change. Every line around his eyes when he smiles, every grey at his temples, every scar from nights we almost didn't survive. I trace them with my fingertips as I push the shirt off his shoulders.

"You smell like trouble," he murmurs against my collarbone, voice low and rough the way it gets when he's already half-gone on me.

"Good trouble?" I ask, sliding my hand down his stomach, feeling the way his muscles jump under my touch.

"The best kind." He catches my wrist, brings my palm to his mouth and kisses the centre before guiding it lower and then pressing it against the hard length straining behind his trousers. "Feel that? Even after all these years, that's what you do to me. Every damn time."

I curl my fingers around him through the fabric, stroking slowly until he groans into my neck. "Then do something about it, husband."

He doesn't need more invitation. In one smooth motion he lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me to the bed. The robe falls open as we fall together, the sheets pooling around us like spilled moonlight. He kisses me deep and slow, sliding his tongue against mine in that lazy, thorough way that always makes my toes curl. I arch up into him, dragging my nails lightly down his back, urging him closer.

"Twenty-five freaking years," he whispers against my lips, "and I still can't get enough of you."

"Then stop talking and show me."

He laughs lowly and shifts down my body, kissing a trail across my collarbone, between my breasts, then lower. When his mouth closes over one nipple I gasp, threading my fingers through his hair to hold him there while he sucks and teases until I'm writhing beneath him. He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his hand sliding between my thighs to find me already wet and aching.

"Always so ready for me," he says, voice thick with satisfaction as two fingers slip inside, curling just right.

I rock against his hand, breath hitching. "David–"

He knows exactly what I need. He always has. His thumb circles my clit in slowly with firm strokes while his fingers thrust deeper in a steady rhythm that has me climbing fast. I bite my lip to keep quiet – it’s now an old habit from years of sneaking moments when the kids were young – but he notices and leans up to kiss me again, swallowing my moans.

"Come for me, Doll," he murmurs against my mouth. "Let me feel you."

It doesn't take long. The pressure builds and breaks in a rush of heat, my body clenching around his fingers as pleasure rolls through me in long, shuddering waves. He works me through it, slowing only when my hips stop bucking, then kisses me softly while I catch my breath.

"Your turn," I whisper, pushing at his shoulders until he rolls onto his back.

I straddle him, allowing my robe to fall completely open. My skin is flushed and sensitive now as his hands settle on my hips. I reach between us, guiding him to my entrance. We both groan as I sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch until he's buried deep.

"Fuck baby," he breathes, head tipping back against the pillows. "You feel so..."

I rock forward, cutting off his words with a kiss. Then I start to move, slowly at first, savouring the stretch, the fullness, the way he fills me so perfectly after all these years. His hands roam my breasts, waist, ass, guiding my rhythm while he thrusts up to meet me.

We find that familiar pace, the one we've perfected over decades of stolen moments and long nights. I lean down, bracing my hands on his chest, rolling my hips in tight circles that make him curse under his breath. He sits up suddenly, arms banding around my waist, mouth finding mine in a messy, desperate kiss as we grind together.

A knock sounds at the bedroom door.

"Ignore it," he says against my lips.

I smile, rolling my hips again just to hear him groan. "The knock sounds again, louder this time, but we ignore it.

The knocking stops and the footsteps retreat down the hall.

We laugh softly, the sound muffled between kisses as we pick up the rhythm again. Faster now. Harder. His hands grip my hips, helping me ride him, the bed creaking under us in protest. I can feel him thickening inside me, the tell-tale tension in his muscles that means he's close.

"Come with me, Doll," he growls, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit again.

The words sound rough and filthy in that velvet voice of his, and they send me over the edge. I shatter around him, crying out into his mouth as my body clenches and flutters, pulling him deeper. He follows seconds later, his hips jerking as he spills inside me with a low, broken moan.

We stay locked together for long moments, breathing hard with our foreheads pressed together while the aftershocks ripple through us both.

Another knock sounds again.

"You horny fuckers!” Sel's yell sounds through the door. “The entire church is downstairs waiting!"

We look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Coming!" I call, though my voice is still wrecked from moaning his name minutes earlier.

David helps me off him, both of us moving slowly, luxuriously sore in the best way. He kisses me once more before we scramble for clothes.

I pull on the deep emerald dress hanging on the door, while David buttons his shirt with practiced efficiency, though he leaves the top two undone, the way he knows I like. I smooth my hair, swipe on lipstick, and open the door.

Sel barges in immediately with her hands on hips. "You two are too old for this nonsense, honestly. The makeup artist is having a meltdown, the photographer is pacing, and Lucia is downstairs wondering if her parents got lost on the way to her wedding."

I grin, unrepentant. "We were… delayed."

"Clearly." She rolls her eyes but can't hide her smile. "You look wrecked. Both of you. Come on, Lucia needs her mother."

We follow her down the hall, David's hand warm at the small of my back. 

Lucia is twenty-two now (she insisted we call her that instead of Lucy since she turned eighteen) is standing in front of the full-length mirror in the guest room, in a white lace that’s hugging her slim frame and a veil trailing behind her like a cloud. Tyler, Sel and Marcus's twenty-two-year-old son, lounges on the chaise nearby in his tux, scrolling on his phone but smiling every time he looks at his cousin.

She turns when she hears us, and my breath catches.

She's beautiful. Stunning. The same dark curls I had at her age, the same determined chin David has when he's set on something. But softer around the eyes, warmer in her smile. She looks like both of us and neither of us at the same time... perfectly herself.

"Mom," she says with a smile. "Dad. Finally."

I cross to her, cupping her face gently. "You look like a dream."

David steps up beside me. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Lucia laughs, blinking rapidly. "Don't make me cry. My makeup's already done."

We stand there for a moment, the three of us with our foreheads touching, breathing the same air. Twenty-two years of love and chaos and miracles wrapped up in this one perfect girl.

Tyler clears his throat. "If we're done with the Hallmark moment, the car's waiting."

Sel swats his arm. "Be nice. Your aunt and uncle were busy."

Tyler grins. "I heard. The whole house heard."

David laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. "Watch it, kid."

We make our way downstairs, the house full of family and friends who have become family over the years. Marcus waits at the bottom of the stairs, looking handsome and proud in his suit. He kisses Sel's cheek, then hugs Lucia so tightly she squeaks.

The drive to the church is short. Lucia sits between David and me in the back of the town car, holding our hands like she used to when she was small. Outside, the city slides past. I see the familiar streets and familiar buildings but everything feels new today.

Inside the church, the organ begins to play.

David offers Lucia his arm. She takes it, smiling up at him with so much love it makes my chest ache.

I walk ahead with Sel, taking my place in the front pew. The doors open. The music swells. And there they are... my husband and my daughter, walking down the aisle together.

David looks at me over Lucia's head, eyes shining with the same wonder I feel.

I watch them move toward the altar, toward the man waiting there who loves our girl almost as much as we do. The road that led here was not smooth. There were years of fear, of loss, of nights I thought we wouldn't survive. There were betrayals and bullets and broken promises. But somehow, against every odd, we made it. We built this love that endures and a family that fights for each other. We built a life worth living.

David reaches the end of the aisle. He lifts Lucia's veil, kisses her forehead, then turns to the groom with a look that could freeze fire.

"You hurt her," he says quietly, "and they'll never find the body."

The congregation laughs. The groom swallows hard but smiles. David places Lucia's hand in her fiancé's, then walks back to sit beside me.

I lean over as he settles. "If only they knew you weren't joking, they wouldn't be laughing."

He puts a hand to his chest, mock horrified. "I'm hurt, Doll. Truly wounded. I can’t believe you think I’d ever do such a thing!"

I smile, remembering the first time Lucia brought a boy home. He was sixteen, gangly, terrified. David had answered the door in his shirtsleeves, arms crossed, and stared the poor kid down until he was sweating.

"How fast can you run?" he'd asked.

“W-what?” the boy stammered.

David shrugged.

“Oh I’m just curious because we tend to have a thing for target practice in this house.” His gaze locked on the boy. “and I tend to love moving targets. Makes things more interesting.”

The boy had lasted three dates.

"I think you're terrifying when you want to be," I tell him now. "And I love you for it."

He leans in, kissing me deeply, slow and thorough, right there in the front pew while the minister clears his throat pointedly.

A teenage voice hisses from the row behind us. "Seriously guys. Get a room."

I pull back, laughing, and turn to look at Lucas, our sixteen-year-old son, all long limbs and teenage indignation, sitting beside Tyler with his arms crossed and staring us down disapprovingly.

"Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, young man," I say even though I’m smiling.

Lucas rolls his eyes. "You're embarrassing me in front of my friends."

David chuckles. "Wait till your wedding day. See how embarrassing I can be."

Lucas groans dramatically.

I look back at David, at the grey threading through his dark hair, the fine lines around his eyes that only appear when he smiles. Even after all these years, he's still the most beautiful man I've ever seen.

I lean close, lips brushing his ear. "I love you, Mr. Reid.”

He turns, catching my chin gently, kissing me once more.

"And I love you, Mrs. Reid," he whispers. "Always have. Always will."

The organ swells again. The minister begins.

And as our daughter says her vows, promising forever to the man beside her, I rest my head on David's shoulder, his hand warm in mine, and think that maybe... just maybe... we've finally earned our happy ending.

But happy endings aren't endings at all.

They're simply the beginning of everything else.

And whatever comes next, we'll face it together.

Like we always have.

Like we always will.

~end~