Page 96 of On the Line

“I love you, and I love our life together,” he replies. “But I’ll love it even more when your last name is Flynn.”

EPILOGUE

LAUREN

Two Months Later

“I think that’s probably enough,” I say as I watch Jameson add yet another piece of wood to the stack he has going next to the fire pit. “We’re not going to be out here all night.”

I burrow my hands deeper into the fleece-lined pockets of my down vest. It’s a clear and crisp late-September night, perfect for having friends and family over for s’mores and drinks around the firepit we just built into the new patio.

“Mama, look!” Ivy calls as she and Iris go down the small plastic slide in the corner of the yard. Jameson has big plans for this yard—a play structure and an in-ground trampoline for the kids, and a hot tub for us. But I’ve convinced him to wait until they’re a little older before we do all that.

Right now, the entire new garage has been framed out, but it’s still a construction zone over on that side of the yard. Luckily, Jules was able to put up a temporary fence around the space to prevent the girls from accidentally getting into the area, or any construction debris from getting into the yard.

“Wow!” I say. “Can I see you do it again?”

Jameson laughs softly where he’s kneeling next to the wood at my feet, and he caresses my calf. “Tire them out, please. We need some alone time tonight.”

“Miss me while you were in New York?”

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Oh,” I say, reaching down and running my fingers through his hair, “I think I do.”

He stands and, as always, towers over me. “You missed me, too?”

“You couldn’t tell last night on the phone?”

“Shit, Lauren, the way you looked with your toy inside you . . . I wanted to record it and watch you over and over again.”

“I would kill you if you ever recorded me,” I tell him. Our agreement when it comes to phone sex—which happens now pretty much every time he’s on a work trip—is: no evidence. The last thing I need is naked pictures or videos of me on my future husband’s phone. I’ve heard of too many situations where people’s phones get hacked and photos get leaked.

“I never go back on my promises,” he says solemnly, then brushes his lips across mine. “You can trust me.”

“I do. Implicitly.”

“Ewww,” I hear Graham’s voice from the gate near the driveway, and when we glance over, he’s walking into the backyard with Jules and Audrey. “Why are Uncle Jameson and Aunt Laurenalwayskissing?”

“Shut the gate,” Audrey reminds Graham, who turns and takes care of it. He’s really grown up this summer—he went from being a little kid to seeming much more mature. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he’s grown several inches in the past few months, or that he started Kindergarten, but he suddenly seems like a real person with thoughts, ideas, and actions all his own.

“Trust me, buddy,” Jameson tells him. “One day you’ll fall in love, and you’ll want to kiss that person all the time, too.”

“Girls are gross,” Graham complains loudly.

“Hey, what about Iris and Ivy?” Jules asks.

“My cousins are okay. But other girls are gross.”

“Again,” Jameson says, “you’ll change your mind.”

Graham looks at Jameson like he’s crazy but doesn’t contradict his uncle—he looks up to him too much to outright claim he’s wrong.

Twenty minutes later, our backyard starts filling in. Morgan and Paige arrive together, and a couple friends we’ve made in the neighborhood come with their kids. Colt shows up by himself and makes a beeline straight to Jameson. He looks agitated, which is far different than his normal carefree demeanor, but I’m distracted from that conversation because there’s someone at the gate I don’t recognize. He’s younger than me, and looks kind of lost, so I head over to him.

“Hey,” I say, “I’m Lauren.”

“I’m Drew. Jameson has said lots of great things about you.”

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