Page 112 of Married to Number 22
And I get the best gift of all.
His laughter…
And then the redoubled efforts of his supremely skilled tongue.
“Later, tiny tornado. The blow job can come later.”
Epilogue
Aiden, One Year Later
I checkthe mailbox on my way into the house, knowing that Luna will have forgotten it.
Mostly because she’s had a lot of other things on her mind with the rollout of her insulin program over the last couple of weeks.
But also making sure that Bri’s felt at home.
Because Bri has finally given in and agreed to move into the Maybelle-Black residence.
She’s spent the last year completing her GED, working at the bakery, and…learning to trust the good people around her. And now that she’s officially eighteen, she’s officially moving in.
Officially lettingusin.
Well, it was either that or my mom was going to find a way to get her to move there, and that would really cut in on hers and Luns’s reading time.
But seriously, she’s doing great—making friends, excelling at work and school, and she’s even applied to a few colleges for the spring semester, though she’s not entirely sure what she wants to study.
Luna thinks that she’ll be an author.
And I don’t think she’s wrong.
I just know that after all that Bri’s survived, she can do anything she puts her mind too.
The mailbox is empty except for a few letters, so I snag those, grab the rest of my stuff from the back seat of my car, and head into the house, wondering how I’m going to give Luna her surprise now that we have with a teenager living with us.
No more stair sex.
Or kitchen sex.
Or living room sex.
Definitely no library sex.
Good thing I excel at bedroom sex.
Grinning, I round the corner from the hall, mouth already watering in anticipation of my hot cocoa and?—
“Surprise!”
I jump—nearly all the way out of my skin, and whip around, mouth falling open at the sight in front of me—the kitchen full of my siblings, my parents, Bri…and Smitty and Kailey.
Frowning—mostly because I’m wondering what laws my teammate broke in order to make it here before me (or maybe what land speed records since we both left the arena at the same time)—I turn from him to the woman who owns my heart.
She’s smiling and leaning back against the opposite counter. “Happy Anniversary,” she says softly.
I shake my head at her, mouth curving.
Mostly because I had other plans to celebrate our anniversary.
