Page 167 of Faking the Pass
The adamant word seemed to echo through the room.
And then he turned to me with shining eyes and that dazzling smile he reserved just for me.
“I got your messages.”
I smiled back, tears already overflowing my eyelids and wetting my cheeks. “You took your sweet time replying.”
“We were doing our annual family camping trip. I had no signal until late this afternoon,” he explained. “But honestly, some things are better said in person.”
Cupping my face in his big, warm hands, he said, “Thank God you love me, Starfish, because I was one miserable bastard without you.”
“There are live mics all around us,” I whispered.
“I don’t fucking care,” Presley said, speaking even louder. “I am hopelessly, permanently, ridiculously in love with my wife, and I want the world to know about it.”
And then he kissed me in a way that left no room for doubt, for those watching— and for the woman experiencing it.
When our mouths parted, Presley added, “But later, when we’re alone and there are no microphones or cameras around… I’ve got something important to ask you.”
Epilogue
Merc
It was incredible to be back in Eastport Bay, sitting at the big dining table in my parents’ house, laughing with them and my brothers and their wives.
Little did they all know, they’d be seeing a lot more of me soon. I was waiting for just the right moment to drop the news.
Across from me, Jessica was telling Rosie about our epic camping trip.
“A little sisterly advice? Never, and I meannever,camp for two weeks with a two-and-a-half-year-old while pregnant.”
“Noted,” Rosie said and laughed. “We’re pretty far from that right now. Presley and I have to wait for filming onMiss Marjoribanksto wrap before we can even start trying.”
Seated next to her, Pres wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder and leaned in, “I’ve told her we can practice as much as she wants until then. It’s been added to our contract.”
“Contract?” Jess asked, confused.
Rosie shot him a warning glance and poked his side.
“He’s joking.”
Unrepentant, he went on teasing her. “I think we’re up to amendment number three-hundred-seventy now. Want to hear what three-sixty-nine was?”
I was happy for him—really happy. I’d never seen him so carefree and content.
He and Wilder were both poster-boys for the whole wife-and-kids thing.
It just wasn’t for me.
I’d gotten close once, but that hadn’t worked out, and really it had been for the best.
What more could a guy want than money, fame, and unlimited opportunity with women?
“Hold you?” a little voice said, and I looked down to see my nephew Theo’s big green eyes and his chubby little hands stretching up to me.
“Want me to hold you?” I asked, and he showed me his cute little baby teeth, squeezing his eyes tight in a heart-melting grin.
“Well, come here then, little man.” I reached down and pulled the kid onto my lap.
