by Ciara Shayee
Rolling his eyes, he turns back to the bunting he’s attempting to pin up. “My permission, asshole. Don’t make me spell it out for you. I know you’re not that stupid. My daughter chose you, after all.”
No, I think to myself with the goofiest of grins. She didn’t just choose me.
She saved me.
Brought back to the present by Sullivan asking how Carson took it, I grin as I toss an arm around my little brother and gaze out at the sun sinking below the horizon. One day, probably soon, I’m going to ask the woman I love more than life itself if she’ll tie herself to me for the rest of our sunsets.
There’s just one thing I need before I can do that.
“I need your help with something before I go to England with Piper and the boys next week,” I admit, waving him off when he snorts and tells me he knew I’d end up going.
It’s possible I told Carson a little white lie when I said I’m not in any rush to make an honest woman of his daughter, but I didn’t want to freak him out, especially not on his son’s wedding day.
“I’m gonna go pick out a ring.”
Epilogue
Piper
Silence, my old friend.
With a quiet sigh, I fold my arms over my chest and lean in the doorway of the boys’ room at Kellan’s house—or ‘Home 2’ as Jaxson, Finley, and Arlo have dubbed it.
We’ve had a busy day, so all three of them are sound asleep in their beds, Max pretending to sleep on the rug in the middle of the room so I don’t kick him out. After the catastrophe he and Arlo caused in the bathroom the other morning—wet paper towels and lotion is all I’m saying—he’s no longer allowed to sleep up here with the boys.
His ears perk up and his eyes pop open, giving him away as a pair of warm, strong arms slip around my waist and a kiss lands on the skin of my shoulder bared by the gaping neck of my stolen Gators tee.
“Hey,” Kellan whispers, holding me a little tighter. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking about everything I still need to do before tomorrow.”
We’re leaving on the 3:05 flight out of Jacksonville tomorrow afternoon, currently expecting to land in London at around 7 a.m., their time.
So far, I’ve gotten the boys mostly packed but haven’t even touched my own suitcase, and don’t even get me started on where I’ve hidden Jude’s gifts. I know they’re here somewhere, but where exactly is anyone’s guess.
At least I don’t have to worry about Max as he’s staying right here; Sullivan has the dubious pleasure of watching him while Kellan and I take the boys to England.
The to-do list is overwhelming and my time to get it done is dwindling fast, but watching the boys sleep is one of my favorite things to do.
Silence is golden, after all.
Of course, ever-prepared Kellan has had his bags packed for days. I’ve lost count of the times he’s checked his hand luggage today alone. Lord knows why, because he’s been very specific about nobody touching it and messing up his packing system.
“Come on, come to bed. I’ll help with all that in the morning.”
To be honest, it never takes much cajoling for Kellan to get me into bed. With a gentle tug toward the room I’m quickly adjusting to calling ‘ours,’ he has me.
Whistling softly, I make sure Max is following us before succumbing to Kellan’s will and letting him guide me down the hall. There, we help each other remove our clothes before falling into bed, Max settling on his cushion in the corner.
Both exhausted from work and the boys, neither of us initiates sex tonight. Instead, we kiss unhurriedly, languidly, until I curl up against his chest and whisper my “I love you” right over his heart.
*
True to his word, Kellan does help me get everything ready the next morning.
The boys are crazy, but that’s to be expected. Max obviously picks up on their abundance of excitement, so we quickly have three hyper boys and around a hundred pounds of sloppy-tongued, waggy-tailed dog to deal with, all while trying to make sure we have everything we need.
By the time we make it to the airport and get all our bags checked, I’m exhausted, and it’s not even noon.
“Can we go look at the stores?” Jaxson asks, spinning his cap so the bill is at the back.
“Sure, but how about some lunch first, yeah?” Kellan suggests, scooping him up to sit on his shoulders. “How does Chili’s sound?”
We’re all in agreement, so that’s where we head. By sheer dumb luck, we manage to snag a table right away, settling in to eat our food. Twin sighs of relief rush from me and Kellan, while the boys are still just stoked to be going on a plane and getting to see Jude again.
Thankfully, everything goes perfectly to plan. We eat our lunch, goof around in one of the pop-up photo booths that’s been erected in the shopping mall area, and meander through some of the stores until the boys start to whine that they’re bored and want to go watch the planes.
By then, we can see our boarding gate on the big screen, so we head there and take videos of the boys ‘moonwalking’ on the moving walkways. Dumping our carry-on bags on the seats, Kellan and I crouch by the enormous windows overlooking the runway to snap photos of the boys expressing their awe at the large aircrafts.
“Look, Momma! There’s all our bags!”
“I hope not,” I laugh. “That’s not our plane, kiddo. We’ll have no clothes to wear when we get to England if they put our clothes on there.”
Arlo’s eyes light with mischief. “Ooh, can we—”
“No,” Kellan and I say together, shaking our heads and sharing fond smiles of teasing exasperation. Miniature nudist-in-training, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
Nonplussed, he continues pointing to the planes with his brothers until Finley tells me that he needs to go pee. “C’mon, kiddo. Do either of you two need to use the restroom?”
“I’m good,” Jaxson murmurs, Arlo muttering his agreement. Neither of them bother turning to look at me, both too interested in the guys using a giant, extending staircase to inspect something on one of the planes.
“All right. C’mon, little face.”
Finley is my least dithery dude. He sings quietly to himself as we join the line, and when we finally get into the restrooms he just does his business and gets out of there. The line seems to have dried up, so it’s noticeable when the door of the cubicle at the end swings open with a squeak and a pair of heels click-clack on the parquet as Finley starts washing his hands.
Glancing up with a polite smile, I do a double-take.
It can’t be.
Her ice-blue eyes widen a little before narrowing. I know she’s recognized me when her red lips curve into a small smile. “Piper? Little Piper Fitzgerald?”
“All-grown-up Piper Fitzgerald,” I correct her tightly, forcing a smile even though my stomach is rolling. I’m glad my voice doesn’t give away my turmoil when I speak. “It’s been years, Shannon.”
I’d love to say she looks haggard and unkempt, but it would be a lie. She’s impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free pantsuit, her blonde hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Apart from a couple more creases in her forehead, she doesn’t look any older than she did six years ago when I last saw her.
The day before she took Kellan’s wounded heart and stomped all over it.
All my instincts are telling me to grab her by her hair and toss her on her ass. It’s only Finley’s presence that reminds me to keep my cool.
Her eyebrows lift a little; she’s obviously picked up on my obvious disdain for her existence. Good. “Well…it’s nice to see you.”
“Mmhmm. C’mon, Finn.”
“But Momma, my hands aren’t dry.”
“They can drip dry, come on.”
Hustling to get away while my son probably wonders when his momma turned into a crazy person, I snatch in a deep breath as soon as we’re out of the restroom and steamroll back toward our gate.
I need to tell Kellan.
The entire area has filled up with other passengers getting ready to board, so Finley and I have to wind through the crowds to get back to the windows overlooking the runway. There, we find Kellan sitting cross-legged on the floor, our bags around him, with Arlo and Jaxson chattering away in his lap. If it weren’t for the fact that my heart is racing after my little encounter with Shannon, I’d stop to take a photo of the adorable sight.
Instead, I inhale another calming breath as Finley rushes over to join them, then I take a moment to plaster what I hope is a convincing smile on my face just as Kellan turns to offer me a lopsided smile.
I’m about to wipe that smile right off his face when it disappears of its own accord, his grass-green eyes narrowing at something behind me.
I know exactly what, or who, he’s looking at.
Spinning around, I come face to face with Shannon for the second time today. this time, she looks less pleasantly surprised, more confused as hell. I have to say, I’m a little confused myself.
“Did you follow us?”
“Follow you…” I hear Kellan say, vaguely aware of him standing up behind me as a I frown at Shannon.
“You’re here, together?” she murmurs, looking between the two of us with a knot between her perfectly manicured brows. I see her eyes bounce down, to the boys, then back up to us. “Are they—”
“Hi! I’m Arlo Maxwell Fitzgerald. What’s your name?”
With a mental facepalm, I grab Arlo by the hood of his sleeveless sweater before he can approach Shannon and hold him in front of me as her expression turns calculating. “Fitzgerald.” She meets my gaze. “Your son?”
Nodding, I rest my free hand on Finley’s head as he leans against my legs, Jaxson slipping his hand into the pocket of Kellan’s cargo shorts. A warm, strong hand coming to rest on my waist brings a tiny smile to my lips, though. Leaning against Kellan, I feel an almost sick sense of satisfaction as I watch Shannon’s confusion transform first into surprise, then realization.
“Our sons,” Kellan corrects, ruffling Jaxon’s hair when he looks up to flash him a silly-sweet smile. With a sigh, Kellan turns his attention back to his ex-wife.
Knowing what I know now, knowing how badly she hurt him, I can’t help but wonder what he feels when he looks at her, or how he can stand to be near her. it’s taking all I have just to resist punching her right in her immaculately made up face.
“What are you doing here, Shannon? You hate Florida.”
Opening and closing her mouth like a fish, she finally scoops her jaw off the floor long enough to clear her throat and straighten her already-straight jacket. “I’m just passing through. I…I have a business trip in Paris.” Shaking her head, she steps closer.
Woah, bitch. Not so fast.
Adjusting my stance, I make sure she knows she isn’t welcome. Her expression hardens.
“Let me get this straight…you two? You’re together?” She doesn’t wait for either of us to answer her, instead cackling a too-loud laugh that gives away the tremble in her hard-faced veneer. “This is priceless! You couldn’t keep a wife your own age so you settled for a younger model who wouldn’t know better. This is just like you, Kellan—”
I swore to myself that I wouldn’t land my butt in jail on her account, but there’s no way I can ignore that.
Stepping around my sons, I hear Kellan tell them to run and look at the big plane about to take off just as I get right up in Shannon’s face. She’s got a couple inches on me, but she doesn’t scare me. Especially not when her eyes widen and she swallows hard.
“Now you listen, and listen well. That man is lightyears above you in every goddamn way. You’re cruel and vindictive, and if you think I’m going to stand here and let you get away with talking to him like that, you can think again.”
Anger ignites my veins as I replay what she did on a loop in my mind.
“I know what you did, Shannon. I know you cheated, lied, and then waited until the worst possible time to kick Kellan while he was down.”
If I were a cartoon, there would be steam pouring from my ears.
Her lips twitch as she shifts her feet, looking over my shoulder as if Kellan is going to save her. “Who do you think you are?”
“She’s the woman I love, and you’ll do well to remember that.”
There’s no rebuffing the hard timbre of Kellan’s voice.
Shannon visibly shrinks under the weight of his glower, her eyes darting down to the arm he wraps loosely around my waist—presumably to hold me in place. I’ve never been a hot-head, but I can be fierce when those I love are concerned, and this woman is just begging for a high-speed train or some shit.
“You made your choice, Shannon. You don’t get to talk shit about mine. If you don’t like it, fine. You didn’t have to come over here and cause trouble in front of the boys.”
The boarding call for passengers with children on our flight bongs over the speaker, cutting short a conversation likely to land me in airport security, or worse.
Shannon scowls, shaking her head at us. “You always were a fool. I bet she’s just using you. She’ll ditch you when she gets bored.”
I laugh at that. “Don’t project your own behaviors onto others. Not everybody is like you.”
Turning on my heel as her face grows increasingly red, I call the boys over and reach for my bag. A bigger hand beats me to it, a tender but hard kiss landing on my forehead.
“Thank you,” Kellan murmurs, his eyes dark and wary. “Nobody…” he pauses to blow out a big breath, rubbing his neck. It’s his nervous tell, and I hate that Shannon brings it out in him. “Nobody has ever stuck up for me like that. Especially not against her.”
My heart feels like it’s beating in my ears. “I love you, Kellan. I’m on your side. Always.”
As he chuckles and ducks his head to kiss me properly, eliciting the usual squealed groans from the boys, I catch Shannon’s steaming-mad expression before she turns on her heel. I grin into the kiss, pulling him closer because he’s never close enough.
That’s right, bitch. He’s mine.
*
“Hell, I don’t know where they get their energy,” Kellan huffs when we finally fall into bed hours later.
The flight was long, the boys bored after a few hours. There’s only so much movies and coloring books can cure when you’re basically confined to a single seat for more than nine hours, so I spend the first half of the flight praying the boys are this good the whole time and the last half tempted to throw myself out of the emergency exit just to escape their whining.
By the time we get to London, I’m ready to crawl into the nearest bed and sleep for three days.
Except bedtime doesn’t come for hours, the boys too excited to be back with Nanny Jude in their old stomping grounds to sleep. Kellan copes beautifully with their second burst of energy so I let him take the reins while I just count the minutes until we can tuck our little terrors into bed for the night.
“That would be the copious amounts of sugar Jude pumped into them today,” I mutter as I pull on my stolen Gators tee before wiggling my way under the covers, tucking my cold feet between Kellan’s warm calves. He hisses, but my legs wrapped around his prevent him from moving away.
Eyeing me, his face partially lit by the dim bedside lamp, he purses his lips.
“’Scuse me, but how is this a fair situation? Your feet are freezing!”
“I know,” I exclaim, trying not to laugh. “That’s why you’re gonna warm them up for me.” Pouting just a little, I wriggle closer and press a few teasing kisses against the solid expanse of sexy chest in front of me. “Pretty, pretty please, handsome?”
“Fuck’s sake,” he whisper-chuckles, wrapping his arms around me to pull me closer. “You’re a witch, I swear. Come here, short stuff.”
It’s a good job I am short, too, because the pullout in Jude’s living room
is barely big enough for a flea. The boys have the spare room upstairs, so for the duration of our stay, Kellan and I will be somewhat squished on the sofa-bed down here. It’s not too bad if we stick close together, but then my feet don’t hang off the end of the bed.
“My calves aren’t even on the bed,” he admits quietly when I ask if he’s comfy.
Snorting, I try to quiet my overtired mind and let the familiar scents and sounds of Jude’s living room calm me. A bone-rattling yawn leaves my eyes watering as Kellan pulls me against his chest and presses a gentle kiss on the top of my head. Almost every part of me is aching for him…except the part that’s pure exhaustion and desperate for sleep. That one is winning.
I also happen to know that the boys are likely to be awake with the sun, thanks to their messed-up schedules and over-excitement.
“I love you, handsome, but the best you can hope for tonight is a cheeky grope.”
Huffing a chuckle into my hair, he lets me twist until he’s spooning me, my feet tucked back between the warmth of his calves, my back against the steady thrum of his strong heart. “Are you settled?”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, already halfway asleep but not enough not to smile when he glides his warm palm over my hip, the curve of my waist, and up to my breast, leaving it there with a contented sigh as he follows me into unconsciousness.
*
Our first few days in England are a total whirlwind.
We spend day one recuperating from our long day and night of traveling, eating breakfast in our pajamas in Jude’s little kitchen that looks like a gingham factory vomited all over it. I’d forgotten how much I like her eclectic décor; the loud, familiar patterns feel like home in an odd, nostalgic sort of way.
When we finally do get dressed and venture out, it’s just to the park at the end of the street. Tugwell Park isn’t much to write home about, really—just a swing set, a roundabout, and a little climbing frame on the side of a field popular with dog walkers and kids playing football.
As it happens, we aren’t the only ones using the playground when we amble down after lunch, leaving Jude to head out for a doctor’s appointment she couldn’t reschedule.