by Emery Rose
The house is dark when I pull into the driveway. Weird. Dylan usually has all the lights blazing. I park in the garage next to his G-Wagen, grab my bag from the passenger seat, and walk inside the house.
“Dylan?” I call out as I move through the rooms. I’ve injected color into his monochrome design and decorated the house in a modern vintage style. Midnight blue, jungle green, dashes of blush pink and brushed gold. Like my website. My aesthetic. He was happy to let me have free rein.
The scent of garlic and tomato sauce wafts from the kitchen but he’s not in there. Not that he actually cooks. But he’s good at ordering takeout.
I stop in the living room, my eyes going to the open glass doors where he’s standing, waiting for me by a table set for two on the terrace. There must be a hundred candles dotted around the terrace and the infinity pool, the flames dancing in the sea breeze, shedding light into the darkness. And there he is, looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had. He still makes my knees weak. Still takes my breath away.
“What’s going on?” I ask. He’s wearing a plain white tee and faded jeans. “Did you cook?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah. Got the recipe from Nic.” He carves a hand through his hair and lifts one of the silver domes like this is a restaurant and he’s the maitre d’. Where did he even get those silver covers? I stare at the food on the plate. It’s my favorite. Chicken Milanese with a side of spaghetti. It looks perfect. Amazing. “Not promising it’s any good.”
It will be good. Dylan doesn’t half-ass anything. He replaces the lid to keep it from getting cold and I’m confused as to what’s happening.
“Are we, um… eating? I mean… what’s the occasion?”
“You are. You’re the occasion, Starlet.” He takes my face in his hands and I stare at his gorgeous face. His pouty lips and chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones.
“Are you happy?” He’s serious, I know it from his tone and his expression, but I’m shocked that he still feels the need to ask.
“I’m so happy. Because I have you.” I have a million other good things too but he’s the most important one.
“I never want you to regret choosing me.”
“I never will,” I say with complete certainty. “I will always choose you. Again and again and again.”
“Thank God you said that. Otherwise, this could be awkward as fuck.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he’s dropped to one knee. Dylan St. Clair is on one knee in front of me. He’s holding a small velvet box and I’m dying.
Dying.
“Dylan, what—”
“Shh. Let me talk.” I nod, just now realizing that an acoustic version of “Wicked Games”, a female cover, is piping over the surround sound. He’s planned all of this. For me. And even as he starts talking, I can’t fully concentrate on the words because I’m so overwhelmed by it all.
“I love you, Starlet. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do to make you happy. I would move heaven and earth for you. I know there will be times when I’ll fuck up. I’m still an asshole sometimes. Doubt that will ever change. But I can promise you that I will always be loyal and honest and true to you. I will always fight for you. You’re my first true love. Until you came along, all I’d ever seen of love was the bad shit. You showed me what real love looks like. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Only you. Always and forever.”
My hand covers my mouth, the lump in my throat so big I can’t speak.
“Fucking say something.”
“Oh. Well... you didn’t ask me a question.”
“Fuck. Shit.” He clears his throat like he’s gearing up for something monumental. Because he is. It’s huge. “Will you marry me, Starlet?”
I can’t help it, I’m laughing and crying at the same time and all I can manage is a nod.
“That’s a yes?”
I nod again. “Yes.”
Dylan exhales loudly like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. I drop to my knees in front of him and practically knock him over when I throw my arms around him.
“Let me put the goddamn ring on it,” he says, but he’s laughing too and I’m covering his face in kisses. He pulls me to my feet and takes my hand in his, slipping a ring on my third finger. It’s a pink diamond. So perfect and so beautiful that I can’t stop the tears from falling.
He brushes my tears away with his thumbs before his mouth captures mine. I kiss him through my tears and my laughter and the kaleidoscope of butterflies that have invaded my stomach while his hands roam my body and my clothes magically disappear. Moments later I find myself naked in the hot tub, straddling him. Funny how that keeps happening. We’ve christened every surface of this house and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.
I have a feeling our dinner is going to get cold, but neither of us cares. We have the flames of a hundred candles, a big orange moon and we have each other.
“What are we, Dylan?” I ask as I sink down on him, my arms wrapped around his neck.
“We’re everything, Starlet. Every fucking thing. We’re life.”
Five Years Later
I’m crouched on the sidewalk in front of my design studio, writing on the chalkboard sign when two girls in their late teens, early twenties saunter past in tiny bikinis, bottles of Fiji water in hand. They stop walking and turn to face the beach.
“He’s hot,” the blonde says to her friend, sliding her sunglasses down her nose.
“Mmm hmm,” the brunette agrees.
I ignore them, don’t even turn my head to look in the direction of the beach across the street. I don’t need to check out hot guys. I’m married to the hottest guy in SoCal. He’s hotter than the surfer dudes on the beach or the lifeguards that the teen girls are always gawking at. He’s five-alarm fire hot and heat flushes my face just thinking about how hot last night was. Despite being married with two kids and being crazy busy, I’m willing to forfeit sleep for sex with Dylan. I never thought I’d like being blindfolded with my hands tied to the headboard but if you never try it, you never know. And I’m willing to try anything once.
“Totally a DILF,” the blonde says.
That has me whipping my head around to check out who they’re talking about. Now I’m on my feet, hand on my forehead shielding my eyes as I search for the DILF.
My husband. Shirtless and barefoot in nothing but a pair of black board shorts slung low on his narrow hips, his ink and his abs and his deliciousness on display. He has a bag over one shoulder, and a girl in each of his arms, biceps flexing and bulging as he carries them across the beach and sets them down, along with the bag.
I watch him toss a few towels on the sand and he and the girls unpack all the plastic toys, dragging them down to the water’s edge. Now I’m staring, just like the girls next to me to see what he’ll do next. Everly and Isla are laughing, trying to jump on his back as he crouches down and fills a bucket with sand.
They’re building sand castles. Oh, my heart. There is my world, right there. On the beach under a bright blue sky and a blazing sun. My everyday crush, the three loves of my life sharing smiles and laughter.
“Let’s help him build a castle,” the brunette says.
My jaw drops and my hands go to my hips as I watch the two bikini-clad girls saunter across the beach toward my husband. Even after all these years it still makes me feel stabby when girls hit on Dylan.
Yo, bitches, he’s mine. Back off.
“Spying on your husband again?” Frankie teases as she joins me on the sidewalk. Cruz’s sister and I have gotten close. Like her brother, she has a head for numbers and takes care of all my accounting and paperwork.
I cross my arms as I watch them trying to strike up a conversation with the DILF under the guise of helping to build a sand castle. But I force myself to relax. Dylan is loyal to the core. He only has eyes for his two little girls right now.
“Looks like you have nothing to worry about,” Frankie says with a smile that I return be
fore she goes back inside and my gaze returns to Dylan and our girls.
Isla is a miniature version of Remy, their resemblance so strong it’s uncanny. Everly looks more like me, her blonde waves messy and tangled. Their skin always looks sun-kissed, their eyes so blue they rival the bluest skies. To see them together, you’d never know they were twins. To see them now, so strong and healthy, you’d never know that they came into the world weighing less than two pounds each, their entrance dramatic and terrifying but also miraculous.
If I had ever had a doubt when I was younger, I don’t have a single one now. I know that Dylan would walk through the pits of hell for me and I would do the same for him. When his baby girls were born, he never left that hospital. He was by my side through all the long days and nights spent in the NICU. He was my pillar of strength.
The boy who climbed into my bedroom window all those years ago became the man I can’t live without.
Our names are inked over his heart. Scarlett. Everly. Isla. They are my heart, and he gives us life.
I watch the girls dart to the water’s edge only to get scooped up in Dylan’s arms. They’re shrieking with laughter as he throws one over each shoulder in a fireman’s carry and jogs across the beach, headed straight toward me. To think I get that DILF every single day and night. How lucky am I?
I cross the street and meet them on the beach path as he sets Everly and Isla on their feet.
“Mommy, we’re building a castle,” Everly says, her blue eyes wide, her hand pointing at the sand castle they were building before they’d gotten sidetracked.
“I can see that.”
“Now we’re hungry,” Isla says.
Everly nods enthusiastically and rubs her tummy. “Really, really hungry.”
“Starving for somethin’ sweet. Like Daddy.”
“I’ll bet,” I mutter.
Dylan chuckles and pulls me into a kiss.
“I saw you had a couple admirers.”
He gives me a crooked grin. “Jealous?”
“Pfft. Why would I be jealous? I have my very own DILF.”
His grin stretches wider and he leans in close, his voice low in my ear. “You want me to throw you over my knee and give you a spanking? You can call me Daddy.”
I snort laugh and shove him away. Bet he’d love that.
“Daddy. We want ice cream.”
“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” they chant knowing damn well their daddy will get them anything their hearts desire. They have him wrapped around their cute little fingers.
“Only one scoop this time.”
“With sprinkles.” They fold their hands in prayer and Dylan’s nodding his head in agreement. I snicker. He shoots me a look.
“Sucker.”
“You want ice cream, Starlet?”
“Do I get two scoops?”
He winks. “And extra sprinkles.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” I smile. “I love you.”
“Love you more.”
Dylan
The sun is starting to sink into the sky and I pull Starlet into my lap, burying my face in the crook of her neck and breathing her in. She smells like honey and vanilla and suntan lotion. She smells like home. She turns her face to mine and my mouth captures hers, my tongue sweeping into her mouth. She tastes like sunshine and the freshly squeezed lemonade she drank earlier. She tastes like the good kind of love.
I never thought a guy like me would ever find this kind of happiness. My girls are my world. They’re everything that’s good and true and I’m fucking amazed every single day that this is my life.
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I’d go from having nothing to having everything. Because of her. The girl who believed in me even when I didn’t deserve it. I like to think that her love has made me a better man. I like to think that I’ve come a long way from the place where I started.
I am hers, and she is mine, and we are everything.
THE END
Have you read Shane and Remy's story yet? You can find Wilder Love here: mybook.to/WilderLove
Also by Emery Rose
The Beautiful Series
Beneath Your Beautiful
Beautiful Lies
Beautiful Rush
Standalones
Wilder Love
Acknowledgments
As always, a huge thank you to my family for always supporting me through the ups and downs and all the crazy. Love you so much!!!
A huge thank you to Jennifer and Monica. This story would not be what it is without you. Thank you for loving Dylan and Scarlett as much as I do. Thank you for your time, your thoughts, your encouragement, and your attention to detail.
Ellie, thank you for the editing and for being so chill about my deadlines. I appreciate it more than I can say.
Najla, thank you for creating another gorgeous cover. You are such a joy to work with, thank you.
Jen Mirabelli and Wildfire Marketing Solutions, thank you for the promo and marketing.
Bloggers! Thank you so much for taking the time to read and review and share. I appreciate you and everything you do for the indie community.
Rambling Roses, thank you so much for all your support and comments and book discussions. It’s my favorite place on the Internet. Love you all! Special shout out to Emily for all the “research”, weekly posts, and creative hashtags. And to Carol for your friendship, for the music, and for lifting my spirits when self-doubt takes over.
And last but certainly not least, a huge thank you to the readers. I couldn’t do this without you and I’m so grateful to each and every one of you for reading my words.
If you enjoyed reading Dylan and Scarlett’s story, please consider taking a few seconds to leave a short review. They mean so much to indie authors.
Thank you so very much.
Emery Rose xoxo
About the Author
Emery Rose has been known to indulge in good red wine, strong coffee, and a healthy dose of sarcasm.
When she’s not writing, you can find her binge-watching Netflix, trotting the globe in search of sunshine, or immersed in a good book. A former New Yorker, she currently lives in London with her two beautiful daughters and one grumpy but lovable Border Terrier.
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