Epilogue

Three years later

" W ell, well, well. Aren't you most tempting." Ambrose wrapped his arm around my waist as I smoothed the silk of my graduation dress over my thighs. His stormy eyes pierced mine in the mirror, free hand tracing the jagged scar on the side of my neck as it always did. "I can't have you walking across the stage today knowing what's hiding under that fucking gown."

I spun in his hold, giggling softly as I brought us face to face. "Dr. Wilder, you scandalize me."

"Marry me," he blurted, as he had often done over the years. As soon as I was on my feet after the White Dove Rite three years ago--the one which he'd thwarted and assumed the role of leader, only to disband the society much to the chagrin of its steadfast members—he begged me to marry him.

On a monthly basis the words escaped his lips, "Marry me and be my wife." Over and over, only for me to answer in the exact same way: "You're insufferable."

I tore from his hold to find my heels in our shared closet, taking them to the bed to slip onto my feet .

We lived at Oakwood House just as we had sophomore year. After the death of his father, Ambrose stepped into his role as university president with sheepish excitement. It was a job he took in stride and worked himself to the bone to repair the damage White Dove and the elder Dr. Wilder had done as elitists. The school was thriving and no one seemed happier or more at ease than Ambrose and the faculty. The entire culture had changed and the very walls of the school exuded love in return.

It was inspiring to watch him, even if he did beg for me to marry him constantly, ring and all. A ring which sat inside the box he once more held in front of me, on his knee as I finished the last of my heels.

"Marry me, Vivian. It's graduation day. I can't wait a moment more, I need to have you in every way a person can have another," he beseeched. "Don't make me suffer any longer."

I smiled, guiding him to stand as I extracted the damned rock—which I loved dearly from the start—from its hideaway.

"I just don't know," I teased. "Why ruin a good thing?"

"Ruin a good thing?" He drew back, pain creeping in on the edges of his eyes. Those eyes had acquired quite a few more wrinkles in the corners over the last couple of years and I desperately wanted to place a kiss to each.

"Yes!" I slipped the large oval diamond over the fourth finger of my left hand, waving it delicately as I continued. "Don't you think the news of baby Wilder will trump the news of our engagement?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ambrose balked just as I expected he might. We hadn't been trying for a baby, but at some point we stopped preventing and I knew it would happen eventually.

I laughed, clasping either side of his face. "See! Takes the thunder right out from under the engagement, doesn't it?"

"You're kidding," he protested, casting an apprehensive look toward my belly, which was soft and gently sloping as ever. "You're being cruel, why would you choose to be so cruel?"

"Why would I joke about something like this," I asked, guiding his hands toward where my womb lay. "I was going to tell you tonight but seeing as how you're so god awfully persistent."

"Vivian…" Ambrose's eyes widened in wonder and he took me in a gentle embrace, his mouth finding mine effortlessly in a way I would never get used to. His fingers combed themselves through my hair and I allowed mine to curl over the thick bands of his biceps. "How far?"

"Maybe seven or eight weeks, we are going to the doctor next week to be sure." Our foreheads met. "We would be due in January."

"I love you, do you know that? I love you so much, thank you. Thank you for this, and for so much more." His voice swelled with emotion, rendering my heart full. I wanted this, I wanted him to be happy, for us to be happy, to continue to put my sophomore year behind us and live the way we were supposed to—together and fulfilled.

The doorbell echoed through the house, chiming Walt and Sam's arrival. Walt, who graduated last year with a degree in music, just as he wanted. Who started dating Sam shortly after the Rite and planned to marry her in the winter. Walt, who started an indie band with his friends in New York and pursued his lifelong love freed from the shackles of our parents.

Neither of us had spoken to them since my recovery, and we had no intention of doing so again. It felt right to guard our hearts from them.

"That would be Walter," Ambrose murmured, his lips brushing mine as he guided me backward onto the bed. I giggled, a small thrill working its way up my spine and turning my core into a hot, molten pool of desire .

"Well, we can't keep him waiting," I managed between frantic kisses.

"Yes, we can. We absolutely can. You've agreed, finally, after all these years, to be my wife?—"

"I was never going to say no?—"

"I wasn't done," Ambrose muttered with a finger pressed to my lips. He fell between my knees and brushed the silk hem of my dress over my thighs.

My breath caught as his warm, wet mouth made contact with the sensitive, inner skin of my thigh. "By all means, please continue."

"You've agreed, finally, to be my wife. And on top of it all, you tell me you're full of my child." He'd maneuvered my dress up, over my hips, exposing my bare center which he planted a soft, delicate kiss upon, sending my head back against the bed and my spine arching. "I think I deserve a bit of time to celebrate all that, don't you?"

"But—but graduation," I fought weakly, drowning in his mouth which sucked and teased and tormented with nothing but pure fucking love .

Walt rang the doorbell again, this time with an accompanying knock.

"It doesn't ever take me long, does it, Mrs. Wilder?" Ambrose purred before sucking my clit into his mouth and slipping a finger inside me. "And don't you worry, I still expect you to begin teaching this fall, pregnant or not. In my old room."

Despite the fact that I knew he'd allow me to keep my job as an English Instructor, part of me worried he'd fret and keep me home like some fragile miss. To hear him say otherwise was enough to send tears to my eyes and I sat up to pull his face to mine.

"I'm so grateful for you," I reminded him as Walt skipped the doorbell to bang his fist on the door instead .

"I hope you know how wholly that gratitude is returned." Ambrose planted a small kiss against the inside of my wrist, bringing me to my feet. "Come on, let's go before he breaks the door down."

And I laughed, because with Ambrose, I was happy.

So blissfully and incandescently happy .