Epilogue

"For the hundredth time, I'm not telling you. These lips are firmly sealed." Jon makes a zipping motion across his mouth.

I sit back in my seat, considerably annoyed I haven't managed to break him over the last twenty-four hours since he told me I wouldn't be going to work for the next week. Apparently, no amount of blow jobs, sex, private dances, or even promising to allow Miley Cyrus on in the car for the rest of time will crack this man.

Since then, I've tried to break Kate, Darcy, Jack, Adam, Zach, Jensen, and the rest of the team, but they're all traitors, refusing to budge an inch. They're all Team Jon, and that has been duly noted by me. I thought at least Adam would be on my side. He's giving Kate competition for best friend status, and over the last few months, I have seen more and more of him as he attends games with us in the box. He even comes over for dinner at our apartment at least once a week. Adam's doing great, and this has helped Jon so much. Seeing happiness flood their lives is nothing short of what both these amazing men deserve.

I stretch out and yawn in the passenger seat. Jon woke me at the crack of dawn this morning, told me to dress comfortably, and then our doorman proceeded to roll two suitcases out to his G-Wagon, so clearly, he's in on it, too.

"Just a little clue then."

"No."

"I'll sneak olives into your dinner."

"And I'll happily eat them," Jon says, eyes on the road and keeping a straight face.

"Liar."

"You're around eleven hours away from finding out where we're going, and I'm so proud of you for being patient." He delivers the last part of that sentence in a mock patronizing tone while patting my knee.

I pull out my phone.

Me

This is your final warning.

Kate

Girl, I'm warned. But I'm still not giving you shit.

Dammit.

It's around twenty minutes later when Jon pulls into the terminal that I recognize the team uses to fly out for away games since I've been dropping him off here for the past few months.

My heart trips out slightly. "We're getting on a plane?"

Pulling up in the private parking lot, he leans across and undoes my seat belt, kissing me on the bridge of my nose. That shit eating, dimple-popping, annoyingly-does-me-every-time grin is still on full display.

He takes my hand and leads me to the private jet while the ground staff take our bags and load them onto the plane.

"I've never been on a private jet before," I say in awe as we board, and I take in the plush leather interior and elaborate decor.

We take our seats, and the captain announces how long the flight will be but again, no destination. The usual safety procedures are announced and before I know it, I'm thirty-thousand feet in the air and sipping on a Cosmo at six in the morning.

"We're a half hour from landing, Angel. Are you ready to find out where we're going?" Jon whispers in my ear, waking me from my sleep.

I yawn. "Born ready."

He laughs and gives the cabin crew member a nod.

"Good afternoon Mr. Morgan and Ms. Thompson, I hope you enjoyed a pleasant flight with us today. I'm pleased to confirm we will very shortly begin our descent into Troms? Airport, and from there you will be collected by your chauffeur and taken straight to your destination."

My breath hitches in my throat as tears begin to prick in my eyes. "Y-You brought me to Norway."

Raising my hand to his mouth, he kisses my knuckles gently. "I hope your dad won't mind me stealing his idea."

I don't know what to say as the tears spill over and down my cheeks. I miss my parents every day, and Elliott forcing me to sell their house and then moving to Seattle has made them feel even further from reach. But as the wheels touch down at Troms? Airport, I feel a part of my dad deep within my soul, almost like he's been waiting for me to meet him here.

Jon bookedus a cabin right on the water and in the middle of nowhere. It's the perfect place to watch the aurora.

"Oh my god, look at the size of that hot tub. I could take a swim in that thing."

"Why don't you get in and try it out?"

"Aren't you coming in with me?" I stick my bottom lip out like the thirty-nine-year-old child I can be.

"Let me think about this…" He leans against the marble counter. "You, me, a huge hot tub, and the northern lights? Yeah. I think I'll be joining you."

I make my way to the master bedroom. "Well, give me a few; I need to get my bikini on."

"Good luck with that."

I turn on my heel. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't pack one. Guess you'll just have to go in naked."

I quirk a mischievous brow. "Oh, really?"

Two can play at that game, Mr. Morgan.

Standing only a few feet away, I slowly walk back toward him and unzip my hoodie. I only have a cami top underneath, and given I was told to dress comfortably, I skipped the bra.

The moment Jon sees my peaked nipples he groans, a deep rumble from his chest. "I want you fully naked and in that tub in the next thirty seconds."

Our cabin is totally secluded as I slip into the warm bubbling water. I'm still waiting on Jon, who's been messing around in the bedroom for the past five minutes.

It's a beautiful clear night, perfect for watching the auroras dance in the sky.

Grabbing my hair tie from my wrist, I throw my unwashed hair up into a messy bun. I'm makeup-free and feeling less than attractive but what the hell.

Two hands fall to my shoulders as they nudge me forward and then a sculpted naked body slides in behind me until my back is to his chest and his arms are around me.

"I'm sorry you didn't make the playoffs." With Zach out for the rest of the season, it was an uphill battle, and the Scorpions narrowly missed out.

Jon's lips fall to the soft flesh of my neck. "Sitting here with you in this tub, I'm not all that disappointed."

I throw my head back and bask in the way his lips move across my pebbled skin. His touch affects me even more than the day we met.

"It's starting, Angel."

I look up to see the sky illuminate with green. Greens turn to pinks as the most beautiful show unfolds above us. A lump forms in my throat. "This is perfect, everything about this."

Jon clears his throat. "There's only one other thing that could make this night more perfect," he whispers from behind me, his voice barely audible above the hum of the hot tub.

I cast my fingers over the surface of the water, loving the way the bubbles tickle my skin. "What's that, baby?"

I turn around to see him leaning over the tub, his back on full display. I pull my hand from the bubbles and trace my fingers over the large angel wings he had tattooed. I'll never forget the day he showed me the beautiful art he had carved into his skin, he told me it was in my honor and how I set him free from the demons in his mind and breathed life into his world. "It's so beautiful."

He turns around to face me, and I straddle his thighs, my core clenching at the position and us both being naked, skin on skin. A finger comes under my chin. "This way I'll always have you with me. No matter where I am." He kisses me softly on the lips. "You aren't just everything I want, Felicity; you're everything I need."

I place my hand on his sculpted chest, and he brings his forehead to mine.

"Marry me."

I pull back slightly and search his face.

Did he…?

"Marry me, Felicity." His voice is shaky with trepidation, waiting for my response. One hand drops from my chin to my waist, holding me gently as he brings his other hand into view, and there in the center of his palm is a small black velvet box. With one hand, Jon skillfully pops the lid to reveal an oval-cut emerald ring. The huge stone is set on a thin white gold band, simple yet insanely elegant. "Adam helped me choose it. We both agreed that emerald is your color. I also figured that asking you here, under these lights, was the closest I could get to asking your dad for his permission."

Reaching out, I pluck the ring from its box and look up at my fiancé.

"Okay."

His dimples pop. "As in okay, okay?"

I laugh and squeak out, "As in definitely, one hundred percent yes."

It's there, with a stunning emerald engagement ring on my left hand, telling me one day I'll be Mrs. Morgan, that the man I almost discounted as a cocky, only-up-for-a-good-time playboy, makes sweet love to me under the northern light sky.

"Have you heard from Zach?"I ask, walking into the bedroom. Jon is sitting on the edge of the king-size bed, staring down at his phone.

"Yeah, he's just taken the test, and we now wait for the results." He blows out a breath. "I'm glad it's being done now, so he knows where he is before the baby's born."

I nod, feeling every range of emotions on Zach's behalf. "Yeah, he'll step up no matter what though. He's just that sort of guy."

"He's one of the best guys I know. He sends his congrats, by the way." Jon holds his phone up. "Let me take a picture to send to him."

I plaster on my best cheesy grin and hold my hand out like the giddy teenager I am.

"Do you think he'll be okay, you know, while you're away?"

Jon nods assuredly. "He'll be fine, plus I'll keep checking in with him."

He returns his attention back to his phone. "Mom is going crazy. She wants to know if she has a daughter-in-law yet."

I look down at my ring for the hundredth time. "Just put her out of her misery."

Typing out a quick message, he tosses his phone to the side. "Come here."

I stand between his legs as he rubs up and down the backs of my thighs, palming my ass and squeezing it gently. "I think we should get married in England."

I balk at this suggestion, assuming he'd want to get married near to his mum and dad. "Really? I assumed you'd want to get married in Seattle."

His shrug is indifferent. "It's tradition to get married where the bride's from, isn't it?"

"I guess so, but where would we hold it? Oh, maybe the place we stayed at on Boxing Day." I can't pronounce the name and my French accent is atrocious.

Jon smiles up at me, kissing along my jaw. "J'ai une meilleure idée."

"Hang on, I think I remember this phrase from high school." I tap my chin, deep in thought. "I have a…better idea?"

"C'est exact."

I clap my hands, far too excited by my small triumph.

"Qu'en est-il de vingt-deux Kennington Voie?"

"Hm, this one might be a bit above my pay grade. So, I think the first part is ‘what about' and I know what Kennington is, that's my par?—"

I pause and attempt to process what I think he just said.

"That's my parents' old house," I whisper. "We can't marry there." I chuckle at the outrageous notion. "Not unless the current owners allow us to hold a ceremony and grant us a license."

"No, you're right, that would be a bit far-fetched."

"Just a little." I laugh, staring down at my ring, again.

"It would be a little far-fetched if the owner wasn't standing right in front of me."

I inhale with a gasp and my head whips up to meet Jon's steely-gray eyes, his trademark dimple-popping grin curving up to meet them.

"So, what do you say, Angel? How about marrying me in that gorgeous English garden of yours?"

THE END.