Epilogue

One Month Later

Lara

“ A re you coming, or do I need to come and get you myself?” Carter drawls from the ensuite, his head popping around the edge of the door. He’s wearing one of his signature smirks, and as always, it does something dirty to my insides.?

“I’ll be in in a moment,” I respond sweetly from where I’m still sitting in the middle of his bed, in no rush to move.?

“You have five minutes, otherwise you’re coming by force. I haven’t tasted that pussy for days, and I’m ravenous.” Carter disappears, and the shower runs a few seconds later.

For a moment, I want to drop everything and run to meet him beneath the hot stream and let him eat me until I can’t take it anymore. But then I remember myself and shake my head.?

Earlier this evening, before Carter returned from a work trip, I began writing a letter to my younger self. It sounds kind of wankery, but I think it’s necessary. I’ve been in the UK for just shy of seven months now, and my life looks remarkably different from anything I could have imagined. The little girl with abandonment issues would be so proud of who she is today.?

Carter and I have officially been together for a month, but it feels far longer given the unofficial lead-up. In the letter, I’ve detailed everything about Carter, starting with the fact he’s a giant pain in the butt sometimes and ending at the realisation he’s someone I didn’t think existed beyond the pages of romance novels, yet here he is.

Most importantly, I made sure to include a paragraph dedicated to his love of Hallmark movies. Sure, I might have started it that first time in Norcaster, but Carter has instigated most watch sessions since then. He continues to tell everyone that I force him to watch them, but we both know that couldn’t be further from the behind closed doors truth.

I’m still working at the firm, but I’m now under Anna in the HR department. Given I’m a stickler for rules and rights, I thought it could be fitting and felt like a change. It’s only been a few weeks, but something about it feels right. I’ve put all of this in the letter as well, explaining there’s no rush to have everything figured out at such a young age, which is something I’ve come to accept in recent months. It’s incredibly tough to let go of expectations you put in place when you were merely a child with dreams, but doing so comes with a sense of freedom I can’t put into words.

I’m about to sign off the letter when the shower shuts off abruptly. Hurried movements sound from the ensuite. Carter walks out a moment later, a towel wrapped low around his hips, bare from the waist up. I peruse his body, the muscles rippling beneath the surface as he moves in my direction. The expression on his face stops my perusing. He looks awfully stressed, staring down at something on his phone.

“Carter.” I pause, waiting for him to look at me. “Is everything okay?”

He rubs his free hand over his face, his telltale sign something is troubling him.

“The papers, they know.” He looks at me then, concerned, and a flicker of fear ignites in those deep green irises. I don’t need to ask to know what he’s referring to—Teddy.

Handing his phone over to me, Carter climbs onto the bed and lies against the headrest. I skim the article, seeing a few pictures and details I already know, but that the public was never meant to find out.

This is bad .

Carter sits up beside me, running his fingers through his dark, towel-dried locks before dropping his hand to rest on my bare thigh. “I know I need to explain everything to you—and I will—but I’m not ready yet.”

I place a comforting hand on his knee and squeeze. “Whenever you’re ready, my love.”

“What’s this?” he asks, reaching forward to pluck the letter from where it lies between us. He reads aloud, “To me.”

“Hold on.” I scramble to retrieve the piece of paper from his grasp. “It’s not finished yet. You can read it in a moment.”

I add four more words to sign off the letter.

There, now it’s complete.

From London, With Love

L x