EPILOGUE

Epilogue

Arabella

CHRISTMAS Eve

“T HIS HAS BEEN the most magical Christmas season I’ve ever experienced,” I declare to the entire room, not that anyone is listening to me. With my parents, this sort of reaction would upset me because they never, ever pay attention to anything I say, but right now? In this moment? I don’t mind.

The room is full of people and they’re all rowdy. Laughing and yelling and having a great time. I’ve never seen anything like it. All of the holidays I’ve experienced were refined and dignified. Being with this family, one of the most dignified and refined families in the country, they are anything but during the holiday season.

I am loving every second of it.

“Cookies?” Willow appears before us, holding out a giant platter of a variety of cookies for us to choose from. I’m sitting on a loveseat wedged between Callahan and Rowan, squished in the middle because both of them take up a lot of space.

The boys grunt their response and between the two of them, they clear almost half the platter while I take a singular frosted cookie in the shape of a bell.

“Thank you,” I say like the polite person I am while the boys shove their mouths full of cookies, murmuring their approval. I roll my eyes at Willow who rolls her eyes in return before moving on.

I nibble on my cookie, watching the chaos unfold. It’s like living in a holiday movie—maybe because everything is so spirited that it feels surreal. The dads are all wearing hideous Christmas-themed sweaters their wives got for them, and they’re all good sports about it, save for Arch Lancaster, who keeps complaining about the fact that his sweater is pink. With three fluffy white kittens on the front of it, wearing Santa hats.

I suppose if I were a man, I’d be complaining too.

Presents were passed out already—it’s their annual celebration for the entire family to open presents and spend the day together. This year, Crew and Wren are hosting because for some unknown reason, Wren wanted to hold the big holiday events this year. I think it’s because she enjoys the ruckus having the family over causes. It’s pure chaos, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile slip. She’s enjoying every second of it, and so am I.

I’m thinking Wren was right. Maybe we are similar.

My mother sent me a text wishing me a happy Christmas this morning and I responded in kind. I’m still angry with her, but it’s not like me to be so blatantly unkind, but that’s also me being fake. I guess I learned from the best, didn’t I?

After what happened in Paris, I’m worried something is wrong with my mother. I know my parents’ relationship isn’t in the best place, but it’s not up to me to fix it.

They need to figure that out on their own.

I hate how she tried to trick me only for her benefit. It’s disappointing when you realize your parents don’t really care about you, even though I’ve known this for years. I suppose I can’t help but feel like it’s true when one of my parents acts like they’re trying to change. Eventually, I probably won’t believe in them but for now, I still have that tiny flicker of hope burning deep inside me. Truly?

I hope I never lose it. Being bitter is probably easier, but I am an eternal optimist.

“Hey. Your cookie is a bell. Like you.” I glance up to find Rowan smiling at me. He is extra handsome tonight, but I think he’s extra handsome every night. “Bells. Get it?”

“Yes, Rowan.” I take a big bite out of my cookie and then offer him the rest, which he takes. “Here’s a piece of me, just for you.”

“I eat Bells on the regular,” he says with a wolfish grin.

“And with that, I’m the fuck out of here.” Callahan leaps to his feet and takes off, heading over to where his brother is standing with their parents. The Bennetts are celebrating the holiday with the Lancasters this year, which makes the house even more crowded and hmm.

Maybe that’s why Wren wanted to have the party at her house. To include her most-likely future in-laws.

“Poor Cal,” Rowan says once his friend is gone, leaning back into the couch and taking me along with him. He slings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close so I’m practically lying on top of him. “We just grossed him out.”

“I think you enjoy grossing him out.” I gaze up at him, lovesick as usual. My feelings for Row grow more and more each day, to the point that sometimes I feel like I might explode.

“Busted.” He chuckles then kisses my forehead. “We should go up to my room.”

“And miss out on everything? Not yet.” I try to pull away from him when he comes at me with his lips but there’s no use. He’s got me firmly planted by his side, his arm still around me. He kisses me right on the mouth in front of everyone and I revel in the sweet taste of his lips. The warmth of his body seeping into mine. All is right in my world and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this content.

There is suddenly a tinkling noise, like silverware hitting glass, and the room goes silent. It’s Rhett who’s trying to get everyone’s attention, with Willow by his side, and they both appear nervous, standing in front of the massive marble fireplace, which currently has a fire going inside it.

“We have an announcement to make,” Rhett says, his voice slightly shaky. Oh my, he is nervous. He is one of the most confident people I’ve ever met, save for his dad, Eli. “We’ve been keeping this secret for a while but—”

“You’re pregnant!” Iris yells, rubbing her belly. It’s not that big yet but I know she’s just thrilled to be having a baby. “Please make it true so our babies can grow up together.”

“Sorry, Iris. I’m definitely not pregnant.” Willow holds out her hand, a giant diamond on her finger that wasn’t there earlier when she was passing out cookies. “But we are engaged!”

The room erupts in a chorus of “congratulations!” with Wren and Crew running over to them and embracing their daughter. Rhett shakes Crew’s hand before Crew pulls him into a hug and then Ava and Eli are joining them. Iris starts taking photos of everyone, and all I can do is sit there and smile, dreaming of the day it’ll be my turn to make this announcement with Rowan.

Am I jumping ahead of myself? Yes, most definitely. But do I think Rowan and I are in it for the long haul?

Absolutely.

“My dad predicted this,” Row says, watching them.

“He did?”

“Yeah. Or maybe it was my mom? I remember when they told me and I thought it sounded crazy.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t that long ago either. Before Thanksgiving? All I could think was they were too young to get engaged. Tied down. Sounded like a death sentence.”

“And now?” I whisper, my heart racing in anticipation of his answer.

“Now I can see it. With you.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “But not for a while yet. We really are too young.”

“I agree.” I smile at him, misty-eyed. So many emotional moments happening today. My romantic heart can barely take it. “We should go congratulate the future bride and groom.”

“Okay. ”

“And then we should go to your room.” My smile grows wider. “Don’t you think?”

“Best idea you’ve had all day, Bells.” He releases his hold on me and stands, offering his hand. “Let’s go.”

W E’RE in his room about an hour later, after all the congratulating and picture taking. I’m tired and I can tell Rowan is too, but we’re never too exhausted to do you-know-what, which means my entire body is tingling in anticipation.

But like the girl I am who enjoys drawing things out on occasion, I go to his bedroom window and check outside. “Look! It’s snowing!”

Rowan looms behind me—I can see him in the reflection of the glass—and he leans in close, squinting his eyes as he peers into the darkness. “I can barely see it.”

“Trust me. It’s snowing.” He wraps his arms around my middle and I rest my hands on top of his, leaning against his chest. “The perfect end to a perfect day.”

“We haven’t even got to the most perfect part of all yet.” He brushes my hair away and presses his mouth to my neck. “You smell fucking delicious.”

“New perfume Iris got me.” She said it would drive Rowan out of his mind, and while I thought that was a strange comment to make about her cousin, I suppose she was right.

“I love it. Don’t ever stop wearing it.” His lips are hot on my skin and I shiver when he shifts his hands beneath the hem of my sweater, touching bare flesh. “I should fuck you right here.”

“Rowan.” I stretch his name out, like I don’t approve of his suggestion, which is the biggest lie I’ve ever told. He could fuck me wherever he wants to and I wouldn’t mind. I used to be the one who made the more daring suggestions but lately, he’s been pushing my boundaries—and his own—more and more. It’s fun.

Maybe a little dangerous. But that’s what makes it so thrilling.

“Stop. You fucking love it.” Next thing I know, his hands are on my breasts, cupping and kneading my flesh, his growl of approval when he discovers I’m not wearing a bra making my pussy throb. You’d think he’d know by now that I’m not a big fan of underwear when I’m with him, but he acts surprised every single time.

“Keep your gaze on the window, Bells,” he demands before he whips my sweater off, leaving me naked from the waist up. I can see myself. See him. His big hands cover my breasts once more, fingers toying with my nipples, and I lock my knees so my legs don’t buckle.

He slides his hands down my stomach, resting his chin on my shoulder and watching our reflection as he undoes the button of my pants, shoving them down so they’re bunched around my knees. “No panties.”

“I never wear panties when I’m with you. Unless I’m on my period.”

Which was last week and God, I was horny. I gave him at least three blowjobs in a two-day span and he got me off by letting me rub against his knee and thigh. I’d heard orgasms help with cramps and that turned out to be true. On the third night of my period, he begged me to have sex and I finally let him, worried there would be a blood bath, but he said it wouldn’t bother him.

Ugh, he’s perfect for me. And I think I’m perfect for him.

“I love it.” He cups my pussy, holding me there, and when he murmurs, “Spread your legs,” I almost fall apart right there thanks to the deep timbre of his voice.

I do as he says because he tells me on occasion that I’m a good girl and good girls do what they’re told. And then he’s stroking me, the wet sounds filling the room and making me moan. I lean my head back against his shoulder, melting into him as he plays with me, his fingers pushing inside while he presses his thumb against my clit. Over and over again, faster and faster. Taking me higher and higher and just when I’m about to come, my breath catching and my entire body going still, he stops.

Leaving me frustrated. Breathing hard and ready to curse him out.

But he’s not wasting any time, hurriedly undoing his jeans and shoving them down his legs, toeing off his shoes and then stepping out of the jeans, kicking them away. I realize he’s not wearing any underwear either, and I glance over my shoulder to examine his glorious cock. It really is the prettiest one I’ve ever seen, not that I’ve seen many.

Well, that’s a lie. I’ve seen plenty online, but I’ve seen only two in person, and one doesn’t count because it was always dark when I was fumbling around with Bentley and he never really wanted me to see it. Save for the time I tried to give him a blowjob but we were outside, and again, it was too dark for me to see much. And why am I thinking of Bentley again?

“Stay facing forward,” Rowan demands gruffly, and all thoughts of BSJ leave my mind as anticipation tingles throughout my body.

I remain in place, my entire body shaky, and he helps me take off my pants, his hands brushing against my inner thighs, making me squeal.

“Brace your hands on the window.” I slap my palms against the windowsill and spread my legs, anticipating the command before he gives it, and I hear his murmur of approval. “Good girl.”

I love it when he calls me that. I love it when he speaks, period. I am so one hundred percent focused on him, I could probably come just by his command. We should try that someday …

I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper and I close my eyes. Hang my head. Waiting. Within seconds he’s got his hand on my hip. “Bend forward,” he whispers, and I do so without hesitation, crying out when he fills me up with one sure thrust.

“Open your eyes,” he tells me, as both of us still, me getting used to him being inside me like this. We haven’t tried a position like this before and I want to do it again. Immediately.

My eyes open and I see him behind me, his naked chest. He must’ve taken off his sweater when I wasn’t paying attention and now, he’s as naked as me. His gaze locks with mine and slowly, he starts to move. In and out, keeping a steady pace. The pressure already starts to build inside me, growing with his every thrust, and I curl my fingers into the wooden sill, hanging on for dear life.

His pace increases. Faster. And faster. Our skin slaps together, the sound echoing in his cavernous bedroom, and oh God, I’m going to come. My legs are shaking. Tingling, like I’m losing sensation in them and I arch my back, causing him to go even deeper, which has both of us groaning.

And then I’m coming, my inner walls flexing around his shaft, squeezing as my clit pulses over and over. I can’t breathe and for a second there I can’t see either, and just when I think I might die from the pleasure of it all, I come to, aware that he’s coming now, his hips slamming one last time against my ass before he holds himself there, his groan loud.

The worrisome type of loud.

When he’s finished, he leans over me, kissing a hot path down my spine, his hands on my hips turning, spinning me around to face him once he’s slid out of me. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him with everything I’ve got. It’s a mash of teeth and tongues and lips and I tell him I love him once. Twice. Maybe even three times. I don’t know.

I lose count.

He picks me up and carries me to the bed, depositing me there, and then he goes to the bathroom, where he gets rid of the condom. He’s sliding into bed seconds later, wrapping me up so I’m surrounded by nothing but sweat-covered skin and I can feel his cock. He’s hard again already. All for me.

“I fucking love you, Bells,” is what he murmurs against my neck, kissing me there, making me giggle because it tickles. His fingers poke into my sides, making me laugh louder, and then he’s kissing me again. Rolling me over so he’s on top of me, his face hanging in mine. “We need to replace the photos in here.”

His fingers brush against my locket. My neck.

“Why?” I’m confused. I love the photos that are in my locket.

“I don’t want to forget this night.” He stretches across me, reaching for his phone and the next thing I know he’s got his head pressed close to mine, the camera aimed right at us. “Smile, baby.”

“I am naked, Rowan,” I remind him, trying to sound stern, but he just shakes his head, laughing.

“I won’t get your tits in the pic. Come on, Arabella. Do it for me.”

He knows just what to say to get me. I would do anything for him.

So I pose for the photo, smiling. We’re cheek to cheek and body to body, and I realize once he’s taken the photo, that I will never, ever forget this night either. Especially now that we’ve documented it. Merry Christmas to me.

Merry Christmas to us.