Epilogue

EPILOGUE

BECK

"... d on't forget bedtime is seven for Leah and eight for Roland," I tell my mother.

"Of course, of course," she assures me before bending down to talk to my kids. "But we know there's no bedtime at Grandma's don't we?"

Leah and Roland giggle while I pretend to put a stern face on for my mom.

"We raised you, didn't we?" my aunt shouts from inside the house they share. "I think we did a fine job. The rugrats will be in good hands."

"Hey, I'm not a rugrat!" Roland, our nine-year-old protests. "I'm practically a teenager."

"Lord help us all," Bea says under her breath. My mom and I laugh while Leah gives her mother one last hug. "Bye-bye, sweetie," she tells our youngest. "Mommy and Daddy will be back in the morning to pick you up."

"What are you guys going to do all night?" Leah asks in the innocent way only kids can.

"They will be having grown-up time," my mother says, stepping in and taking Leah's hand. "Meanwhile, we'll be having grandkid time. That's way better. Do you know why?" Roland shakes his head. "Because grandkid time includes cookies!"

This has both children shouting and whooping in excitement.

"Thanks again, Mom," I say before closing the door and turning to my beautiful wife of ten years. "Ready for some grown-up time?" I ask as I take her hand and start the short walk back home.

"I don't know," she answers facetiously. "Cookies sound kind of good…"

I growl and bend down, picking up my sexy as fuck wife and throwing her over my shoulder.

"Beck!" she shrieks, kicking her legs out. "Oh my god, you're incorrigible!"

I chuckle and turn the corner, racing toward our stunning home. It's even grander than how I remember it as a boy. We both put our blood, sweat, and tears into making it our own place. With hand-laid hardwood floors, custom banisters, cabinets, and latticework on the porch, not to mention a bold color pallet on the exterior consisting of deep maroon, light teal, and gold. Each color matches perfectly with the crowning element of the whole structure, the stained glass windows in the turret.

Bursting through the front door, I set my beautiful bride down and back her against the nearest wall, claiming her lips as my own. She tastes sweet and addictive, like always. I stroke my tongue against hers, loving the way it makes her thighs twitch.

"Beck," she whines, her voice breathy and sexy as hell.

"Yeah, baby?" I rasp against the side of her neck.

"Why did you stop here? The bed is upstairs."

I laugh and tickle her sides, making Bea gasp and wiggle in my arms. "Still so sassy, even after all these years."

"Always," she replies, looping her arms around my shoulders. "Now, carry me off to bed like the princess I am," she says dramatically.

I scoop her up, holding her against my chest. I pause at the foot of the stairs, catching her mesmerizing green eyes with mine. "You're not a princess, though. You're a goddamn queen."

With that, I carry Bea upstairs and show her exactly how I treat my queen.

The End