Epilogue

Lincoln

"Are you sure you want me to do this?" Sophie asks, disbelief etched into her gorgeous face.

I nod once. "One hundred percent."

Her throat bobs as she swallows. Tension still brackets her mouth. "What if I mess it up?"

"You won't."

"But what if I do?" I don't think I've ever seen my Shortcake so unsure of herself.

"You won't."

Her leg shakes up and down. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know how important it is to you to do the best work you can. I've watched you working on the fake skin and you've perfected your technique. You haven't messed up a single tattoo for our clients so far." I cup her cheek. "And I have faith in you." Leaning in, I press my lips to hers because I can't resist when I'm this close. I spent too long resisting her, and I refuse to do it now that I don't have to.

"Okay, okay, you two. Enough already," Ken playfully admonishes.

I tear my eyes from Sophie to look at Ken. "She's nervous."

He freezes with his watering can perched in the air. "What are you nervous about, doll?"

"I don't wanna mess it up." She waves her hand around my body. "All of his artwork is stunning. It's a little intimidating."

He chuckles. "Well, that's because I've done it all. But your work is equally stunning. All the pieces you've done have been breathtaking."

"They've been small pieces, Ken. This … this is different. It's bigger." She bites her bottom lip. "Will you fix it if I mess it up?" she asks.

"Sure, doll, but I won't need to do shit." Finished with the conversation because he knows as well as I do that Sophie's work will be perfect, he returns to his task of watering the plants.

She looks up at me, uncertainty still warring in her eyes. "Do it!" I mouth.

Picking up the gun, she presses it against my bicep, and with one last flick of her eyes to mine, the machine hums to life. Her focus is absolute, and it's sexy as hell. I relax into the pressure, keeping my eyes on her as she works.

The doorbell sounds and I spot James holding the door open and then his grandad rolls through. They've been catching the bus across town once a week to visit since Sophie's secret came to light. The first time they came, James bolted inside, shouting out for Sophie. Because she's an awesome mom; she greeted him with love and then promptly explained he needs to be quiet and respectful when he enters so as not to startle anyone. He's such a great kid that he apologized to everyone and has been on his best behavior ever since.

She's so focused on what she's doing that she's unaware that her family's here. I told her dad that she was going to tattoo me this afternoon and it would be a great opportunity for him to see his daughter's talent firsthand, so I'm happy to see that he came.

She lifts the gun from my bicep. "Stop twitching," she admonishes me.

"James and your dad are here," I murmur with a raised brow, lifting my chin toward the door.

Her eyes widen and she spins on her stool. "James. Dad." She places her gun on the trolley and heads over to greet them.

When she releases James, he comes directly to me with wide eyes. "Mom's tattooing you?"

I ruffle his hair and pull him into me with a chuckle. "Sure is, bud. I couldn't have everyone else wearing her art and not have some of it for myself."

"That's so cool." His eyes trace every line and curve with interest.

Trevor rolls over to us. He's still not one hundred percent comfortable with Sophie working here, but his prejudice against people with tattoos has diminished somewhat. "Lincoln." He dips his chin at me and I take a few steps to him to shake his hand.

"Mr. Chalmers. Good to see you."

"You too."

He points to my arm. "Is that Sophie's artwork?"

I look down at the new lines, not that I need to, but I'll probably spend a lot of time looking at it because it's Sophie's. "Yep. She drew this design on me with a pen a while back when she was practicing. I loved it so much that I want it permanently on my skin."

He clears his throat as his eyes skim the detailed design. "It's very good."

I glance up at Sophie in time to see her hand fly to her mouth and her eyes soften. Her shoulders drop from around her ears; something I've noticed happens every time her dad enters my studio. "She's extremely talented." I walk over to the table where we normally meet with clients and grab Sophie's portfolio. "Here are photos of the work she's done so far. Some of the early pieces are her designs, but my work, the more recent images show Sophie's work from start to finish."

He slowly rolls closer as if I'm holding a grenade, not a folder of artwork. I move a chair away so he can sit at the table and then sit beside him. When I open the first page to an image of Natasha's breasts, he flinches. "I don't need to see a woman's breasts. That's private."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Natasha's happy to have the image in Sophie's portfolio. She's incredibly proud of the artwork Soph designed for her." I glance up at Sophie as she moves closer.

"She's a survivor of breast cancer," I explain.

"Oh, that's terrible," Trevor says, his tone dripping with sincerity.

"Cancer stole a lot from her. It left her scarred and her self-esteem in ruins. She hated seeing her reflection in the mirror. Natasha heard I specialize in tattooing women who have survived breast cancer, so she came in to claim back her body."

Sophie sits in the chair on the opposite side of her father and looks at me. "Not only specializes,"—she looks at her dad—"he does them for free because his mom is a breast cancer survivor."

Trevor's eyes soften when he looks back at me. "That's a very noble thing to do, Lincoln."

Warmth spreads through my body, and my chest feels light. "Thank you. It's the least I can do after the battle they've faced. If I can help them recover some of their self-worth, then I'm happy to help."

Sophie rests her hand over her dad's. "You should have seen the difference in Natasha from when she walked in here to when she walked out." Her eyes grow glassy. "She was a different person. And her husband … he was so thankful that his wife could have that piece of herself back."

Trevor's eyes drop to the photograph and I watch him studying it closely. He raises his head and nods. "The artwork is very beautiful, sweetie. I'm glad you could help her."

I watch Sophie's throat move as her lips tip up in a tremulous smile. "Thanks, Dad. That means a lot to me."

"I want a tattoo, Mom."

Sophie's head snaps up toward her son and she narrows her eyes. "No tattoos for you until you're at least twenty-one."

"Awwww, Mom. That's not fair."

Trevor looks at me with a smirk. "Good luck taming that boy." A laugh huffs past my lips. "He's a lot like his mother and grandmother." He winks. "Wild ones. All three of them."

* * *

Sophie

Lincoln congratulates the boys as they run off the field after winning their game. Every time James and Lincoln bond over soccer, my heart expands to the point I'm worried it might burst. I think James will always remember this summer vacation because Lincoln spent most mornings before we left for work teaching him the basic skills he needed to play the game. Because of all that time together, they've grown incredibly close. They high-five each other and make their way over to Dad and me with matching grins.

"You have a good man there, Sophie. I'm sorry I judged him so harshly." He grips my hand. "Please accept my apology."

I lean down and kiss his cheek. "Apology accepted, but you're apologizing to the wrong person."

"Mom! Grandad! Did you see my goal? It was awesome!"

I chuckle as he leaps at me. "I sure did. I'm so proud of you!" I kiss his sweaty forehead and he squeezes me tight, then releases me to receive congratulations from Dad. Lincoln wraps his arms around me from behind, and I cover his hands with mine, tangling our fingers together as we watch James recount every second of his incredible goal to Dad as if he weren't watching for himself.

"He played well this afternoon."

I lean my head back against Lincoln's firm chest with contentment filling my heart. "Thanks to you." I tilt my head back to look up at him and he kisses my forehead.

I feel him shrug. "I enjoy hanging out with him. He's a great kid. You've done a great job with him."

"Thank you." I spin around and press up on my toes to kiss his cheek. "He loves hanging out with you. He's missed out on having someone he can play outside with."

"I'm hungry, Mom."

I chuckle and step out of Lincoln's arms. "All right. Let's grab dinner, so Lincoln can come back in time for his game."

"Can I watch tonight?" James asks with wide, excited eyes. We've been grabbing dinner and coming back to watch Lincoln play during school vacation, but that's over now.

I tap his nose. "Nope. It's a school night."

He kicks the grass with his cleat. "Awww. That's not fair."

"Yeah, well, a lot of things aren't fair. Let's go." He bends to grab his sports bag and Lincoln pushes Dad across the grass to the parking lot.

As he pulls up to our house, I notice the real estate agent placing a sold sticker on the sign in front of the house that's been vacant for ages across the road. Lincoln parks and we climb out of the car, then he helps Dad out of the front seat and into his wheelchair.

"I wonder what our new neighbors will be like?" I muse out loud.

Dad and Lincoln glance at each other, then focus on the house across the street. "I hope they're decent, community-minded people." He glances up at Lincoln with raised brows.

"I'm sure they will be, Mr. Chalmers," he responds, winking at Dad.

Sometimes I have to pinch myself that Dad has put his prejudice aside to welcome Lincoln into our family. Over the last few months, I've often found them talking about their losses and how they each blame themselves—something I had no idea Dad did. My heart fractured when I overheard him explaining to Lincoln that if he hadn't had an appointment with his publisher across town, we never would have been on that train.

After Lincoln shared the loss of his sister and the subsequent breakdown of his parent's marriage as a result, Dad seems to have taken him under his wing. I think their budding relationship has been great for both of them, and Dad's acceptance of my job and relationship with Lincoln has meant I haven't had to sneak around.

"Okay, James. I want you to wash up while I start dinner." He drops his sports bag on the floor and peels away from us. "Hey, take your bag with you so you can sort it out."

He freezes and spins around. "Sorry, Mom. I'm starving and forgot." He grabs his bag and disappears down the hallway.

Lincoln chuckles quietly behind me. "He's a lot like me, thinking of his stomach." He kisses the top of my head while he wraps his arm around my waist, and I sink into him, just as I do every time he's near. "Hope you don't mind, but I ordered Italian delivery because there's something I need to show you."

My stomach flips. "Any time I don't have to make dinner, I'm happy." I turn in his hold, press my hands to his pecs, and stand on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "What do you need to show me?"

He grabs my hand and turns to Dad. "Won't be long."

"Take your time. We're not going anywhere."

He drags me outside, excitement bubbling from him. He's lighter than I've ever seen, and I love seeing this side of him. With Lincoln, I feel like I learn unique parts of him all the time. I giggle, swept up in his obvious joy as we leap down the front steps and he drags me across the road to the vacant house.

Confusion creeps in as we come to a stop in front of the sold sign. "What's going on?"

He turns to face me, collecting my other hand, then inhales sharply and exhales a harsh breath. Worry has replaced some of his happiness. "I have something to ask you. Well, you and James, but I wanted to ask you first." He glances at the house we're standing in front of. "I know we started on shaky ground, but I realized pretty early on that I'd fallen for you. It … this …"—he waves his hand between us—"you were completely unexpected. You showed me everything I'd been missing because of my fears. I've learned to accept that I wasn't responsible for what happened the day Beth went missing and even though I can't guarantee that I won't slip back into old thought patterns, I feel emotionally stronger and more capable of accepting that life comes with risks. And that's thanks to you, Soph."

I squeeze his hands and blink quickly to prevent the sting of tears from falling down my cheeks. I lose the battle as one breaks through, followed by another. My lips tremble as I try to smile.

He releases my hands to wipe my cheeks. "Don't cry, Shortcake."

"I can't help it; I fell for you, too," I whisper as he cups my cheeks.

He leans down and presses his lips softly to mine. "Good to know." When he pulls away, he winks at me. "But I wanted to tell you I've fallen in love with you." My heart gallops wildly, thumping around in my chest cavity and my knees turn to Jell-O and when I open my mouth, he shakes his head, pressing his thumb over my lips. "I was wondering if you and James would like to move in with me …here?" He tips his head toward the empty house.

My eyes blow wide and my mouth drops open. I glance at the house, then back to Lincoln in astonishment. "Are you serious?" That's quite the turnaround for someone who didn't want to have anything to do with a single mom.

"I've never been more serious." He tilts my face up to his. "I've given it a lot of thought and I can't picture a future without you and James in it. I don't see the point of wasting time when I know what I want, and that's for us to be a family. I want us to live together, to create a family home. When this house came onto the market, I thought it would be perfect because it means we can still help your Dad. James can come and go between the two houses after school. It seemed a perfect fit for us, even though it needs some work."

I open and close my mouth. "I-I-I don't know what to say." I glance back at the house and then up at the man who consumes my every thought.

"Say yes!" Dad shouts from across the street and I snap my head around, finding him at the front gate, smiling widely.

Lincoln squeezes my hands, bringing my attention back to him. "Out of respect for your dad, I had to ask him if he was okay with this."

I chuckle. "I'd say he's on board with your plan."

"The only person I really need to be on board with my plan is you. Please say yes, Soph."

"As if I would say anything else. YES!" A startled laugh bursts out of me when he scoops me into his arms and spins me around, my legs flying out behind me.

Applause rings out from across the road as Lincoln slams his mouth onto mine and once I catch up to what's happening, I tangle my fingers through his hair and return his kiss with enthusiasm. Opening my mouth, I stroke his tongue with mine as I wrap my legs around his hips. With every lick and sigh, I fall a little more in love. His hands drop to my ass, supporting me, and I'm mildly aware that we're moving, but I don't care where he takes me, as long as he never stops kissing me.

Loving me.

Shit, I haven't told him I love him.

Using my grip on his hair, I drag his mouth away from mine and press my forehead to his. "I love you, Lincoln Kingsley. So much. I can't wait to start our life together."

* * *

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Thank you so much for reading Wicked Kisses.