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He tucks my hair behind my ear, leans close, sighs quietly. “You and me against the world, right?”

My throat goes tight.

God, I love this man.

“You and me against the world,” I agree quietly.

Lips on my forehead before he pulls back enough to meet my eyes. “You hurt?”

And I know I can give him the truth, that no matter what, we’ll sort it. Together.

“Nothing an ice pack and a couple of aspirin won’t fix,” I tell him. I glance down at the shredded bodice of my gown. “My dress, on the other hand…” I sigh. “How the hell am I supposed to go out there with my dress like this?”

“Funny story?—”

We both jump, and I turn to see Jean-Michel standing in the open door, a security guard hauling Cathy away behind him.

“—I can help with the crazy stepmother and sisters, that stolen inheritance, and”—he holds up a garment bag—“a replacement dress.”

My eyes go to King’s and even though it should be the last thing I’m feeling, I’m doing?—

I start laughing.

King leans in, settles his hands on my face, puts his lips to my ear, murmurs,

“Fairy fucking godfather.”

Epilogue

King, One Month Later

I push into the mudroom, hearing the sound of Christmas music drifting down the hall.

Grinning, loving that I get to come home to this, loving that Jean-Michel pulled me into his office today to tell me that Phillip’s lawyer quit and because he’s out of options, he’s taking a deal that will put him behind bars for a long time.

Loving that Jean-Michel’s news didn’t end there.

He’s hired a private investigator.

And they uncovered evidence of Rory’s stepmother doctoring her father’s will and hiding funds from the estate.

Funds that should have gone to Rory.

So, all in all, I have some great fucking news to deliver.

And, all in all, I can’t wait to celebrate.

It’s almost Christmas. My mom’s in town for a couple of days before she goes up to hang with Jakob and the twins. The team has, dare I say, been getting along (with the exception of Pat, as always). We have a winning record. The locker room is sorted. The guys are focused.

And…I’m happy.

In love.

Not my father. Not my brothers. Not my friend.

Just…me.

And that doesn’t sit like a blanket made out of barbed wire on my skin any longer.