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Epilogue
Jessie
One Week Later
“Allen! Put me down!” I laugh. We’re walking back to the resort from the beach and he’s carrying me every step of the way. “I can walk, you know.”
“I know. I just like having you in my arms,” he says and he bends down to k
iss me briefly.
“See, Babe? Told you.”
Allen and I look up to see a man with dark hair and a broad, golden-tanned body. In his arms is a woman with dark curly hair that’s swept up into a messy bun. She’s as beautiful as he is good looking. They look like they belong on a movie set, although I don’t really recognize them.
“Asher, you’re not as young as he is. Put me down.”
“I’m going to smack that ass for that later,” the man growls playfully in the woman’s ear, but he puts her down. Thankfully, Allen does me too, because I was feeling kind of strange.
“We’ve been married for years, raised kids, and have grandbabies and he still insists on carrying me around,” the woman says with a laugh and I grin back.
“You have grandchildren?” I say and I blush, because I feel stupid. “I’m sorry. It’s just… you look younger than I do,” I add, hoping I didn’t offend her.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart! You remind me of my daughter July.”
“July, that’s an unusual name. I like it,” Allen answers, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I notice the woman’s husband is doing the same, as if it’s like a universal signal to show This is my woman. Whatever it is, I won’t deny I like it and I lean deeper into my man.
“We wanted to keep up a tradition,” she answers, taking her sunglasses off. “I’m November, and this sexy caveman next to me is my husband, Asher.”
“Nice to meet you,” Asher says, holding out his hand to Allen. Once they shake he does the same to me.
“I envy you,” I tell her.
“Why’s that?” November asks.
“I’ve always wanted an unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone named November.”
“It’s okay. My wife is an original,” the man says with a wink. That’s when I realize we haven’t given our names. I don’t know what it is about this couple; they just have this connection that even I, as an outsider, can feel and you just kind of get caught up in it.
