Once my dick stops twitching inside of her and I don’t feel her pulsing around me, I bring her in, chest to chest, burying my face in her neck, as we both catch our breath.
We stay on the couch for a while, and I wrap the blanket around us, watching the shadows dance on the ceiling. My head finally feels clear. The weight on my chest over the last few weeks, gone and replaced by sweet exhaustion.
Presley shifts against me, her nose brushing my cheek. “Saint.”
“Hmm?”
“I think we should have some of those Oreos and milk. I spent a lot of time on that tower. I mean, Remy and Rhyan ate half of them, but what we had left took me a minute to stack.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, we definitely should. Come on.”
She slides off me with a grin, and we walk back into the kitchen naked. The candles are still burning, but down to stubs now.
I grab the milk from the fridge while she places some Oreos on a napkin for each of us.
We stand at the island, dipping cookies into cold milk and laughing about things that don’t matter. It’s normal and real. Just a husband and a wife, finally on the same page.
When I’ve had my fill, I move around the kitchen making sure all the candles have burned out. Then I walk over to her and sweep her in my arms, and start toward the stairs.
“Saint!” she whisper-yells, her arms looping around my neck.
I climb the stairs, taking two at a time, and carry her into our room and kick the door shut, gently behind us.
When we get to the bed, Presley leans over and pulls the covers down. I lay her on the sheets and climb in beside her, and pull the covers over both of us.
I tuck her into my side, her head resting on my chest, her arm draped over me. I kiss her head, then stare at the ceiling, feeling her steady breath against my skin as she falls asleep.
Losing my sister, the fear of losing the kids, and then Presley— I make a silent vow to myself that I will never take a second of this life for granted.
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
Saint
The stairs feel a little steeper tonight after our Marvel marathon. Except my head isn’t spinning with multiverses and timelines as we make our way to our bedroom. It’s spinning because of what I’m about to do.
Presley is a few steps ahead of me, and I can see her booty shorts covered ass peeking out at me under the T-shirt she’s wearing. I’m so tempted to just grab her and throw her on the bed, but I need to stick with my plan.
“You know,” I start, trying to keep my voice casual, “your mom mentioned that party again today. She’s really pushing for it, Doc.”
Presley stops on the landing, looking at me over her shoulder. Her expression is … flat. “Saint. No. We’ve talked about this three times already.”
“I know,” I say, catching up to her and leaning against the doorframe of our room. “But since they weren’t part of the first one, it might be nice to give them a win. You know your mom doesn’t like to be left out.”
Presley turns to fully face me. “A party thrown by my mother, Saint, is a performance. I’d have to wear a gown and smile while women in triple-strand pearls ask mehow the transitionis going. I hated those parties growing up and like them even less now.”
She turns and marches around the room, her irritation radiating off her in waves. I follow her, watching as she starts tidying things that don’t need tidying right before bed.
“I get it,” I say, suppressing a grin as I start to pull off my shirt. “But it might actually be fun to have people we love all in one place to celebrate us. For real this time.”
“For realthis time?” she huffs, then gestures to my body. “What are you doing? Are you trying to bribe me with your body?”
I toss my shirt in her direction, and it falls at her feet.
She squints her eyes. “That’s a low blow, Wyatt St. Clair.”
Uh-oh, she used my government name. “Is it working?”
