“What?”
She grins. “We should’ve gotten two goats.”
A deep chuckle falls from my lips. “Absolutely not.”
“Three?”
“Poppy.”
“Fine. But I want a peacock.”
I use my stern lawyer voice. “We are not—”
She kisses me quiet. And yeah, okay.
Maybe one peacock.
But that’s it.
Probably.
THE END
(Just kidding. With these two? It’s just the beginning.)
Epilogue
Dean
Posted to r/AmItheAsshole
username: RestingBriefFace
Title: Final Update
Body:
About a year ago, I came here to complain about goat poop, fairy lights, a woman who reorganized my estate, and a very complicated earring situation.
Then I posted again—about if I should go after her in Italy. Your comments were… brutal, but fair.
So I just wanted to say: You were right.
About everything.
I said the words. (Out loud. With eye contact. No metaphors.)
She forgave me.
We spent a week in Italy, rarely leaving the bed. And when we did, it was only to get coffee or eat pasta, or wander until we found gelato. It was the most perfect week of my life. I laughed more than I have in a decade.
I came home and married her as fast as she’d let me.
We’re figuring it out—slowly, honestly, and together. She makes tea every morning. I learned how to roast vegetables. The goat still lives on the property. His name is George. We don’t question it anymore.
Muffin now has her own Instagram account and more followers than I do. I’m fine with it.
(Mostly.)
