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* * *
“When I grow up, I’m gonna buy you a bucket of Maltesers.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad says you have to buy gifts for the one you marry.”
“Marry?” I whisper.
“Yup!” She grins. “When I grow up, I’m going to marry you.”
* * *
“I’m keeping my promise, too,” she murmurs.
“You’re not the one proposing, I am.” I groan, pulling her and the stupid bucket into me. “I’m going to fucking marry you, Elsa. You’ll be my wife. My family. My fucking home.”
She nods several times, tears shining in her eyes. “You’ll be my home, too, Aiden. Always.”
Always.
I crash my mouth to hers.
Elsa is mine.
Fucking mine.
Just like I’m hers.
Always.
Next up, I’m going to put a fucking baby in her.
Epilogue - Elsa
Three years later
* * *
“As I was saying, you can’t argue with me using some theory. Be an actual nerd and prove it in real time.”
Aiden stares at our classmates with his signature poker face. I swear he’s become even more tenacious about hiding his emotions.
I’m lucky I met him at eighteen because twenty-one-year-old Aiden would’ve driven me bonkers.
Scratch that. He does, but I know him well enough to counter him at every turn now. I don’t always win, but the challenge is worth it.
Our colleagues stare at him with questions and no answers.
Only Aiden would call university students nerds to their faces. When I told him not to do that, he said he’s a firm believer in calling things by their names.
“Anyone?” he challenges. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
He’s lucky Cole isn’t here. It would’ve morphed into a full-blown war if he was, and we’d be all sitting here watching them argue all night.
No one ever wins, but Aiden keeps insisting he takes it easy on him.
“Actually, there’s one.” A sinister voice comes from my right. His American accent differentiates him immediately.
