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“Not to mention she’s literally the Princess of Philanthropy,” King deadpans. “No one would go up against her.”
Nana Noel sniffs. “I would.”
A laugh escapes at her playfulness. “And we’d tie,” I inform her. “I wish Mom would have won one of these.” I gesture towards the stage. “She would have done so much good for the world as a whole.”
“I tried,” another voice states as Dad appears beside Nana Noel. “Your mother told me I wasn’t allowed to nominate her because the board would pick her instead of those ‘worthy’ of the award.” He uses air quotes as he speaks before shrugging. “She’s not wrong. Everyone adored her and she would have won every year making it unfair to everyone else.”
“Nepotism makes the world go round,” King shrugs.
Dad rolls his eyes at the man. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind the next time your father puts your name in my inbox.”
King suddenly sits up straighter in his chair, looking completely serious. “My father is the one who nominated me?”
Dad nods. “He does every year. You finally met the requirements this year. I imagine if he does it again next year, you’ll also meet the requirements unless someone else comes along.” He pauses while a thoughtful look crosses his face. “You should get with Dominique and discuss the teen shelters. She might be able to work a program of hers to coincide with yours so the teens have somewhere safe but also a learning environment that will foster friendships.” With that parting comment, Dad takes off in the direction of Dominique’s table, probably to congratulate her personally.
Aillard leans back in his chair. “So,” he announces, “is this going to become an event we attend when it rolls around?”
“For me it is,” I say. Now that Dad and I are mending things, it doesn’t feel right not to meet him halfway. Plus, the two family counseling sessions we had have really opened up my eyes to everything going on I wasn’t aware of due to dealing with my own grief. We’re able to talk now, no finger pointing or blaming, and have actual conversations that don’t feel stilted or awkward.
“I’ll be here with Bex,” Thorin shrugs, as if he didn’t just announce to the entire table his idea to commit to me.
I gape at him. “Are you sure?”
Thorin’s eyes illuminate before he cups my chin, all by dragging my face to his before he languidly kisses me. “Yes, I’m sure. Stop being so surprised that I want to be where you are.”
“It’ll take some getting used to.”
Thorin drops his voice, his breath whispering in my ear, “In case it isn’t obvious, I’m in love with you.”
My throat feels tight as I turn my body in my seat until I’m facing him directly. “I feel the same way.”
“Good,” Thorin nods. “We’re on the same page.”
“Everyoneis on the same page,” King announces. “We’re all blissfully happy and nauseating to the rest of the world.” He sighs rather dramatically. “If this is going to become an annual thing where we spend Christmas together, I want to know now before I whisk Emilia away to some island that doesn’t require clothes or snow in December.”
Whitney covers her eyes. “Thanks for the mental image I didn’t need, asshole.”
Aillard ignores King’s comment about the island entirely. “Yes, I believe we’ll be spending Christmas’ together for the foreseeable future.”
Whitney drops her hands to gaze lovingly at her boyfriend. “I like that we created our own family.”
So do I.
Thorin lifts his glass in the air, prompting us all to follow suit. “To the future.”
We all echo his sentiment, clinking our glasses together. And I find myself at peace, leaning into Thorin’s side as the men begin to bicker about something uninteresting. This is the support I never knew I needed until I was thrust into their group, forced to participate and break out of my shell. Looking at Thorin animatedly discuss things with Aillard, I fall a little more in love realizing we have the rest of our lives to continually find our way back to one another.
Epilogue
“These memories are what I’ve been missing.” - Thorin
New Years Eve
My fingers dip inside Bex’s wet heat as she claws at the duvet beneath her naked body. She writhes, her thighs clamping my hand in place as she tries to draw out her pleasure. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, listen to the moans and gasps become more frequent as her body chases her orgasm in wild abandon.
I press my thumb down, rolling her clit just the way she likes and listen to the sweetest sound of her cry escape her lips. My name a whispered prayer comes moments after. A few seconds pass before her glazed eyes meet mine, warmth and love easy to read as she stares at me with a crooked smile.
I press a kiss to her stomach, nuzzling the soft flesh before sliding my way up her body. I love everything about this woman. From the freckles on her face to the ones on her shoulders. To the scar on one of her toes from when she was a child. Most of all I love her heart and how forgiving and empathetic she is towards others.Including me.
