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“Fine by me, ’cause I plan on bein’ real inappropriate with you after dinner.”
She laughs. “I didn’t know happily ever after could be so horny.”
“That gonna be a problem?”
“Hell no.” She presses her lips to mine. “I am more than happy to ride you into the sunset.”
THE END
epilogue
Lu
Sex on the Beach
Late November
The bonfire crackles, sending sparks into the crisp night air. I pop the last bite of my fried chicken sandwich into my mouth and lean into the fire’s warmth, watching the flames as I savor the first recipe I’ve officially developed and perfected for my cookbook.
Fluffy potato bun: check.
Granny’s crispy fried chicken, but kicked up a notch with the addition of a buttermilk marinade: check.
Mayo, pickles, melted white American cheese: check, check, and check.
“You gotta”—Riley licks his fingers—“be kidding me, Legs. That was insane.”
Grinning, I lean my head on his shoulder. “Think it will sell some cookbooks?”
“Enough to put you on some bestseller lists for sure.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m proud of you.”
My heart flutters. “I’m proud of me too.”
I mean that. Life has been absolute chaos lately as Riley and I figure out our new normal as a couple. Beautiful chaos, yes, but still chaos. While I love a lot of things about my life in Charlotte, I love Riley more. To that end, we agreed we wanted to live full-time on Dolly (moored at Harbour Village Marina, as always). That isn’t to say Riley hadn’t visited me back in Charlotte over the past few months. He came several times, the most memorable trip being the one where we went to that Stevie Nicks concert together. Stevie was as iconic as ever.
So was the sex Riley and I had afterward.
I reached out to Marianne not long after, hoping to start networking with event planning firms in the Wilmington/South Port area. As luck would have it, The Ocean Club was looking to expand their event planning team. She offered me a job and, needless to say, I took it. I moved in with Riley a week ago, and I started at The Ocean Club a few days later.
It was and wasn’t an easy decision. Dad was definitely disappointed that I’d be leaving The Gibbes Group. Mom cried when I told her I was moving. And saying goodbye to the perfect, shiny house where I was supposed to live my perfect, shiny (albeit fake) life still hurt.
But my own happiness—my own dreams—are my guideposts now. And nothing makes me happier than working on my cookbook and being with Riley here on the island. Since September, I’ve been on Bald Head often, squeezing in recipe development sessions in Stede’s kitchen with Chef Penelope and her sous chefs whenever I can. Riley often accompanies me as my official taste tester.
“Best job ever,” he says.
Twenty hours of kitchen time and countless fried chicken sandwich iterations later, we finally landed on a winner. We’re calling it the BFCS of BHI: Best Fucking Chicken Sandwich of Bald Head Island.
It’s a bold claim to make, sure. But after seeing Riley absolutely devour his sandwich tonight, I feel like my recipe lives up to its name.
“I can tell you’re proud.” Riley searches my face. “You’ve been smiling non-stop since we got out here.”
To celebrate knocking out my first recipe for the cookbook, my boyfriend (I love that I get to call him that) suggested we have a picnic on the beach. I imagined a casual affair: I’d bring the food, and Riley would bring the blanket, the music, and maybe some sparkling cider. Tom too, of course.
But in true Riley Dixon style, he went all out. There’s the private bonfire, which is surrounded by an enormous heart made entirely of bouquets of red roses. There must be hundreds of flowers, their fragrance mingling with the cozy scent of the fire.
He also brought a bottle of my favorite red wine, along with a crystal wineglass that’s the size of my head. The blanket he wrapped me in is cashmere and about as cozy—and decadent—as it gets. Tom has burrowed into his own blanket beside me.
Not gonna lie, spoiling him has been a lot of fun.
Meeting Riley’s eyes, their liquid surface lit up by the flames of the fire, I feel like I might burst with happiness.
“It’s a really great feeling,” I reply. “One I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”
“The feeling of accomplishment?”
I lift a shoulder, pondering his question. “The feeling of accomplishment is nice, yes. It’s really wonderful that all our work paid off. But I think the fact that I took a chance and created something I love—something I know is special, that I’m proud of—feels fucking awesome.”
The skin around Riley’s eyes crinkles as he grins. “The fruits of your labor are very, very sweet when that’s the case.”
“It’s also made me realize how much freaking work it’s going to be putting together an entire book. The recipe development piece alone will take ages. Never mind the styling and photography stuff.”
