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Nova.
She smiles. “That’s what mules are for.”
Grinning, I bring her closer. “Damn right, they are.”
“I came up with a new flavor,” she tells me softly. “Cucumber and raspberry.”
“Nothing beats honey rosemary.” I settle my forehead against hers. “And nothing beats what I feel for you.”
Her hand weaves into my hair. “I love you.”
“I love—”
“Woof!”
We break apart, heads jerking to the side.
Seeing the tiny demon dog with my mom’s shoe in his mouth, violently shaking the expensive leather from side to side as he growls fiercely.
“Steve!” we both cry.
But fuck if that isn’t the best justice I’ve ever seen.
And I know Nova feels the same as she glances up at me, her lips curving.
Then she’s laughing.
And I am too.
And I know that things might be complicated, might not be drama-free, that we might even have to take a detour on the open road.
But we’re going to do it together.
And that’s all that really matters.
Well, that and mules.
Epilogue
Nova
“And this,”I say to Ella, “is my famous—or soon to be famous, anyway—cranberry and cinnamon mule.”
I present the glass to her with a flourish.
She picks it up, sniffs delicately, and takes a small sip.
I wait with bated breath, our Christmas celebration fully underway. Lake’s house is crowded and noisy, things he’s tolerating because I asked if we could have a get-together.
Because my grandma used to have a party on Christmas for all her friends that had become family, a raucous celebration that was less about gifts and more about games and spending time together and—
Lake needed that.
The Sierra are winning games again, but it’s not fun.
So, he—and his teammates, the non-asshole ones, anyway—need this time to cut loose.
With flights of my special mules.
