Epilogue
Six months later . . .
“‘The wedding was an intimate affair. Mrs. Patras wore a couture gown, her hair hung in loose curls, as she made her vows to Folsom’s most sought-after bachelor. Only a few close friends and family members attended the ceremony in the yard of Lucian Patras’s mansion in the Hamptons.
‘The mysterious Evelyn Keats, now Patras, was rumored to have been escorted down the aisle by none other than Christos Patras himself, who has been residing in Paris, France, since his son overtook Patras Industries over a decade ago. The engagement was kept secret for many months. Sources believe the couple was out of the country when the proposal was made.
‘When spotted at a Manhattan bakery and asked about her past, Mrs. Patras simply stated, “Perhaps someday I’ll write my own story, but until then, all you need to know is that I fell in love with an incredible man who showed me what home was.”
‘The couple has since returned from their honeymoon in Greece and they are now back in Folsom. While Patras remains the same unyielding financial king of Folsom, there is speculation he is a different man behind the scenes. Family and friends have remained tight-lipped regarding the newlyweds, but we suspect Folsom will be welcoming a very young, new tycoon in the coming year.’”
***
Evelyn closed the tabloid and stared at her mother’s gravestone. “I wish you could have been there, Momma. It was so wonderful. We danced and feasted like royalty. Everything was perfect. Lucian even had a pair of sneakers made to match my dress for when my feet got tired.” She shook her head, overwhelmed by how irrevocably she’d fallen for her husband.
Her hands patted the turned earth blanketing her mother. “We’ve started discussing children,” she quietly confessed. “Lucian would like to try for a family, but I’m scared. He’d be a wonderful father. Our children would never want for anything. I just . . . sometimes I worry.”
Evelyn never wanted to let her children down. She always wanted to be there for them, love them, and assure them of it every day.
She’d had grown used to letting Lucian make most the difficult decisions. He was good at it, and she trusted him to choose what was best for them. She held on to her apartment until after the wedding, giving him the key as a wedding gift, a sign that she was ready.
He supported her decision to continue with her education, and there was something so priceless about seeing words and reading them herself. She would be getting her GED soon and wasn’t sure what her future would bring. She’d convinced Lucian that she would work and he finally accepted the inevitable, proving his support the day he unveiled the art studio he built her, stocked to the rafters with sea glass and uncut metals. He’d even started discussing higher education with her, suggesting she might enjoy earning a degree in art in order to turn her skills into an independent business venture.
When it came to submission, they’d both learned a bit about sacrifice. Most of all, it never felt like sacrifice when a compromise was made for the one person they loved more than themselves. She continued to surrender to Lucian domestically, and he had learned to accept her independence outside of the home. She would never be socially submissive, and that was enough.
Trust.
She trusted him to decide for them, but he never overlooked the fact that she’d always be her. Evelyn Scout Keats Patras.
However, with the decision to start a family, he’d said it was her choice. He wanted a family and she wanted to give him one, but it would be her decision when that would actually happen, and she’d finally made up her mind.
Her eyes turned toward the house as the limo came into view. She scooped up her magazine and kissed her fingers, then placed them on the cool headstone. “I love you, Momma.”
She quickly headed down the hill toward the house, racing to make it inside before Lucian. The grass crunched under her feet with each hurried step as the crisp January air chapped her cheeks. Lucy held the door for her as she bolted in the house, and the maid quickly took her coat.
Evelyn rushed up the steps and began stripping away her clothes. He’d find the trail before the servants did and would know where she was. When she made it to the bedroom, she dropped to her knees and rested her hands, palms up, over her thighs.
The sound of the front door opening had her pulse quickening. She breathed steadily as she awaited her husband. His steady footfalls imprinted on her heart. A low chuckle echoed in the quiet house, and she imagined he’d found her trail of clothing.
When the door slowly opened, he spotted her and stilled, her discarded clothes in his hands. His eyes bore into hers, crinkling with anticipation and curiosity. “Mrs. Patras,” he said tossing the clothes aside and loosening his tie. “How was your day?”
She lifted her lashes and smiled. “Very nice, Mr. Patras. How was yours?”
“Long.” He stepped into the room and quietly closed the door. “This is quite a welcome. May I ask what has provoked such a beautiful display of surrender?”
“I have a gift for you.”
He toed off his shoes and removed his jacket, adding it to the pile of her items. He stepped closer. “A greater gift than finding my wife awaiting me in nothing but a smile?”
She nodded. “I saw Dr. Sheffield today.”
He stilled. Lucian was usually aware of her every move, and the fact that she’d done so without his knowledge clearly took him by surprise. “And how did that go?”
A shaky breath filled her lungs. Courage. He’d once taught her that clothes were courage, but over time, she’d learned that there was nothing more courageous than laying yourself bare for the one you loved. “I want to have a baby.”
His breath caught and he dropped to his knees. His hands found hers as he pressed his forehead into hers. “Are you sure?” he rasped.
“I’m sure.”
His lips pressed to hers and emotion erupted between then. His gratitude for her gift came in the form of tight breaths and shimmering eyes. His hand tugged at her neck as he drew her close and kissed her passionately.
“When?” he asked.
“After my graduation this spring. I would like to have at least one year of my husband to myself, but then . . . then we can try.”
He laughed softly and pulled her into a tight hug. “You will always have me, love. A child will only expand on the love we already share.”
It was unfathomable, to love more than she already did. Intrepid excitement rolled through her. Her gaze found his, and a potent need unfurled at the look in his onyx eyes.
“Welcome home,” she whispered, and he took her mouth, easing her to her back, claiming the haven of her surrender.
Safely tucked in the shelter of his body, the one home she’d learned she could always depend on, she sighed as his lips graze her ear, his voice low and intense. “I love you, Scout.”