EPILOGUE

AARON

“What the hell are you doing in there?”

The bathroom door opens and Amelia strides into the living room wearing a red flannel pajama set, her hair tied up into a bun. Her face looks fresh . . . freshly fucked.

“Don’t rush me,” she responds with a smirk before she sits between my legs and rests her back against my chest. “I wanted to make sure I looked somewhat presentable. I plan on taking pictures, you know.”

I’m not surprised. Since we’ve gotten back together, she’s made it her mission to make up for three lost years and take pictures of us together whenever she can.

“You don’t need to look presentable for pictures, you’re beautiful on your own.”

“Aw.” She leans back and pats my cheek. “You’re just trying to get your dick sucked again.”

“No, but I’m not opposed to round two.”

“Of course you’re not. What man says no to a blow job?” Her hands fall to my thighs as she stares in front of her.

“I’m sure there are men out there who don’t want their dick sucked.”

“Name one,” Amelia challenges me.

Errr . . .

“That’s what I thought.” She rubs her hands together and says, “Okay, give me my presents.”

If you asked me three months ago who I’d be celebrating Christmas with, I would’ve said myself, and then in the afternoon I probably would’ve gone to Tucker’s. If you told me I’d spend it with Amelia, peppered by her loving kisses, I would’ve told you, you’d lost your damn mind.

I never envisioned my life turning out this way, engaged to the woman who stole my heart so many years ago, spending Christmas together, in OUR house, staring at a Christmas tree we chopped down together. It’s like a fucking fairy tale, and I’m the leading man.

Shortly after Amelia surprised me at the musical, I proposed. It didn’t take us long to go from zero to sixty in our relationship. That night, she moved into my house permanently, making it our house. A week later, I proposed. I didn’t want to waste time where Amelia’s concerned, because we’d already wasted enough.

Amelia said yes, and we’re now planning a very small and intimate wedding on the nursing home grounds, out in the garden—the same garden Amelia’s dad watches over every day. She wants him there, hell, I want him there, and we both think it will be a comfortable place for him to watch his daughter get married.

We’ve had good visits and bad visits with him, but it doesn’t deter us from visiting him every Friday with pizza and half-moon cookies. It’s a tradition now, and if Mr. Santos doesn’t interact with us, Amelia and I use that time to play checkers and just enjoy being in the same room as her father.

“Let’s see, what should you open first?” I ask, scratching my jaw and looking at all the presents I bought. I might have spoiled her, but I’m okay with that. She deserves it. Let’s just say I’m making up for lost present giving.

“The big one,” she shouts, leaning forward and bringing it to her lap.

Chuckling, I shake my head. “Some things never change.”

“I have no shame,” she announces right before she rips the wrapping paper off the box.

“Hey, I took my time wrapping that.” She doesn’t care as she squeals and holds the box above her head.

“An Easy Bake Oven! Oh Aaron, you shouldn’t have.” She’s gushing, and I can’t help but laugh.

“You said you always wanted one but never got one.”

She spins around and wraps her legs around my waist, pressing her center against mine. Fuck that feels good.

“You’re the absolute best. I’m going to make you the most delicious cake baked by a light bulb you’ve ever tasted.”

“I believe it, baby.” I chuckle as she presses her lips across my face. When she reaches my lips and parts them with her tongue, diving deep, I unconsciously moan and bring her closer. When she doesn’t let go, I lay her in front of the tree on top of the wrapping paper and start to unbutton her flannel shirt. I just had her not ten minutes ago, but there is no denying how much I want her again.

Her mouth pulls away for a second and my pursuit pauses when she stares up at me, loving awe in her eyes. Gently, she strokes the roughness of my jaw with her index finger as a slow smile spreads across her face.

“What?” I ask, needing to know what she’s thinking in that pretty head of hers.

“Sometimes I still can’t believe we’re together, that we’re here, engaged, with a wonderful future ahead of us.”

“Me either,” I sigh. “I’m so goddamn lucky.” Chuckling and shaking my head, I say, “I almost sent Trey a Christmas present, thanking him for finding you Mrs. Ferguson’s rental, but I thought it would be in poor taste.”

Amelia laughs. “It would have been, but he is the one who found that house.”

“I know, and I secretly thank him every morning when I wake up next to you in our bed.”

“It was meant to be. You were meant to be mine.”

And if that doesn’t make me the happiest man alive, I don’t know what will. I’ve never been a man who believes in second chances, or third chances for that matter, but here I am, with the woman of my dreams resting in my arms, wearing my ring, and staring at me with all the love a man can ask for. I thought luck wasn’t in the cards for me. Hell, was I wrong. I just might have all the luck in the world.

The End

To my son’s oldest biological brother, may you one day own a home with stairs

and find your well-deserved happily ever after.

Thank you for reading THE OTHER BROTHER. I hope you enjoyed it! Want to learn more about Aaron’s friends? They have their own stories, check them out:

Tucker and Emma, click to read My Best Friend’s Ex.

Racer and Georgiana, click to read Twisted Twosome.

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