Epilogue

Hale

 

Summer arrived to lift our spirits and fall followed with almost as much enthusiasm. But winter was the best part of that year. All charges against me were dropped and I was given a very sincere and heartfelt apology from the new head of the FBI. The Feds destroyed Cooling and Malroy with all the evidence they discovered, along with eleven more of their associates, including my former intern, Clark.

The Feds assured Clark he’d get a lighter sentence if he cooperated, and he did. The little bastard barely received five years. Pretty good, given his pals received $5,000,000 fines and up to twenty-year terms.

Cooling and Malroy had flung mud on the wrong man. Not only did everything they attempted to do to me and the rest of their competitors turn against them, the investigation revealed there were a long list of victims. Cooling and Malroy had been doing this shit for years, placing pawns in almost every investment firm in the city and using their hard-earned research to make them rich.

It worked for a while, sure, as this sleazy shit often does, but then they got greedy and there’s a reason greed is one of the seven deadly sins.

I scroll through my emails as the spring sun beats down on me, my phone pressed against my ear.

“Did the merger go through?” I ask.

“Yes, Hale,” Neesa answers. “Every one of your clients who invested tripled the earnings on their stocks.”

“Okay. I wasn’t sure you’d get everything done, Jayla.”

She sighs. “When have I ever not done everything you’ve asked?”

“I’m not saying you don’t work hard, Martina,” I assure her. “I’m just saying you’re often distracted with my boy Mason’s tongue down your throat.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” she snaps. “It’s Friday and I’m trying to get out of here so we don’t miss our plane to Kiawah.”

Like I can’t picture her blushing. “Now, is that any way for my newest associate and potential future Vice President of Wilder Investments to talk to the big boss?” I ask. I adjust the blanket around me and Becca when the wind picks up. Yes, we’re outside, and yes, we’re very much naked.

The pause is almost as dramatic as I expect. “What did you say?” she asks.

“Aw, nothing’,” I add in my thickest southern accent. “I’m just making you an offer, is all. Go to business school. I’ll pay for it and spend the next few years grooming you to take over.” I look over at Becca. “I have better things to do with my time.”

“Hale, you’re . . . I’m going to . . . oh . . . you asshole.”

She starts crying. Neesa is cute that way. “See you tonight,” I say.

Becca is still yapping away on her phone, giving her assistant some final instructions. I slip back into my black sweatpants and jog back into the house to do some prep work, including popping open a nice bottle of champagne.

Today marks the first full week Platinum PR has been in full operation. Those spreads Becca organized to save my rep? Anyone and everyone saw them, helping her become the most sought-after publicist in the country.

Now, instead of working for the Cougars, Becca works for herself here in Kiawah or back in our penthouse in New York.

I fill the flutes, set up the little plates of appetizers Trin dropped off earlier, and gather a few small things from the guest bedroom. I’m just about finished when Becca enters the house, the dogs skipping behind her. She shuts the door and drops her blanket away, reaching for the sundress I peeled her out of earlier.

“One minute,” she mouths, holding out her finger and tugging on her dress. She doesn’t bother with panties. Why should she? We still have a few hours alone left.

I pass her the champagne when she nears. It splashes on her breasts when I pull her close and take a nibble.

“No, no,” she bites out to her assistant when I lick the champagne off her skin. “We need Tootles for this one. Let him know we’ll work around his schedule. . . . alright, sugar . . . we’ll talk on Monday, bye.”

Becca disconnects, laughing. “Hale! That poor thing probably thought I was yelling at her.”

“Hmm?” I ask, taking another lick.

She greets me with a smile. “You know, summer is starting back up in another few weeks. We won’t be able to make love out there once the tourists start showing up again.”

“We will if you’re quiet.” I kiss her lips and reach for my champagne, watching Sam and Rosie as they begin their daily round of tug of war. “Never mind. You don’t have it in you. My super ability to please you won’t allow your silence.”

She laughs again, the sound sweeter than the waves announcing the start of high tide. “You’ve got me there.”

I lift my glass. “What should we toast to?”

Becca strokes my chin, giving it some thought. “What about to the Anaconda of Wall Street giving Platinum PR one hell of a squeeze? Oh, and maybe our anniversary.”

“It’s our anniversary?” I ask.

She glances down all shy like. “It’s what I’m calling it. Today marks one year to the day that you first kissed me.”

“Does it?”

“Hale,” she says, sounding disappointed. “It’s the day we did that shoot.”

“With Tootles,” she presses when I stare back her. She sighs. “Never mind. I guess it’s silly.”

I take a sip of my champagne. “Does that mean you don’t want your presents?”

She lifts her head slowly. “Are you serious?” She covers her mouth, gasping. “You remembered?”

My smirk dissolves. “Baby, how could I ever forget?”

I motion to the dining room table where a scroll tied with gold ribbon rests in front of a framed black and white picture of that now infamous kiss. There’s Becca, her backside just barely covered, that black sheet pressed against her breasts, and me, my fingers tangling through her hair and my lips kissing hers.

My arm circles her waist as she lifts the photo. “You’re going to make me cry,” she says.

“Don’t do that,” I tell her, quietly. “Open the scroll. Maybe it will make you smile.”

She does, taking care not to rip the paper. She unrolls it and looks up at me. “I don’t understand. What is this?”

“The deed to this house.” I keep talking, ignoring her sharp intake of breath, and shrug like it’s no big deal. “We both love it so much I decided to buy it for you.” I take another sip of my champagne. “Offered Trin and Callahan a sweet deal they were happy to take.”

“I’m pregnant.”

I think I misheard. That doesn’t stop me from dragging my gaze down her belly and back up to her face. “What?”

Becca isn’t smiling. She’s glowing and beaming and doing all the things I’d expect her to do if she was pregnant with my baby. “I didn’t have the stomach flu a few weeks back,” she says. “My body was just, well, getting used to our baby.”

“Our baby,” I repeat. She nods. “You’re pregnant?” She nods again, barely able to keep still. “We’re having a baby?” She squeals and throws her arms around me.

I laugh and smile and lift her and just about stumble over every word I say, until I remember there’s one thing left to do. I place her carefully on the floor and toss back the remainder of my champagne, catching the three-carat diamond ring I placed at the bottom of the flute between my teeth.

Becca’s eyes widen as I fall to one knee. But then her tears start and my heart swells, and I can’t remember all the words I meant to say. “I had a great proposal all planned out,” I begin. “With these gifts, and food, and yeah . . . stuff.”

Becca covers her mouth, crying.

“I have to admit,” I say, my eyes stinging. “Your gift is better.”

I let out a breath and slide the ring on her finger. “We talk about forever, Becca. About how we share something special that will outlast time itself. I want to mark this day when we started over and you told me about our baby growing inside you with this ring. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

I kiss her belly, then rise and kiss her for all I’m worth.

I’m promising to love her and our child forever. And, y’all, love has never looked so infinite.