Epilogue
Four weeks later, Ethan was enjoying his first Thanksgiving with Ally and her family. They’d be heading to the Campbell house for dessert later. He’d taken Zach’s advice to get to know Ally’s family, even though he normally avoided other people’s families, feeling out of place. But Zach had a deep understanding of courtship and marriage customs and it had worked for him, so Ethan figured, yeah, do it right.
Ally’s dad, Brian, was a large stocky man with a booming deep voice, who doted on his four daughters. Ally had three older sisters, two blond, one brunette, all married with kids. He’d met her parents before, but this was the first time he met the rest of her family. Her sisters were much more serious and low-key compared to his love’s infectious enthusiasm and vibrancy. Her mom, Susan, was sweet and bubbly like Ally and adored her six grandchildren ranging in age from nine months to twelve. Ally’s brothers-in-law were okay too.
The food was delicious and all made by the women. He’d been relegated to the living room to watch the football game with the guys. Ally’s dad asked him to take the end seat on the sofa next to his recliner and then spent every commercial break quizzing Ethan on his family, what he did in his spare time, and what sports teams he liked. Ethan had been over for dinner a couple of times before without many questions beyond his work, but it seemed him showing up for Thanksgiving made her dad realize how serious Ethan was about Ally. He must’ve passed inspection because the minute he said he was a diehard Patriots fan, Brian got up and offered him a beer.
Ally’s sisters kept looking at him curiously during dinner at the long dining room table, but he kept quiet for the most part, not wanting to interrupt the family’s conversation. The kids had their own table set up in the adjacent living room, except for the baby, who sat in a high chair near her parents. They couldn’t see the kids, but as soon as the kids finished their dinner, they sure heard them. Ally’s mom went in there and, a few minutes later, the kids got quiet. She returned, reporting they were all watching the movie Elf, and then took her seat, addressing him directly.
“Ethan, it’s our tradition before dessert to go around the table and say the best thing that happened all year. It reminds us to be thankful. Would you like to begin?”
“Oh, boy. I don’t want to intrude.” He turned to Ally. “You go ahead first.”
Ally smiled and said proudly, “Marrying myself.”
Her sisters laughed. Everyone else looked confused. Ally quickly explained the whole concept and the empowerment behind it.
“Then what are you doing with this guy?” her dad said, hitching a thumb toward Ethan, probably for his defense.
Ally smiled. “I had to put myself first, be content with me before I could give myself to someone else.”
“What do you mean give yourself?” her dad growled.
Her sisters tittered; their husbands remained quiet, probably in sympathy for Ethan being in the hot seat.
Ethan cleared his throat. Maybe this was the moment he’d been waiting for.
“What do you think I mean?” Ally responded calmly. “I love him. I’m divorcing myself now.”
Ethan put a hand on her leg. “No, don’t do that. I know how much that sologamy ceremony meant to you. I want you to keep that in spirit.” He gazed into her beautiful blue eyes. “Hang onto that, honor yourself. And I’ll honor you too.”
“Oh, Eth.”
“I love you.” He spoke his truth no matter the circumstances, even with curious witnesses.
She leaned close, smiling. “I love you too.”
He kissed her gently and then stood, taking in the curious expressions on everyone’s faces. “The best thing to happen to me all year was having Ally in my life.”
“Aww,” the women chorused.
“You too!” Ally exclaimed. “I should’ve said that too. Marrying myself and you. Not marrying you, but having you…I mean, not like that! You know—”
“Still my turn,” he told her with a wink. He knew how much she loved him and never doubted his importance in her life. They were sure of each other, both of them full of gratitude for the love they shared. “And just as importantly, the best thing to happen to me this year is what’s about to happen right now.”
He shifted to the other side of Ally’s chair so he’d have room to do it right. Pulling the ring from his pocket, down on one knee, he held the ring up to her.
Her sisters gasped in near unison, exclaiming until their mom hushed them.
“Omigod, Eth,” Ally said in a breathy voice. She shifted to face him, her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes huge.
He took her hand. “This engagement ring is an antique. It was my mom’s ring from her mother-in-law, so it has a lot of family history. I want you to have it.”
Ally squeed and nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
He slid the ring on her finger and held it there. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She grabbed his head and kissed him.
Her family was exclaiming and shifting around, but it all faded in the background. He stood and pulled Ally into his arms, his own eyes burning with tears, his chest filled to bursting with happiness. He loved her so damn much.
Someone put a hand on his back, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Welcome to the family!” her mom exclaimed, and then it seemed everyone was hugging them and congratulating them all at once.
Her dad even brought out a bottle of champagne. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion,” he said, handing it over to Ethan. “You do the honors.”
“Thanks,” Ethan said, taking the bottle. It opened with a pop and her whole family cheered.
Once they were all settled back at the table with the champagne, her dad made a toast. “To Ethan and Ally’s future happiness. I can see how happy Ally is and, though we’ve only known Ethan a short time, I can tell he’s a good man and will fit right in with our family. Congratulations, you two.” He lifted his glass. “To Ethan and Ally.” His voice choked at the end and the big man even leaked a tear.
Ethan quickly looked away to find Ally, her mom, and all of her sisters were quietly crying. Geez, it would be tough to be stoic around this family. They all clinked glasses and drank to that heartfelt toast.
And then Ally’s mom encouraged everyone to chime in with the best thing that happened to them all year, and damn if they didn’t all say the same thing. Every damn one of them said with a big smile: “Watching Ethan’s proposal.” By the time the third person said it, Ethan gave up the fight, his own eyes leaking. Ally rubbed his back and leaned her head on his shoulder.
Soon they were all digging into dessert, an assortment of homemade pies—pumpkin, pecan, and mince—with vanilla ice cream and whipped cream. Ethan had nearly finished his second helping of pumpkin pie when Ally’s mom surprised him.
“I have a question for Ethan and Ally,” she started, innocently enough. “Do you plan on having kids?”
Ethan gulped down his pie and glanced at Ally, her face flushed bright red. “Mom!”
“What?” her mom said, lifting a palm. “It’s just a question.”
Ally grabbed his hand and held it. “We just got engaged. Don’t put pressure on us.”
“What pressure?” her mom exclaimed. “No pressure.” She looked right at Ethan. “Just curious.”
“We haven’t even talked about it,” Ally said, glancing at him. “Let’s move along.”
Everyone got quiet.
Ally leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Sorry about that.”
He smiled and cradled her jaw, gazing into her eyes. “I don’t mind.” He wanted kids, but he understood that was a private conversation.
Ally met his eyes, seeming to be searching his expression. “Really?”
He kissed her. “Really.”
“See, he doesn’t mind,” her mom put in.
Ally looked to the ceiling. “Ergh.”
“We’ll get back to you on that,” Ethan told Ally’s mom.
Her mom must’ve read between the lines because she immediately beamed a smile at him, turned to Ally’s dad, who nodded once, and then conversation returned to normal.
The ring was a little big for Ally, but she assured him it could easily be sized down. He couldn’t wait to share their engagement with his family. Ally happily planned their wedding on the drive over to the Campbell house—something fun but still serious, “a little unconventional” was how she put it. Just like his bride. He readily agreed to anything and everything. Outdoors? Absolutely. Piñata? Why not. Cake buffet? Bring it on. Bride and groom dance with confetti cannons showering them with confetti? Uh, sure. The only thing he cared about was making it official. He didn’t bring up the kid conversation, not wanting to rush her since she was younger than him, and also because he wanted her to enjoy this whole engagement moment. But it was definitely on his mind.
The moment he stepped into the Campbell house, he stood in front of the TV, where all the guys were glued to the football game, and announced, “Ally and I are engaged.”
Ally held up her ring hand and beamed.
“Congratulations!” his dad said, and then everyone jumped in, congratulating them, the guys all pounding him on the back.
“Another one bites the dust,” Ben quipped.
Ethan bumped him with his shoulder. “You’re next, Mr. Wright.”
“Never! I’m nobody’s Mr. Right.”
“That’s for sure,” Josh said.
Everyone laughed.
He joined his family, taking a seat on an open chair and pulling Ally into his lap, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He whispered in her ear, “You gonna be Mrs. Case or Ms. Bloom?”
She turned and smiled. “I’ll be Mrs. Case if you give me a bun in the oven.”
His eyes teared up, his throat tight, so glad she was on board. He’d hoped, but he didn’t know for sure until now. “I want that so much. I want wild kids that hike and camp and fish—”
“You want mini park rangers. Ha! What if they’re girls?”
“Same thing.”
“What if they want to play dress up and have tea parties? I did.”
He thought about that. “I’ll do that too as long as the tea parties happen outdoors.”
She laughed and snuggled close. He breathed in the soft flowery scent of the woman he loved with a full open heart, finally one hundred percent content.
~ ~ ~
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Dear Readers,
Will Josh and Clarissa last? Will Hailey plan her heart out and drive everyone crazy? Will they both miss the excitement of their sparring? Stay tuned. Ben Wright might be Missy’s Mr. Wrong now, but Fate might have other plans. Would you like an exclusive sneak peek at my next release? Just and you’ll receive sneak peeks, excerpts, and subscriber-only giveaways. Next up is Ben and Missy’s story, Resisting Fate, book 7 in the Happy Endings Book Club series. Join the club and get your happy ending!
Resisting Fate (Happy Endings Book Club #7)
Ben Wright doesn’t believe in marriage.
Missy Higgins has been burned by marriage.
Neither one of them believes in Fate. The harder they resist, the harder they fall.
Don’t smite me. Ben Wright quickly stepped through the entrance of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church and lived to tell the tale. He hadn’t set foot in church since he was a kid. He veered right and headed downstairs to the basement for the craft bazaar. Not that he was a crafty guy. He was more of a rugged type with his six feet height, short light brown hair, and his usual black leather jacket with worn jeans and hiking boots. His dimpled smile detracted from the ruggedness, making him “approachable” or “such a cutie patootie” as Grandmom always said when she wanted to butter him up. Just like she’d said this morning before ordering him to pick up a jar of homemade cherry jam and a handknit sweater. Something in a men’s large that he’d promptly forget he bought. Merry Christmas to me!
He chuckled to himself. Grandmom was down with a cold or flu, she wasn’t sure, and had urged him to do exactly as she said. “It’s one day only! You can’t miss it!” And when he’d assured her he didn’t need anything more than to spend Christmas with her, healthy and well, she’d become irritated, shooing him out the door with a parting jab. “You have to get your gift before someone else snatches it up!” Like there’d be a stampede for men’s handknit sweaters.
In any case, he always came through for a woman in need. It was kind of his thing.
He halted in the bustling basement, surprised by the number of people Christmas shopping when it was still November. It sure as hell felt like Christmas down here from the silver garland strung along the ceiling to the carols playing softly in the background to the scent of hot cocoa and fresh-baked goodies. He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, taking in way too many long tables along the edges of the space bursting with crafty crap. He needed a plan—get in, get out.
He made his way to the center refreshment table with hot cocoa, juice boxes, and assorted individually wrapped baked goods for sale. He figured the women there could direct him to the jam. A few minutes later, jam in hand, he was about to ask where the men’s sweaters were hiding when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.
“Ben, how nice to see you here again!”
He startled at the sight of an ancient Father Munson, completely bald now, and considerably more cheerful than he’d ever been at Mass. Ben flushed, feeling guilty for…everything. “How’re you, Father?”
“I’m well, thank you. Your grandmother said you’d be here. Let me direct you to the sweaters she thought you might like.”
“Sure, thanks.” He followed him through the crowd to the far corner of the room, where two long tables were covered in sheep’s haircuts. One corner of his mouth lifted, imagining all those naked sheep grazing in the meadow.
Father Munson gestured him on. “Right over there,” he said and took off, surprisingly nimble for a man of his years.
Ben stood near the end of one table next to a couple of elderly women checking out the men’s sweaters. There were also hats, scarves, and mittens. He touched the edge of one hat, already feeling itchy and hot. Okay, as soon as those women moved on, he’d grab the first sweater close to his size and get out of here. But then his grandmom would want to see him wear it and she’d notice if he only wore it once.
The women moved on and he stepped forward, setting the jam on the table, and quickly sifting through the men’s sweaters for one large enough for his wide shoulders that wasn’t too hideous. He felt someone staring at him. He lifted his head and nearly laughed. Her again? What were the odds?
Missy Higgins. Formerly red-haired, currently brunette with soft brown eyes, delicate looking cheekbones and nose, and the sexiest plump lips with a dip at the top. She wore a clingy red sweater that showed every sweet curve.
This was gonna be fun. The first time he’d met her months ago at his honorary brother Marcus’ bar in the city, she’d caught his eye with her red hair. But then she’d dyed her gorgeous red hair dark brown and the second time he met her he hadn’t recognized her. By the time he put it together, she was irritated. But not in a serious way, more like she didn’t really give a fuck.
He slapped a palm on the table. “Missy Higgins, this must be fate!”
She shook her head, smiling and shifting to stand across from him. “Uh, sure. A magical force brought us to the church basement. How romantic.”
Her deadpan delivery cracked him up. “You have to admit it was a magical force that had us going through the revolving door of Claire’s hotel at the same time.” That was where he’d met her when her hair was brown.
“Fate must work pretty slow. That was three weeks ago and you didn’t even remember me.”
“I remembered you.”
A small smile played over her lips. “No, you didn’t.”
“Well, you changed your hair. It was a delayed—”
She lifted a palm. “And it was perfectly logical that we went through the door at the same time. I was coming in for the jacket I forgot and you were coming out to give it to me.”
“Fate,” he said ominously.
Her brown eyes lit with amusement. “Coincidence.”
“And what about last week at the deli?”
She rolled her eyes. “We work in the same town. Bound to happen.”
“But it never happened before.” He lifted a finger. “Once is coincidence.” He added another finger. “Twice is—”
“Random.”
He bit back a smile. “Unusual.” He held up three fingers. “And three times, well, even a hard-core nonbeliever like yourself has to admit is—” he went for a deep spooky voice “—fate.”
“Oo-oo-oh,” she said flatly, wiggling her fingers in the air. “Looking for a sweater?”
“Under grandmother’s orders.”
“Oh, the women’s sweaters are down the other end. Cheryl can help you.” She gestured to a woman at a second table full of knits.
“It’s for me. I’m buying my own Christmas present.”
She laughed out loud, a throaty soft roll of a laugh.
He lifted the jar of jam and gave her his approachable sexy charmer of a dimpled smile. “Got this too. Not sure if this is for me or for her.”
Her lips curved in a small smile. “What a good grandson doing her Christmas shopping.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “She wasn’t feeling well, but she didn’t want to miss out on all these fine knits. I’m her only grandkid. Obviously she spoils me.”
“Obviously. Size?”
He set the jam down and threw his shoulders back. “Large enough for this manly chest.”
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes lit with amusement. “So we’re looking for a petite?”
“Extra large,” he drawled in a voice that implied more.
“Maybe a poncho then?” she said on a laugh.
“Don’t quit your day job. You’re a terrible saleswoman.”
She laughed quietly and started going through the sweaters. “I’m sure there’s something…” She pulled a dark green sweater out and held it up.
“There’s a bird on it.”
She glanced down at it. “It’s the blue bird of happiness.” She met his eyes with a straight face. “No?”
“No.”
She lifted another sweater. “Reindeer? Great for Christmas day with granny.” At his silence, she tried again. “Snowman. And look there’s even some tiny snow balls.”
“Next,” he growled.
She held up another sweater and made a face. “This one is kind of boring, but maybe that’s your style.”
Smart ass. It was a plain dark gray, the least hideous in the bunch, but if he said he wanted that one he risked sounding boring.
The greater risk—looking like a complete dork with a bird, reindeer, or snowman emblazoned on his chest—had him narrowing his eyes. “Is there even a question?” He reached for the plain gray sweater and she shoved the bird sweater in his hand instead.
“I knew it,” she said with a sly grin. “You’re a blue bird of happiness kind of…” She trailed off, stiffening, the color draining from her face.
“Are you okay?”
“Su-sure.” She swallowed visibly and met his eyes with a pinched expression. “Great.”
“Then why are you virgin white?”
She didn’t smile. Instead she leaned close and whispered, “Pretend you’re my boyfriend.”
He looked around. “Is there some guy—oh, hey.” She was next to him, closer than she’d ever been, her head level with his chest, her scent floral and fresh. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back behind the table with her.
Before he had a chance to put an arm around her like the possessive boyfriend he never was, she was pressed up against his front, her fingers running through his hair, smiling at him like he was the only man in the room. And it worked. Hell, yeah, it worked. He slipped his arms around her waist, keeping her close.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, his voice rough with lust.
Her eyes widened for a moment before she cupped the back of his neck, drawing him down to whisper in his ear. “We’ve been together for a year. Serious.”
He slid a hand into her hair, momentarily distracted by its silky softness, then he whispered near her ear. “Two months is my longest relationship. This must be fate.”
“Ha-ha.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted them so his back was to the room. She peered around him.
“All clear?” he asked.
“Fuck.” She shifted him again so they were sideways to the room.
“Okay.” He rested his hands lightly on her waist. It was almost like slow dancing.
“Pretend we’re talking.” She gave him a tight smile, dropping one arm from him. Her other hand went back to playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He let go of her waist and lifted a hand, stroking one finger along her soft cheek. “Come here often?”
She focused fully on him, giving him a sexy smile, her voice husky. “Not often enough, sugar.”
Holy pretend girlfriend he was turned on.
He played with a lock of her hair, studying the silky strands. “Why did you dye your pretty red hair dark brown?”
“Because I hate it.”
“I don’t.”
“Then you can dye your light brown hair pretty red.”
He snorted. “Seriously, though, why do you hate it?”
Her hand on the back of his neck tightened as she looked out to the room.
“Missy—” Her lips met his suddenly, hot and sweet. The sights and sounds of a crafty Christmas wonderland faded as his hand came up to hold her jaw, deepening the kiss, electric heat surging through his veins. She tasted of peppermint and sin, and he couldn’t get enough. He feasted on that luscious mouth like a starving man.
She tore her mouth away, breathless, eyes wide.
His heart beat in his ears, pulse thrumming. He stared at her pink lips, full and soft.
She met him halfway for a second kiss.
He didn’t care that it was pretend because it felt so right. Then her tongue darted out to touch his, instinct took over, and he dove in for more.
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You’ve just read book #6 in the Happy Endings Book Club series. The books in the series are (Jake & Claire), (Parker & Mad), (Ty & Charlotte), (Alex & Lauren), (Zach & Carrie), (Ethan & Ally), Resisting Fate, and Chance of Romance. I hope you enjoy them all!
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Other Books by Kylie Gilmore
The Clover Park Series
(Book 1)
(Book 2)
(Book 3)
(Book 4)
(Book 5)
(Book 6)
(Book 7)
(Book 8)
(Book 9)
(Book 10)
The Clover Park STUDS Series
(Book 1)
(Book 2)
(Book 3)
(Book 4)
(Book 5)
Happy Endings Book Club Series
(Book 1)
(Book 2)
(Book 3)
(Book 4)
(Book 5)
(Book 6)
Resisting Fate (Book 7)
Acknowledgments
Love to you awesome reader goddesses! Thanks also to my family, Tessa, Pauline, Mimi, Kim, and Jenn for all you do. Mwah!
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Mess With Me: © 2017 by Kylie Gilmore
Excerpt from Resisting Fate © 2017 by Kylie Gilmore
Digital Edition 1.2
Cover design by Kim Killion
Published by: Extra Fancy Books
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the writer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
ISBN-10: 1-942238-33-9
ISBN-13: 978-1-942238-33-1