Jasmine
Two years later...
“People ask me every day how I get such perfect skin,” Melody Morgan said into the camera.
“It’s on!” Parker squealed quietly, and Willow and I flopped onto the sofa.
I turned the volume up and held my breath.
“I would love to say it’s mostly good genes, but it’s not.” Melody held up a jar of my newest moisturizing cream and smiled. “I don’t go a day without using the Radiant Glow Skincare Collection by Firefly.” She ran her hand over her cheek. “And you shouldn’t either.”
“The Radiant Glow Skincare Collection is now available in a fine retail establishment near you,” the announcer said.
“Holy shit,” Parker said. “I can’t believe you got Melody Morgan to pimp your product.”
“I know,” I squeaked. “Mack’s wife, Darien, set it up. I’m still in shock.”
Mack was one of the officer’s in the Dogs of Fire Portland Chapter, and his wife, Darien was a multi-million selling author. Child-star-turned-sex-symbol, Melody Morgan, had starred in the first two movies based on Darien’s trilogy, and she was set to star in the third next year.
“You did it,” Willow said, hugging me. “You set a goal and you crushed it.”
I grinned. She was right. Sort of. I couldn’t have done it without my grandmother’s seed money, so I gave more credit to Grams than to me. I was officially in the black and developing six more products (foundation, lip color, and a series of complementary skincare items), but this ad campaign with Melody was already making products fly off the shelves.
It couldn’t have come at a better time. I was three months pregnant and we’d just moved into our new home. Plus, Alamo had surprised me (on the night of our engagement), informing me, Kelly, and Jules, that he and the rest of the guys had gone in with my dad to purchase the houseboat we had been enjoying. It was perfect, considering it gave us all room to expand the brood, and now it was my turn to add to the family.
Coming from refusing to go near water to partial owner in a houseboat was a miracle. Admittedly, this fact gave me lots of warm fuzzies. Quin, Kinsey, and Badger (a love story in its own right) had also been folded into the family, and they were often with us for family get-togethers and annual boat trips. To say that life couldn’t get any better was an understatement.
My only disappointment was that I couldn’t skate until after the baby came... Alamo was too concerned I’d fall. When Kelly heard this, she presented me with the tiniest pairs of baby skates (one pair white, one pair black for whatever we had), so that the baby and I could skate together.
The front door slammed, and Alamo called out, “Babe?”
“Family room,” I called back.
He walked in (with Dash) and smiled. “Ladies.”
Parker and Willow greeted him, while Willow made a beeline for her man.
“Hi, honey.” I rose to my feet and closed the distance between us, raising up on tiptoes to kiss him. “How was church?”
“It was good. How do you feel?” Alamo kissed me again, running his hand lightly over my left side.
Two weeks before our wedding, I’d embarked on the journey of getting a tattoo. I’d talked through my idea with Tag, he’d drawn it out for me, and I’d cried, making the poor man think he’d done something, and Alamo might kill him. After explaining it was only because he’d nailed my vision from a piss-poor description, we got to work...and it hurt. Like a mo-fo, but I’d endured all of it because I wanted to surprise my man. And surprise him, I did. The Big Dipper inked with Texas stars instead of using what might be typical, spread over my ribs and ended under my breast, near my heart, so he’d know I was always his safe place...his home.
“Good,” I said. “I only puked once.”
He grinned. “Progress.”
“Definitely. Are you hungry? Willow cooked.”
“Yeah.” He nodded toward Dash. “We both are.”
I chuckled. “Oh, so the word got out that Willow was making lasagna, huh?”
“Hell, yes. Gator’s right behind us,” he said. “I’m actually surprised he didn’t beat us here.”
The doorbell pealed just as he made the comment, so he went to get the door, while I headed to the kitchen.
“I got beer!” Gator bellowed.
“Pops!” Willow admonished. “Alfie’s asleep.”
Willow and Dash’s two-year-old, was born River Alfred (her middle name paid homage to Willow’s father), but they called her “Alfie.” She was asleep in the room we’d designated as the nursery, which was close to the family room. It had been difficult to get the baby to sleep because she wanted to stay with all of us, but we didn’t know how late the men would be, so Willow wanted her to go to bed.
“Mama!” Alfie appeared from the hallway, rubbing her eyes.
“Well, she was asleep,” Willow grumbled.
“Sorry,” Gator said with a grimace, setting the beer on the kitchen island.
Alfie looked up, spied Dash, and diverted her steps directly to him. “Daddy!”
Dash chuckled, lifting her and kissing her neck. “You’re supposed to be asleep, baby.”
She gave him a little smile, then pitched herself toward Gator. “PopPop.”
Gator was an adopted father-figure for Willow, considering her own had been killed shortly before meeting Dash. Gator had lost his own family years before, and he’d inserted himself into their little family unit, playing the role of perfect grandfather to Alfie.
Letting Dash and Gator tend to Alfie, Willow joined me in the kitchen and we dished up food for our men. Although, Alamo insisted on carrying everything to the table, his protectiveness on overdrive ever since we found out I was pregnant.
“Soup’s on,” Alamo called, and everyone gathered around the large dining room table. Before Alamo took his seat, he leaned down and kissed my neck. “Love you, Firefly.”
I craned my neck to smile up at him. “Love you too, honey.”
Alamo grabbed a beer and sat down, and while my best friends in the world communed at my table, I watched with a full heart (and teary eyes).
I couldn’t have ever imagined my life would be this perfect. It was a strange road to get here, but it was the perfect journey and I couldn’t ask for more.