Epilogue One
Pru
Fourteen Months Later
I turn my head to the side and ask, “Does it look straight to you?”
Hack is attempting to hang our very first family picture. Sure, we’ve taken a ton of pictures over the last year, but this is the first time we have ever had a professional portrait made. It’s not your typical portrait, but it is absolutely stunning.
It’s of the three of us, near the pond in the back of our property. Hack has his arm around me, but he’s looking down at our daughter with a smile. I’m on my tiptoes, kissing his bearded cheek. Scarlett is a few feet from us. She has a huge smile on her face, proudly displaying two new teeth, while picking a buttercup.
“It looked straight last night when I hung it up. It looked straight again when you had me move it an inch to the right this morning,” Hack answers, coming down from the ladder. “Now that you’ve had me move it back, it still looks straight.”
“Maybe we should move it to the other wall,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.
“Hell no. It’s staying right where it is, and it’s not getting moved again,” he says, walking over and standing directly between me and the picture. “What is it with you and that picture? It’s all you’ve talked about since the day you picked it up.”
Letting go of my lip, I shrug. “It’s the last picture taken of you with a beard.”
The very next morning, I walked into the bathroom and found him shaving. He’d been threatening to do it for weeks, saying he was tired of Scarlett pulling on it all the time. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the change. I ended up throwing a full on hissy fit, screaming at him to stop. By that time, one side was gone, so there was no stopping. I was so pissed, I barely spoke a word to him for three days.
Granted, he looks amazing without facial hair. He looks like a movie star. He’s definitely the Russell Crowe bad boy type. Hack isn’t and never will be the Brad Pitt pretty boy kind of guy. I thank God for that every day.
“That’s what this is about?” he asks, rolling his sapphire colored eyes to the ceiling.
I nod, stepping closer to lay my hand against his chest. “Yeah.”
“You’re still pissed about me shaving.” His words come out as a statement, but I can hear the question being asked.
Reaching up, I lay my hands over his clean-shaven cheeks. “I miss the feel of it when you kiss me. I miss watching you run your fingers through it when you’re thinking really hard about something. I miss touching it and feeling the familiar texture against the palm of my hand.”
“I’ll grow it back,” he says, leaning down to prove that his kiss feels good with or without facial hair.
“Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.
“Thank me with your mouth,” he counters, walking me backwards to the hall.
I smile, pulling away from him to rush into the kitchen. “I did. The words came right out of my mouth.”
Hack walks to me and picks me up, setting me on top of the counter. “You know what I mean, Pru.”
My smile widens because I do. I also know that we haven’t had sex in the kitchen yet, and I really want to give it a try. Since we moved in, we’ve been making our way through every room in the house, besides Scarlett’s of course. Now, only the kitchen is left.
We did end up buying the house near Smoke and Gidget’s. We both fell in love with it the first time we walked inside. Luckily, the old man who owned it was more than willing to sell. He gave it to us at a great price, with the stipulation he could bring his great-grandson fishing at the pond anytime he wanted to. Of course, Hack and I agreed.
After closing and the house was completely cleaned out, Hack discovered there was a whole lot more work that needed to be done than he originally thought, and only a little of it was cosmetic. So, the month or two that we had planned on painting and putting in new carpets turned in to a nearly seven-month long complete remodel.
The previous owner didn’t try to cheat us; he just had no idea there was a leak in the basement. It wasn’t big, but it had gone on for a long time, causing the joists to rot and the floors to become weak in some spots. Luckily, we had an inspection done, so the company we hired ended up having to fork over the cost for most of the structural work.
The first time the old man brought his great-grandson fishing, he came up to the house to see how we were settling in. I wasn’t here that day, but Hack swears he thought the old guy was gonna hit him with his cane when he refused to take the cost of the repairs out of the price we paid for the house. Instead, Hack agreed to let his grandson, whom just happens to be a contractor, paint both the outside and inside of the house with us paying for the cost of materials only.
Since then, the old man stops by a few times a week to check on the progress. He has changed from being the old guy who used to own the house to Grandpa Rick. Hack absolutely refuses to add Grandpa to his name, and he shakes his head every time he’s reminded to do so.
“I think this ended up being my favorite room in the house,” I say, looking at the sage green walls and cherry cabinets.
“My favorite is our bedroom,” Hack replies, stepping between my legs. “And that’s where I’d like to be right now.”
“Addy isn’t gonna be bringing Scarlett home for another hour or two,” I whisper, reminding him that our daughter is spending the day at the zoo with Cam.
His lips tip up into a grin. “Is that right?”
“Uh huh,” I answer, unbuttoning the top button of my shirt. “And we haven’t christened the kitchen just yet.”
“Well now, we can’t let the kitchen be left out of all the fun,” he says, taking off his cut and laying it beside me on the counter.
Finishing the last of my buttons, I pull my arms out of the sleeves and let my shirt fall off. “Nope, it would get jealous of all the other rooms.”
Pulling his tee over his head, he undoes the snap on his jeans and pulls down the zipper. “I’m thinking you should get those pants off so we can start christening.”
I watch as he pushes his boxers down and pulls out his hard cock. His fingers wrap around it and start sliding up and down. The sight has my mouth watering. I’m off the countertop in a flash, dropping to my knees in front of him.
Licking just the tip, I look up at him and smile. “First, I want to say thank you with my mouth.”
He smiles back and says, “Have at it, baby.”