Merry Ever After (Under the Mistletoe collection)

Epilogue Evie

Epilogue

Evie

Seven years later

M y husband and son are silhouettes in the golden sunset, their voices carrying through the late-afternoon haze to reach me on the porch. Luke is explaining the stages of harvest to Sonny, his hand resting on the top of his head, Sonny leaned against Luke’s hip, wearing an identical hat. The sight of them together always makes me wish I was a painter so I could capture their bond on a canvas, but today it’s enough to know I sewed the clothes they’re wearing by hand.

Using my big toe, I gently rock the porch swing, my fingers sifting through the hair of my daughter, who dozes with her head in my lap. June will start prekindergarten soon, and I’m going to miss her running barefoot around the farm all day, but I’m also ready to devote more time to the shop. Five years ago, Luke purchased the thrift shop as a wedding gift for me, and now, more than half the clothes we offer are my upcycled designs. Soon, the whole store will be original pieces with my name stitched on the inner collar. And with the addition of my new online presence, I’m hoping to create even more demand.

Not unlike most days, I marvel over how a decision centered around an ant statue has led me here. To this beloved time and place, this ... man. My man.

As though I’ve called to him out loud, Luke glances back at me over his shoulder. The sun prevents me from seeing his eyes, but I know they soften. I know they brim with love, seeing me here with our daughter’s head in my lap. I know everything about Luke and he knows everything about me. We’re lovers, partners, and best friends.

Forever.

Funny how quickly that word became a comfort once I let myself trust again.

That trust was not misplaced, hums my heart as Luke guides Sonny back toward the house, patting him on the shoulder and encouraging him to run ahead, no doubt to wash up for the Christmas Eve dinner I’ve got roasting in the oven. Sensing the return of her beloved big brother, June reanimates with a yawn and ambles off into the house after her sibling, leaving me to greet my husband alone.

I rise from the swing and cross the porch to the top of the steps, leaning a hip against the banister. Luke, covered in dust and sweat and clothes made by my own two hands, stops at the bottom of the stairs and slowly removes his hat, letting it drop to his outer thigh. And he drinks me in like he does at the end of every day, his gaze carrying slowly up the length of my legs, hips, stomach, and breasts, his Adam’s apple paused in motion.

“Merry Christmas Eve,” he says, sounding a touch raspy. “That a new design you’re wearing?”

“It is.” I turn in a circle, pretending not to hear the appreciative noise he makes while looking at my butt in the tight denim skirt. “Do you like it?”

“How long until dinner?” he asks in lieu of answering.

My pulse starts to pick up. “Twenty minutes, give or take.”

Luke takes all four stairs in two strides and yanks open the front door of the house. “Sonny, keep an eye on your sister for twenty minutes and there’ll be an extra present for you under the tree come tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Now my hand is enclosed in Luke’s, and I’m jogging to keep up with him on our way across the sunbaked paddock to the barn. My eyes are still a smidge damp from hearing Sonny refer to Luke as Dad , even though that’s what he’s called him since he learned to speak. It’s not something I’ll ever take for granted, though. Not for a single moment.

As soon as we reach our secret spot, Luke drops his hat and backs me into the shadows behind the final horse stall, pressing his thick body against mine, his calloused fingers already snagging the hem of my skirt, wrenching it up to my hips, his mouth crashing down on mine. Those hardworking hands grip the cheeks of my backside and treat them roughly, kneading and slapping as the kiss grows more frantic.

“You don’t know what it does to me,” he pants while I unfasten his jeans, groaning and wincing as I lower the zipper, “seeing you there waiting for me, all lit up by the sun. The only Christmas present I need. This year or any other year.” He shakes his head. “What gives you the right to be so beautiful, Evie Ward?”

Head tilted back, looking him in the eye, I whisper, “Happiness. You.”

He pauses ever so briefly in the act of shoving down my panties. “If I’ve made you half as happy as you’ve made me, I consider that a life well spent.”

“We still have decades to go,” I whisper, letting his tongue dip into my mouth.

“And I thank God for that every day.” He takes a tight hold of my bottom and drags me upward against his body, both of us moaning when his naked flesh meets mine, hard and unforgiving greeting soft and sweet. “I love you, Evie.”

“I love you, too, Luke.” Saying it once is never enough. “I love you.”

He visibly absorbs my words, his body seeming to take added strength from them. “You’re a mother, a designer, a business owner. All these things. You do them so well, sweetheart. If I don’t tell you often enough, I’m so damn proud of you.”

Caught off guard, I respond unevenly. “Luke—”

“But right now?” He tilts his hips and slides inside me, sending a head-to-toe ripple through my body, a whimper issuing from my throat. “Right now, you’re just my good girl.” He pushes himself deep as he can go and holds, gives two shallow drives, then rears all the way back, pounding me roughly against the wall of the barn, gritting my name into my ear as animal lust explodes between us. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” I breathe, locking my ankles behind his back.

His fingertips bite hard into my outer thighs, sliding slowly down to my knees, before he hooks his forearms beneath them, keeping me open, his lower body powering up and up and up into my welcoming body, my gasps swallowed by his frenzied mouth. “Hold on tight and show me.”