“Pack a coat. It is cold in the woods where I’ll bury him.”
Miranda laughs as if I am joking. I’m not. My stories about the numerous unmarked graves in the woodlands between the Popov mansion and Clark’s were one hundred percent factual.
“I was about to give him the serving of his life.” Miranda has to shout to ensure I can hear her over my stomps, and her next words force my eyes back on the prize. “Then I realized his assessment of the situation could be on point.” She nervously chews on her bottom lip while confessing, “I’m late.”
It shouldn’t take almost a minute to work out that two plus two equals four, but that’s how long it takes for me to do the math.
We’ve fucked every day, multiple times a day, for the past six weeks.
She’s not bled once.
“If I am pregnant, I swear to God it’s yours. Roy and I?—”
I stuff her worry into the back of her throat along with the remainder of her words when I storm across the room, rake my fingers through her hair, and then kiss her with everything I have.
I kiss her until the sun disappears with her worry.
I kiss her until her happiness matches mine.
And I kiss her until I wonder what the fuck I’m going to do with the little bakery I purchased three blocks over, and the millions of dollars I invested to make it everything Miranda dreamed of when she was a child with a record-breaking rebuild schedule.
EPILOGUE
MIRANDA
Four and a half years later…
“Wait, wait, wait. They need their toppers.” I scan a long counter covered with flour, seeking the graduation caps I made earlier this week. “They have to be here somewhere.”
I squeal in excitement when I find them under a stack of paperwork I made Shiloh promise to leave in my capable hands during her long-awaited leave.
After bundling them into a container that will assist in maintaining their shape, I place them on top of the cupcakes Shiloh is precariously balancing, then guide her out of a stuffy yet delicious-smelling kitchen.
“The graduation caps are super cute, but I bet they were a fucker to make.”
Incapable of arguing, I blow a wayward hair out of my face before slipping into the driver’s seat of the catering van, forgetting I’m no longer the lead driver or head honcho of this business.
“Sorry. Old habits die hard.”
“Clearly.” Shiloh laughs. “It’s only been four and a half years.”
After playfully bumping her with my hip, I remove the carton of cupcakes from her arms and then switch positions.
I slot into the passenger seat as Shiloh slips behind the steering wheel.
Well, as well as she can with her rapidly expanding stomach.
She’s so close to her due date her stomach is almost touching the steering wheel. She’s glowing, and it has my thoughts shifting back to the day I was complimented about the same glow.
God, that feels like a lifetime ago. My life has changed so much since then. It honestly feels like decades have passed.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Shiloh asks upon spotting my white cheeks.
Peering at my heart-shaped face in the side mirror, I pinch some color into my cheeks before jerking up my chin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
She squeezes my hand in support before she turns down a familiar street. My stomach does somersaults when she parks in a driveway across the street from the house I once shared with Roy.
I haven’t stepped foot in it in over three years, but I can still recall the floor space with ease.
