Epilogue
Three Years Later
Laken
As the last coat of Blue Mermaid Shimmer #9 dries on Sophie’s fingers, I help her into her silver sequined spaghetti strapped dress and pull her long dark hair into a stylish loose bun on top of her head.
“This is my favorite color,” she says, holding her hand out and fanning it in the air. “I used to paint my own nails this same shade when I was a little girl.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “You’re only eleven, Soph. You’re still little.” She looks at our reflections in the mirror and simply raises an eyebrow at me, the rebellious girl she once was still floating underneath the surface of tulle and lace. “There.” Clipping the last of the crystals in her hair, I stand up and hand her a mirror so she can see my handiwork. “All done.”
Sophie turns around and inspects the back of her hair and nods in approval. “It’s nice to have someone fix my hair the right way for a change. Dad used to make me look like I needed medication.” Popping up from the chair, she gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
Mom.
It still slams my heart every time she says it.
Bounding out of the room, she almost makes it to the door when she’s blocked by a six-foot-two powerhouse of a man dressed in a black suit jacket, white dress shirt, and baby blue tie that matches Sophie’s nails exactly. He looks every bit the corporate executive, and anyone just glancing at him would mistake him for the corporate executive he’d become.
Then the image is ruined by his dusty beard and unkempt “don’t care” hair. The strands stand every which way as if he’d run his hands through it and paced the floor in preparation for tonight. But the part that has me almost doubled over in laughter?
The Scottish kilt he wears in place of pants.
Taking a few steps backward, Sophie’s eyes widen in horror. “Dad! Oh my God, no! Just no. You cannot wear that thing to the Father-Daughter dance at my school.”
Chuckling, Niall feigns ignorance and tilts his head as he runs a finger down his tie. “And why not? Does something not match?”
“Yeah, your skirt. Dad, you’re wearing a skirt! Where are your pants?”
“Soph, it’s called a kilt. It’s Scottish.”
“But you’re Irish.”
“Aye, but your great-grandmother isn’t. She’s full-blooded Scottish, and I thought this would be a great opportunity to show off your heritage to your friends at school.”
Sophie turns to me in a panic, her arms waving frantically. “Mom! Do something!”
I shrugged. “I kind of like it.” Pinching his side, I lower my voice. “Leave it on for later.”
“I just love feckin’ with her,” he whispers with a low laugh. Then, winking, Niall’s eyes heat as he rakes them down my body. “You didn’t get enough of it last night?”
Sophie makes a face and walks away grumbling. “Gross.”
“Hey, I’m seven months pregnant, buddy.” I gesture to my round frame. “I take easy access where I can get it.”
“You’re insatiable, Mrs. Mackay.” A concerned look crosses his face as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. “Did you tell Vince you’re quitting at the end of the week?”
“Um…”
“Laken,” he groans impatiently. “We talked about this. You need to take some time off before the baby comes. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard since your promotion and Lollie can handle shite until you come back.”
Logically, I know he’s right. In the last year, Vince Tribiotti had been promoted to a senior account executive, and I’d acquired his job as project manager. In the interim somehow, I’d finagled Lollie an interview as my assistant and she’d blown the interview out of the water. Honestly, she even exceeded all my expectations. I had no idea the woman possessed such a killer business instinct. However, with the way she’d trapped Gloria with the security tapes without batting an eye, I shouldn’t have been shocked. Still, even a couple months away from giving birth, I’m hesitant to give up my position…even if it is just for a few months of maternity leave.
Niall runs a hand across my stomach. “Have you called Preston to tell him yet?”
“No, I thought we could do it together when we take him and Sophie ice skating this weekend.”
“What do you think of your name, Miss Presley Paige Mackay? Think your namesake will share it with you?” Our daughter rewards him with a strong kick against his hand.
