I burst out laughing, even as tears start to stream down my face. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” I giggle.
“You better believe it,” he rumbles, winking at me. “I’m gonna do my best to be the most romantic motherfucker who ever lived.”
Striker dips down, and his lips meet mine. The kiss is gentle, but there’s an undercurrent of urgency that pulls a low moan from me. Heat pools between my legs, and when the kiss ends, I’m dizzy and gasping.
“When you get out of this hospital,” Striker tells me huskily,” I’m takin’ you back to my place. Correction, our place. And we’re gonna make up for all the lost time I wasted by being a jackass. And then some. Deal?”
I gaze up at him through my wet lashes. “Deal.”
I have half a mind to ask Striker to check whether the door locks so we can get started right here, but a soft knock changes my mind.
“Sounds like we’ve got a visitor,” I whisper.
I gaze up into his dark, dilated eyes, and I know that the next hours until my release are going to be torture for both of us.
“I love you, Ember,” he rasps.
“I love you, Striker,” I breathe.
He sits upright — not letting go of my hand — and calls to whoever is outside to come in.
And just like that, our life together begins.
Epilogue
EMBER
“Do you, Matthew Lee Barrigan, take Cady Lorelei Abernathy, to be your lawful wedded wife?”
I can barely see through my tears as I watch the ceremony unfold from my seat. I’ve never been one to cry at weddings, but this one is special to me. It’s been a long time coming.
And I’m happy to say I’ve been here for most of it.
As Cady answers the minister in the affirmative, I watch Striker standing across the room and notice he, too, is fighting his emotions. As Tank’s best man, he’s standing next to the groom, off to one side. But right now, Striker isn’t looking at the happy couple.
Instead, his eyes are fixed on Wren, the maid of honor-slash-flower girl — who is bouncing up and down on her heels next to Cady, like she can barely contain herself.
Striker winks at her. Wren winks back.
Moments later, the minister’s voice rises over the crowd. “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” he intones.
“Yay!” Wren yells, tossing a handful of flower petals high in the air. The entire crowd bursts into raucous laughter as she jumps into Tank’s arms, and the three of them embrace.
Finally, officially, they’re a family.
Cady’s adoption of Wren isn’t finalized yet, but that’s pretty much a technicality at this point. Their hearing in front of the judge is in two weeks, and I have every reason to believe it will all go smoothly. And even though Cady is already Wren’s mom in all the ways that count, I know she’ll be relieved when it’s finally all settled.
Wren hops down from Tank’s arms after a moment, and solemnly takes the hand of the best man, just as they’ve practiced. Together, Striker and Wren follow Cady and Tank back down the aisle as we all whistle, shout, and clap our approval. After that, the front row stands, with Cady’s Uncle Daniel, who gave her away, going first. He’s accompanied by Tray, his boyfriend from the nursing home.
Next to me, Margot leans in to be heard above the din. “Those two have a world of love surrounding them,” she says. “It gives you faith, doesn’t it?”
“It sure does,” I smile back at her.
After Daniel and Tray, the rest of the crowd files out — a motley mix of leather-wearing bikers and regular “civilians” who somehow come together harmoniously enough. We’re in a giant outdoor tent, with one section for the ceremony and the rest for the afterparty, so seconds after everyone has moved over to the reception area, the music cues up and the party starts. Benji, who has been squirming all through the wedding, lets out a sound like screeching tires and goes barreling toward Wren. The two of them have become fast friends despite the difference in their ages. He has also been unofficially adopted by the rest of the Lords of Carnage kids, which both amuses and worries poor Margot.
“That boy had better not get any ideas about growing up to be a biker,” she tsks as we watch him run away.
“Hey, what’s wrong with bikers?” I laugh. “Maybe you ought to get one, yourself, since John didn’t work out.”
Just then, Striker comes ambling toward us. “Well, I’ll admit that yours turned out to be a keeper,” Margot admits, nodding at him.
I let out a happy sigh. “He sure did.”
Margot and I don’t talk much about Mark. I didn’t attend his funeral, at the request of his parents, who have somehow gotten it into their heads that I was responsible for his death. The police came to a different conclusion. The insurance company, too. As Mark’s widow, his estate passed directly to me, but of course there wasn’t much to it because he was so in debt. But I didn’t want anything anyway, except for all of it to be over. Insurance paid to fix the damage on the house, but after what happened there, I never wanted to live in it again. I sold it a couple of months ago, and gave the small amount that was left over to Margot for Benji’s college fund.
I ended up moving in with Striker as soon as I got out of the hospital. The place was a little rough, and needed some fixing up, but Striker has worked like a demon to make it comfortable for me. The second bedroom is my home office for now. But someday soon, Striker and I are hoping to redecorate it.
As a nursery.
The drinks are flowing and the dancing is already going full-tilt when the minister comes over to have Striker and me sign the marriage license as Tank and Cady’s witnesses. He leads us over to a table at the edge of the reception area and shows us where to sign. Tank and Cady are already there.
Wren races over to see what we’re doing.
“We’re witnessing your parents’ marriage, Bird,” Striker tells her.
“What’s witnessing mean, Mom?” she asks, confused.
“It means it makes it legal,” Cady replies.
“Oh.” Wren wrinkles her nose. “What’s ‘legal’?”
“Striker and I are signing that we saw your mom and dad take their vows and that they are who they say they are,” I add. “Legal means…” I struggle with a way to explain it to a six-year-old. “Legal means real.”
Although as I say it, I know that’s not really true.
Real isn’t always what the law says it is. As a lawyer, even I know that. And as a woman, I know it even more deeply.
“So…” Wren blinks. “Am I legal?”
Everyone laughs.
“Hey, Wren,” Striker rumbles. “You wanna go cut a rug with me?”
Now, Wren is even more confused. “There’s no rugs, Uncle Striker!” she protests. Wren has finally outgrown her speech impediment, which I know is bittersweet for Cady.
“No?” Striker glances around, scratching his head. “Huh. Well, in that case, wanna go dance with me?”
“Okay!” Wren trots over to Striker, who bows down with a flourish and offers Wren his hand. She giggles and accepts it. Cady, Tank, the minister and I watch them make their way over to the dance floor. Cady and I say goodbye to the minister, and Tank goes off with him to settle up.