Bonus Epilogue
Happy Christmas

Gabe

Taylor Swift pulsed through the house—the telltale sign my wife had just completed her next manuscript. The fact it was “22” and not “My Tears Ricochet” was a good sign.

It’d been a full year since I stopped being an idiot and dropped the stupid pretense of being able to pretend the love of my life hadn’t always been in front of me.

It’d also been a full year as Abby’s publisher. Travis had been right, though I would die before I ever admitted it to him. Turns out my skillset worked really well with all the insurmountable details of publishing. The fact that it also aligned with me supporting Abby in all the ways she needed? Magic.

I made my way down the stairs, smiling as I watched Abby dance through the living room, big and dramatic. Happy. Just the way I liked her.

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. I loved every piece of her. Even the parts that stomp through the house muttering about murdering characters. The parts that cried at overly sentimental things. The parts that geek out over symbolism and metaphors.

I came up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, kissed her cheek and let my body move with hers. We weren’t in sync with the music, it was uncoordinated, but it was our post-manuscript ritual.

The song ended… and started again. Abby had a habit of getting stuck on one song because it _felt_ right.

I spun her out and pulled her back in, this time her front to mine. Her green-gold eyes glittering. Smiling wide. “It’s really good.”

“Of course it is, baby.” I tucked strand of hair behind her ear. She’d kept the blonde (my favorite on her), but added soft platinum blonde highlights. It made her shimmer even more, and because Abby loved to mirror her stories, it was a nod to her heroine’s hair color.

She chuckled. “You think everything I write is good. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Not entirely true,” I said, trying to keep up with her. “I tell you when I think things could be fleshed out more.”

“Uh-huh, sure. If they’re sex scenes.”

“What’s your point?” I ignored her knowing look. “Those scenes need love too.”

My wife rolled her eyes and muttered something about terrible jokes. I just smiled wider.

I spun her out again. Our cozy living room full of love and memories. Soon it would be filled with family and friends. Abby’s parents would be arriving sometime tomorrow. Followed by Travis. Even Lucy and her family would make an appearance.

“You ready for tomorrow?”

She scrunched her nose adorably. “I have no idea. I mean it works well for us that Evergreen is as Christmas obsessed as Mom. I think she’ll like it. She’ll definitely like the Tinsel Town Trivia Night. She’ll probably steal Ethel and Edna’s title. Which she will absolutely like too much. And might get us booted from the E’s bookclub.”

“Agreed. But?”

She blew out a breath. “But she’s Christina Lush—normal parent and person until December first. I just…” Her gaze swept our living room. It had what we deemed our traditional half-decorated Christmas tree in the corner. And spoiler: we absolutely continued the tradition of “christening” it with the kind of sex that involved chocolate, liquor, and our depraved imaginations underneath it. It was my second favorite tradition. The first being our upcoming anniversary party.

When we’d come back from D.C. to start our empire, we also wanted to start a family. Of two, for now. So instead of waiting for something clever or well-timed, we got married here in our living room, half-lit tree, and a room of people who were a mix of thrilled and disgruntled for making the trek to Evergreen on New Year’s Day. But they loved us anyway.

“I’m just worried she’ll be disappointed,” Abby said, pulling my focus away from the memory of her in a pretty white lace dress. “Do you think she’ll be disappointed?”

I pulled her in closer to me, our bodies swaying much slower than the beat of the music. I hooked my finger under her chin bringing her gaze to mine. “No. I think the fact she’s abandoning two weeks of her usual traditions to be here says a lot. She’ll be here for the signing. Our anniversary. Baby, I think it’ll be fine. But if it’s not, I’ve got your back. Besides, There’s always the Blitzen Bash. We’ll just get her wasted on peppermint moonshine and she’ll be too hungover to be overly fussy about anything.”

She perked up. “You’d do that for me?”

I chuckled. “Of course. I love you, Abs. I’ll gladly feed your parents moonshine and pawn them off on your brother.” I ran my nose along hers. “That way I can make out with you in the corner without being interrupted.”

“Mmmm.” She pulled my lips to hers.

“Who knows, maybe I’ll even get to fuck you in that dark alcove again.”

“I like this plan. A lot.”

I picked her up, her legs wrapped around me. I had no idea how our conversation went from her parents spending the holidays with us to, well, me devouring my wife in the middle of the living room, but you know, that was life. I didn’t fight it anymore. This was what soulmates did.

The doorbell rang.

“Food must be here,” I said against Abby’s lips. I’d ordered enough food to stock both our cabin and Travis’s. We had a full house over the next few weeks.

She made no move to disentangle herself from me, so I walked us to the front door. My hand in her hair, her tongue in my mouth. I still couldn’t get enough of her, a year later. I never would.

“Ah, come on. You fuckers have issues. I need to bleach my brain again.” Travis pushed past us.

“By all means, come in,” I said dryly.

Abby slid to her feet, and we followed her brother into the kitchen where he was already pulling out some whiskey.

“Trav, what are you doing here?” Abby asked.

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing here?’ You two morons are hosting family Christmas.”

“Yeah, starting tomorrow. Tonight’s the pub crawl. Oh, and by the way, Mom and Dad are staying with you. We’re just feeding people.”

He paused mid-pour, his dark green eyes flicked to Abby’s then continued to pour. Cursing under his breath. “So, I came a day early. I didn’t want to miss the pub crawl. Consider it my last night of… freedom before the ‘rents arrive.” He saluted us with his glass and took a big ass gulp.

Abby and I shared a look.

“You know it’s a caroling pub crawl,” I hedged.

He rolled his eyes. “Duh, I even bought one of those catastrophically horrible elf hats. I’m prepared,” he huffed—his version of Abby’s foot stomp.

The door bell rang again. This time it was the food.

“So Abs, what did you decide to do with the epilogue for this story?” Travis asked as we put the groceries away.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to do with it. The main story is good. Solid. Ready for Claire’s magic. But this epilogue… I dunno. Part of me is focused on the next story, even though it’s not clear yet. But, something about that doesn’t feel right. So, yeah…” She threw her arms out wide. “I dunno.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Have you thought about a wedding scene. Everyone loves those.”

Abby eyed her brother. “Have—have you become a romance fan, Trav?”

“No,” he scoffed, a touch too quick and defensive to be believable. “I’m still all about the blood and crime.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am,” Travis demanded.

“Of course, you are.” Abby made her way to my side, my arm instinctively pulled her close.

“I am.”

“Dude, there’s no shame is liking romance. It’s an excellent genre. Very informative.” I kissed the top of Abby’s head.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we please do the pub crawl now? I didn’t fly halfway across the world to watch you two be all lovey-dovey and gross.”

Our favorite pub was a dark, moody, speakeasy-vibe kind of place. Which, in true Twelve Nights of Tinsel magic had transformed into a Christmas monstrosity. Lights overwhelmed the place, accentuated by the five tons of tinsel strewn on every single surface. It was gaudy as fuck.

Edna and Ethel joined us for a drink before leaving for the next pub.

“Mom and Dad are going to annihilate them in trivia.”

Abby cringed. “Yeah, I know.”

“At least she’s coming,” I offered.

Both Lush siblings gave me matching dry-as-hell looks.

“True…” Abby said slowly. “And I’m super grateful for that. Especially after last Christmas. And I know she means well. Really. It’s just…”

“Just say it, Abs. She’s gonna take over. She’ll show up with matching godawful ugly, itchy sweaters, reindeer antler headbands, and an armful of decorations because our places aren’t lighting up the country sky enough to be seen from space.”

Abby pointed to her brother. “That.”

I chuckled. Christina Lush would always drive her children crazy around the holidays. That was just part of the tradition.

Travis knocked back the rest of his “Naughty & Neat” cocktail. “Let’s hit up the next pub.”

Abby and I chugged our drinks while Travis picked up the tab. Then we bundled up and walked out into the blustery night. The old-timey lamp posts and a full moon lit the way.

“Oh, there’s Megan. I’m just gonna pop in to discuss some of the signing details. I’ll meetup with you inside.” She nodded to the pub door that was directly across the street from Megan’s bookstore.

The Mistletoe and Manuscripts signing was another tradition we decided to keep. Megan’s shop was also the only place people could order signed copies of Abby’s books outside of in person signings. It was equal parts good business and friend-supporting-friends.

“Okay.” I leaned down to kiss her. I’d never get tired of her warm, welcoming lips. “Don’t take too long,” I said, patting her ass.

Travis and I made our way into the bar, finding a table in a corner. It was packed, Evergreen was always down to party. A waitress dressed in full on Christmas sparkle took our order.

“Your mom would love her,” I said casually.

Travis let out a sound that was part scoff, part eye-roll. I just smiled. I knew my best friend almost as well as I knew his sister. Something was poking him beneath the surface. I had a feeling I knew what. Then again, maybe I was blinded by love.

Loving Abby was the best thing I’d ever done. Once I took the leap, everything else was easy. The life we’d built? Magical. Waking up each morning to the girl of my dreams? Better than any fantasy. Watching her shine—supporting and protecting that shine—was my life’s purpose. And I felt damn fucking proud of that.

Abby made her way to our table. Glitter in her eyes and the kind of smile that undoubtedly held my future and healed my past.

She slid in next to me, pressing her lips to mine. Ignoring Travis’s grumbles, I pulled her into my lap and rubbed my nose to hers. “I love you, Mrs. Author-hyphen-Publisher.”

“Mmmm,” she smiled against my lips. “I love you Mr. Publisher.”

“Jesus, where’s my alcohol.” Travis flagged down the waitress like his life depended on it.

“You okay over there?” Abby asked.

“Peachy,” he muttered, eyes tracking someone across the bar. Then shoved his face into his drink before it even kissed the table.

“Maybe you need therapy,” Abby said sweetly.

Travis harrumphed. “Maybe I just need to get laid.”

“Nah, man.” I nuzzled my wife’s neck. “Maybe you just need to find your soulmate.”