She smiles tightly. “Yeah. No hard feelings.”
“Great.” I stroke the back of Kennedy’s hair. “Oh—this is a good song. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to dance with the girl of my dreams. Later, Cazz.”
I turn around and lead Kennedy away.
Once we’re on the dance floor, with my arms around her, she smirks at me.
“Why did you do that?”
I press my lips against her hair. “I can’t go back and change those years for you, but I can change how she remembers them. She doesn’t get to think she was better than you—she never was.”
Kennedy’s sigh sounds content and grateful at the same time.
“Thank you.”
She lays her head on my chest and we dance for a few minutes. Then her head pops back up excitedly. “Hey, you know what we should do?”
“What?”
“We should drive back out to the overlook.” Her voice drops to sultry. Teasing. “We could . . . make out . . . like we did last time.”
I brush my nose against hers. “Will you let me go all the way this time?”
She bites her lip, like she has to think about it. “I’m not sure . . . I’m a good girl, you know.”
My hands slip down to her hips, squeezing. “But it’s so fun when you’re bad.”
And hot. She’s really fucking hot when she’s bad.
Kennedy’s head tilts back and her eyes sparkle. All for me. “You play your cards right, things could turn naughty.”
Sweet. I’m a kick-ass card player.
“You know what else I just realized?” she asks.
My hands slide up her thighs, cupping her ass. “What?”
“You never settled on a nickname for me.”
I kiss her softly, with the promise of more to come.
“But I did. The best nickname ever—and in a few months, I’m going to use it every chance I get.”
Her head angles to the side, trying to guess. Eventually she gives up.
“What is it?”
I raise Kennedy’s left hand to my lips, kissing the knuckles where her engagement ring sits. Where, very soon, a wedding ring will be.
“Wife.”
Extended Epilogue
Once upon a time . . . at the Mason Potomac Estate
“Robert?” Vivian Mason’s voice whispered. “Are you awake?”
She wasn’t supposed to be. Her parents had tucked her into bed hours ago. Her mother had softly brushed back her blond hair and kissed her forehead, her mother’s beautiful white dress glowing in the dim room like a star in the night sky. And her father had wished her sweet dreams, calling her his Little Fox, because he said she was smart like a fox. He was silly like that, always coming up with funny names for her and her little brother and sister.
But how could they expect her to sleep? It was New Year’s Eve and there was a grand party in the ballroom below them.
“Robert!” she demanded, louder now.
“Yes, I’m awake!”
The silk sheets whistled as her best friend in the whole world, Robert Atticus Becker, emerged from them. Though they were both eight, Robert was already a head taller than her. Her rubbed the drowsiness from his ice-blue eyes, pushed a hand through his black hair, and stood next to her by the door.
“Did it start yet?”
Vivian smiled with excitement—because for as long as she could remember, she looked forward to the fireworks display that would soon light up the world outside. Like magic.
“No, but soon.”
Robert took the lead, cracking open the door and peeking out, making sure the coast was clear. Then they crept down the endless hallway, Vivian’s slippered feet and Robert’s bare ones not making a sound. They stepped into the red bedroom and closed the door softly behind them.
This was where her grandmother kept her most treasured photo albums—the book shelves were lined with them. Her parents had had two weddings—one on an empty beach of white sand and swaying tropical trees—and another, fancier affair, with hundreds of guests in a building with intricate arches and marble columns. And there were photographs of all her parents’ trips and travels. Before she was born, they’d even jumped out of an airplane together. But they didn’t travel much anymore, not to anywhere the whole family couldn’t go.
Her father once said that having her was their greatest adventure.
The two children climbed onto the velvet window seat. Vivian rose up on her knees, her palms against the cold panes, looking out to catch a glimpse of the guests below.
“I can’t believe Samuel got to go to the party this year but we didn’t.” She pouted.
Robert shrugged. “He’s older than us.”
As the youngest of seven, Robert knew all about having to wait to do things his older siblings were already allowed.
“Just be lucky you’re not Nat or Xavier—they have years to go.”