Epilogue
“Your sister is the single most terrifying human being I have ever met.” Whitney hid behind Matt and slipped off her shoes. Without her heels, she could safely hide most of her body behind his broad shoulders and loose-fitting jacket. “Please don’t let her ask me any more medical questions. I’m begging you.”
“Trenton has this tiny recurring rash I meant to ask you about,” Hilly boomed, drawing closer. Matt’s shoulders—her supposed protection—shook with laughter. “He won’t let me check it because it’s on his S-C-R-O-T-U-M. But you’re a doctor. You’re pretty. You’re young. Maybe he’ll let you look at it.”
“Oh, God, Hilly.” Matt gave in to his laughter. “I can promise you that the last thing any boy his age wants is a young, pretty doctor checking his parts for signs of infection. Make him a real appointment with your family practitioner. And please leave my girlfriend alone.”
Hilly muttered something about selfish, hoarding brothers and stomped back into the kitchen, where a cauldron that smelled like a mildewing fish tank bubbled.
“I told you I was going to make you meet my sister,” Matt said triumphantly, whisking Whitney from behind him and encapsulating her in his arms. He kissed her lightly on the nose. “And I told you the experience was right up there with botflies and tapeworms. But it’s too late now. You’re one of us.”
Whitney stiffened.
“What?” Matt’s brow lowered, and he pulled away. “I thought you were excited about this meeting the family stuff. I thought it was what you wanted.”
“It is what I want,” she replied. God, he was so easy to rile up. “But I can’t hear the word botfly anymore without getting turned on. You don’t want to know what happens when I look at a picture of a tapeworm.”
His eyes flew open and he scanned his sister’s living room, a vintage patchwork of wood paneling, shag carpeting and the most adorable family photos of Matt growing up. “Here? Now?”
She kissed him softly, her lips a promise against his. “Anywhere. Always.”
“My sister is never going to forgive us if we miss dinner.” His voice low, Matt pulled her closer, their bodies pressed tight. Tapeworms seemed to have quite the positive effect on him too. “She might even refuse to cook for us ever again.”
Whitney grinned. “Maybe we’ll have to take the whole family out next week to make up for it. I could invite my parents to join us. Who knows? Hilly might have all sorts of complex legal questions she’d like my dad to answer for free.”
“And if that doesn’t work out, he could always just take a look at Trenton’s S-C-R-O-T-U-M.”
Whitney threw her head back and laughed. Never, in all her years of casual relationships and forty-eight hour hospital shifts, had she thought happiness would be this easy. It was a sweet, caring man who always remembered to kiss her goodnight. It was a business she loved and her friends by her side. And most important, it was finding acceptance against all odds.
Her life in Pleasant Park might technically be just beginning, and she was pretty sure there were morality battles galore waiting on the road ahead, but Whitney was absolutely certain of one thing.
She was home.
* * * * *
About the Author
Tamara Morgan is a contemporary romance author of humorous, heartfelt stories with flawed heroes and heroines designed to get your hackles up and make your heart melt. Her long-lived affinity for romance novels survived a BA degree in English literature, after which time she discovered it was much more fun to create stories than analyze the life out of them.
Whether building Victorian dollhouses, consuming mass quantities of coffee and wine, or crying over cheesy 1950s musicals, Tamara commits to her flaws like every good heroine should. She lives in the Inland Northwest with her husband, daughter and variety of household pets, and only occasionally complains about the weather.