“Thank you,” Rose says with a soft voice. I can tell she wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t either.
My father and I exchange a silent nod. My heart is swelling in my chest at his approval. This is what I wanted. I wasn’t sure if he’d understand. But it means the world to me that he does.
Rose nervously clears her throat and picks up from where she left off. Her hands wave in the air as she talks about how she was so nervous to meet her new boss.
My father’s not watching her though, he’s watching me. His eyes are filled with pride and glassy with tears.
I’ve never seen him so emotional before. Not since the day I told him I had cancer, although back then he was in disbelief. Now, his happiness is evident. It brings a warmth to my chest.
I can only hope I live to see the day that she proudly calls me her husband. I unconsciously take her hand in mine and kiss her wrist.
It makes her pause her story and her eyes soften with happiness, although her cheeks flush with a blush of embarrassment.
“I love you,” I tell her easily.
“Logan,” she says shyly, looking between myself and my father.
“Don’t deny me, my Rose.”
I can see her blossom with love shining in her eyes as she whispers, “I love you, too.”
I know she does.
Epilogue
Logan
Remission is a beautiful word.
I’m still on edge most days, thinking the cancer will come back. But it’s been a year and the scans show no visible signs of returning.
“Logan!” I hear Rose’s voice from the other side of the penthouse.
The large doors are open and it lets in a cool breeze. It’s getting late and I should shut them, but I can see the ocean from here and the palm trees are close enough to touch. It’s a beautiful escape from the city, and our first night here. I was nearly asleep on the sofa, lost in work as usual. But it was only for tonight to wrap up a meeting I couldn’t put off. And then no computer. Charlotte’s orders.
I put the laptop on the coffee table, sliding it across the glass and stand up. Stretching out my sore muscles.
I crack my neck and sigh. It was a long ride on the jet. Nearly six hours. I shouldn’t complain, after all, it was a jet, but I fucking hate traveling. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not. I’m not sure I ever will be either.
“Logan,” my Rose calls out again.
I take large strides to where her voice came from, the bedroom suite.
She’s standing in front of the dresser, putting away the clothes from her suitcase. I don’t know why she does these things, there’s hired help here to do just that. But she always insists on doing it herself.
She bends down to put away whatever’s in her hand into the bottom drawer. Her pale pink cotton dress slips up her thighs and just barely shows the curves of her ass. I have to suppress a groan of satisfaction. I fucking love that ass. I love every bit of her.
“Yes, my bride?” I ask her as I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her back into my chest. Her lush ass pushes against my cock and it already starts hardening for her. I want her now even more than I did when we first met. I have no plans for that to ever change.
She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Just because we’re on our honeymoon doesn’t mean I’m your bride.” She lays back in my arms and gives me a sweet smile as her baby blues find mine in the mirror.
I chuckle and hold her closer to me, loving her warmth.
“And whose fault is that?” I ask her. We’ve been married for nearly three months now, legally six, but my Rose insists on ignoring the online certificate. She didn’t even wear the wedding band I picked out for her until we had the real ceremony.
Charlotte was so caught up in her work that she wasn’t ready to take so much time off for a honeymoon. She’s finally got the entire department running smoothly. She’s always been good at what she does, and it makes me damn proud. I hadn’t anticipated her being as much of a workaholic as I am though. Thankfully, we’ve started slowing down and hiring more people so we can do less.
It’s time to enjoy life. I have one worth living, with a partner I want to enjoy.
“I was thinking…” I stare at her reflection in the mirror, but her eyes don’t meet mine. She busies herself with folding a shirt that’s on top of the dresser.
“What were you thinking, my Rose?” I ask gently, planting a small kiss on her neck.
She hums sweetly and leans her head against my shoulder with her eyes closed.
Her small, delicate hands find mine on her waist and she slowly opens her eyes to stare back at me in the mirror. “I was wondering,” her eyes dart down, then back to me, “if we could make this a babymoon?”
My eyebrows raise comically as she says the word I assumed I’d be hearing on this little vacation of ours. Her friend Eva’s recently gotten pregnant. Ever since she announced it, Charlotte has been all about babies and pregnancies.
She’s more than hinted. And I’m taking it seriously.