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Does he even know how to wash dishes?
Julia is in her father’s office, probably stealing a stack of books like she does every time we visit his home. He and I are alone. And as uncomfortable as it is, I do recognize he’ll be in my life forever. He’s important to the woman I love, and therefore, he’s important to me. I want him to like me.
I join him at the sink.
“I know what you’re thinking, and no. I do not wash my own dishes.” he mutters without looking at me. “I’m trying to distract myself.”
“It’s that painful, huh?” I pick up one of the plates he just washed and dry it with a dishtowel. “I get it. I’m sure you never envisioned your daughter falling in love with a reclusive billionaire fifteen years her senior.”
He turns off the water. “Forget all that. I’m twenty-five years older than my current wife. I’m not a hypocrite.”
Surprised, I put down the plate. “So, what’s wrong?”
“You’ll have daughters one day,” he says, nodding once. “And the day you realize you’re not the most important man in their life, that your approval is no longer the most important thing to them, you’ll feel odd. Sure, you’ll learn to accept it, but when you meet the men they fall in love with and realize those men are better versions of you—it’s going to sting.”
It takes me far longer than it should to realize he’s giving me a compliment.
“Thank you, Davis. I know Julia and I got together under less than savory—”
“Enough,” he cuts in.
To be clear, nobody interrupts me—but I let it slide for once.
“We don’t have to talk about how you and Julia got together,” he explains with a grimace. “I don’t like it, of course—but I do respect a man who stops at nothing to get what he wants.”
“Fair enough. Thank you, again.”
He exhales and faces me, holding my eyes in a classic power move, which I meet with aplomb. “Stop dancing around it,” he mutters. “We don’t do business that way, so just ask me.”
I scoff hard. “I don’t need your permission to ask Julia to marry me.”
To my surprise, Davis nods—and even smiles. “Good. Because if you had been dumb enough to ask, I might have said no.”
“Julia would never marry a man who asks for your permission.”
“And that’s why you have my blessing.”
We exchange a nod. It’s not overly sentimental—and neither of us acknowledges that he’s about to become my father-in-law. It is what it is. And next month, when Julia and I are back at our cabin for the summer, I’ll ask her to marry me.
But for now, we’re enjoying a quiet weekend in Boston. After dinner, Julia and I drive back to our house in Beacon Hill—one of three homes we now own together. We put on the television and get under the covers together, and we watch two episodes of Nova because that’s how much this woman loves me.
I’m about to put on a third episode when she grabs me by the wrist, takes the remote and says, “Enough, Winter. You risked fifty billion dollars and went through an existential crisis to get me. Do yourself a favor and fuck me.”
So I do. Twice. It’s rough at times and tender other times. Both times, I tell her how much I love her, never hesitating.
She says it back, smiling whenever the words leave her lips.
And for the first time in my life, I know I deserve to be so fucking happy—deliriously, incomparably happy.
We both do.
Epilogue: Julia
Three years later
Gus grits his teeth as he thrusts, his eyes shut tight while he comes inside of me with a hot, heavy spurt. It’s fast and efficient—but it’s also our fourth time doing it today. If I’m not pregnant by now, it’s not happening this month.
He groans when he pulls out, bracing his muscular forearm along the headboard. He runs his hand through his black hair. “Holy shit. That was amazing,” he murmurs.
