Page 190 of Less

It's Amanda Perkins stealing the blankets.

It's burned toast and fancy French dinners.

It's Broadway music playing while she dances around the kitchen.

It's waking up every morning beside the woman I love.

It's her.

Always her.

And after everything we've survived—I finally know one thing for sure.

I was made for this woman right here, and now, I'm exactly where I belong.

“You ready?” Amanda asks, and I look down to see my bride grinning up at me, a wicked glint sparkling in her celery green eyes.

“I was born ready, Rusty.”

For this?

For her and me to start our lives together?

That’s the goddamn truth.

Epilogue 2: Jack

Okay.

So I'm on a private island in the middle of nowhere celebrating another fucking wedding.

Which, whatever.

I'm happy for Less.

I guess.

Not that I tell him that.

The giant bastard cried during his vows, and no one will shut up about it.

Noel threatened to drown him.

Adrik Volkov—yeah, the one and only—offered him a boat to make it easier.

It's been a weird day.

Anyway, I don't really do weddings.

Or parties.

Or feelings.

I mostly do weapons maintenance and glaring.

But apparently being part of Sigma means occasionally putting on a tux and pretending you're civilized.

So there I am.