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Epologue
NIXON
I already knew who that bitch Holly was working for. I found the tattoo on her back the last time I fucked her, which was during Thanksgiving break. After Monroe offered every piece of herself to me, I couldn’t bring myself to touch Holly again. So I just had to let her make the first move—morals and shit.
I know you’re thinking I’m a douche who slept with the enemy—false. I didn’t know until months later that she was the enemy, and then I had to keep up the act. I wouldn’t give my virginity—please hold all commentary until after I’ve finish—to the fucking enemy. I would have waited for my best friend.
The Irish mafia has always been a problem for us. Especially since Jackson stole their goddamn princess. The only question I couldn’t find answers to was, why Monroe and I? Why not Jasmine? Did Holly go rogue? It doesn’t matter because I’ll never have the answers, and this won’t be the last time they’ll strike.
I hold Monroe’s hand as I drive her home. Before she gets out of the car, I tug on her hand, pulling her around to look at me. “I want to take you on a date,” I rush out.
She looks surprised. “Yeah?”
I chuckle. “Don’t be modest, ma fille. I’m just trying to get into your panties.” She laughs. “So don’t wear any.” I wink. “Tomorrow at six. I’ll even come talk to your grumpy dad.”
That makes her giggle. If I could bottle up a giggle and listen to it on my rainiest of days, I’d choose hers. I kiss her hand and smack her ass as she gets out of my car.
I’m taking my best friend out on a date. I give myself a mental high five because, well, I’m just that fucking great.
* * *
Brylan swings open the door as I shuffle on my feet. I was finally taking Monroe on a date. “Hi.” I clear my throat. “Sir.” I push out my hand and he slaps it away, rolling his eyes.
“Get in the house, Masterson.” I walk behind him, shutting the door.
“Well, don’t you look handsome.” Jessica kisses me on the cheek and then pinches both of them. “Have a seat, please. Monroe will be right out.”
I take a seat on the floral couch opposite of Brylan. He sizes me up, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat. Brylan looks oddly out of place in this cheerful home of lavender and bright yellow. “Look, I know you don’t want me to—”
“Shut up,” he barks, leaning his elbows on his knees, eyes boring into mine.
“No one will ever be good enough for my daughter, but if I ever had to pick, I would choose you, Nixon.” Confusion must show on my face because he chuckles.
“If I had to have a son, I would choose you. If I had to trust my little girl's life in anyone’s hands, it would be yours.” He smiles at me for the first time in my life. “I’ve tried everything since the day you laid eyes on her to keep you apart. But I realize real love when I see it. And that’s all I want for my little girl. Someone to cherish her. Plus, if you fuck up, I only have to walk across the street and kill you in your sleep.” He smirks as Monroe comes down wearing a long blue sundress.
I smile at her. Her flawless skin and beautiful long chocolate hair twisted into a braid. She walks up, planting a kiss to my lips, and her dad grunts as we smile into the kiss.
* * *
“So, I have some news,” she says, drinking her chocolate milkshake as we sit on the bridge leading to the Falls.
“Oh yeah? Do tell.” I sip my own, watching her intently.
She gives me a small smile. “I didn’t get accepted into Julliard.”
My eyes widen. “The fuck?” I ask, because I’m fucking shocked. She’s amazing. There’s no way she couldn’t not be accepted. “I’m so sorry, ma fille.” I kiss the inside of her palm as she lays her head on my shoulder.
“It doesn’t matter, Nix. I go where you go. Whatever life has to offer us, I know it’ll be amazing because I have you.” She smiles as her glazed-over eyes look up to me. Then she laughs. “Fuck, I have to go to business school.”
I kiss her temple. “I’m right there with you, baby, but you could always try again.”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I never wanted to be a ballerina or a backup dancer. I just love the feeling of being free when I dance. I can do that anywhere.”
I squeeze her hand, not sure what to say. I feel like a joke is highly inappropriate, but it’s right there on the tip of my tongue. “You can always freely dance on my cock.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she snorts. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Monroe.” I level my eyes with her. “I’m serious.”
She brings her lips to mine. “I love you, Nixon.” She sighs.
“Je t'aime aussi, bébé,” I reply, licking her lips before pulling her onto my lap and holding her to my chest as we watch the waves in the river roar down past the trees.
