Epilogue

IT’S BEEN six months since their first kiss. Six months since their mutual I love yous, and six months since they became… them.

And they’ve been the best six months of Rowan’s life.

He’s all but moved into Mal’s apartment by now—his being the nicer of their places—and it all feels so domestic that it sets Rowan’s chest on fire. He stays over on weekends and some weeknights when he feels like making the slightly longer commute to work the next morning. Clothes and toothbrushes and face wash and extra meds left over there just in case, and Rowan can feel Mal on the brink of asking him to move in fully.

As much as he doesn’t want to rush things between them, he can’t imagine finding anyone that gets him better than Mal does. Can’t imagine finding anyone that makes his heart skip a beat on the daily when he looks at him with that fond gaze or kisses him with those soft lips. So he’ll wait, but he has a feeling he won’t have to wait too much longer before the question is posed.

By now Mal has been introduced to the chaos that is the Campbell family, and he fit in right away, especially with Rowan’s younger siblings. They viewed him as a cool, mysterious bad boy who’s way too cool and mysterious to be dating their loser brother, but nonetheless they accept him and their relationship in a heartbeat. He’s clashed a bit with Jay here and there, but their petty squabbles usually dissolve into good-natured jabs that die down after a beer or two. Even Aubrey likes him, for all her advice against catching feelings for a fuck buddy.

For once everything in Rowan’s life seems perfect. He’s happy, and this time there is no but. No caveats to his feelings. No other shoe waiting to drop that threatens to ruin his contentment.

It’s all perfect.

They still go to the Menagerie. Their sex life has improved exponentially since they’ve gotten together, but every once in a while, they get an itch to go back. Even worked out a new membership option with Clover to allow them to come as guests for a small fee rather than paying the exorbitant monthly membership rates.

So once a month or so, they find themselves back in the Gold Room. Back to where it all started, more or less. It feels good to slip out of the comfort of their bed and back into the gritty, sensual underworld and let loose for a couple of hours.

Sometimes, they even make a game of it. Pretend that it’s the first time. The first scene. Like they don’t know each other inside and out and backward and forward by now. Like they’re two near-strangers meeting once a week to give and take control.

But underneath, they know that their bond is unbreakable. They know that love courses through every bratty remark, every hard, answering spank. And it makes it that much better, that much hotter, to pretend otherwise.