I scream. I twist. I swing as he yanks, the knife disappearing into his flesh like one of those joke knives—plastic with a spring. His expression is one of shock, like he can’t believe I just did that to him. If he yells, I don’t hear it. I seem to have gone deaf as I watch red bloom across his shirt like the time-lapse recording of a flower opening.
A voice echoes in my head. It sounds ponderous, not afraid. Everyone is a murderer. Horror registers on Tom’s face as I pull back my arm to stab him again. Because my person? I’ve just found him.
WANT MORE
WANT A PEEK INTO VAN & ISLA’S SUPER SWOONY FUTURE?
WAS IT TWINS? HOW ARE THE BOYS?
IS VAN A SILVER FOX?
GET THIS GORGEOUS BONUS SCENE TO FIND OUT!
HERE!
(if the link isn’t live, please drop me a note at [email protected])
Epilogue
NIKO
“Tiberius is coming to my birthday party!” Archie’s voice echoes sonorously from the ancient flagstone hallways of Kilblair Castle long before he appears in the room. “Here’s his R.S.P.P,” he calls, appearing in the room, his arms spread wide like the arms of a plane. Without stopping, he drops a sheet of blue paper onto the sofa before disappearing into the garden through the open French doors.
“Don’t even think about it,” Holland says without looking up from her phone, which she happens to be resting on her very round and very pregnant stomach.
“Tiberius was a great military strategist and an emperor of Rome.” Alexander looks up from his laptop on the other side of the room. “The name has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”
“We are not calling our son Tiberius.”
“You could call him Tibby for short.” Hugh snickers, dropping his schoolbag to the floor. Hanging over the back of the sofa, he grins manically at his aunt. “Actually, Tibby sounds like a perfect—”
“Cat’s name,” Isla says, bringing up the rear. She’s dressed for her new office, wearing one of her own creations. She says it pays to advertise, but those assets enhanced by the dress’s design? They are mine. Her expression brightens instantly as she spots me. “You’re here!”
“As promised.” I stand from the armchair, wrapping her in my arms. “I couldn’t stay away,” I whisper, my body relaxing at the press of hers.
“You’ve only been gone a day.”
“It was half a day too long.” I can’t stand to be away from her. If only my business could be run by Zoom calls.
She hooks her finger around my belt. “I’m not complaining.”
“Urgh! Mushy love stuff,” Hugh mutters. “I’m going to the kitchen to see if Dougal has made more bao buns.”
“Oh, bring me one back, honey.” Holland’s eyes widen like a possum.
“One. Or twelve,” Alexander murmurs under his breath.
“Hey, I’m eating for three over here!”
“Of course you are, but I’m sure most people wouldn’t notice you’re expecting twins. You barely even have a bump showing.”
Holland laughs as she rubs her very obvious, multiple-baby-dwelling stomach. “Sweet talking will get you nowhere. Actually, it might get you somewhere because I was just reading an article with a few suggestions to get this show on the road.”
“What show?” her husband asks, not picking up on the insinuation in her tone.
“This one,” she replies, pointing finger guns to her rotund stomach. “We might be able to get things moving by… you know.”
“I’m not sure I do.” His gaze lifts to his sister, the castle’s resident child expert, given she’s the one with the experience.
“How you made those babies,” Isla says with an amused shake of her head. “That act can, in some cases, help speed up labor.”
“Oh,” Alexander says, perking up immediately.
Isla’s soft gaze drifts to Holland’s round stomach. Keen to distract her obvious train of thought, I pull her back against me, dropping into the nearest armchair.
“You guys are so sweet,” Holland says with a smile. Hooking her arm over the back of the sofa, she turns her attention to her husband. “Remember when you used to like me to sit on your knee?”
“I still like it. We just need to have a crane nearby.” He laughs and ducks as a throw pillow sails past his head.
“I can’t wait to meet my new niece and nephew,” Isla says with a bright smile.
“I can’t believe we’re having twins,” Alexander murmurs, though I know the prospect secretly makes him feel as proud as a dog with two dicks. It’s also terrifying him, naturally.
“We can always put one up for sale on Facebook Marketplace,” Holland suggests. “I choose the one called Tiberius. With a name like that, we’ll have to price him cheap.”
I tighten my arms around Isla in part comfort, part reminder. The topic of babies is a little like a scab that she keeps picking when it needs time to heal. Too much, too fast, I’ve cautioned. The dark trauma of that bright and sunny afternoon is enough to make anyone’s body go into shock. Even without the court case that followed, without what happened the same morning in London, and the revelations of the night before.