Epilogue

Carrie frowned at the ends of the bow tie, dangling from the collar of Max’s tuxedo shirt. “Don’t they make these things pretied with clips anymore?”

Sliding his hands around her waist, Max walked her backwards toward the bed. “We could forget dinner and start our honeymoon early.”

“No, we can’t.” She pushed him back and attacked the stupid bow tie again, muttering. “Francesca can probably do this perfectly.”

He leaned down to nibble her lips. “There are a lot of things you do better than Francesca ever could.”

“You better not be speaking from firsthand knowledge.”

He smiled the way he always did when she got jealous—a little surprised and a lot amused. “The only thing my hand knows is your body.”

She hid her own smile by biting her lip. She loved it when he said things like that. She loved the way he worshipped her body—every chance he got.

Adjusting the bow tie one more time, she tipped her head and looked at it. “I think it’s crooked.”

“I could go without,” he offered, easing a finger inside his collar. “I never liked these things. Feels like a noose.”

Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him softly. “I appreciate the sacrifice you’re making for our wedding reception.”

He grunted.

Grinning, she slipped past him and walked to the closet. The surliness was pretense. Mostly. Underneath, he was just as excited to celebrate their marriage as she was. He’d complained at having to wait six months to get married, and since their private ceremony earlier at City Hall, he’d barely left her side. Maybe making him wait six months was overkill, but she’d wanted to deal with everything before embarking on this adventure with him.

Life sometimes turned out so differently than expected. Hers didn’t go in the direction she’d wanted it to, but it all worked out, just like her mom said it would. She left Berkeley, of course—with her PhD in hand, only because Max insisted she complete the process.

And then he not only gave her his love, but he gave her a dream job, too: curating his awesome collection. Her first official job was to arrange for it to be shown at the Asian Art Museum—some of the pieces seen by the public for the first time ever. The gala opening last week had been a smash.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” he asked, coming to stand behind her. Close.

“Like you’d help me put my clothes on.” She’d bought a dress several weeks ago. But when she’d tried it on yesterday, it’d been a little tight around the waist. Maybe she could still squeeze into it.

“I’m good with zippers. And bra clasps.” He nuzzled the nape of her neck, leaving a trail of love bites that gave her goose bumps—the good kind.

Laughing, she turned and pushed him away. “Out. I need to get dressed.”

Grumbling, he left her—reluctantly. She stared after him, knowing she had a goofy grin on her face, before returning to the wardrobe dilemma. She slipped out of her robe, stepped into her dress, and zipped it as far as she could reach. Tight, but not seam-poppingly so.

“Honey?” her mom called. “Can I come up?”

“Of course.”

Max had flown her mom out three times in the past six months. This time, he brought her mom to attend not only the opening night of their collection, but their wedding, too. She and Francesca—sigh—had been the witnesses at the legal ceremony earlier.

“Honey, I have a present for you,” her mom said as she cleared the top of the stairs.

“Mom, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Carrie took the small gift bag and rifled through the tissue paper. She felt something silky at the bottom and pulled it out. The moment she saw what it was, her cheeks flamed and she stuck it back in the bag. “Oh. Um, thanks. You shouldn’t have.”

“Every bride needs a pair of crotchless panties for her wedding night. You should start your marriage how you mean it to continue.”

“Thanks, Mom. For the underwear and the advice.” She tucked the bag aside and gave her mom a hug. Better not to mention she was going naked under the dress.

It was a beautiful dress, too. Long, white, and simple, but she felt like a princess in it. She’d worn a simple dress to City Hall, but it seemed like she should do it up for the reception dinner, even though the invitation list was small—her mom, her boss Johnny, a few people from Berkeley, Francesca, and Gabe and Rhys, of course. Despite Max’s misgivings about them.

He’d come a long way, though. He wasn’t nearly as antagonistic with Rhys. She and Gabe had even left them alone once. Of course, when they returned, Max had a bloody lip and Rhys had a cut along his arm, but it was progress.

She sighed, putting her hand on her stomach. She wanted Gabe and Rhys in their lives—close in their lives—especially during the next phase.

“How is he?” Mom asked.

“Who?”

She pointedly eyed her belly.

Carrie blinked in shock. “How did you guess?”

“I was there once, too.” Her mom hugged her, squeezing her firmly but not too tight. “I’m so happy for you, honey. Max doesn’t know, does he?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“I didn’t think so. Otherwise he’d probably carry you on his back everywhere, he’s so protective. Which is sweet.” Smiling, she smoothed back Carrie’s hair. “When are you telling him?”

“Telling him what?” Max asked from the stairs.

They both jumped.

Her mom was the first to recover. “I better go put on my party clothes. I want to make sure I look good, in case I meet any eligible men in the course of the evening.” She patted Carrie’s shoulder, gave Max a peck on the cheek, and left them alone.

“Tell me what?” he asked as he zipped her dress the rest of the way. “You aren’t still feeling the effects of the Book of Water, are you?”

“Not more than before.” Some of it stayed with her. Every now and then, Max said he felt a bit of the sea in her touch, but she always told him any magic he felt was because of their love.

He turned her around by the shoulders and studied her, concern lining his forehead. “Then what is it?”

“It’s a surprise. A sort of wedding gift.” To distract him, she gestured to her slightly enlarged cleavage. “Does it look okay?”

“You look mouthwatering.” His hands snaked around her waist. “I don’t know how you can look innocent yet so sinful at the same time.”

She laughed.

His cell phone beeped. Cursing under his breath, he pulled it out of his pocket, read the screen, and texted a quick reply before putting it back.

“Something important?” she asked, slipping on her shoes.

“Just Francesca with a question about the flowers.”

She wrinkled her nose. She still didn’t trust Max’s assistant, but she felt bad for her, too. After all, Max asked her to leave right after the wedding to deliver the Book of Water to its rightful Guardian. It was like adding insult to injury, making Francesca watch them get married and then, in effect, banishing her from the only home she’d ever known.

But it wasn’t like there was anyone else who could be trusted with the Book of Water. The Keeper hadn’t been happy that an outsider was delivering it. It seemed that only close family could know about the scrolls without serious repercussions. Meaning death.

The Keeper also wasn’t happy that Max, Rhys, and Gabe were in such close proximity. Carrie thought it was odd that after all these centuries the Guardians knew each other. Almost like they were being reunited.

He had been happy about her and Max, though. He told Max he knew by following her he would find his destiny. Carrie thought the Keeper was a pretty smart guy.

Max studied her with his searching gaze, so she smiled for him. “Maybe Francesca will find her own Guardian to love.”

“No more thoughts of the scroll or Francesca.” He tipped her head back. “Tell me about my surprise.”

She laughed, placing her hand over his scar. “Our child is going to be so relentless. I hope you’re ready for that.”

His brow furrowed. She knew the second he’d realized what she’d said by the way he looked down at her stomach.

Taking his hand, she placed it right over their baby. “In six months.”

She didn’t need to ask what he thought. The way he smiled, slow and full, like the sun coming out from a long bout of night, was answer enough.