by Brisa Starr
She studies the box in every way except opening it, torturing me, a twinkle in her eye. Then, she finally opens it and gasps, “Adron!”
“Alyson, you’re fucking marrying me. We’re going to have a kid, or two, or eight, and we’re going to be fucking billionaire-wealthy.”
She pulls out the 4-karat, heart-shaped diamond on a rose-gold band and puts it on her ring finger.
“Yes,” she answers. It wasn’t even a question.
Epilogue — Adron
I stayed with my queen in Boulder for two weeks to finish her house-sit, and then I dragged her heart-shaped ass back to Arizona like a caveman with his woman. A caveman in a $180,000 sports car. She loved it.
Auntie knew all along. Of course.
We stayed in Carefree for a week to finish out the summer, and Alyson asked me to take her back up in the hot air balloon to remake the memory, with a happier ending. Although she prefers Carefree, Alyson moved into my Scottsdale condo for now, and she put rose quartz in the four corners of our master bedroom. I promised we’d look for a place in Carefree soon, since that’s where we both really want to be.
I had a talk with my parents. I made it crystal clear to them who is in charge now, and what their options are. They’ve been playing nice ever since.
I then took Alyson to meet them, properly, and they apologized for their behavior when they first met her. She forgave them, and she means it, because she’s like that. Besides, once they saw us together, without any secrets pushing us apart, they knew what everyone else knows… we were meant to be together, and anybody who would say otherwise had better look the fuck out, because I will never let anything come between me and my true love again.
My parents, though they never doted on me much, soon took to Alyson and fell in love with her bright and bold sweetness. I’m not surprised. Who knows, maybe my relationship will improve with them, too.
Shortly after we got back together, Alyson and I flew to Cleveland to meet her parents. We spent a few days with each of them separately, which afforded Alyson the opportunity to make amends. She learned that her mom and dad had indeed stayed married, for many loveless years, only for Alyson. She not only forgave them, but she apologized for how she’d handled things. They’re now both very happy in their current relationships, and especially happy to have Alyson back in their lives, if only via long-distance.
We married a couple of months later, on the top of a hill overlooking a turquoise tropical lagoon, in Bora Bora, French Polynesia. Auntie Jenna was there, and she adorned Alyson in crystals from her veil to her ears, neck, wrists, and ankles. Both of our parents attended.
Sammy came to our wedding, as Alyson’s maid of honor, and, well, fuck it, Billy was my best man. We watched him surf. He’s a badass. He even gave the three of us surfing lessons. Turns out the dude’s alright.
You might say Billy and Sammy really hit it off… but that’s another story.
The traditional Tahitian priest who married us wore a shawl made of red and yellow tropical bird feathers, and he had a bone through his nose, which made it way more authentic, but he took it out after the photos, so who knows.
Our Tahitian ceremony was beautiful, and my bride was bedazzled from head to toe with tropical flowers, as we made our vows to each other in Tahitian. When the priest poured ocean water over our palm frond-bonded hands from a conch shell, ritually washing away our pasts, for a new beginning, we shared a current that sizzled back and forth between us, and our love bloomed even deeper and stronger.
We enjoyed a long week of lounging around with colorful, tropical cocktails, playing on the beach, windsurfing, jet skiing, scuba-diving with sharks (Alyson’s idea), site-seeing pineapple and vanilla bean plantations, and fucking every morning and night in our $1000 per night, overwater bungalow with a glass floor, through which we could see corals and tropical fish, including the occasional shark or stingray. At night, underwater lights cast a magical, aqua-colored glow upward into our room that undulated with gentle, hypnotic waves. The sex was out of this world.
When we returned from our destination wedding and honeymoon, we still had to get married officially, in a way that’s legally recognized by the United States, so we went down to the courthouse in downtown Phoenix, with Auntie Jenna and Sammy as our witnesses. It was strictly a formality, a billion dollar one, because Alyson and I married our hearts in Bora Bora.
Alyson became pregnant shortly after, and here we are, at the hospital in Scottsdale, in October, before my 30th birthday in December – a whopping two months to spare before the clock would’ve run out on the billions.
Alyson is in labor. Stubborn as ever, she’s not taking any pain medication, acting like she’s got something to prove, just like she did on Black Mountain. But I know better than to tell a pregnant woman what to do. Meanwhile, Auntie Jenna is rolling amethyst, or some other fucking crystal, on Alyson’s lower back.
When Alyson asked Auntie about the baby she was carrying, hoping for some psychic insight like Auntie gave my mom about me, Auntie Jenna said our first child will be as stormy and musically inclined as I am, with my eyes and hair. We’ll see. Alyson wanted her offspring to have something in common with her, so she’s been pouring hot sauce on everything she’s eaten during the entire pregnancy. I fully expect her to give birth to a fire-breathing night owl.
Speaking of music, it’s all I’m doing now. With Alyson as my muse, I find inspiration everywhere, non-stop, and my songs now no longer just have light or dark moods, but they cover all the colors of the rainbow, as I’ve experienced an explosion of creativity. The music pours out of me, and I have a wait-list of artists wanting songs and mixes from me. I’ve been keeping my weird sleeping schedule, thinking it’ll help me take night duty with the baby, while Alyson sleeps.
My parents and I have everything buttoned down with the lawyers. It’s actually pretty complicated to hand over billions of dollars. They don’t just give you a check with a lot of zeros. The nurse just came in and told me one of the trustees is sitting out in the waiting room with a stack of documents, ready to sign everything over when our child is born. That was a nice gesture of him, but unnecessary – I honestly couldn’t care less. It’s just business, and it can wait... I’m about to become a dad!
What really blew my mind is that my mom – MY MOM – told the lawyer he can go home, that we’ll take care of everything next week. My mom is so excited about being a grandmother, it’s all she’s been talking about for months. I mean, she’s still shallow and greedy, but I think she’s going to be a shallow and greedy grandmother who loves the shit out of her grandchild.
Alyson squeezes my hand, bone-crushing hard, and screams through gritted teeth, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh, Adron! He’s coming! Holy shit! Oh. My. GOD! Ahhhhhhhh!”
“Come on, sweetheart, push!” I take all the pain she can transfer to me. I want to help, but I know this is all her. I look down at her in awe. She’s having my baby. She fucking loves me, ALL OF ME, and she’s having my baby!
Five grunts and screams later, my son, Axl, is born. He weighs in at 8 pounds and 2 ounces, and he’s healthy and full of life. I think I’m going to burst from the emotion swelling in my chest.
He has my black hair and blue eyes. It’s too early to tell about his hot sauce superpowers.
I lie next to Alyson in the hospital bed as she nurses our son, and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for my life.
We did it.
Just in time.
For a free, hot and steamy bonus chapter entitled,
Adron & Alyson’s Wedding Night, write to: [email protected]
In your email, please include the name of this novel, His Secret.
Visit http://brisastarr.com
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If you enjoyed this book, it would mean the world to me if you could leave a quick review on Amazon.com. Reviews are incredibly important for me as an independent author, and I’d be extremely grateful if you could write one!
Thank you, t
hank you, thank you!
Acknowledgments
To my soul sister. You unknowingly planted the seed for writing romance novels back in 2018. Thank you for that, and thank you for always supporting me in all the ways you do. I cherish our friendship and sisterhood.
To my father-in-law, thank you for putting self-talk front and center in my life. It gave me the mindset and language to convince myself I could write fiction.
Always, to my husband. Thank you for the rabbit holes.
About the Author
In 2018, Brisa Starr sold everything to travel the world with her husband and daughter. She currently lives in a small, medieval hilltop town in Umbria, Italy. When she’s not writing, she’s scouting locations for future novels.
My romance novels: BrisaStarr.com
My blog: HappySexyMillionaire.me
