My Killer Vacation(83)

Epilogue





Myles





* * *



Two years later





* * *




Breathe in. Breathe out.

Expand the diaphragm.

I’ve spent hours of my life ogling my girlfriend while she does yoga on the floor of our apartment and it appears I’ve picked up a few of the relaxation techniques. So why the hell aren’t any of them helping me remain calm? I’m so nervous, my stomach is stuck to my fucking ribs.

I pace the entryway, yanking at the tie around my neck. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn the tie. I never wear these damn things. She’s going to know something is up. Mid-yank, I stop in front of the picture collage on the wall. Every time I walk through the front door of our place—the spacious first-floor apartment of a Boston townhouse—I stop to look at it. At everything we’ve done together over the last two years.

In the upper right-hand corner is a picture Jude snapped that first week in Cape Cod, both of us unaware we’re being caught staring at each other, lovesick, while eating breakfast burritos. A little farther down we’re at a Celtics game with my family and Taylor is heckling the referee after literally one beer. One. It’s my favorite picture. Or maybe my favorite is the one where we’re packing her trunk in Connecticut and getting ready to move to Boston. Taylor was trying to smash a champagne bottle against her bumper, but it wouldn’t break and I captured her open-mouthed amusement.

Oh my God, I love my girlfriend.

I’m whipped and I know it. Every second of it is pure heaven.

It scares me to picture life without Taylor. Maybe that’s why I always stop at the collage. To remind myself our relationship has all been real. That when the private investigation firm needed me in Boston full time, she agreed to apply for teaching jobs here and move with me. Not counting today—and her being held at gunpoint—asking Taylor to relocate to Boston was the most nervous I’ve ever been in my life. What if she said no? What if I hadn’t done enough to prove I’m going to be her man until the end of my life?

I can still remember that afternoon. Showing her the apartment I wanted to buy for us on my laptop, leading with the fact that Jude would have his own room, for whenever he could manage a visit. I showed her the brochures for several private elementary schools, hoping one of them would appeal to her. I would have stayed in Connecticut, no questions asked, if she’d said no to moving, but thankfully that didn’t happen. She’d fallen in love with my family, as much as they’d fallen in love with her, and wanted to be closer. I think Jude needs some space, anyway, she’d said. I’m up for an adventure, as long as you’re with me.

Like I’d ever be anywhere else?

Happiness doesn’t even begin to cover what this woman makes me feel. I’m grateful. I’m in fucking awe, to be honest. Finally I can see a future that isn’t shaded by the past. And I’m never spending a day without her. Which leads me to the box in my pocket. The engagement ring inside of it. When we moved in together two years ago, I was in a rush. I wanted to give Taylor everything she’d ever dreamed of—immediately. A ring. Kids. Ironically, Taylor ended up being the one to slow us down. I’ve met someone I want time with first. Let’s take our time.

She said that while I was Googling “what is a princess cut” on my phone.

Thank God I didn’t pull the trigger, because she’s way more of a cushion cut type. And the fact that I know engagement ring styles by heart might shed some light on how truly crazy I am for this woman. Is she going to say yes?

She’s going to say yes, right?

My knees almost buckle at the sound of a key being slid into the lock. I bang a fist on the living room wall to quiet down everyone waiting on the other side. Silence falls abruptly, except for the tap of Taylor’s heels when she enters the apartment.

Oh Jesus. Look at her. Beautiful beyond words.

Why did she have to wear the light pink dress today?

I can never think straight when she wears that thing.

“You’re home?” Beaming a smile in my direction, she tosses her coat onto the wall hook. “I thought you had meetings all day. Is that why you’re wearing a suit?”

She starts to cross the entryway, but stops short, gesturing to her dress, which I’m just now seeing has green splotches on the front.

“Art class got a little spirited. I can’t hug you or I’ll get paint on your suit.”

“I don’t mind.” I blurt—whipped. I can hear my brother’s eye roll from here.

“No! You’ll have to get it dry cleaned. Besides…” She gives me a long, leisurely once over and sends way too much of my blood south. “You should leave it on for a while. Remember that time you pretended to interrogate me? The suit could really make it believable—”

“Taylor,” I rush to interrupt her, pretty sure I hear a choked snort from the other side of the living room wall. “Why don’t you go change and I’ll—”

“Ooh, I have a better idea.” To my simultaneous delight and horror, she reaches back and unzips the pink dress, letting it drop and pool on the ground around her ankles. “Problem solved.” She steps out of the dress in a seductive move, running her fingertips up and over her tits. Jesus Christ. My tongue turns useless in my mouth. “Now I can hug you all I want…”