THE FINAL BOOK 4: EPILOGUE

I don't wait for permission to kiss her. Since the second she walked toward me in that dress, looking as if she'd stepped out of my own personal fantasy-not a sexual one, though I could make a million of those by fading out the crowd and taking her right here on the sand-but one that belongs to my heart. For a long time, I was too afraid to want those things because I knew I'd never get them. But I have. And I won't ever forget how lucky I am for her. For us. I'll never lose sight of what it means to not only have her in my life, but to share my life with her. The good and the bad, the triumphs and the failures, the choices and the uncertainties. We can't know what will happen. If we're lucky, we know who we want it to happen with. I span her waist with my hands, her ribs expanding under my touch as I bend my lips to hers. She's open and eager when I press my tongue against the seam of her mouth. I dully register the cheer and applause going up from our guests. "Get a room," someone sh