epilogue
Kate—
Six months later
“I’m calling last hand. I have an early meeting in the morning,” Cooper says, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile. His stack of chips is nearly depleted—it usually is, but these nights once a month are some of the happiest and carefree times.
Last month, I decided to get a little daring with my bets. I’d come straight from school and didn’t have anything of value to enter for the last hand. So, not unlike the first day I met Cooper, I tore a piece of paper from my purse, scribbled something and tossed the folded up paper into the pot.
I threw three kings face down to lose to Cooper’s pair of fives. He mumbled something about what would have happened if Ben or Frank had won, as he guided my head down into his lap to collect his prize on the drive home.
But tonight I’ve come prepared. We’d spent the last two days arguing over the car he bought me. My Jeep broke down for the third time in as many weeks and he hates that I don’t have what he calls reliable transportation. It’s bad enough he won’t let me pitch in toward any of the household expenses since I moved in a month ago. I certainly don’t need him buying me a new car.
With a daring smile, I dangle the keys in the air for a second before dropping them into the center of the pile. Frank whistles, catching a glimpse of the Range Rover key fob, and tosses in a watch. Ben opens a bag on the floor and parks a tall awards statue in the middle of the table. Heads turn to see what Cooper will be anteing tonight.
Yielding a mix of anger and playfulness in his penetrating glare, Cooper takes a piece of paper from his pocket, scribbles something, and arches an eyebrow to me as he tosses it to the center of the table.
Frank and Ben drop out with a huff when I raise. I really want to win, although I’m not sure if the thought of Cooper having to keep the Ranger Rover or what’s inside the folded-up note is a bigger incentive.
The luck I’ve had all evening runs dry as I peek at my crappiest hand of the night—not even a pair amongst the five cards I’m dealt. But I don’t let that deter me at all. Keeping only the two red hearts and discarding everything else, I brush my finger over my old black lucky chip as I lift my three replacement cards.
Watching me intently, Cooper never says anything, but I know he doesn’t believe in any of my lucky charms.
With a knowing grin, he turns over five different cards. A losing hand even if I hadn’t been lucky in my draw and picked up the three tens that I did. I rake the pile in and ceremoniously drop it into my purse. Whatever prize is written on that paper is best read when we’re alone.
“You know, you don’t need to throw your game so I can collect the prize you’re offering. I can beat you fair and square,” I say, coming out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed. One of the things I love best about living here is the unfettered access to his dress shirts. It might be one of the things Cooper likes best too, seeing as I rarely button them.
“Who said I threw the game?”
I shake my head and walk to my purse to dig out what I’ve won. “Not even you play cards that bad. But it doesn’t matter. I’m looking forward to collecting my prize anyway.” It takes me a minute to dig the little folded-up square from my bag, my smile already in place anticipating what sort of perverted words I’ll find.
Feeling Cooper’s eyes burning into me, I unfold the note painstakingly slowly, a sort of mental foreplay. I wet my lips in anticipation, but they part finding what he’s written: two words, and not the two that I expected. Marry me.
I stop breathing. Holding the paper to my lips, I turn and my already full eyes find Cooper. He’s down on one knee, a black velvet box perched in the center of his hand.
I have no idea how my knees don’t buckle when I take the two steps to walk to him. My beautiful, confident, loving man smiles up at me before he speaks, and in the moment, he shows me how vulnerable he is. A side I rarely see from a man who goes after everything in life like he’s on a seek-and-destroy mission.
The hand not offering the ring box reaches out to me, and I place my trembling hand in his. “Kate Monroe. Even though I lose every hand to you, at the end of the day, I’m the big winner because you go home with me every night. I don’t need a chip or a four-leaf clover for all my wishes to come true. I only need you. Marry me, beautiful.”
Kate—
Four months later—
on the eleventh day of the eleventh month
The big day has finally arrived. Parting the elegant drapery just enough to peer out at the crowd on the beach waiting below, I watch as the last empty seats fill with guests. It’s certainly an eclectic enough looking crowd. Cooper’s side is filled with an interesting mix of Hollywood royalty—studio heads, directors, actors—sitting alongside lighting grips, secretaries, and security guards. Noticeably absent is one man I’d hoped to convince Cooper to invite, but he wouldn’t budge in the least.
Miles isn’t here. It saddens me the two couldn’t reconcile. They’re basically the only family left for each other. I know Miles is the one who did all the damage, but somehow I still feel guilty that it was my actions that gave him the ammunition for the gun he held to Cooper’s head.
A few more people trickle in that I don’t recognize, then a familiar face leisurely swaggers in. A few women do a double take, although he doesn’t seem to even notice. He looks great, tanned and relaxed, with his trademark long hair pulled back into a ponytail. I smile, thinking how only a year ago seeing Flynn Beckham at my wedding was unthinkable.
But Cooper slowly warmed to him. Flynn definitely earned points by coming to see him, helping us reconcile after the show. But it was our staged public break-up that solidified that the bachelor wasn’t such a Dickhead after all. As part of the deal we made so I could win the prize, Flynn and I had agreed we would say my returning to school and his leaving for tour was hard on our relationship and we were parting ways friends. But the media loved him and he knew they’d be horrible to me, blaming me for our demise with made-up stories. It also meant Cooper and I had to continue to keep our relationship quiet.
I called Flynn the day after Cooper and I reunited to thank him. The next day, Flynn took Jessica out to a very public lunch and then kissed her for a full five minutes while cameras snapped away in a frenzy. After that, I was free and Flynn was deemed a playboy who broke the girl-next-door’s heart.
“Your brother was out there at seven this morning, practicing,” Mom says, coming up behind me and looking out the window over my shoulder. Cooper had a wide wooden platform constructed that leads from the inside of the restaurant to the altar set up on the beach, so that Kyle would be able to walk me down the aisle in his wheelchair. All he needs to do is push a button to start and stop motion, but that’s not always a feat he’s capable of.
“He puts too much pressure on himself. I wish he would let someone wheel him down.”
“He wants to escort you alone. He’s stubborn. But he can do it.”
Between the experimental drugs and promising therapy, my brother has made progress. But the progress isn’t always consistent and he sometimes grows frustrated. Cooper and I had a custom wheelchair made for Kyle’s birthday last month. I might not let my generous fiancé buy me cars, but chipping in for a ten-thousand-dollar wheelchair is more than okay.
The tick of the clock growing louder, Mom helps me attach my veil. There’s a knock on the door as I take one last look in the mirror. “Who is it?” my mother asks, but the door creaks open before the response comes.