Page 132 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

I truly wished our own live reenactment of the Benny Hill theme could keep going forever, but eventually, the triplets acquiesced and gave the bouquet to someone else. And by acquiesce, I meant they held an impromptu auction to the highest bidder who offered them not money, but rather an unlimited supply of triple chocolate fudge pops all summer. Personally, I was sure that was gonna cost them more than the average college tuition, but their finances weren’t my business.

Once everyone was recovered from that whole fiasco, it was back to eating and the dance floor, although some people chose to combine both. I didn’t, if only because I was too busy shouting the lyrics, or kissing my husband, or laughing like a madwoman. In fact, the only moment when I wasn’t smiling like a loon was when I saw Amanda, who had been hanging with my grandmothers and playing with Rosemary and Oregano, get on the dance floor with Massimo. And from the way she tipped her head back and belted out a laugh after he leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, something told me that maybe, just maybe, I should keep an eye on that.

After all, Amanda had been an incredible wing-woman to me. Maybe it was time to return the favor.

But that was a matter for the future, because all I wanted to do was celebrate. Keith and I were starting on our long journey together. There would be ups, and there would be downs, but I couldn’t wait to experience all of them at his side.

After we finished celebrating, of course. For now, all we had to do was dance.

And so dance we did.

All of us.

Together.

EPILOGUE

KEITH

I ran my cloth along the length of the canoe, admiring the way the light bounced off the polished wood. But it wasn’t just a reflection I saw along the fiberglass-covered hull. I saw the many months of research, choosing supplies, and all the work that had gone into finishing my first ever water vessel.

Still, there was even more to it. When I’d started it, I’d been lost and alone, so adrift in life that I thought I’d never make it to the shore. Perhaps that’s why I’d decided to make a canoe, which was way outside of anything else I’d ever done before.

So much had happened, it was like the canoe had already been on a journey before ever touching the water. I had found the love of my life, dated her, gotten engaged, gotten married, and we’d begun construction on our own house.

It was far more modest than her parents’ home. We were using one of the lots between Riccardo’s house at the start of the street and the mansion at the end, but it would be perfect for us and any children we might choose to bring into the pack in the future.

“You don’t have to put it in the water if you’re not ready, dear,” Olivia said sweetly from where she was lounging on one of the beach chairs that we had brought. “It’s not a very good birthday gift if it’s stressing you out.”

I looked over at my wife, a term that still made me giddy whenever I used it, and drank her in. While I had always found her beautiful, marriage had done her good, if I did say so myself. Although she was already quite strong, she’d decided to start weightlifting with me, and I was a fan of the way it had thickened her thighs and broadened her shoulders. Not to mention that all those squats had given her quite the shelf in the back for me to hold on to when I fucked her up against the wall.

“You’re ogling,” she teased, lowering her sunglasses to give me a look.

“What else am I supposed to do when you’re so ogle-able?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not a word.”

“I’m pretty sure it is, because I just said it.”

“That’s not how language works.”

“Hey, if Shakespeare could make up like a bajillion words, why can’t I?”

“Oh, so you’re Shakespeare now?”

“I mean, I can be if you’d like. Are you trying to subtly hint that you want to be seduced by the Bard?”

She shut her book and cackled at that, rising from the chair like Aphrodite being birthed by the sea. Even after several months of marriage, we were still in the honeymoon phase. If I had my way, that sensation would never end. “I think we have enough costumes in your closet. At least until we have the new walk-in one you’re building when we move into our home.”

“Hold on now,” I said, opening my arms so she could walk into them. “Whose definition of ‘enough’? Because I can think of several outfits I wouldn’t mind you trying on...”

“Is this about that one vampire cosplay again?”

“It is about Selene from the movie Underworld, yes.”

“You know it’s gotta be some kind of sacrilege to ask your werewolf wife to role play as a vampire in the bedroom.”

“Excuse you! The proper term is shifter wife!” I waggled my eyebrows in that way that never failed to make her giggle or sigh with fond exasperation. “And if you want to be a traditionalist about it, fine, I’ll be Selene and you can dress as Lucian, the leader of the lycans.”