Page 21 of Roped By Ryan

“To success,” Ryan replies, his tone momentarily serious before splitting into a grin. He catches my eye and gives me a wink.

I return to reading my book, happy things are falling into place. After reading the final page, I close the book and rest it on my lap, allowing myself a moment to just breathe. The setting sun casts long shadows across the back deck, and I watch as Lorenzo and Ryan clean up their coconut mess.

Once they’re done, they come back over to me. Ryan sits next to me while Lorenzo lounges against the metal railing.

As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, I realize how far we've come in these few short weeks. They’re back to acting like lifelong friends.

“I called off the hit on you,” Lorenzo teases, looking directly at Ryan. At least I freaking hope he’s joking.

Ryan meets his gaze, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, genuine smile. "I’m glad to hear it."

“Make sure you make an honest woman of my sister before you knock her up or I’ll take out another one. Actually, next time, I’ll take out a hit on something important to you.” Huh? He continues explaining his threat. “If you ever hurt Michela, I’ll have your dick stuffed and hung on my wall.” Ouch. Ryan grimaces and squirms at my brother’s threat.

“You don’t have to worry about that. We’re getting married in two weeks,” Ryan states, shocking both of us.

“We are?” I look over my shoulder at him, both shocked and excited.

“We are.” He smiles down at me. “I love you so fucking much, and I can’t wait another moment to make you my wife.” His words send happiness soaring through me.

“I love you.” I snuggle against his side. “And I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“Good.” Ryan leans over to kiss me, and I forget everything except him.

When we come up for air, I glance over at my brother and see he’s watching the waves crash against the shore, giving us privacy. I lie back and ask him, “Will you come to Silver Spoon Falls for the wedding?”

“Nothing would keep me away.” My brother looks at me and smiles. He’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. There are so many changes happening for us, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds. My decision to move to Silver Spoon Falls was the best idea ever.

Epilogue

Ryan

With a brushin one hand and a roller in the other, I take a deep breath and survey the nursery. The pale pink paint we picked out seemed like a great idea at the store, but now it looks like something out of a modern art piece gone wrong. I pull a deep breath in through my nose and let it out, trying to stay calm.

"This paint sucks," Lorenzo growls, squinting at the wall he's been working on for the past twenty minutes. His roller is leaving a patchy, uneven trail behind. Seeing the mafia boss dressed in paint-splattered designer jeans and a silk t-shirt is surreal.

Over the last nine months, the rift in our friendship has healed and the little one my wife is carrying is the reason. Lorenzo no longer threatens to kill me daily. Now, he promises he’ll have my cock cut off and stuffed for his wall if I ever hurt his little sister.

Since hurting Michela would kill me, I’m not really worried about his threat.

"No, we suck at painting," I admit. "We might need professional help."

“No, we don’t.” Lorenzo refuses to see the truth, but looking around this room tells me we’re out of depth here.

"Looking good, boys!" Michela calls from the doorway, her voice filled with laughter. She’s holding her phone up, probably recording us for posterity—or maybe just for future blackmail. Her brown eyes sparkle with amusement, and I can’t help but chuckle along despite the disaster unfolding around us.

"Recording our disaster isn’t helping," I say, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I’m not sure anything could help that," she teases, stepping into the room and eyeing our progress.

She’s not wrong. Lorenzo steps back to admire his handiwork, and I see a huge streak of unpainted wall just above where he was rolling. He’s missed it completely.

"Uh, Lorenzo," I start, pointing at the glaring spot.

"Ah, damn. How did I miss that?" He grabs the roller, dipping it into the paint tray again, but manages to splash a few drops onto the floor.

Michela laughs again, and I shoot her a mock glare. "You're not helping," I tell her, but I can't hide my smile.

"I'm providing moral support," she says, her tone too innocent. "And capturing these memories for our future child."

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