Page 144 of Sardonic Burn

“Well, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, so ‘it’ for now. What are we naming it?”

I laugh at the dry tone.

“If it’s a girl, then I like Aria.”

Noelle hums and thinks about it for a moment. “Then, if it’s a boy, we should keep it short, too, and it should begin with A as well.”

“Why?”

“So that if we have another kid, their names can match.”

“Not if. When.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. Aria and Arlo. I think it sounds pretty.”

“Now the only thing left to do is get married.”

Noelle sits up straight and looks at me. She blinks for a moment, then her eyes narrow at me. The wind blows the hair out of her face, and she takes a deep breath.

“I hope this isn’t a proposal.”

“Maybe it is.”

“It better not be,” she grits out. “I’m a woman who values money. If you think I’ll say yes in the middle of nowhere, without a ring, you’re out of your damn mind. If you want me to carry your last name, you better step up your game and actually ask me to marry you at a suitable location.”

“Can I ask for some pointers?”

“Absolutely not. Figure it out, little De Santis.”

I growl. “Is that nickname ever going away?”

“Nope.” She grins. “I find it quite fitting. I am older than you, so you should just suck it up.”

I grab her wrist and yank her toward me. With a squeal, she allows me to move her where I want her, and I plop her onto my body, her head resting on my chest. I kiss the top of her hair, stroking her back. Noelle relaxes under my touch, and her eyes slowly start to close.

If there is such a thing as a perfect life, then this is it.

Noelle is my perfect life.

And our journey is just starting. I don’t know where we’ll be ten years from now, but I have no doubt it will be an adventure. With her by my side, I can and will do anything to ensure she always stays with me.

My pretty Noelle.

EPILOGUE II

This cannot be fucking happening.

Why today, of all days?

“Arlo De Santis!” I scream, and the boy comes running. The blood drains from my face as I take in his appearance. For a moment, I think I’m having either a stroke, a panic attack, or a heart attack. Either way, any of those is better than to believe that what I’m seeing in front of me is reality.

“Yes, mama?” He grins devilishly.

His grin is just like Hudson’s. The mischief, the look in his eyes, and the natural gift for causing trouble.

“What in the world happened to your hair?”

Up until four hours ago, his hair was dark brown. Now, his hair is bleached white. As in, snow white. I can see his scalp and it’s red from the bleach.

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