Page 54 of King
I am who I am.
I’m a husband, a father, a brother, and a Sinner until the day I die. I wouldn’t change any of that for the world because I’m not King if I’m not any of those things.
Epilogue Two
ALANA
Ten years later…
I watch as my husband and his brothers grill this kid like they’re the FBI. They’re questioning him like he stole something and it’s hilarious to watch. However, it isn’t to Grace. She’s not quite on the verge of tears but if her father and uncles continue that’s where it’s headed.
“Mama,” Grace whines, stomping her foot. “Can’t you get them to stop? He looks so scared.”
I shove down the laughter, then hug my daughter. “That’s what fathers and uncles do, sweetheart. They’re never going to like any man that wants to date their princess. However, they just want to make sure he’s a good man even if they don’t like him.”
“He’s sixteen!” She tosses her hands in the air. “What are they expecting him to do? Kidnap me and force me into marriage.”
They’re definitely not thinking that. Other stuff of course. They were his age once.
This time I can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up. Ambrose, while I think he’s a good kid and will do anything to make my daughter happy, he just so happens to be the son of Eros, the President of Savage Order. Which is a huge problem for the three men in the den currently interrogating the boy.
It took me months to get Dylan to even allow Grace to talk to him on the phone. While Savage Order and the Sinners are allies now, Dylan is absolutely against this relationship happening. I’ve tried to get my daughter to understand her daddy and uncles will be this way with any boy she decides to date, but the connection to a one-percenter club that’s not the Sinners, makes this harder.
“Mama, this is ridiculous and embarrassing. I’m fifteen. I get good grades and stay out of trouble. I should be able to date the boy I like.”
“I agree. You do everything we ask of you. However, all I ask is that you give your daddy a little leeway, honey. You’re his firstborn. His only daughter. He wants to protect you.”
“He doesn’t treat Rory this way,” she mumbles.
She’s right. Our son is thirteen months younger than Grace. My son is the spitting image of his father, in looks and attitude. Dylan does treat him like he’s older than her, and he doesn’t question him about what he’s doing nearly as much as he should.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re right. He doesn’t and that’s not fair to you. I’ll make sure to have a talk with him. But he’s not going to change when it comes to boys and your safety. He’s always going to make sure anyone you decide to date is worthy.”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s worthy. Just because he’s not a Sinner doesn’t mean he’s not good enough. He’s smart, funny, and treats me really good. He treats me just like Daddy treats you.”
That makes me proud. I’m glad our kids have a healthy idea of what a relationship should look like. Her father treats me like a queen, and she knows she shouldn’t settle for anything less. I’m proud of her for recognizing that.
“How does his father and mother treat you?”
She sighs and takes a seat beside me. We’re supposed to be getting lunch together while my husband, Saint, and Reaper lay down the law with Ambrose. She’s met Eros and his Old Lady, Janea, who’s Ambrose’s stepmother, a few times.
“He wasn’t happy like Daddy, but he’s been nothing but respectful and nice to me.”
That’s good to hear. I’d hate for puppy love to cause a war.
“And you can expect the same from your father. I get it. Just give him some time to come to terms with his daughter growing up.”
She sighs. “Okay.”
“Now, let’s go save your boyfriend.”
She hops off the stool. “Thank God.”
I laugh as I grab the tray of drinks and she grabs the tray of sandwiches. We walk into the den where all the conversation suddenly stops as soon as we step over the threshold.
I arch my brow at my husband, and he looks at me with a stoic expression. I can tell he’s not particularly happy about this, but I know my husband, if Ambrose makes Grace happy, he’s going to agree to this relationship.
I sit the drinks on the coffee table beside the sandwiches then slide onto my husband’s lap.
