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last shot series

BONUS CONTENT

Another Epilogue

Beck

I pick my parents up at the airport the day before the wedding. They aren’t going to be here long; they’re leaving the day after the wedding. Doing the bare minimum, even though their only son is getting married.

It’s fine. It’s probably for the best. The last thing I want is for Hayden to be upset and I don’t trust that my parents won’t do that.

“How are you feeling, Dad?” I ask on the drive to the hotel.

“Great. I feel pretty much back to normal.”

“You look good.”

He does appear healthy. He’s lost a few pounds and his skin color is better. The rehab program the doctor put him into must be doing him good.

“He’s been delegating more,” Mother says. “And golfing more.”

I grin. “I don’t know if that’s good for the heart or bad.”

Dad chuckles. “You have a point. I’m trying not to take it too seriously. I walked eighteen holes a few days ago.”

“That’s fantastic.”

“We could play here if we had more time.”

“You should have come earlier.”

“I tried to tell him that,” Mother says, surprising me. “But he had business things to take care of.”

Of course he did.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married and we haven’t even met your bride,” Mom says. “What is the rush?”

“Did you knock her up?” Dad asks.

I bark out a laugh. “No.”

“It wouldn’t matter,” Mom says, I guess trying to be cool? “I did get a few questions from the girls at the country club about why such a fast wedding. And so small! You could have come home, and we would have held a proper wedding.”

A proper wedding. Here we go.

“I guess we could have,” I agree, not wanting an argument already. “But I told you, her best friend is leaving for Spain and we want to do it before she goes. And this is where our friends are.”

As we wait in the lobby of the Hotel del Coronado, Mother looks around at all the woodwork on the walls and high ceilings, the crystal chandelier above, and the old-fashioned reception desk. “Well, at least the wedding’s being held at a decent hotel. This is lovely.”

“Glad you’re satisfied, Mother.”

She shoots me a sharp look. “Beckham.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. That was kind of snarky. Her earlier comment about having a proper wedding irritated me. But I don’t want this weekend to be like that. I’m a grown man getting married to the woman I love and I need to let go of my need for my parents’ approval. I want them to meet Hayden and love her and celebrate our marriage with us.

We’re not getting married at this fancy hotel because I want to impress my parents. We were lucky to find anything on such short notice, but Carrie’s dad knows someone here and they had a cancellation and we grabbed it. I like the fact that it’s right on the beach and we get to say our vows with our feet in the sand and the ocean close by. And it’s close to the Naval Base, something important to Cade, Marco, and me.

“Where is Hayden?” Mother asks.

“She’s at the spa getting her nails done. I’m going to pick her up and we’ll meet you back here for dinner. We have reservations at the seafood place at seven.”

I get them settled into their suite and then take off to go get Hayden.

Hayden

I’m going to puke.

No. I’m not. I press a hand to my stomach, checking my reflection in the mirror. It’ll be fine.

It’s Beck’s parents.

I haven’t even met them, but I hate them.

That’s not a good start to our relationship.

I hate that they’ve hurt him. That’s just not acceptable to me. So this is going to be a challenge.

Hey, I can jump out of an airplane. I can definitely do this.

I walk out of the bathroom. Beck’s in the bedroom buttoning his dress shirt. My belly heats at the sight of him, his broad shoulders, sexy dark eyes and beard, the way his eyes move over me. He smiles. “You look hot.”

I groan. “I don’t want to look hot to meet your parents.” I glance down at the dress Carrie helped me pick out, a halter style that shows a lot of skin. “Should I change?”

“Hell, no. You look perfect.” He walks over to me and smooches my lips. “I always think you’re hot.”

I smile against his beard. He really does. And I love that. I’ve never felt so desired and cherished and admired.

Allison and Douglas Whitcomb are already seated at the table when we arrive at the restaurant. I make myself smile as we approach them. Mr. Whitcomb stands, his gaze on me, which unnerves me. Then the heel of my shoe slips on the tile floor and I go flying forward. I let out a small screech and, his hand already outstretched, Mr. Whitcomb catches me then falls back into his chair, with me on his lap.

I let out a little screech.

“Oh no!” Mrs. Whitcomb jumps up.

“Hayden.” Beck reaches for me.

Everyone around us is watching. Oh. My. God. Heat floods my face and runs down into my chest. “Oops!” I flail around and try to get off Mr. Whitcomb’s lap. “I’m so sorry!”

Beck takes a hand and pulls me up. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, fine, fine.” I regroup, finding my balance. I glance over my shoulder at Mr. Whitcomb. “Sorry!”

“Uh. It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “Nice to meet you, too.”

I bite my lip. Was that a…joke? God, I wish a hole in the floor would open up and I could sink through and disappear forever. I choke out a laugh and Mrs. Whitcomb gives me a dubious smile as she sits again.

Mr. Whitcomb gestures at a chair and Beck holds it for me as I take a seat, focusing on hanging my small purse over the back of it, sliding it closer to the table, adjusting my place setting, feeling like I’m existing in a red cloud of humiliation.

Way to make a good first impression.

Well, they might as well get to know the real me right away.

I reach for my water glass and, in my agitation, I misjudge and bump it.

Everyone gasps as the glass wobbles.

I snatch it before it falls over and spills.

Now I just want to cry.

Beck’s hand lands on my upper back and rubs in a small, warm circle.

I pull in a slow breath at the contact, at the reminder that he’s here with me, for me. That he loves me and he still would even if I dumped water all over his parents. Probably. I think.

I glance at him and catch the warmth in his eyes, and I settle. A little.

This time I pick up my glass carefully and take a sip of the ice water. And another.

“How was traffic?” Mr. Whitcomb asks, making small talk to smooth things over and it gives me a moment to compose myself. I paste on a smile as if I’m listening and not replaying the last few moments in my head like a tragic movie. Maybe a comedy? One of those “one day this will be funny” moments. Gah.

Forget it. Forget it.

A few more breaths and then the waiter appears to take drink orders. Mr. Whitcomb orders a bottle of red wine, seeming knowledgeable about it, so I go with it, grateful again for the distraction. We make more small talk as the wine is tasted and poured for everyone.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Hayden,” Mrs. Whitcomb says with her glass of wine in hand. “Let’s toast to your nuptials tomorrow.”

Nuptials? Who says that?

But I smile and we all toast.

“That’s a pretty dress,” Mrs. Whitcomb says. “It looks like Versace?”

My eyes widen, holding my glass near my lips. “Um, no. I got it at T.J. Maxx.”

“Oh.” She nods, smiling. “It’s a nice color on you.”

“Thank you.” I smile too. “My best friend is a model, so she helps pick out my clothes. She has great style.”

“A model. Really.” Mrs. Whitcomb sips her wine.

“Like, she doesn’t model the runways in Paris,” I babble on. “She works mostly in L.A. but she’s very popular. She’s beautiful. She’s also a great photographer. She did work for Jessica Farris and Jared Gregoire.” I pause expectantly.

Mr. and Mrs. Whitcomb give me a blank look.

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and gaze down into the ruby depths of my Domaine de la Romanée. Shut up, Hayden.

“Tell us about your work,” Mr. Whitcomb says. “Beck told us you’re a scientist.”

“Yes.” I lift my chin, forging on. “I’m a biochemist. I teach at UCSD, and I have a small biotechnology company called Vanguard Corp.”

“You’re doing cancer research,” Mr. Whitcomb says.

“That’s right.” I smile. “We research and develop protein therapies based on a new kind of messenger RNA technology. Actually, it’s not that new anymore. Most people have heard of mRNA technology now. But it has so many other possibilities.”

“Including cancer?” Mrs. Whitcomb says.

“Yes. Messenger RNA can be encoded for virtually any known protein and designed to be taken up by the cells in specific tissues and organs. Then it acts like software directing ribosomes to express proteins or antibodies within targeted tissues.” As usual, I get excited talking about this, but my excitement fades when I see the bewildered expressions on their face. I know people don’t understand the technicalities of my research. “This could address hundreds of diseases that we can’t treat today,” I finish, subdued, reaching for my wine.

“It’s amazing work.” Beck squeezes my hand beneath the table.

“Sorry, I get carried away talking about it sometimes.” I squeeze out a smile.

“Hayden’s also just started working with an organization that promotes STEM for girls,” Beck adds.

“Oh, how nice.” Mrs. Whitcomb takes another sip of her wine.

“Yes!” I sit up straighter. I’m excited about this, too. “I spoke to a group of girls at a high school the other day, encouraging them to pursue science studies. Women make up less than thirty percent of the workforce in science, technology, engineering, and math. Girls need to know that these are some of the fastest-growing and highest-paid jobs of the future, like computer science and engineering. And it’s a way to make a difference in the world.” I subside back into my chair, once again having spouted off too much.

“That’s important to you,” Mrs. Whitcomb says slowly.

“Yes.” I meet her eyes steadily. “It is.”

There’s an extended silence that feels heavy. I search desperately for something to say and come up absolutely, terrifyingly blank. Then Mrs. Whitcomb says to Beck, “I see why you love her.”

That sounds . . . I don’t know? Good? I turn my head and meet Beck’s eyes.

He smiles at me, then back at his mom, squeezing my hand again. “Yeah.”

Beck

I stand on the sand, on the beach next to the Pacific Ocean. The evening sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm light onto the beach. Guests fill the white chairs arranged on the sand, all smiles. Glowing candles and pink roses nestled in the sand create an aisle, and behind me is an arbor draped in white tulle and more pink roses. Next to me stand Cade and Marco, all three of us wearing dress blues and white hats.

Buddy Holly starts singing “Everyday,” and I look toward the hotel. This is it.

Carrie starts down the sandy aisle in bare feet and a blue dress, carrying a small bouquet of flowers in different shades of pink.

I watch her eyes land on Marco, and I glance at him. They’re basically eye fucking as she walks down the aisle. Hoo boy.

Then I forget about them as Carrie takes her place and the music changes to “I Choose You” by Sara Bareilles. We picked this song together and it makes my heart swell up huge in my chest. I watch my bride stroll toward me. Her simple white dress is perfect for her, and she glows. There are pink roses in her hair, and she holds a bouquet of flowers in shades of pink, with a few blue ones tucked among them.

My wife.

She’s about to be my wife.  My family.

I can’t believe a nerdy little scientist turned out to be the perfect woman for me.

Hayden’s eyes hold mine as she walks, but she flashes a smile at Cade and Marco as she arrives at my side. She hands her bouquet to Carrie and turns to face me.

When it’s time for our vows, Hayden speaks first.

“You all know I’m a biochemist. So I know a little about chemistry. Chemistry is the science that deals with the properties, composition, and structure of substances, how they are transformed, and the energy that’s released or absorbed during the process.”

Whispers and chuckles from our guests have Hayden turning toward them. She flutters a hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do a whole chemistry lecture.” She grins and turns back to me. “The challenge in chemistry is finding an explanation of how interactions among different substances can bring about the formation of new substances and the destruction of old ones. One of the first things I ever said to you…” She meets my eyes. “Is that I couldn’t find an explanation for the chemistry that happened between us, that first night we met. And you told me sometimes there are no explanations. There was an energy between us and maybe there’s no scientific explanation for it, but I think it came from feeling seen. And heard. And valued without judgment.”

I smile. Yes.

“I may be the professor, but I’ve learned so much from you, and I want to learn from you every day for the rest of our loves. I will listen to you and learn from you, support you and accept your support. I will celebrate your successes and mourn your losses. I will love you as my husband and my partner and my best friend and rejoice in your love for me for all of the years of our lives.”

“Good finish,” I murmur, my throat thick.

Her smile is incandescent.

It’s my turn. “Hayden. I’ve learned so much from you, too. You taught me that two people joined together with respect, trust, and open communication can be stronger and happier than each could ever be alone. You are the strength I didn’t know I needed and the joy I didn’t know I lacked. I promise to respect you, cherish you, care for you, and protect you. I promise to comfort you and encourage you. I promise to love you for who you are, and for who you are yet to become. I promise to nurture your huge, amazing dreams and help you reach them. I promise to share my whole heart with you and to show you how deeply I care for you, no matter how hard it may be. I promise to love you loyally and fiercely—as long as I shall live.”

Her eyes glisten and from the blurriness in mine, I think our tears are mutual.

“Hayden and Beck, you have expressed your love to one another with the vows you have just made. With these promises in mind, I pronounce you husband and wife. You have kissed many times, but today is your first kiss—not as partner or lovers or best friends, but as husband and wife. Your kiss is another promise to each other.” The officiant smiles. “You may kiss your bride.”

Ed Sheeran sings “Kiss Me” and, holding Hayden’s hands, I tug her close. She goes onto her toes and our lips meet in a soft kiss, then again…and I can’t resist more. I deepen the kiss because my heart is pounding out of my chest and I need her, I need her taste, her love.

The guests erupt into applause and cheers, and we pull apart smiling.

I whisper the last of my vows for her ears alone. “And those who drink from the agave will live happily ever after. For all the years of our lives.”