The Muse's Undoing

Unable to hold myself up anymore, I crash to his chest, and he grabs me by the head and drives his mouth onto mine. Half of me is still inside him, and he’s got his legs locked so hard around my ass, he’s not letting me go anywhere any time soon. “I never…oh my fucking God…” He kisses me again. “You’re perfect.”

I want to say “that was all you” but he’s kissing me too hard. Too thoroughly. And that fact is, it was perfect because we are. In all the ways some may see us as wrong, we’re also meant for each other. Whatever he thinks just happened here, the end result is he just gave himself to me in a way he never has before. Which makes him fully and completely mine.

I take over the kiss, driving his head into the pillow and covering his body possessively. I wrap him in my arms, and he hugs me to him like a man in love.

Our connection snaps firmly into place. He’s the key to my lock, and I open only for him. Together we’re far more than either one of us could ever be alone.

Not that I ever plan to leave his side again.

When the kiss comes to an exhausted end, I slide out of him, and he moans. “I feel you…” he whispers, eyes closed as the sunlight attaches to his perfect face.

“That was a week’s worth,” I remind him.

He sighs, content. “Fuck…I love it. And you’re next.”

I smile, running a hand down his slick, messy chest. “I love you,” I tell him. “You’re the fucking best. Always have been.”

For that I get a smirk and his fingertips brushing my hair back from my face to tuck it behind my ear. “My forever muse.”

The way he’s looking at me causes a deep flush to heat my face. Like I really am his everything. If he hadn’t already utterly dismantled me piece by carefully constructed piece, those words would have finished the job. Instead, it feels like a rebirth. One I don’t have to be ashamed of for the first time in my life.

We have a million promises left to make, but our life starts here, both much too late, and just in time.

56

EPILOGUE

MATTHEW

Vaughn’s seventh birthday is the first time the family comes together since Maggie and Stuart got married. At the wedding, Valentine was my date, and Nicole was Fischer’s. He and I barely spoke to each other for the entire event, but we made up for that later in the room we rented upstairs for the night just to spite the Upper East Side.

Today, however, with no Marches or Gallos to mollify, and our relationship no secret to anyone in attendance, I have no interest in pretending we’re not exactly what we are.

Fischer and I haven’t spent a day or night apart since Nicole dropped the custody suit. Most nights are in the Bronx, in the loft I never wound up listing. But when we have Vaughn, we’re at the Eastmoor.

Neutralizing Ravenna required an intervention staged by Fischer and Gavin. They helped her understand that spreading rumors about an investigative journalist might not go so well for her if there was even a shred of information in her past she might not want her parents or her precious Manhattan art crowd to know about her.

Gavin’s presence guaranteed it was no bluff. I don’t worry when I run into her in the lobby anymore, where I use the front door just like any other person.

In public, Fischer and I are nothing more than adopted brothers with a thirteen year age difference. I’m a loving uncle to his son.

In private, he’s my slutty princess who’ll offer me his ass anytime I look at him a certain way. And, of course, the love of my life who keeps me centered, inspires me to lead with my heart, and rubs my back when I can’t sleep.

No one but Nicole and Gavin has ever seen us together as we really are. The closest of friends. The most affectionate of lovers. Doting, probably to an annoying degree, partners in life. We rarely take our eyes off each other for more than a few seconds.

Nicole answers the door of her Tribeca apartment with a tight smile. “Good. You’re here. Maybe you’ll have better luck convincing Dick and Donna the kids aren’t gonna start jumping off the building.”

“Dick and Donna?” Fischer asks doubtfully.

“Yeah, good point. It’s just her. Come on in!” she says brightly.

It’s a large apartment with a big terrace, which means the kids are mostly outside where it looks like snow is coming. I spot my mom immediately, hovering by the window, looking tense. No sign of Maggie or Stuart yet.

I let go of Fischer’s hand. We had a deal I’d make first contact.

“I think Vaughn’s smart enough to know if he goes over the edge, he’ll miss gifts,” I say.

My mom startles at my voice and looks up at me. “I just worry. Where’s—?” She spots Fischer with Nicole as they head outside. “Oh. It’s good to see you. Both,” she adds.