FINAL BOOK 3: EPILOGUE

"It's gone. It's actually gone," Emily mutters, lifting pillows to search the couch in our living room.

I roll up the cuffs on my dress shirt as I cross the bright, airy apartment from the master bedroom. "Six, tell me you haven't lost your ring."

She crosses to me, her face a mask of shock.

Then she pulls her hand out to show me the diamond glinting on her finger.

Relief slams into me, along with pleasure.

Every time I see it on her hand, I feel that way. Even though we've been engaged for three months, I haven't gotten over knowing she's mine.

Jacob teases that it won't go away until she's signed the certificate and she can't back out.

The truth is I know it won't go away even after that.

"Why do you look so happy?" Emily asks, planting a hand on her hip.

I tear my gaze away from her teasing face to take her in, from her purple-painted toenails to her long legs to the curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the valley between her breasts, all outlined by the tidy black dress.

It should be cute.

It's not. It makes me want to drag her against me and do unspeakable things to her.

"Because you're marrying me."

Her eyes darken, and she tucks a piece of the hair she finished curling in our huge en suite bathroom an hour ago behind her ear. "But I can't find my phone, and how the hell am I supposed to buzz people up?"

"I'll call it in a second. We'll find it."

I back her toward the windows, and her eyes widen. "Timothy, we have guests arriving any minute."

"You already lost the phone. Can't buzz them up. Let's call it off."

Her back meets the window, and she sucks in a breath.

I drop my mouth to her neck, loving her soft floral scent and the way she arches, offering up more of her-all of her.

I'll devour every inch.

"We can't call it off," she pants even though her fingers thread into my hair. "It's our engagement-previews-housewarming party."

"Fuck it. They'll just bring booze and say how happy they are for us. I can tell you how happy I am for us."

My hand sneaks under the hem of her dress and under the scrap of lace she calls panties.

"You're so wet," I tell her as if she doesn't know. "How long have you been like this?"

"Since you walked out wearing that shirt I bought you."

"Why's that?"

"Because I like knowing I get to dress you. You're like my own broody rock star Ken doll."

I sink two fingers into her in retaliation, and she moans, squirming.

"We'll have lots of time for that when we're married," Emily protests, but I know she's joking because her hips lift to meet every stroke of my hand.

I glance at the clock. "We have at least ten minutes."

Emily's lips curve. "Well, in that case."

I fuck her against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I will never, ever get tired of her sounds, the way she feels around me.

This woman owns me.

She's built me up, made me more than I thought I could be.

And everything I am, everything I will ever be, I'd give it to her.

I didn't think it was possible to love another person the way I love her, but she's shown me giving your heart can be worth it if you give it to the right person.

When we finish, we clean up quickly and track down her phone before our guests start arriving.

"This building is beautiful, Emily. I swear the entire thing is windows. And you!" Haley gushes as we open the door to the hallway, Sophia bounding beside her. Eddie has the baby carrier in his arms.

"You're glowing," Haley goes on as she steps inside.

Emily's face goes red. "Thanks." She passes me the huge flower arrangement Haley gives her. "Can you take these to the dining room?"

"Sure." But I can't resist brushing my lips over her ear. "I love that now you're blushing when I was inside you ten minutes ago against those windows."

And as I head for the kitchen without waiting for her response, I love that I'll be inside her tonight after everyone goes home, that I'm the one who gets to make this beautiful, strong woman soft.

Over the next hour, everyone filters in and mingles around our new apartment.

Andie's here, plus Rica, plus Avery, and Jacob. Andie catches us up on her stand-up performances and the news that she's made it to the third round of a nationwide comic breakout competition. Rica's been DJ-ing in New York and Miami but made sure she could be here for our party.

Even Jacob's sister, Serena, came since she lives in New York, with her boyfriend, Wes.

"Holy shit," Wes states, unselfconscious as he takes in the views. "How big is this place?"

"Two thousand square feet," I supply.

"My bedroom could fit in your bathroom," Rica deadpans.

Emily doesn't feel badly in the slightest. "Hey, that was my bedroom," she points out to the woman who took over her spot in Andie's apartment when Emily moved out.

"This is what Broadway money buys you," Jacob jokes. "And you've only started previews for the show."

In reality, a good part of our income is from my royalties, including the new album that's set to drop next week and is the best music I've made to date. The surgery helped with the pain in my hand, but not my ability to play guitar.

Still, I care less than I used to. Emily helped me realize I can write amazing music and let other people help me perform it.

Serena laughs and shoves at her brother. "You can't talk. I have people texting me photos of you from online magazines every other week naming you the hottest new actor in Hollywood."

"Hottest," he points out with a grin. "Not richest."

His show started releasing weekly last month, and it's all anyone can talk about. It's all but guaranteed to get renewed for a second season.

Emily sneaks up on me with a glass of champagne.

I make a face at the drink. "Do I have to?" I joke as I take it from her.

"I know you hate bubbles. But Dad wants to make a toast." She smiles.

Emily and her dad are back on solid ground, and it seems I'm in his good graces, too.

I think he has finally appreciated what I learned a long time ago-Emily's going to do whatever she wants, and she'll probably crush it, too. I don't need to protect her from the industry.

If anything, we should protect the industry from her, as evidenced by the fact that she's dragged a show from practically conception to previews-with her and me in the leading roles-in less than three years.

"Is everyone here?" she asks me. "What about your friend from London?"

I invited a couple of guys I met on tour and stayed in touch with off and on. Emily's been excited to meet them.

There's a knock at the door. "That must be him," I tell her. "Apparently they don't have clocks in the UK."

I go to open it, expecting to see Harry's tall, broad frame.

But instead of Harry, it's a giant ice sculpture on a dolly with a uniformed delivery man.

"Mr. Adams? Mr. King sends his regards."

The delivery guy wheels the sculpture in, and Emily has him put it in the center of our marble kitchen island.

"What kind of a man sends an ice sculpture?" Rica muses, fascinated.

"Let me call him." I go to our balcony, stepping out onto the long patio and hitting his number.

He answers on the fourth ring. "Yeah."

"It's Timothy. What the hell happened? Are you coming to the party?"

In truth, I don't care so much about the party, but it's odd of him to not do what he says he will.

There's a groan and some cursing, as if he bumped into something. "You haven't heard."

His voice is so dead I'm worried. I google his name. "Jesus. Are you alright?"

I see page after page of articles on my real estate and entertainment mogul friend, and his girlfriend-now ex-girlfriend-going off the deep end after they broke up.

"Swearing off women for life," he vows.

"Hang in there. I'll call you tomorrow."

I click off, trying not to let worry set in. Harry wouldn't have been at the helm of a massive empire without having his shit together. Hell, he's one of the people who's advice helped me get through life on tour.

I owe him one.

But for now, I push it from my mind and head back to the living room.

"Everything okay?" Emily asks when I rejoin her.

"Yeah, nothing to worry about." I brush my lips across her cheek.

Glasses clink, and we all look up from where we're standing to see Eddie holding up his champagne and looking slightly uncomfortable.

"This is a strange day. It would be normal to feel as if I have two children starting their lives." We all look at the baby and Sophia, who's swinging her legs on the couch. "But it feels as if four of my children are."

Emily's hand squeezes mine hard, and I swallow.

"I'm blessed to have the people I have, and I don't know what I've done to deserve it. But I know Timothy and Emily deserve each other."

By the end of the toast, Emily's in tears and Haley's smiling so broadly it looks as if it might crack her face.

I drink my champagne, and for once, I don't even mind the fucking bubbles.

My fiancée goes to hug her dad, and when he pulls back, he looks at me.

"We have a little something special planned," I say.

A buzz starts as I go to our second bedroom-a music room now-to retrieve the guitar Emily bought me, plus my second favorite.

I pass the latter to Eddie, and we do a song together.

Everyone listens and cheers when it's over.

"What are you guys doing for your wedding?" Andie asks after we've finished a drink and cake and Sophia's taken off around the apartment to run the perimeter, trailing a finger along the ornate baseboards.

Emily and I exchange a look.

"We were thinking somewhere warm," she says, shooting me a smile.

Haley shifts forward, beaming. "LA?"

"An island," I say. "Of course, you're all invited."

Cheers go up.

"What's that look on your face?" Emily murmurs much later, once everyone's gone home except Eddie and Haley and the kids in the guest bedroom.

It's just the two of us on the balcony, and I pull her against me.

"I'm happy," I admit, brushing a curl out of her face as I drink in the sight of her warm eyes, the curve of her lips. "So fucking happy, Emily. Everything we've been through came full circle for me today. It reminded me this is what it's like to have family. And I'm not afraid anymore. Whatever happens, we've got it covered."

"Even a new album and a Broadway show and..." she trails off, brows lifting in mock horror, "an island wedding?" she teases.

I drag her mouth to mine, kissing her breathless before I pull back.

"Can't wait."

I hope you enjoyed the conclusion of Timothy Adams and Emily Carlton's trilogy!

see you on next bonus episode 4 of TIMOTHY ADAMS and EMILY CARLTON as a married couples.