The Fake Mate
: Epilogue

“stop fidgeting,” i tell her, grabbing her hand that had just been worrying about her hair.

“What if this is a disaster?”

I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s going to be fine.”

“It hasn’t been long enough since I met your mother, and we’re going to spring my gran on her? She hasn’t even had enough time to make sure she approves of me yet.”

“Approves?” I bark out a laugh. “My parents aren’t aristocracy. Trust me, they’re just thrilled that you exist.”

“Gee, real low expectations there,” she snorts.

I reach across the car to curl my fingers around hers, bringing them to my mouth to kiss her knuckles. It’s been months since we disclosed to the hospital—for real this time—and it only took one meeting (that took place approximately three days after disclosing our relationship; truly, my mother and Mackenzie’s gran were sisters in another life) for my mother to fall completely in love with Mackenzie, not that I ever had any doubts. It’s impossible not to. Honestly, she probably loves her more than she does me. Which is also completely understandable.

“I have to admit I am looking forward to seeing your gran and my mother in the same room,” I muse.

Mackenzie grimaces. “Is it going to be awful? What possessed us to agree to this blended family bullshit?”

“It’s a special occasion,” I remind her. “We might as well just get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbles. “You’re not the one in the hot seat. My gran grills me enough as it is. I bet her and your mother gang up on me. We’re going to have to spend the entire night dodging baby talk.”

I can’t pretend the idea of it doesn’t make my stomach swoop, but there’s plenty of time for that later.

“Now you know how it feels,” I laugh, thinking back to that harrowing night when she took me to meet her gran. Things had been very different then.

“Parker is bringing his boyfriend,” she tells me. “His name is Vaughn. He’s very chatty. Maybe he’ll keep the old women busy.”

“One can only hope,” I murmur.

“I heard about today, by the way,” she says with a teasing tone. “One of your patients sent you flowers?”

I feel heat rising in my cheeks. “She was just grateful that I took such good care of her.”

“Should I be jealous, Dr. Taylor?”

I scoff. “She’s seventy-four.”

“Your skiing accident was a seventy-four-year-old woman?”

“Apparently, Mrs. Wythers and her husband decided it was time to strike skiing from their bucket list.”

“Wow, I have to admire her tenacity.”

“She was definitely a character. Insisted I call her Wanda and refused to let the nurses help her to the bathroom.”

“Come to think of it, how did you end up with a ski accident patient?”

“Evidently, she’s suffered a heart attack before, and came in with worrisome angina after a fall.”

“Wow, I hope her handsome cardiologist didn’t give her an arrythmia.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s seventy-four, for goodness’ sake.”

“Sounds like she’s been around long enough to know what she’s doing, sending you those flirty flowers,” Mackenzie deadpans.

I groan. “Please don’t put those images in my head.”

“Fine, fine,” she laughs. “You sure have come a long way from making nurses cry.”

I roll my eyes; I haven’t heard this one in months. I’d thought (hoped) she’d forgotten about it. “How many times do I have to tell you? That was—”

“—grossly overexaggerated,” she chuckles. “Yeah, I know.”

“Here we are,” I point out, slowing down so I can turn into the driveway of my parents’ place.

“God, I can’t ever get over how huge their house is,” Mackenzie marvels. “Are we sure they aren’t aristocracy?”

I shake my head, shifting into park as I come to a stop behind what I recognize as Mackenzie’s grandparents’ car. “I’m sure.”

She nods to herself, as if she’s psyching herself up, and I reach to cup her jaw, stroking my thumb there. “Hey.” She turns to look at me with worried eyes. “It’s going to be fine,” I promise. “Everyone in there loves you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you.”

“Okay.” She nods again, surer this time. “Okay. You’re right.”

“I know.”

I open the car door to move around to the passenger side, pulling open her door and extending my hand to help her out. She looks stunning in a deep olive dress that makes her hair appear brighter, but all I’m thinking about is how I’d like to pull the pins out of her hair and wrap my fingers in it—but I imagine that’s not what she needs right now.

She still looks focused, like she’s giving herself a mental pep talk, only coming out of it when the door shuts behind her. She glances at me then with a raised eyebrow, looking distracted. “Hey, Noah . . .”

I pause with my hand at her waist. “Yeah?”

“Why was that nurse crying?”

My lips twitch, and I shrug lightly. “Her contact ripped. I’m told it’s a very painful experience.”

“Oh my God.” Her mouth parts in surprise. “Really? That’s it?”

“Does it shatter the illusion?”

“Of course it does. How can I continue using my ‘the boogeyman belongs to me’ card to get free cookies from the cafeteria?”

“Have you actually been doing that?”

“No,” she admits. “But I sure as hell won’t be able to if the truth gets out. You’d better keep it to yourself.”

My mouth tilts on one side. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mackenzie looks ahead at the wide front door of my parents’ house, her throat bobbing with a swallow as she gives herself one last encouraging nod. “This is going to be fine.”

“It is,” I assure her.

“We will not let either of them intimidate us into having babies this soon.”

“We won’t,” I answer, crossing my fingers behind my back. I don’t have to tell her I’m not as opposed to the idea as she is. “It’s going to be fine.”

“I’m always worried your mother secretly hates me because of all the fake mate stuff,” she admits quietly.

“My mother might like you more than me because of the fake mate stuff,” I snort. “She kind of thinks you’re the most badass woman she’s ever heard of.”

“Right.” She looks determined, her nose wrinkling. “Right. I am the most badass woman she’s ever heard of.”

I chuckle under my breath, leaning to kiss her temple. “You are,” I encourage. “And besides . . .” My fingers drift down from her nape, the tip of my index finger circling the dark imprint of my teeth that hasn’t yet begun to fade. It makes me feel a myriad of emotions every time I see it, knowing that it matches the one she gave me, that it means she’ll be with me for the rest of our lives. I duck to kiss her there as she shivers. “It isn’t fake anymore.”

Mackenzie smiles up at me, reaching to squeeze my hand, and I wonder idly if she realizes that she holds the entirety of my being in the palm of hers.

“No,” she answers quietly. “No, it isn’t.”

I still don’t know if Mackenzie believes in fate, but one thing is for certain.

I sure as hell do.