The Merciless Travis Wilde

EPILOGUE


THE RESIDENTS OF Wilde’s Crossing disagreed on lots of things.

Politics. Health care. The economy. Soybean futures.

Most of the arguing was genial, but it was still arguing.

People couldn’t agree on everything...

Except on the party General John Hamilton Wilde threw a year later at El Sueño.

It was, they all said, the best party in the best town the state of Texas had ever seen.

A line of barbecue grills a mile long.

Well, maybe a slight exaggeration there but the point was, nobody could recall ever having seen so many grills in one place.

Tables groaning under the weight of salads and slaw, green beans and corn. Grits done a dozen different ways. Fried chicken. Biscuits. Cakes. Pies. Cookies.

More tables loaded with things to drink.

Punch. Wine. Beer. Ale. Good Texas whiskey. Coffee. Tea. Lemonade.

Nobody went thirsty.

A wooden dance floor had been laid behind the house. There was a band to play what Wilde’s Crossing kids called oldies, another to play rock. There was a Mexican mariachi band. And inside the house, in the big, wood-paneled library, a string quartet played whatever it was that string quartets played, for the more sedate guests.

“Something for everyone,” Travis said softly to his wife, as he held her in his arms behind a big cottonwood tree.

She smiled. His heart swelled. She had, without question, the most dazzling smile in the world.

“All I need is you,” she said.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, smiling back at her.

She sighed. Laid her head against his shoulder.

“You have a wonderful family.”

“It’s your family, too, honey. And you’re right. They’re something special. Even the old man.”

“Emily says he’s changed.”

Travis chuckled. “The understatement of the year.”

“Well, look at all that’s happened in that year,” Jennie said. “Caleb and Sage had a baby.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Jake and Addison are pregnant.”

“Right.”

“And so are we.”

“Exact...” Travis jerked back. “What?”

His wife laughed.

“We’re having a baby,” she said.

She watched the different emotions race through her husband’s eyes. Shock. Joy. And, as she’d expected, a little touch of fear.

“It’s fine,” she said softly.

“You spoke with—”

“I called the doctor this morning. Yes. It’s just the way he said, Travis. The tumor’s completely gone. I’m okay. One hundred percent okay.” She leaned back in his arms and smiled up at him. “So, we’re pregnant. You’re going to be a daddy.”

Travis blinked.

“A daddy. I’m going to be a—”

He laughed. Whooped. Bent his beautiful wife back over his arm and kissed her breathless.

“I love you, Travis Wilde,” she said against his lips.

“And I love you,” he said. “With all my heart. And I always will.”

* * *

Not terribly far away, within hearing distance but, thankfully, obscured by the branches of a giant oak, Emily, Lissa and Jaimie Wilde stood frozen in place.

They’d never intended to spy on their brother and sister-in-law; in fact, they hadn’t even known Travis and Jennie were there.

They’d taken a stroll to get away from the party for a few minutes, to get away from, as Lissa had put it, “the busybody matchmakers.”

“Every female over the age of twelve seems determined to marry us off,” Emily had said, with a shudder.

“They seem to think it’s time, now that the boys are married,” Jaimie had agreed, with a matching shudder.

“Yeah,” Lissa had said, “well, good for them. But I’m not looking for marriage.”

“Not now,” Em had said.

“Maybe not ever,” Jaimie had added.

So, being trapped behind a tree, having to listen to their brother and his wife, had been, well, okay, it had been...

“Sweet,” Lissa offered, as Travis and Jennie finally strolled away.

“We’ll have to remember to look surprised when they announce that they’re having a baby,” Em pointed out.

“Definitely,” Jaimie said. “And, really, I’m glad they’re happy. All of them, you know? But—”

“But,” Lissa said solemnly, “that isn’t what I want.”

“I don’t, either.”

“Same for me.”

The sisters nodded. Then, because they were Wildes, which meant they weren’t just easy on the eyes, they were also smart, Em grinned and raised the bottle of Champagne she’d snatched for liquid sustenance from one of the party tables before they’d set off on their little walk.

Her sisters grinned, too. Lissa lifted her flute and Em’s; Jaimie raised hers.

“To men,” Em said, popping the Champagne cork with a flourish.

“Got to keep them where they belong,” Lissa said, as Em filled the glasses.

“In bed. And around when you need something heavy lifted,” Jaimie said.

“Aside from that,” Em said, “give us the single life!”

The sisters laughed, cheered, slugged back the Champagne.

And thanked whatever gods might be watching for the freedom to be women, and not yet wives.

* * * * *