Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I say the one word that comes to mind. I always watched others get proposed to, and I never thought it would happen to me, and I was okay with it. But this past year just being with him, I knew that I wanted to do it officially. I wanted to walk down the aisle and promise to love him until my last breath. I don’t even look down at the ring that he slips on my finger because my hands grip his face, and I bend to kiss him. A minute later, our families come and give us all the hugs and kisses, and when I finally look down, I see the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
It’s not a diamond; it’s the color blue like my eyes, princess cut with two heart-shaped white diamonds on each side. I grab my purse, taking out my phone and snapping a picture of me holding up the ring next to my face. “What are you doing?” Mark asks, and I look over at him, and I smile.
The serial dater has finally crossed her name off the list. Get ready for all things wedding.
I attach it with the picture I just took, and I put it back in my purse.
“Oh my God.” I hear Evan shriek from somewhere, and then he walks to us. “You’re the serial dater.”
“Um,” I tell him. “You follow me?”
“You are the guy who bought her the fish?” he says, laughing and pointing at Mark.
“Let’s have a toast,” Karrie says, lifting her glass of champagne. “To Mark and Vivienne.”
“To love,” I say, looking up at Mark. “To forever love.”
Epilogue Two
Mark
Five years later
I walk into the bathroom and click the door closed, and my wife looks up at me. My wife, I gave her the fiancée title for two weeks, and then I just said fuck it and threw another “barbecue,” but this time at my parents’ house and with all my family and her family there. With Karrie at her side and Chris at mine, I vowed to love her forever. “You look like you’re on a mission.” She smiles and turns around, looking at me. She’s wearing her robe, and it’s hanging open with nothing under it.
“I am on a mission,” I tell her and pick her up, putting her on the counter. “The mission to get inside you for more than five seconds before someone comes looking for us.” My hands rub her bare legs, and she opens for me. “Are you ready?” I ask her, praying she is, and she just nods her head.
“Always,” she says, taking my cock into her hand and placing it at her entrance. I slide into her as slowly as I can. Both of us let out a moan when I get all the way in. “Markos.” She whispers my name, and I move now, my head buried in her neck, and then I put my mouth on hers to stop her from moaning out loud.
“I’m there,” she tells me, and I know she is as I look into her blue eyes that I can get lost in. I watch her the whole time I fall over, and then I kiss her lips. “I’m going to need another shower,” she says when I slip out of her, and she walks over to the shower and turns it on. “Where are the kids?”
“I put on some cartoon I found on Netflix,” I tell her and smile when I think about my children. That’s right, more than one. I wash my hands and walk to the door, opening it in case one of the kids calls us. We had Karrie six months after we got engaged. She came out with black hair and the bluest eyes I have ever seen. I was in love the minute they placed her in my arms, and my mother was over the moon she finally had a girl to spoil, it would be bows and dresses.
It was also when The Serial Dater became The Serial Mommy, and well, her following just went crazy. It went even crazier when two months after having Karrie, she found out she was pregnant again. She thought it was a mistake because no one gets pregnant while breastfeeding. She didn’t believe the five tests she did, and it was only when the doctor confirmed it did she admit defeat.
So three days before Karrie turned one, she gave birth to my son Stefano, who looks like the stamp of me. They are almost like twins, and just when I thought we were done and one got ahead of us, and two years after Stefano, we had our little princess Angelica. Who looks like a mixture of both of us except with crystal green eyes.
“Ma mere.” Angelica comes walking into the bathroom with her blanket trailing her under her arm. “Je suis fatigué.” I’m tired, she says. Another thing, our kids speak French and English. And if my father has anything to say about it, they are going to speak Greek.