SCANDAL ✓

Epilogue

~ 4 months later ~

The kitchen was a glorified mess. Dishes sitting on the sink, crumbs and onion rings all over the tiled floor as well as an alarming amount of tomato fruits splayed haphazardly across every layer of the ivory counter. There was a film of water and grease around the stove as Shanya attempted to fry the tomato paste, spoon in hand. It bubbled and shot up, causing her to leap back.

"You sure you don't want my help?" Paris chimed from the other side of the counter as he watched her destroy his kitchen. Not that he minded. Having Shanya move around so freely in his kitchen had him feeling breathless and sent a jolting ache to his groin. Usually, she made toast and avocado for breakfast, and she was surprisingly good at it. But today, she had decided to try something different.

"Yes, just like I didn't want it the last six times you offered."

He liked the determination in her voice and without looking, knew there was a distinct set to her lovely jaws. She'd finally taken up cooking lessons (and completely abandoned driving) not because of his constant teasing but because she'd decided it was an essential skill she needed to learn for herself.

Unfortunately, she really should just stick to nursing. But he'd never say so, for entirely selfish reasons.

She turned to look at him, her face streaked with sweat, brought alive with a fine hue of crimson. "You've already helped me with the onions. Now, go away."

"Judging by the state of this kitchen, it is crystal clear I shouldn't leave you unsupervised."

She squinted her eyes at him, the spoon in her hand bobbing up and down. The green apron she wore was short and cute, revealing the sublime blue, polka dot dress behind it. It was the color of clear blue skies and complimented her hazelnut features immensely.

"You look lovely in that dress."

She snorted. "You're so full of shit."

There was a lightness in her voice and movement when she turned her back to the stove and attacked the pot. He smiled slowly, content to stand back and watch mostly because he knew if he dared interfered, she'd whack his hands with that wooden spoon.

The past months had been absolute bliss. If they weren't teasing each other for one fault or the other, they were ogling each other unabashedly, two seconds away from ripping each other's clothes off and getting seriously freaky. After nearly losing her, Paris couldn't imagine going through that pain again, couldn't imagine living a life without her.

She had recovered quickly enough from the poison and he'd been hardwired to never let her out of his sight again. Because she was who she was, she had agreed to stay over at his house for the weekends, never a day more. "Three days,' she'd said, "That should be enough time for Lily and Travis to go at it nonstop before I return."

It was not enough. Not nearly enough.

For him, that is. Not for Travis and Lily and their wildfire romance—as intriguing as it was.

As for his parents, he'd received a call from his mother inviting them over for dinner this night—including Shanya's family. He was yet to tell Shanya, but he looked forward to it. She tended to get overly excited to spend time with his dad, especially. The two had grown awfully close. Purity had even said so, adding 'Seems as though daddy has a new favorite daughter,' To which, he laughed. Scot, on the other hand, had asked her if she were jealous, and she'd asked him what he'd planned to do about it if she were. Scot had said nothing else after that.

There was definitely something going on between those two.

Quieting his mind, he returned his focus to his girlfriend who was now tasting the pasta she'd made.