Virtue and Vice

Epilogue

A/N: First of all, thank you to those who truly embraced this story and lived it along with the characters. Many of us don't want it to end and maybe the ending of this book isn't totally the end. 

I wrote an epilogue I didn't plan on writing but it felt right to do it. It's a little bit different but I thought I would cap this off nicely with the same person and place where it all began.

I hope you like it. This gives you a bit of a peek into the lives of the other Cobalt Bay Billionaires who will be getting stories of their own. I figured it couldn't hurt because I guarantee a happily-ever-after anyway. I'm more interested in how they get there. =)

PS: Thank you to Fourthaxis for inspiring me with Robert Frost.  

As always, vote and comment! =)

***

I hated birthdays.

Since my sixth birthday, I started to regard them as a day from memory hell that I would prefer to skip each year. 

I couldn't recall any birthdays before that. I'd been too young.

I tried to forget the ones that came after it but they resisted my absolute neglect. I'd been too scarred.

I learned to cope with each year until it no longer bothered me as much—until I managed to simply treat it as a mere technicality that was essentially trivial.

I only felt this way about my birthday though.

My wife's birthday, from the first time I met her that one unforgettable summer, had always been special to me.

Even in the four years we'd been apart, I remembered each birthday fondly. The watercolors of daisies I'd sent each year were the most I could do to let her know that I didn't forget—I couldn't forget.

I could defend myself and say that great loves were simply one of those things people would never forget for as long as they lived, but I wouldn't. 

I'd only ever loved once and I hadn't once stopped or given it up.

I wouldn't know if I would forget other great loves or not because there was only ever one for me—as I believed was appropriate.

After all, what credence could be given to a fickle heart?

Whatever doubts I may have had about my intentions towards Cassandra vanished that night I claimed her—body, heart and soul.

It hadn't been a smooth ride from there—in fact, our story had been wrought with secrets, lies and painful mistakes—but I wouldn't have changed a thing.

It could've been easy but then, would it have meant as much to us?

"Why is my tie crooked? I did exactly as you told me."

I glanced down at my seven-year-old boy with a smile. 

Rylan Alexander Vice.

He was tall for his age, already past my waist, and with his dark hair and green eyes, I felt like I was staring at my younger self's reflection in the mirror as we stood side by side.

"It looks good but it'll take practice before it's perfect," I told him as I hunched down on my knees and fixed his blue-green tie. "Remember, Daddy's been practicing for almost thirty years."

Rylan bit his lip in contemplation. "I've only been practicing for two."

I smiled and ruffled his hair lightly. He hated having to fix it back but he didn't avoid it.