How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie couldn't help but look at him, puzzled.

Jarrod closed the door behind him and strode over without a word. He plucked the bag from her hands before she could react.

She reached out to snatch it back but was too slow. Frowning, she demanded, "Jarrod, what are you doing?"

Ignoring her irritation, Jarrod set the bag aside and took hold of her wrist. "Come with me. To the master bedroom."

Elodie's mind immediately jumped to a suspicious conclusion, and she shot him a wary look. "You're not thinking-"

She stopped herself, pressed her lips together, and said firmly, "I have to pack. Don't start with your nonsense. I'm not in the mood for distractions."

Especially not now.

He was still recovering, after all.

She certainly wasn't about to let him get away with anything reckless.

Only then did Jarrod pause. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he stepped closer, feigning innocence. “Nonsense? What's the problem? Is that not allowed between husband and wife?"

anxiety. She gave him a warning glare. "Are you trying to make your recovery take even longer? The doctor

her, the curve of his

count as 'strenuous activity' now?"

too?" Jarrod looked perfectly innocent. Then, as if something had just occurred to him, his eyes widened in mock realization. "Wait, is that what you meant? Were you thinking I was talking about, you know... marital exercise? Ms. Thorne, what exactly is going on in

be doing

trying to soothe her. "Maybe you should try to hold back

dancing in his eyes. "But if you really can't help yourself, I guess I

Elodie: "..."

rushed to her ears. She knew perfectly well he was teasing her, but there was no way to win

practically fuming, desperate to brush past

never could get the upper

go of her hand.

her toward the master

glare

moved out of their marital home before, Elodie had only taken a few essentials,

assumed Jarrod would have thrown her things out by now, but as she stepped