A/N: I definitely chose this title (borrowed from an Etta James song) because that's probably going to be your reaction. At last, a new chapter. You have the wonderful hub ladies to thank for implementing a deadline because I am quite the procrastinator. This is the last chapter, the epilogue, so I hope you enjoy

"Morning, boss." Killian can only see her reddish hair behind the computer, but once Aurora peers over the screen, he can see her blue eyes as well. They twinkle with kindness and that happiness Aurora always carries with her, that joy that only has multiplied in the last couple of months.

"Morning, Aurora." Killian smiles back. "How's the paperwork going?"

"Good! Thanks again for letting me do this. My ugly, swollen balloon feet were killing me in the café, but I was so bored doing nothing at home."

Killian pours himself a cup of warm coffee and approaches the desk.

"Hey, anything that can alleviate me from doing paperwork, I like." He lifts himself and settles on a patch of empty space on the desk. Hesitantly, he brings his lips to the rim of the mug, testing out the temperature of the coffee before taking a real sip. Aurora spins on the chair to face him. "Have you seen Tink today?"

Aurora nods. "She stopped by an hour ago. Anna has been doing great, a real natural according to her, so if it's alright with you, Tink would like to hire her permanently and full time. She stopped by to inform me and she's probably bringing Anna here tonight to show her what our official office looks like."

"Oh, that's superb. I'll discuss it with the both of them when they visit here. I'm still not used to having an official office, to be honest," he says, softly shaking his head in disbelief.

It was incredible how great business has been going recently. The door of the coffee house never stopped moving, constantly opening and closing and letting in a flux of colorful and varied people; young, old, regular visitors, new faces, tourists, locals. Their budget now allows them to rent a small office space. To think that he had considered giving up multiple times, been on the verge of just closing the cafe and returning to the UK as the failure he felt was. It's a bloody good thing he didn't.

"You deserve it, Killian." Aurora squeezes his knee. "You have worked really hard the last few years and this your reward."

"This is our reward," he corrects her, "I couldn't have done it without the both of you."

Trying to muffle the nerves that suddenly arise with the thought of his next subject, Killian fiddles with the rings decorating his fingers. "I've been thinking…" he begins but lets his sentence die.

"About?" Aurora encourages him to continue, wearing a soft and friendly smile on her lips.

"Opening another coffeehouse."

"Really?" Aurora's mouth opens and she widens her eyes in surprise.

"Yes," he affirms, his voice a bit more certain. "It would take a lot of money and work and a lot of people, but I think we would manage."

"If there's anyone I know who can manage something, it's you. What does Emma think about it?" Aurora inquires.

Emma had been the first person he had spoken to. Telling her had even been the first time he had dared to pronounce his idea out loud. The night had fallen and was filled with very pleasurable activities. In the aftermath, in the dark and quietness they needed to fall asleep, he had softly asked if she had fallen asleep yet, which she hadn't. Why he could only tell her then, Killian didn't quite understand. Maybe the nervousness or the importance of her opinion. There was always a chance- very improbable but it existed -that Emma would tell him that he was crazy to want that, that he was being unrealistic, that she would laugh. Of course, she didn't really; his fears were very far from what actually happened.

"She's very enthusiastic," Kilian replies, keeping Emma's reaction in mind. "She has even proposed to cut back on her work hours and help out."

"So 'A Cup of Jones II' is coming?"

"Aye, there were two Jones brothers, so it only seems fit to have two establishments."

His brother was so involved in the café; he helped Killian pay, sent him words of encouragement from the other side of the ocean. Without Liam, his dream could have never become reality. This is the right to do. One final way to pay tribute to his brother, his hero. 'A Cup of Jones II" in honor of a great man.

He is freezing; his cheeks are red, his hands are cold, his hair is wet. It's like he shouldn't even have bothered to wear the scarf around his neck, the beanie on his head and gloves on his hands. Never will Killian understand the allure of winter.

"Damn you, winter weather," he says, entering the apartment and setting the box in his arms down. His, now empty, hands remove all of the ineffective protection against the season.

"Technically, it's still fall."

Emma walks towards him after correcting him. She is dressed in a comfy sweater and a pair of jeans. The radiance that lingers around her, that brightens the room, overwhelms him like tidal waves relentlessly hitting the breakwaters. It instantly makes him forget why he was complaining, blurring all of his frustration and loathing towards his least favorite time of the year.

"It feels like winter which is enough reason to hate it." Killian toes his shoes off and sets them on the rack. With the socks on his feet, he slides over their wooden floor, approaching Emma, before greeting her with a quick but sweet peck on her lips.

"Hey," Emma protests, causing Killian's brow to contract in surprise. "We met in the fall-winter," she continues, immediately smothering that inkling of fear burrowed inside of him.

Emma is right; their one year anniversaries are coming up (their first meeting in just under a week, their first date a bit later.) How is that not even a year ago? Time is a strange thing; passing with the blink of an eye, but somehow taking an eternity to do so. Not that he would complain, an eternity with this life, in this company is one he would gladly spend over and over.

"I'm aware of that, Swan." He cradles her warm hands in his cold ones and places a kiss on her knuckles. "But that still doesn't squelch my abhorrence of the season."

"Well, I love the cold because it means you can make me hot chocolates twenty-four/seven. Especially now that you are officially moving in." Her lips curl.

To hear her say those words still sends a jolt of happiness through his body, as if he had just taken a liquid, physical shot of oxytocin and dopamine and they were now pulsing through his veins. They were going to live together.

To be honest, he was already spending ninety-nine percent of his time with Henry and Emma. His apartment lacked that homey feel, that sense of relief and freedom when you entered after a long, tiring day; Emma's, however, had that, evoked exactly that sentiment. But Killian still kept his flat, only going there to occasionally grab some clothes or to simply prevent the place from withering away under the dust.

One day, after Killian left to and returned from his apartment in the early morning, not long after dawn because he needed some paperwork, they both concluded that what they were doing was idiotic. They were practically already living together. Why should he keep his apartment and pay rent for a place he sets foot in maybe once every two weeks? Why wouldn't they just take that jump they had already taken weeks ago? They didn't need more to seal the deal.

"As you can see, I've brought my first official moving box with my most prized possessions." With a quick gesture, he motions to the brown square. "The rest I left in the car."

Emma raises a questioning eyebrow, the movement full of curiosity and looks back and forth between his face and the box.

"What do you consider your most prized possessions?" she inquires.

"If you want to know, check the box."

"I will," Emma says in that determined way her words always seem to carry.

It's one of the reasons he loves her so much.

She steps closer to it and crouches down. Swiftly, her hands open one flap and then lift the other one. Killian sees her rummaging through the contents and sees the emotions flash across her face. There's respect and a sad smile when she picks up the picture of his mother and the one with Liam and him. And there's happiness when she uncovers a picture of her and Henry, one that had been recently added to his collection but was as important to him as the rest. The biggest item in the box, however, safely and cautiously wrapped in bubble wrap, is his coffeemaker.

"I should have known." Emma's curls dance as she shakes her head. "What's the big deal with this thing anyway?" she questions. Stretching her legs again, Emma turns to him, the machine still in her hands.

"Swan, would you leave Fasóli alone." He softly pries the coffeemaker out of her hands.

"You gave your coffeemaker a name? And it's Fasóli?" Her voice is a pitch higher, a pitch of incredulity, as if she truly couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"It's Greek." His statement is followed by a nonchalant shrug.

"Really?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "You speak Greek?"

He doesn't really; his bilingualism is limited to English and a handful of Spanish he learned during that gap year he spent on working on Ibiza. But he couldn't find a fitting Spanish name and he had thought of nothing better than just to insert the world bean in Google Translate and to pick the best sounding one.

"You'd be surprised what the true power of Google translate is." Killian grins.

His little joke earns a roll of her eyes as response, but he can discern her effort not to laugh along.

"Should I be offended that you are calling her Greek names you have never called me?" Emma says, taking part in the game he started.

"Swan, I think my love suffices. I love you and all that, but this is my coffee maker. My true love."

"Why are you moving in again?" she asks dubiously, but the smile on her face never even lets the doubt come close. "Because you-" her finger presses down on the skin of his chest and then seductively trails down. "-are so sleeping on the couch tonight." Emma unexpectedly takes a step back and Killian needs to blink before her seducing spell is gone. "You can even bring your true love with you."

He chases her, to be closer, to feel her warmth again, because he's that desperate, and his hands manage to catch and stop her from widening the space between them because she doesn't even try to run.

The green of her eyes shimmers with mischief and amusement as he caresses the soft skin of her cheeks, framing her face. With an observant gaze, Killian continues the light touches, brushing her hair behind her ears, smoothing the little laughing lines by her eyes, the pad of his thumb skimming over her lips, causing them to part ever so slightly. The sparkles in her eyes turn into a low burning fire, the gold accents flaming.

"Please," he says before placing his lips on her forehead. "Don't." A kiss on the apple of her cheek. "Make me." And as the finishing touch, he merges their lips.

Emma continues to resist, attempts to keep her willpower strong, but somewhere along the line, she caves (it's after Killian's fingers slide under her sweater and start to draw large circles on her hip). A giggle escapes out of her, the sound vibrant against Killian's lips.

"I love you," Killian says when they sever the connection, making sure that the rest of their bodies are still glued together.

"I love you too," she whispers -or sighs- and she curls her arms even tighter around his neck, ready to resume what they had momentarily put on hold for their umpteenth declaration of love and adoration.

"And I love you too-," another voice interrupts, prompting Emma and Killian startle and to instantly release each other. "-but can we please start this move? Because at this pace, we'll still be unpacking when Christmas comes around." Henry stands with his arms crossed.

"Sorry, Henry," they reply simultaneously, with shame in their voices and a red hue on their cheeks that had nothing to do with the outside cold.

"Reprimanded by my own son," Emma chuckles, noting the reversed roles of the scene.

"Talking about Christmas," Killian says, Henry's words reminding him of something he spent the last couple of days pondering on. "I was thinking we could invite Hazel over. It's going to be her first Christmas without Liam."

It's his first Christmas with the knowledge that his brother is no longer here as well, but at least he has his other true love left, has her and Henry to spend this time of joy with and fill the void. Hazel doesn't.

"That's a great idea," she reacts enthusiastically. "I'm still sad I couldn't get time off work and Henry had school when you went to visit her the last time."

"If she agrees to come in a couple of weeks, you'll all get to meet one another. She can see the café and the States in general during Christmas time."

"And you can tell her about the expansion," Emma adds as she walks back to the forgotten box on the floor.

"I can,' he agrees, following her movements with a piqued interest.

Her hands remove the frames from the box with care before her eyes scan their living room. The sound of her soft hum, the one she always makes when she is thinking, reaches Killian's ears. Her socked feet walk around, stopping before the wall that bears different pictures of her, of different stages of her life. She reaches out, standing on her tiptoes, to take one of them off and hangs Liam there instead. His mother gets a place on a cabinet, a spot where she can smile her beautiful smile at him every day. She finishes by unwrapping his coffeemaker and setting it on the kitchen counter.

A look of pleasantness settles on her face, shapes her lips into a smile as she studies her small changes that seemed all but small to Killian. Their gazes meet and she nods proudly.

Bloody hell, this woman.

"Thank you, Emma."

The words cross his mind often, they did not too long ago, but every now and then, he has to say it out loud. To transmit every feeling of gratitude and love, of respect and acceptance that drenches his bones and fills his heart.

"For what?" She lightly furrows her brow while tilting her head.

"Loving me." His shoulders go up in a slight shrug.

"Oh," she utters, the understanding hitting her. "Well, my pleasure then. It is one of my favorite things to do."

Henry, the teenager that he is, makes a sound akin a grunt, something to remind them of his presence and his distaste of seeing another make-out session.

Emma lights up the room with her laugh and Killian can't help but join her. She rubs over her forehead. "Now, I believe we have some unpacking to do," she says to the contentment of her son, who looks visibly relieved;

Killian grins. "That we do, my love. That we do."

And there we go. The end! Quite emotional to end it, because this was the first multi-chapter fic that I ever started writing and I still remember coming up with the idea for my writing week. Even though finishing this story has taken me way (way, way) longer than I originally planned, I am very happy with the way it turned out. Thank you to everyone who has read, followed or reviewed, it has meant more to me that you probably realized while clicking on the button. Au revoir!

(If you'd like to read other stories that I write, be sure to check out Blue Petals & Broken Glass, A Bitter Sweet Memory and my collection of prompts somehow they just keep falling in love)