Epilogue #3
Vic snorts. “And Elle made a posterboard with oven temperatures and cook times to hang on the wall in the kitchen after that? It survived two years up there.”
“It was helpful,” I protest, stretching out my legs and finally allowing myself to relax. “We never had any more cooking catastrophes, did we?”
“It did come in handy,” Lucile adds. “And so Elle.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling.
These people. Even when they're roasting me, I can't help but feel the love. We’ve known each other since college, and while we’re all spread out and adulting in our own lives, we’ve stayed close all these years.
Vic fans himself with a paper plate. “If it hadn’t been Fourth of July weekend, we could have found someone to do this. I’m certain of it.”
“That was never the plan, Vic. We were always going to do this.”
Charity taps her chin and looks up, as if she’s thinking hard. “Did Justin say he had a cousin or something that does this? I swear I remember that being floated when we first started planning this engagement party.”
The name catches for a second. Not painful, but it gets me right in the gut. I nod lightly as I imagine how different it might be if he were here. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in letting someone else take all of the credit?. I like it this way.”
“I’m not going to lie. I would have zero problem letting someone else do all of this. But now I have pride in how it looks, so I guess it worked out. Plus, we survived.”
“Agreed. Cheers,” Sophie says as she raises her red cup.
We all follow suit. A job well done.
“Well?” Vic asks with his crooked grin. “Can we stop now, boss?”
I beam proudly at our work. It looks like a picture out of Southern Living.
It is beautiful.
I exhale dramatically. I really think we’re there.
“Yeah. I think we are amazing worker bees.” I sweep around the yard one more time, and can’t help the genuine smile that spreads across my face.
“Y’all killed it. Izzy’s gonna lose her mind when she sees this.”
Charity bumps my shoulder. “We’re pretty good under your rule.”
“Dictatorship,” Vic corrects. “Let’s call it what it is.”
I laugh. “I’ll allow it. We busted our asses, and look what we have to show for it.”
I point toward the little wooden stage Mark and his brothers slapped together at the far end of the yard. “I can’t wait to hear Cat Daddy and the Heartbreakers play tonight.”
Sophie groans. “Oh God, Elle. Please tell me you’ll play the air keytar like you did at our graduation party.”
“My air keytar playing might be behind me, but if they play Bette Davis Eyes, I can’t promise I won’t get a little jiggy. Just saying.”
Vic smirks. “Noted. 80s cover bands, not tequila, make Elle go wild.”
We all settle onto the low brick ledge that borders the patio, tucked into the shade. The breeze filters through the moss, cooler now, carrying the smell of fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle.
For a minute, everything is still. My body aches in the best way, and for once, my hands stay steady. My shoulders drop. I look at my friends, all of them exhausted, but pleased, too, and I beam. Pride. Real and earned.
I take another sip of tea, close my eyes, and let it wash over me. “Now what are we going to do with ourselves?”
“Nap, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going back to the hotel, cracking the AC as cold as it will go, and lying naked on my bed.”
“Nice visual,” Charity says, swatting him with the rag on her shoulder.
When I open my eyes again, they land on the mantel. The bow is crooked, and the fucking candles are off-center. Shit. I meant to circle back to that.
I push up before I even think about it. “I’ll be right back.”
Sophie groans. “Elle, what are you doing?”
“Just one thing. I can’t leave it like that. It’ll drive me insane all night.”
“Yes, you can. Sit your ass down. There is absolutely nothing wrong with it.”
“I swear. Last thing. Promise.”
“Elle, no.”
Before anyone can argue, I’m already dragging the ladder from where Vic left it, leaning against the fence. The metal scrapes faintly against the brick as I haul it over, setting it in front of the fireplace.
I test the feet on the uneven pavers, adjusting them until they feel steady enough. My hands are slick with sweat again, but I wipe them on my shorts.
“Elle,” Vic warns, watching me. “Let me do it.”
“It’s mine. I’ll be two seconds. Seriously. Go get naked in your hotel room.”
I climb. Sophie and Vic’s voices blur behind me. I lean in, adjusting it ever so slightly.
And then the ladder shifts.
My sneaker scrapes the rung. The metal wobbles where it meets the brick. My stomach flips as the world tilts.
I grab for the mantel. My fingers scrape rough brick, but my hand closes on the vase instead.
It’s cold.
Heavy.
Useless.
My shoulder hits with a thud, and heat blasts through my side. The sting of sweat blinds me for a second, and the air leaves my lungs so fast it’s like I never had any.
Glass shatters. The ladder crashes down on my legs.
I lie there stunned for a moment, then shove the ladder off. My hand slips on something, maybe sweat, or the water from the vase.
I try to push up, but my hand is oddly limp and won’t cooperate.
Then I see it. Blood pooling fast, spreading bright across the patio.
My friends shout as they circle above me. I turn my face away.
“Don't—” I try to wave them off with my other hand. “Just give me a second to—”
But the blood keeps coming. The yard sways. My breath won’t come. The red spreads.
And then everything goes black.