Epilogue
REID – SIX MONTHS LATER
Armchair_Detective: Cat tax, please.
ReidingRainbow: (ATT: picture of orange cat curled up on couch)
Armchair_Detective: It’s basically done. And shouldn’t you be looking at hotels for next month?
ReidingRainbow: Already booked a refundable one. Figured you guys could just send me the money.
WhiteKnight31: Of course you did. Leave it to Reid to figure out the logistics.
Armchair_Detective: I still can’t believe it took you getting a girlfriend for us all to finally get together.
WhiteKnight31: Yeah, tell Hazel thanks again for the tickets. This Cold Case Convention is going to be a blast.
ReidingRainbow: I’ll let her know.
Armchair_Detective: Maybe we can finally start up that podcast we talked about.
WhiteKnight31: You mean the podcast you talked about.
ReidingRainbow: Got to run. The moving truck will be here any minute.
Armchair_Detective: Fine, but I’m not dropping this podcast discussion.
“You’re sure?” Hazel questioned me, her eyes narrowed. Vermont was on the counter pressing his head against her hand, demanding pets again.
When she’d first started bringing him over all the time, I’d tried for maybe five seconds to enforce a no-cats-in-the-kitchen rule, but it was pointless. Vermont had a mind of his own, and it was a challenge to keep nudging him away. I found it easier just to constantly disinfect instead.
“I like it there,” I said.
She glanced from me to her giant grandfather clock, now standing in the entry hallway right before you hit the living room. It was a deep, massive piece, but with the high ceilings in this house, it fit a lot better than in her cramped apartment.
“You sure? Because we can move it.”
“We actually physically can’t move it,” I pointed out. “I’m not sure how you got it in your apartment in the first place.”
“A really nice delivery man.”
I chuckled. “Well, it’s perfect there.”
She huffed and crossed her arms as if she thought I was being difficult for being too agreeable. “We can ask West to come back and help us.”
“Seriously, I like it there.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I like your stuff,” I said, for what felt like the millionth time.
When I’d asked her to move in with me, it hadn’t been conditional.
I wanted her, mess and all. Since we’d gotten together, my house had felt even emptier.
Even with the occasional knickknacks she’d bring by, it was a huge space to fill up.
Not anymore, though. After this morning’s move, our house was exploding with all of Hazel’s things.
Our house.
I liked the sound of that.
The moving truck had left hours ago and now we were sorting through boxes, combining her stuff with mine.
Nothing had ever felt so right.
I had drawn the line at her two coffee tables, though. One could only be pushed so far.
I’d been trying to get her to move in for months. Honestly, I’d never wanted her to leave in the first place. But even after we made it official, she’d insisted on finishing out the lease at her old apartment.
Which I understood. We were brand new. It gave us a chance to date for real and get to know each other without the pressure she’d been under when we first met. But getting to know a healed version of Hazel had only made me fall for her that much harder.
She’d quickly become a staple at our weekly family dinners; my parents were now more excited to see her than to see me.
She fit right in with Ruby and Regan, and they’d added her to a group chat without me almost immediately.
And Hazel was completely pumped about the annual trip to Florida we took every Labor Day.
She’d been thrilled when she found out she was invited—as if I’d ever consider going without her.
Vermont was like an adopted son to me now. Hazel would never admit it, but he took to me even more than her. Anytime they were at the house over the past six months, he could be found curled up on the back of my office chair, or splayed across my laptop keyboard, demanding attention.
She’d told me that Gran would have been obsessed with me, which had made my heart clench. I wished I’d had the chance to meet the incredible woman who raised the woman I was so completely in love with.
When it finally came time for us to move in together, she’d asked me what she could bring and what she couldn’t.
I told her to bring it all. There was still hesitation in her eyes, a fear I wasn’t telling the truth, that I’d regret letting her clutter my life.
But I’d meant every word. My life had been monochromatic.
She brought color and liveliness into it.
Hazel’s bottom lip jutted out as she surveyed the explosion of boxes and antiques strewn about the living room, and the mug collection currently taking up over half of the kitchen island.
“Baby, I’m so happy you’re moving in right now, we could go out and buy anything you wanted.” I grabbed her hand. “What about a clock for each room? A disco ball?”
“Don’t be tacky.” She rolled her eyes with a laugh. “And living together will hardly be any different than the past few months. I basically live here now.”
I disagreed completely. Basically living together and actually living together were two different things entirely. While she did spend most nights here, I hated when I’d get a text from her saying she was staying home tonight. I wanted to be home.
She had injected joy into my life in every possible way.
In the way she’d grown so close with my family.
In the way she’d pull up a chair and quietly linger behind me while I talked with my sleuthing group about whatever cold case we were digging into.
In the way she kept experimenting in the kitchen, even without having the slightest natural talent for cooking.
In the way she insisted on stopping at thrift stores every weekend just to find some little thing to take home.
And in the way she still went out and bought a lottery ticket every time she had a hard day—and somehow got me into the habit, too.
God, I loved her.
I wrapped her in my arms. Holding her close, I ducked my head and kissed her.
“What was that for?” she asked, smiling.
“I’m just so happy you’re here.”
“I’m already always here,” she said.
“I know. But this feels permanent. Official.”
“It does,” she agreed with a grin, before snaking her arms around me and holding on tight.
She did that a lot—hugged me like she was worried I might evaporate at any moment. She could do it all she wanted.
I was hers for good.
The End
A shy writer, a bad boy actor, and the reality dating show they’ve both been tricked into going on... Read The Reality of It All by Allison Speka now!