Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Melanie
The golden glow of the morning sun gleans through Common Chord’s floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighting the dust motes floating in the air like little, tiny fairies.
We have an open house here today where some of our students will perform for prospective students.
I’m here early—too early. But I love this time of day, walking around the big empty room, marveling at everything Josh and I have built—are still building—together.
I flip on the lights and walk slowly down the hallway, past the new rows of student photos we have hung on the wall.
Some of the kids posed like rock stars, holding instruments that are bigger than them.
I pause, smiling at one of my favorite students, seven-year-old Ava.
A spunky little piano prodigy. Against all my better judgment, I let her lie across the back of the baby grand for her photo.
In it, she lies on her side, propped up by her elbow, in a red and white polka dot dress, grinning from ear to ear.
Now, I walk into the main room and sit at that same piano, lightly playing our newest tune, “Home Again.” Josh and I co-wrote it, and we intend to perform it today for our open house guests. It’s fitting since that’s exactly how I feel, like I’m home.
I hear the bell chime on the front door, and I know it’s him before I even look.
He strides inside, holding two coffees from the shop down the street. I turn to him, smiling, inhaling his sandalwood cologne. His hair is still wet from his shower, and his jeans are slung low on his hips. And he’s looking at me like he always does, like he can’t believe he gets to.
“Morning, Mrs. Cote,” he says, handing me my coffee.
I roll my eyes. “That’s still weird.” I move to make room for him on the bench.
“You’ll get used to it.” He grins, sitting next to me and planting a soft kiss on my lips.
After he proposed, Josh and I decided we wanted a quiet, private wedding, so we did it at home, outside, overlooking the Harpeth River.
Josh strung twinkle lights across the large deck and we said our vows at sunset in front of only our parents, Liam, and Sophie. I cried. He did too. It was perfect.
And now we’re here, building something that matters for kids who may not otherwise get a chance to learn music.
Some families donate what they can, others pay tuition, but every week we get to watch shy kids walk out of here standing a little bit taller.
It’s never been about money for us, anyway.
When we’re not here, we’re still writing and producing music for SoundShift Records.
I take a sip of my coffee and lean my head on his shoulder. “You nervous for the open house?”
“Petrified.” He laughs softly. “You?”
I nod. “A little. Excited, too.”
He pats my knee, and we stay like that, sitting in the safe, comfortable silence that comes with loving someone for so long.
“Oh, I had the strangest dream last night,” Josh says, after a beat. “I was holding a red-headed baby, chewing on a guitar pick.”
I flick my gaze to him in surprise. “You’ve been dreaming about babies?”
His cheeks flush. “Maybe.” He pauses, watching me for a moment. “Do you ever think about it?”
I look at my hands, fiddling with my wedding rings. “Sometimes,” I admit.
“Me too. Sometimes.”
We’re interrupted by voices echoing coming in the front door, children arriving early for lessons, carrying tiny guitar cases, their parents trailing behind them.
Josh has taken to high-fiving every kid that walks through the door and now is no exception. He stands by the door, greeting them all as they come in, and my heart bursts for the man I love. Whether or not there is another baby in our future, I know we’ve got each other. And we’ve got all this.
I watch him from my place at the bench. I used to think leaving Cape May meant leaving everything I knew and loved behind.
But sitting here in this space, filled with music and light, the laughter of children bouncing off the walls, I realize, I didn’t leave any of it behind.
I brought it with me. The grief, the love, the years of figuring out who I am and what I want, are all the things that have made me, me.
This place, the music, and the way Josh looks at me like I’ve always been his.
It’s all ours. Whatever comes next—be it more albums, babies, quiet nights, or chaos—I know we’ll be okay.
Because I finally feel like I’m home again.
THE END