Epilogue
Two weeks later
“ W hy’s it taken you so long to come and see me?” Nonna chides at Zee, who flushes but lets herself be dragged into the best type of hug—a Nonna hug.
“I-I’ve been a chicken shit,” Zee whispers, making Nonna laugh.
“At least you can admit it, coniglio .” She pinches her cheek. “Just like this one. Afraid to bring her man around to meet the family.”
I scowl. “Hey! I resent that.”
“Resent all you want. The truth stings,” Anthony mocks, but he merely grins when I flip him the bird.
A part of me might have been worried about Cody’s intro to the fam after the whole dead body being uncovered on the ranch thing, but the town’s rallied around us.
Clyde’s public enemy number one, of course.
Harry even hugged Zee last week and told her that he’s sorry for her loss.
If it even is Marcy.
Truth is, Zee and I have grieved Marcy for so long that the idea of closure is frightening. Never mind the proximity of the burial site. That’s a whole other subject for a therapist to unpack.
Marcy’s loss is something we had to deal with too young, and I think we’re both realizing we never actually dealt with it in the first place. So, grief bubbles up from time to time. Anger too. Then loss. Just… loss. Thoughts of who she might have become. If we’d have stayed friends. If… if… if…
For a little while, we all hunkered down at the ranch. But then Cody told us they had a town meeting where everybody agreed that if Clyde dared return to town, every shopkeeper would refuse to serve him.
Clyde.
Just him.
Not the rest of the Korhonens.
As Nonna embarrasses Colt by asking him when they’re going to start a family, I take a seat beside Cody, who’s juggling my nieces.
Like always, he looks calm.
(Honestly, it’s both hot and annoying how calm he is.)
(Mostly hot.)
I stare at him, askance. “I don’t want any yet.”
His lips twitch. “Good to know.”
“I’ll tell you when.”
“You won’t just roll up with a baby bump?”
“And yell, ‘Surprise?’” I tap my chin with my finger. “I could do it that way. If you wanted.”
“Nah. I figure I’d like to be involved, you know?”
“You would?”
He clears his throat. “Yeah. Be kinda neat to see something we made together.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “How do you come up with this panty-melting stuff?”
“Aunty, what’s panty-melting mean?”
“It means?—”
“Tee!” Anthony barks, glowering at me. “Little ears.”
“She asked a question! Knowledge is power, Tony.”
“Not that type of knowledge.”
“Tee, are you saying bad words in front of my grandbabies?” Mom chides and hustles over with Tony to snatch the kids away.
“Are words bad? Or is it the weight that society places on them that’s bad?”
Zee groans. “No philosophy. Not tonight. It’ll postpone the tiramisu.”
“Nothing postpones that,” Nonna declares with a clap of her hands. “Right, tutti, take a seat.”
The second my brother’s in his chair, I attack.
“OW!” he yelps, making everyone around the table jump. “What did you do that for?”
I quickly hook my leg around Cody’s. He tenses but doesn’t give the game away. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Tee, did you kick your brother?”
“With my sharp and pointy shoe, Mom? Nope,” I chirp.
Cody clears his throat then grows still as I place my hand on his knee.
“Christy, are you trying to make trouble? We have guests!”
“They’re my guests!”
Raquel, accustomed to our bickering, smiles and changes the subject. “I was wondering when we’d meet the man of the hour, Tee. You kept him tucked away from us, hmm?”
“I tucked away nothing. My man’s a shower, not a grower. Plus, he knows how to treat me like a lady in and out of bed.”
Tony turns green, Raquel gags on her breadstick, Nonna cackles, and Dad chokes on his wine while Mom gasps. “Tee!”
Zee just rolls her eyes, but Colt chows on some antipasti —he’s as used to my ways as Zee is now.
I shoot Mom an innocent smile. “I speak the truth. I have to. He’s a cop. He might arrest me if I lie.”
“I think that would be against the law,” Cody inserts, but he’s shaking his head.
In his expression, I can see he’s both exasperated and trying not to laugh.
“Laws are made to be broken sometimes.”
“No, they’re really not,” Zee chimes in.
I tap my finger against Cody’s knee. “Surely they can be.”
He grabs said finger and holds my hand in place. “No, Tee. That isn’t how the Constitution works.”
“I told you I couldn’t be a teacher, Daddy. I don’t even know how our Constitution works.”
He scoffs. “If you think I’m bringing that up when your cheer brigade is here, you’re crazy.”
“And on that note…” Nonna lifts her glass in a toast. “How did you know you loved my coniglio, Cody?”
I smile brightly. And I let my hand lift higher on his knee when he makes the mistake of reaching for his cutlery.
Still, he smiles. “I couldn’t even tell you. It just feels like it’s always been inside me, Nonna?—”
“I know when she fell in love with you , Cody.”
“Snitches get stitches,” I grumble.
“Oh?” Cody asks.
“She was at the table with me and you popped up at the door to come and drive her home. She sang a few notes—” Unable to help myself, I sing them. “—and that was when I knew.”
Cody turns to me with a wide grin. “I’m your muse?”
My cheeks grow pink. “Nonna!”
She cackles, her mischief landing.
“How didn’t I know this already?”
I trail my fingers higher up his knee as a warning. “You were slow to catch on. Why else have I been making more music than a music box?”
He beams at me, his pleasure so incandescent that it makes my heart sigh. “Where’s my EP?”
“What?”
“Colt got one—where’s mine? I’m your muse!”
I scrunch my nose at him. “You can listen to yours later.”
“You made me an EP?!” His glee is boyish and delicious, and my music did that .
“You have three,” I admit, laughing when he swoops in and kisses me in thanks.
But they’re his. I’ll never sell any of the tracks on there.
“Sing the notes again,” he orders.
Huffing, I trill them.
His eyes widen. “That’s the chord for “Burning Embers.” That’s my favorite!”
“‘Burning Embers’?” Nonna inquires. “Have we heard that one?”
“I don’t think so,” I answer, flushing. “I can play it later for you.”
“No, play it now.”
“Nonna,” I mutter.
“What harm is it to play in the background? Please, coniglio ?”
“Tee?” Cody asks.
“Later. After dinner,” I promise.
Then, Daddy clears his throat. “I’d like to hear it, Christy.”
I bite my lip.
It isn’t that I don’t want him to hear it. He’s my dad. He’s a musician. He’d hear it and probably tell me how to make it better.
But I’m still stinging from our argument.
Still hurting .
“Please, Tee,” he rasps.
I flick him a look, embarrassed and hopeful.
His is earnest. Wistful.
Cody squeezes the hand that’s digging into his thigh. At first, I was teasing him, but I’m glad I placed it there. I need all the comfort I can get.
I slip my hand into my purse, dig through the notepads and the collection of pens, and find my phone.
A few taps and the file opens.
I shield my expression as the first movement commences.
The sonata is sharp and bright and fast. Viciously so. It’s attraction and want and need, coalescing into one beam of desire.
It tells our story.
The loss. The distrust. The fear.
The faith. The reconnection. The passion.
The love.
Not once do I lift my head. I keep my gaze pinned on my plate as I toy with the fettuccini Nonna and Mom handmade for the occasion, but my appetite’s in the dust.
As the song nears the finale, a rousing end that conveys my hope for tomorrow, the aftermath is bitterly silent.
That’s when I hear a sniffle.
“ Coniglio ,” Nonna wails, using the tablecloth to swipe at her eyes. “It’s you two!”
Of course she understands it.
“Oh, darling,” Mom whispers.
Cody squeezes my hand as I shoot them both tremulous smiles.
Zee’s sniffling into a napkin.
Raquel’s eyes are wet.
Colt raises his glass to me.
“That was neat,” Anthony cheers.
“Thanks, Tony,” I mumble.
Daddy clears his throat.
I close my eyes.
Dreading looking at him.
That’s when I hear the scraping of a chair.
Some footsteps.
My heart pounds.
I squeeze even more juice out of Cody’s hand.
Then a face is next to mine and a kiss is pressed to my temple.
“Beautiful, Christy.” My dad holds me in a half-hug. “Such talent. Such promise.” He squeezes me. “I like what he brings out in you, and I know that director will too.”
With a sob, I turn around and hurl myself into his arms.
I hate being at odds with anyone in my family. I love them. So much. It hurts. But he embraces me as fiercely as I do him.
And maybe it won’t work out with Jerry Majors. Maybe I’ll have to get a job at The Coffee Shop if Zee does stop with the campaign trail like the family is discussing. Or maybe, I’ll just keep on helping Callan out…
It’ll be fine.
Because I have love .
It came back to me.