Epilogue
Lily
Here Comes The Sun
The Beatles
Six Weeks Later
Hotel suites used to intimidate me. All that space. All that shine. All that cold perfection.
Now? This one feels like home.
Not because of the velvet sofas or the bay glittering outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, though Boston looks like it’s trying very hard to seduce us, but because of the chaos inside it.
Luc’s bandmates are sprawled around the giant dining table like it’s Thanksgiving and someone spiked all the pies with tequila.
Marie is bouncing Larkin on her lap as if she’s auditioning for “World’s Most Devoted Grandma.
” Larkin is squealing at a spoon like it’s the most magical object ever created.
Hayden and Cherry are on the couch, heads bent together as they share something private.
I’m not sure what the hell is going on between Dean and Sadie, but something is. They keep stealing glances at each other. There’s too much friction, too much tension. Too much of an attempt at pretending to hate each other when we all know better.
Luc catches my eye from across the table. He doesn’t smile big. He does that quiet thing he does, where his mouth softens and his eyes warm and it feels like I’m the only person in the room. I’m doomed. I’m blissfully, willingly doomed.
“I’m telling you,” Mikey says, pointing a fork at Marie. “That baby’s going to love drumsticks more than guitars. I can feel it.”
“Bro, she put mashed carrots in your hair ten minutes ago.” Luc deadpans.
“She was blessing me with creativity.” Mikey flicks his bangs dramatically, carrot puree and all.
I snort. Loudly. I’m not even embarrassed anymore. Further down the table, Sadie lifts her wine glass without looking at him. “Or marking her territory so no other toddler tries to claim you. Which, honestly, appropriate.”
Dean shoots her a sideways glance, seemingly bothered that she just complimented Mikey. Sadie arches a brow, unbothered, sipping her wine like he’s background noise. If sexual tension had a sound, it would be the static buzzing between them.
Marie sighs loudly behind us. “We should have more of these family style meals.”
Dean mutters, “Only if someone gets Mikey a bib.”
Luc leans in, lips brushing my hairline. “You happy?” he murmurs.
I look at Larkin giggling at a crumpled napkin.
At my mom smiling like this is the best job she’s ever had.
At a band that has slowly started to feel like a family I didn’t know I’d ever get.
At the man whose hand stays on me like he still can’t quite believe we found our way back.
“More than I thought I could be,” I say softly.
Together, we made the decision that Larkin and I will go and live with Luc at his house outside of Chicago afterwards. It’s going to be an adjustment, for all of us. But, I figure, if we could live and survive on a bus for over two months, being together in a house should be a piece of cake.
What I’ve realized in the short time we’ve been together, is that it doesn’t matter where we are. Being with him just feels like home.
He turns my chin and kisses me, slow and sure, ignoring the groans from the peanut gallery.
“Get a room,” Mikey tosses a napkin at them.
“Leave them alone,” Sadie and Dean say at the same time, Then smile at each other. The rest of us pretend not to notice.
Luc looks at our daughter, then at me. “We good?”
I smile, warm and full. “We’re perfect.”
He cups my cheek, eyes soft. “Yeah,” he agrees in a whisper. “We are.”
Larkin squeals again, grabbing at a toy guitar sitting on the table.
“See?” Dean leans forward, grinning. “Guitarist.”
Mikey snorts. “Not if she inherits an ounce of taste.”
“Hey!” He pouts, acting like he’s been shot in the chest.
“You walked into that one.” Mikey chuffs, proud of himself.
Luc laughs quietly against my hair as they bicker again. And for the first time in a long time, all the noise feels beautiful.
We are a mess. We are chaos. We are loud and imperfect and stitched together with love and second chances. But we are a family.
And I wouldn’t change a single beat.
The End…