Epilogue
ALBA
The months that followed were exhausting, beautiful, emotional, and rewarding. It seemed like a dream to have a growing family and the kind of happiness that I hadn’t known existed.
When Tiffany agreed to go back to a fifty-fifty custody split for Charlotte, the little girl took to her big-sister duties with the kind of enthusiasm that made me think of Vaughn.
She had his drive and his single-mindedness, wrapped up in a cute, chaotic package.
The weeks that she was with us were lively and fun, although I did appreciate the quieter moments when she was with her mother.
Tiffany was protective of Charlotte, which I appreciated. Our relationship grew into mutual respect, and she was a huge help when Adam was born, sending over home-cooked meals and lots of Charlotte’s old baby things.
I stopped working at Carmine’s. As much as I had appreciated the independence, and as much as I had needed those months of work to prove to myself that I was capable of surviving on my own, it just didn’t make sense for me to keep waitressing when I was in a relationship with a billionaire.
I did, however, keep pursuing the image consulting. I didn’t take any new clients when Adam was very little, but by the time he was six months old, I had a steady stream of a couple of clients per month. The business kept growing, and Vaughn was my biggest cheerleader.
For his part, Vaughn remained retired. He threw himself into fatherhood, cared for me, and carved out time with Charlotte.
I saw that same single-mindedness as his daughter in the way he researched vegetable gardening.
Eventually, he picked up furniture making as a hobby and had the whole basement of the townhouse redone into a massive workshop.
He was not the kind of man who would sit around doing nothing, even if he was officially retired from being a business mogul.
Deena was a regular fixture at our house until she got a new job for a demanding boss who insisted she be on call for all his travel needs.
We saw each other less, but we still spoke almost daily.
I would never give up that friendship—not as long as Deena still wanted to speak to me.
She’d been the first person to treat me like a person when I was at my lowest, and she was the one who’d stuck by my side through it all. Secretly, I thought of her as a sister.
Nikki did end up trying on Claudia Schiffer’s lavender dress, and she’d been wrong; the color looked great on her.
That was the start of a tentative friendship, which spread to the rest of her girl gang.
I kept myself apart, though, and I used Adam as an excuse.
I told them life was busy with a baby, which they all knew.
In reality, though, I had no interest in being part of the world of the monied class in Manhattan.
All I wanted was to build a quiet life with Vaughn, Adam, and Charlotte, grow my business, and keep myself to myself.
I’d had enough of putting on masks and trying to fit into a mold that never really felt right.
It was time that I admit to myself that I was a homebody who liked wearing leggings and loose tops, who got more joy from the first harvest of the year in her veggie garden than the fanciest gala in the city.
I’d found myself—and found my family.
So, it was by chance that I discovered that Yvette and James were engaged.
Their announcement popped up on my social media feed, and I felt compelled to click on the link and scratch the itch of my curiosity.
As I read about their upcoming nuptials, I was surprised to feel nothing.
No pain. No outrage. No joy. They were living their lives, and I was living mine.
I closed the article and mentally wished them the best, and then I never thought of them again.
My parents reached out when they heard about Adam’s birth.
I hemmed and hawed for a while, and eventually decided that I wasn’t ready for them to meet him.
My little bubble of safety and happiness with Vaughn felt too precious to invite them into it.
Maybe one day, I would want to reach out.
But for now, I decided to choose myself—and to choose peace.
One year to the day after that evening on the rooftop, when Vaughn and I had come back together, he found me in that same place, weeding.
Adam had just turned nine months old, and I’d set him up with some toys in a playpen nearby.
Vaughn crossed over to our son and picked him up, blowing a loud raspberry on Adam’s neck and making him break into squealing giggles.
Then he walked over to me and pressed a soft kiss on my lips.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, spinning Adam around to hold him facing out.
I pulled off my gardening gloves and shoved them in my pocket as I turned to face them. I pressed a kiss to my baby’s head, then leaned against the raised planters and arched my brows at Vaughn. “Oh?”
“About making an honest woman out of you,” Vaughn finished.
“Is that right?”
“I think it’s time.”
“Start over, honey. This time, say it like you mean it.”
Vaughn’s face broke into a smile. He got down on one knee, balancing our baby on top of his thigh against the crook of his arm, then dug into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a black ring box.
He flipped it open and turned it to face me, a glittering solitaire diamond nestled in velvet inside.
My heart began to thump.
“Alba,” Vaughn said. “You are the love of my life. The mother of my son. The person that makes my life worth living. I have loved you since the moment I met you, and I’m begging you, please, will you make me the happiest man in the world and tell me you’ll wear my ring and be my wife?”
A breeze blew through our garden, bringing scents of earth and growing things, the tang of herbs and the sweetness of blooming flowers. Vaughn kneeled before me, holding our baby, and looked at me with the open vulnerability of a man whose heart was on the line.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Vaughn.”
Vaughn blew out a relieved breath, then grabbed the ring and slid it over the third finger of my left hand.
The metal warmed against my skin, and the diamond threw off sparks of fire and rainbow in the last rays of the sun.
I admired it for a moment, then threw my arms around my two boys.
Happiness was a fizzing, wild thing inside me.
Tears leaked down my cheeks, and when Adam saw them, he began to fuss.
“Happy tears, baby,” I whispered to him, bundling him into my arms and holding him close. “They’re happy tears.” I soothed him until he settled, then met my future husband’s gaze. “I need to call Deena,” I said, “and ask her if she’ll be my maid of honor.”
“No need!” a voice said from the doorway on the far side of the terrace.
Vaughn had replaced the trapdoor with a real set of stairs and a door when I was pregnant, even though I insisted I could negotiate the ladder.
After having a baby, I was glad he’d made the switch.
And through the door he’d installed, Deena’s head popped out.
She beamed at me. “He called me in advance, and I accept. Congratulations!”
Laughing, I hugged my best friend, kissed my baby, then crossed the terrace to stand in front of the man who held my heart captive.
He wrapped me in his arms, and I leaned my head against his shoulder as our baby squirmed to get free.
Deena swooped in and took Adam, and I had the chance to run my fingers through my fiancé’s hair, my thumbs tracing his hairline as I smiled up at him.
“I love you, Vaughn.”
He leaned his forehead against mine, his cheeks creasing with a soft smile. “And I love you. Forever.”
“Forever,” I agreed, feeling the weight of my new ring on my finger, solid and permanent, binding us to each other the way we were meant to be.
Wedding bells are ringing…and the event isn’t at all what Alba had always imagined for herself.