Epilogue
“I now pronounce you husband and wife for life.”
Rose felt as though she was glowing from within as the wedding officiant—a seventy-something woman in long white robes—pronounced those words.
In the next moment, Henry pulled her close and kissed her as though they were the only two people on the outdoor terrace of the Adler Planetarium, even as they were surrounded by cheers and applause.
She melted in his arms. As many kisses as they’d shared, in this life and the one before, this would be one she would always remember.
Their guests’ reactions gave way to scattered laughter. She pulled away from Henry, smiling. His dark gaze was filled with happiness.
The terrace offered a stunning view of the Chicago skyline reflected in the lake. The September sun was just setting, painting the sky, the water, and the windows of the skyscrapers peach, gold, and pink.
Rose’s bridal gown, with its empire waist and dreamy layers of tulle, was the palest shade of pink, too, in honor of Venus, the goddess of love. Of course, it was a Friday.
She took his hand, and Emily, Rose’s maid of honor—“matron of honor” sounded too, well, matronly, Rose had decided, even if her best friend was three months pregnant—stepped forward to return her bridal bouquet.
“You are the world’s most beautiful bride,” Emily said.
Henry, looking positively ducal in his tuxedo, said, “She certainly is.”
As the string quartet played, Rose and Henry walked down the aisle between guests, most of whom had stood up out of their white folding chairs.
Emily and Henry’s best man Ryan followed behind them.
It wasn’t a large wedding, and they didn’t have anyone else in the wedding party.
Henry didn’t know that many people yet, though he’d probably make friends at Northwestern.
In the coming spring semester, he’d start there as an undergraduate, majoring in physics.
He had hopes of eventually pursuing his PhD, and perhaps working at the particle physics and acceleration laboratory in the western suburbs, but as he said, there was no telling what would happen.
Rose and Henry filed into the glass solarium, decorated for the reception, and took their places inside the door to greet their guests.
Emily hugged them both, and Ryan stepped up.
Rose reached out to hug him, too, but he stopped her and said in an undertone, “I need to talk to you about something later.”
“What?” she whispered back. Heedless of the guests queued up behind him, she demanded, “Tell me now!”
Ryan hugged her and said in her ear, “Jason’s asked me to join his group.”
Rose’s mouth fell open. “What did you tell him?”
“Yes.”
She knew Jason had asked Ryan for advice on a couple of things over the summer, and Ryan had been frustratingly vague about what those things were, but still, she hadn’t expected this. This was big.
She whispered, “Is it going to be legal?” Creating false identities for people was a crime, after all, and for Jason’s group, it seemed to be a routine procedure.
Bankrolling thieves was, strictly speaking, also a crime.
It was a good thing, from her perspective, that Victor Reuter was currently living in Switzerland rather than Lincoln Park, thanks to his worsening legal issues and his falling-out with mobsters, but Jason’s shady brotherhood had arranged the latter.
Goddess only knew what else the group did.
Ryan said, “I told him my part would have to be legal.” As she pulled back to look at him, he added, “I’m really excited about it.”
She could see that in his eyes. And she’d wanted so badly for him to have something that would challenge his mind and give him a sense of purpose. Even though this new development made her a little nervous, she simply said, “I love you. And they’re lucky to get you.”
“I love you, too.”
Griffin was next and hugged the daylights out of her, then did the same to Henry. The two men had gone horseback riding a few times at a stable near Griffin and Emily’s house. Even in her past life, Rose had never been a horsewoman; she was glad that Henry and Griffin could do that together.
After greeting a few more guests, Rose found herself receiving a hug from Jason. She said to him in an undertone, “You better not get him in trouble.”
“I don’t think I will,” Jason said, which wasn’t the most reassuring answer. “You know, we still haven’t found anyone else who can use that astrolabe. I wonder if you’d reconsider a few more adventures in time travel—”
“No. It makes me feel sick. There was only one person I’d do that for.”
As Jason had promised, his group had paid a cool two million for the device. Henry and Rose were house-hunting for a place more convenient to the campus in Evanston, although Henry had said he was in no hurry.
When Aaron Coleman came through the line, Rose said, “I’m glad you could make it.”
“Sure,” he said. “Thanks for inviting me.”
She hadn’t actually planned to, and he knew it.
He’d been at Griffin’s birthday dinner the month before, along with Daniela, Ryan, and Jason.
When everyone had started talking about the wedding, she’d felt bad and had somehow blurted out that he was welcome to come.
Which had been the rudest way imaginable to invite someone to a wedding, especially because Henry had remained silent.
She’d been a little surprised when Aaron showed up.
Aaron glanced at Henry, who had gotten caught up in conversation with Rose’s coworker Jayla. Then he asked in an undertone, “So now that the investigation’s closed, do you want to tell me how you really met this guy?”
The original portrait had appeared in the painting conservation lab on a Sunday night, just before midnight.
Security cameras had been locked right on it, but the only explanation was that the feed had been tampered with, because in one moment, the unfinished painting had been there, and in the next, it had been replaced.
There was no evidence whatsoever of anyone going in or out of the lab.
A month’s worth of tests and study had confirmed that the painting was the original.
Daniela might have been a prime suspect for the bizarre and elaborate prank, but she had been out of town that weekend, and she’d cheerfully shared her meticulous notes on the painting.
In the end, the FBI Art Crimes team had better things to do than investigate an incident that resulted in no missing artwork, no person of interest, no clear motive, and no clues.
Unless one considered the existence of a man who looked exactly like the duke in the painting, now walking around Chicago, a clue, and Aaron probably did.
“Like I said,” Rose told Aaron now. “Henry and I go way back.”
He tilted his head. “Well, you know what I’m going to say. He’s a lucky man.”
Rose’s heart went out to him. “You’ll find your soulmate, too,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound condescending.
“I don’t think those exist for everyone. But thanks.”
When they’d finished greeting the guests, Rose took Henry’s arm and they walked toward their table.
Henry murmured, “How can we be so fortunate?”
“Maybe we aren’t,” she said.
He stopped and turned to her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe soulmates always find each other again…in this world, or in some forever after.”
Henry looked up at the night sky through the glass ceiling of the solarium. “Or in another world, out there in the stars.”
Rose pulled him closer. “I can tell you this much: I am never letting you go.”
Henry kissed her again. “And that is why I will always look forward to the future.”