Epilogue
Carter
I was going to do it.
I was going to perform the ultimate commitment. Or at least the promise of one anyway.
“Where are we going?”
I just shook my head as I drove further up the winding road. The house itself was on a hill, overlooking the valleys, giving perfect view of the mountains. It was paradise, and it wasn’t too far from her work, either.
And Leah was obsessed with work.
She worked for a dick, but she was happy. She loved making her own money, even though she didn’t have to work another day in her life if she chose to.
We’d been officially together eleven months, and not a day went by that we didn’t live it to the fullest. After the crash, the band took a much needed break from the spotlight. We didn’t want to rush another album. We had made our money, had fans willing and ready to wait for us.
There was no rush.
Leah and me found our footing in that cottage, and I was looking forward to another winter holiday there.
As we approached the gates to the property I’d bought behind her back, I saw her confusion form as she looked between the property and me. The gates were closed like I intended, although I did have the passcode.
I parked the car out front of them and stepped out. She followed after me, in nothing but a sexy as sin summer dress that had my lust burning all over again. Fuck, I loved when she showed off her figure. Her gaze was stuck on the modest-sized estate.
It was ten acres, and the Georgian style house was in tip-top shape. I should know, I went through every inch of it.
I’d seen her obsessing about these homes over the months. She watched those boring-as-fuck property shows all the time after she returned from work most nights.
I rested my shoulder against one of the iron bars of the black gate and stared at her. A mischievous smirk formed on my face as she said, “I don’t understand.”
“I bought it,” I said, impulsively. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
Her jaw dropped as she stepped closer to the gate and studied the house. “What?”
“Yep, I bought it.”
“When?”
“When I pretended to be writing lyrics with Rome last week.”
Her typical female response, “You lied to me?”
Never mind I lied to her for a good reason.
“I lied to you about a lot of things,” I said.
She turned to me, frowning. “What other things did you lie about?”
With my hand in my pocket, clutching the ring box in the palm of my hand, I said, “Remember last week, when I took an extra-long time picking up those napkins you wanted with the stupid fucking floral design on them?”
She eyed me cautiously. “Yeah?”
“I wasn’t really picking out a napkin.”
“What were you picking out?”
I removed the box, and her eyes immediately caught it. Straightaway, her face fell in shock. I took her by the hand and went down on one knee. I was shaking. Fuck, you’d think I wouldn’t have nerves anymore being a musician that sang in front of thousands of people.
But I was terrified.
“I love you,” I told her, solemnly, as her eyes misted. “I want to grow old with you. I want to have kids with you. I want to be in a house the entire time we’re doing those things, particularly breeding like crazy. I’m going to fuck you on every surface of that house, by the way. Anyway, point is, I want you, and I want my future to be along your side. No more time wasted, right?”
She nodded, a tear falling from her eye.
“So, marry me. Please .”
Her lips trembled. “Yeah,” she choked out. “Duh.”
I grinned as I removed the ring with its giant as fuck diamond on top and slid it on her finger. Standing up, I took her into my arms and seared her mouth with mine.
This was the beginning of the rest of my life.
*
We struggled at times.
You couldn’t undo fame; it was permanent.
But we made it work.
When she needed a break, she had Melanie to turn to.
When I needed mine, I could escape with Rome to the recording studio I’d created inside the house.
We got married on a beautiful sunny day; a day that soon turned to rain and a muddy wedding dress.
We blossomed, learning to trust one another when times were challenging and rumours stirred.
More than anything, we were happy.
Every pain we endured, and would continue to endure, was worth it in the end.
*
10 years old
I stared down at the tombstone.
My mother’s grave. She was beneath my feet. Six feet to be exact. Rotting away. Leaving behind nothing in this life to be proud of except a loser son and a father that—although he didn’t want to admit it—loathed me for killing her.
“You’ve been standing there for a very long time,” he told me, quietly.
I didn’t stir at his voice.
I stared numbly at the block of stone, running my fingers along the curves of her name. Don’t ask me how, but I knew I would never return to this place again. That once I turned my back on her, I’d never seek her out again.
So, I remained there, fixated on the stone, tracing her name over and over again.
Elizabeth Matheson.
Elizabeth Matheson.
Eli-za-beth Ma-the-son.
Her death created a domino effect.
Dad mourned her death so much, he drowned his sorrows away with alcohol.
That resulted in him losing his job as an electrician.
Then we lost the house because he couldn’t pay the mortgage.
And because we lost the house and had no money, we were moving to some shithole somewhere.
But that wasn’t the end.
No, that shithole would eventually lead me to Leah, to love, to passion and music. To fuck-ups and fix-ups, and the life that I never knew could possibly be mine.
Mom’s death may have killed me at one point, but it paved a life to my soulmate, and to true happiness.
I was alive again.
THE END