Epilogue
VALENTINA
Four months later
Last year, I’d spent New Year’s Eve at the Pressley mansion in the Hamptons.
I’d made the mistake of posting an Instagram story about it, and my sister had been hounding me to take her there ever since.
I didn’t hear from her often, but about that, she’d remind me once a month: It looks so pretty!
I need to go! When was the last time you did anything for me? Come on!
Not like I’d been doing everything for her since before she could remember. Cooking, cleaning, keeping us alive when Mom couldn’t.
And we pulled up to the faintly familiar house exactly a year later regardless.
Because I wasn’t great at saying no anyway, and it got damn-near impossible when it came to my sister.
Besides, Caden wouldn’t have let me. The second I’d mentioned her desperate need to go to a Pressley party, he’d been on board.
Like Lisa had briefed him before, he’d turned into her biggest advocate in a matter of seconds. Now, I understood why.
After I’d been moved into the backseat, and they’d been talking about the latest trends in hair, makeup and clothes for the past… I honestly don’t know how long it’d been. After I’d seen the way he looked at her, and I’d remembered Alison would be about Lisa’s age now.
He’d gotten my sister out of her shell faster than I’d ever seen before. Her judgy looks had been directed exclusively at me, she laughed at his jokes, and she hadn’t yet told him how weird something he’d said had been.
All things I’d been having to deal with for years.
She loves you, I noted casually, a flute of champagne in one hand, the other resting on Caden’s arm. His eyes, previously on Lisa—blonde hair in a high, sleek ponytail, black, tight dress ending just above the floor—disappearing toward the bar in another room.
No. He shook his head. She doesn’t even know me, he reminded, gaze trailing back to her. She’s just so much like—
Alison, I guessed, and he nodded, swallowed thickly. Hopefully, your sister was a little more grateful than mine, I snickered. She loves you so much, she’s completely forgotten about me. The reason she’s here, by the way.
Caden huffed a laugh, and his arm curled around my side before he pressed a kiss on the top of my head. I tend to have that effect on the people close to you, don’t I? he huffed jokingly.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t deny it.
He added, distractedly, placing another kiss against my hair, You still smell like fresh dye.
Or the after treatment. Which must’ve been a leftover from yesterday’s last-minute attempt to freshen up the color.
Not every day were you invited to a billionaire’s estate—even if your boyfriend’s best friend was dating said billionaire.
So do you, then, I countered, because we’d thought, if we’re already dyeing my hair, we might as well do his.
Our hair-dyeing fit had resulted in a freshly blond buzzcut at three in morning, when we’d finally been done. My cherry-red hair had already been dry when we’d collapsed into bed, only to be woken up five hours later by our alarm to pick Lisa up from the airport.
I snuck a quick kiss to his lips before turning back, watching my sister hesitantly parting the crowd. I nodded toward the glass in her hand. Hopefully that’s sparkling water?
Which got me the sixth judgy look of the night before she added, Don’t be weird, Valentina.
Of course, I thought, but I couldn’t help but feel good when she decided to lean against the wall beside me regardless. I eyed her carefully, watched her smack her lips in disgust, grimacing as she wiped the champagne taste from her lips. I didn’t comment.
Caden excused himself with an apologetic glance, then hurried over to Dylan and Athalia on the other side of the room, presumably to thank them for letting us stay the night in one of the approximately one-thousand guest rooms.
Alfie’s Summerhouse was nothing compared to this.
Sofas and tables had been moved (to God knows where) and the large entrance, connected with the living room, served as the main space of the entire party. Marble floors, shiny chandeliers, a front of windows overlooking the garden, the pool, the rose bushes.
Dylan and Athalia stood by the glass front, chatting and laughing with her brother, Henry, his arm around a beautiful brunette, curly hair in an updo.
The ring on her finger, diamond probably visible all the way from the moon, shimmered in the low light whenever she scratched her neck or tugged a strand of hair behind her ear or generally just gestured.
With everything I’d heard about Henry Pressley, that was probably the point.
Lisa sighed beside me, and the sound immediately drew my gaze to her—usually a sigh meant bored or disappointed or unhappy, and I couldn’t have her be any of those. I was supposed to be cool sister right now. Cool sister who took her to cool parties. Parties that were fun, not boring.
But her eyes flicked across the space, and she didn’t look bored at all. Finally, she said, This is disgusting, as she raised her glass in emphasis. How do you manage to keep it down at all?
It was stupid, I knew that. But this was the first time my sister had asked for advice on anything.
The first time she’d voluntarily engaged with me, without necessarily wanting something.
I’d always chalked it up to age, puberty, and our not-quite-usual upbringing, and hoped she might grow out of her dislike for me.
Maybe I’d been right—and maybe hoping hadn’t been completely… hopeless.
I huffed in amusement. Anni always says… Muss nicht schmecken, muss wirken. Or something like that. I was sure I’d butchered the German pronunciation horribly. Which roughly translates to: Doesn’t have to taste good, it just has to work. Meaning—
As long as you get buzzed, it’s worth it.
Exactly. Just don’t tell anyone I’m giving an underaged girl drinking advice.
She laughed—actually laughed—then held out her pinky for a promise. I was almost too stunned to reciprocate, and probably caught it a second before she would’ve pulled back.
Promise, she snickered, then sighed again. This time, my alarm bells didn’t go off. As furiously, at least.
Lisa’s lips thinned, and despite herself, she took another sip of champagne. She tried to hide her first reaction, which would’ve probably been a disgusted shiver. I wish we’d always been like this, she said after a while.
Although her tone was casual, the rest of her screamed the opposite. She was stiff, absentmindedly played with her earring, took another sip to seem busy. Identical to my telltale signs of nerves and anxiety. Like what?
Close. The clarification shot out of her. Closer, at least.
Seriously? And I couldn’t help the tinge of annoyance in my tone. You’ve been pushing me away since you learned how to push, Lisa.
My sister rolled her eyes, let one hand glide across her sleek hair. Because you never acted like a sister. Because it was always do-your-dishes-this, clean-your-room-that. Have you done your homework? When are you coming home? Have you heard from colleges?
Come on— I tried to argue. That’s not fair, and you know it.
With Mom being at least emotionally absent, Dad being physically absent, too.
What was I supposed to do? Run the whole thing by myself?
Not expect you to do the bare minimum? Now I took another sip of champagne for comfort— and accidentally drained the whole glass.
Not give a shit about you or your future?
No. I don’t know. Lisa sighed again. I guess I just wish I’d known earlier that I had this cool sister who gets invited to amazing parties, has a perfect boyfriend, and lets me drink underaged. Not just a second Mom.
Cool sister. Perfect boyfriend, too—but cool sister had come first, so that must’ve meant something.
Don’t tell anyone about the drinking, I repeated, my warning draped in amusement. I’m serious. I wagged a finger at her, and she giggled.
Giggled like she had when she’d been barely old enough to, and Dad had still been there, Mom had still been fine, and Lisa had still liked me.
Back when I was still allowed to be a kid.
Before I’d become that second Mom to Lisa, and she’d kind of lost her big sister in the process.
It had been necessary, yes, but that didn’t mean it had been fair for either of us.
I’m sorry, I said, but to my surprise, Lisa shook her head, rolled her eyes in amusement and sincerity alike.
You’re always sorry, Valentina. Maybe it’s time to demand some apologies, for a change.
Which I’d take as her own stubborn way of apologizing. Reaching the height of puberty, I probably wouldn’t get more out of her.
Before I thanked her, or—God forbid—started crying, two strong, familiar arms wrapped around my waist, pulled me into an even more familiar body behind me, accompanied by the faint smell of hair dye and conditioner.
Caden placed a kiss on my cheek, and Lisa, demonstratively, turned back to the crowd.
I agree with her, he whispered into my ear, lips grazing my skin. Demand apologies for a change, sweetheart. Also, he added, You said you guys don’t really get along, but… Caden trailed off, and I shrugged, turned until his blue eyes met mine.
Apparently, she realized I’m cool, I pretend-bragged. She didn’t know her sister gets invited to cool parties and has a perfect boyfriend.
Perfect, huh?
My eyes rolled at the way he wiggled his brows, but I couldn’t help my laugh. I never could, when Caden was involved. The past four months had been giggles and smiles and giggles again. Even though we didn’t see each other nearly as often as we’d like.
There were FaceTime dates every Wednesday, where we’d cook the same meal, and eat it watching the same show—and we weren’t allowed to watch it without the other.
Fridays he’d get to HBU around ten, and he’d always bring me a new book to read the following week, while he was gone; it’s dramatically upped my reading game, and I might actually hit my goal by the end of the year, even if I’d been much less productive on Oakport.
Some weekends, we’d watch an HBU game or go out with Iris, Alfie and Anni—all doing a graduate program—others we’d only move out of my bed to get the food we’d ordered. Balanced, cozy, perfect.
Perfect, I repeated. Or so she says.
Caden snickered, kissed me, then pulled me into his chest, like he might never want to let go again. Despite the crowd around us, despite the loud music and chatter and drunken yells, for a moment it felt like there was no one else. Just us.
And although I knew perfect people didn’t exist, and perfect moments were rare, any moment spent with him felt a little like one of them. Every time our eyes connected, and he smiled and called me Val, or baby, or sweetheart, I had to remind myself that I did deserve this.
Caden had taught me how to let go, fall, and trust that someone was there to catch me, no matter what. That I was worthy of love, and from him, I could demand it—take what I needed and more, without the fear of losing him.
That I loved him just as much as he loved me, and that we both deserved exactly that kind of love. Not perfect, but special.
Calm, fun—and one of a kind.