Epilogue Two
ISOLDE
Three Years Later
The room is dark. The ceiling fan makes a whirling sound. The large T-shirt I wore to bed is now tangled around my torso, I’ve slept so hard.
I’m not sure if it’s the cat jumping up that wakes me first or the urge to go to the bathroom. It doesn’t matter, my eyes open.
A black and white cat slinks between my legs, heading toward Tristan’s side. The other one, aptly named Calico, is most likely hidden under the bed, in her favorite spot.
It’s peaceful in the night, and when I check my phone, I’m delighted to note there are still several more hours to go before I truly have to wake up.
“Isolde,” Tristan mumbles, his arm stretching across the bed, fingers spreading to indicate I should take his hand.
“Hold on.” I go to the bathroom, keeping the light off and my movements quiet.
I tiptoe back to bed, the sheets rustling as I climb back in.
Tristan—eyes still closed—grabs me, tucking me to his side. I allow it, not even minding his body heat as I curl up against him. My hands smooth down his arm, resting over a tattoo right above his inner elbow.
Cursive script reads: Sammie.
Tristan got it done years ago, showing up one day with it. Most girls wouldn’t be pleased if their man showed up with another girl's name on them. I was delighted, this seemingly small tattoo holding significance that I can’t always explain.
What is it like moving on without someone you loved?
Some days are hard. Reminders poke into you, making you realize that your shield doesn’t always protect you. But on other days, life is a blur of laughter and goodness.
It’s easier to mention my sister, but I also don’t feel as guilty on the days when I don’t.
I never see her anymore. Not her phantom image.
I think about the tarmac. About the image of Sammie.
Sometimes I get mad, thinking that was the last time I saw her ghost. I had to explain to my therapist, and later on to Tristan, that in the aftermath of the Spider, I was more upset that this was the final time I saw Sammie than the fact that I got shot.
I thought they would make fun of me. But they didn’t judge me for my feelings—they just listened. And in Tristan’s case, he pulled me into a hug.
I think Sammie knew I still needed her. And maybe she needed me too. I’m the type of person that believes one day I’ll see her again because it gives me hope.
Tristan kisses my forehead, pulling me into his side. I’ve seen his schedule for the upcoming day, and it’s chaos. But then again, Ren and I have a packed day at Fujimori’s too.
That means I’ll try to savor all the moments I can with Tristan. I’ve already decided I’ll wake him up with my hand around his cock.
Afterward, he’ll make us breakfast like always. We’re that old married couple, too busy to talk much during the day. Though, no doubt, he’ll text me about something Luis did. Then he’ll meet me at Fujimori’s for dinner.
I liked my days as a triggerman, but hanging out and getting paid to work with all my friends comes with a lot of benefits.
Though, it’s not happiness all day, every day. There are moments of sadness, gray and blue bits, that sometimes last thirty seconds and other times last longer.
But I am grateful as I curl up next to Tristan, knowing that overall I am safe and content in this place I call home.