epilogue
forever moonstruck
Was there such a thing as crying yourself to death?
I’d asked myself that a lot over the past year and a half, during which there’d been many times when I was sure I was close to finding out. But unlike those times, this one held no sadness.
“You’re lying!” I cried, literally, though my smile was the widest one in the history of smiles.
I heard Patrick laugh down the line. I don't think I'd ever actually heard him laugh before. But it was sweet, and kind, and full of joy.
I suppose that goes for most things in my life right now.
His chuckles settled. "Let me get this straight, Cora. First it's my manners, then my intelligence, and now you're flat-out accusing me of lying?" His laughs came back to life. "You are a wonderfully complicated creature, you know that?"
"I had a hunch." My laugh mingled with my sniffle. I brushed my hand over my nose, then caught the tear that had slipped before it fell over the apple of my cheek. "But… just tell me. One more time. Before I wake up from whatever dream this is."
His sigh was filled with nothing but glee. I knew him well enough now to know that. "Cora, the Nouvelle committee would like for you to have the scholarship."
My eyes squeezed shut, making room for the firework display lighting up in my head. The same show was making my heart beat like someone had sped it up, and before I fell to the floor, I slipped down the door, perching myself on the top step of our porch.
It had been three days since the gala. Three days since I last saw my father.
And three days since I was rudely stolen away from the night I'd waited for ever since stepping foot in this city.
In a strange twist of fate, the gala suffered a power outage ten minutes before they were supposed to announce the winners.
Part of it felt planned, but I didn't really care.
All it meant to me was that I didn't miss finding out whether what I'd dreamed about for months was finally mine.
"It's mine." I replied down the phone, turning it into something real.
"All yours, Cora." Patrick repeated, before clearing his throat. "Now we just wanted to make sure that your choice of city for the scholarship was still the same."
I nodded, like he could see me. "It is."
"Wonderful. We'll start with the accommodation arrangements." Something rustled down the line before Patrick's voice was clear again. "And, Cora, before I go, I just wanted to tell you that you really do deserve this."
That silenced me. "Thank you, Patrick."
"I just got the sense that somewhere along this next year you'll try and convince yourself otherwise, and when you do, think back to this for me, okay?"
I felt my dimples deepen and my smile ache, and as my head rested back against the door, my eyes traced the clouds. "I promise."
That conversation happened ten minutes ago, and I was still sitting outside, my back against the door, my head heavy and my face wet from the slow river of tears.
Happy tears had been a rare thing for me. You should have clocked that by now. So I wasn't in any kind of rush to wipe them away, even now, when it was barely 43 degrees. I half wanted them to freeze; they'd serve as a permanent reminder of what today meant.
The Nouvelle Muse scholarship was mine. My paintings were good enough. They held potential. And that was all I'd ever wanted them to show. That I was trying, and I wouldn't stop until I had a life for myself that I truly loved living in.
And I felt that life beginning right now.
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
Once upon a time I was so scared to open my windows. An open window let in the cold, and I was perfectly happy staying warm, and safe. But one day, I decided to open that window.
And the breeze was so gentle.
Marcus was the breeze I didn't know I needed.
My eyes glided down to find him. He was pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head, his white shirt, under his leather jacket, rising just above his ab line on his stomach as he did.
His smile made his cheeks pop and his dimples deepen.
And when he saw mine, his eyes did that thing that I missed the first couple of times.
They widened a fraction. They did every time he was genuinely happy.
And when I caught it happening when he looked at me? I was a goner.
"I'm just appreciating this point of view." I looked around. "It's nice. I might sit out here more often."
He climbed up the steps, his head dropping, face scrunching as he let a laugh slip. Soon his eyes were back on me, right as he offered me a hand and pulled me up until I was standing under him.
"What are you really doing out here?"
I blinked up at him, completely awestruck. "It's mine."
His eyes bounced between mine, a hopeless smile curving. "Yes."
"The scholarship."
Somebody pinch me.
"It's mine. I did it, and… it's all mine, Marcus."
Before I had time to suck in a breath, his arms wrapped around my thighs, and I was hoisted in the frosty air, spinning around, the breeze catching in my hair.
"Cora fucking Holland I knew it! I knew you could do it, angel!"
Giggles spewed out of me as I watched him, my hands clutching his neck, and my eyes traced every ounce of happiness that deepened his smile.
When he finally set me down, his hands lingered at my waist, holding me steady as the world kept spinning. My breath came out in clouds, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my heart thudded so loud it drowned out everything else.
“I can’t believe it,” I breathed, hand on my chest. “Marcus, I actually did it. I got the scholarship.”
He was beaming, eyes glinting in the porch light. “You earned it. Every second, every night, you tried and fought—this is yours, angel.”
The warmth in his voice made my throat tighten. He’d been there for every moment I wanted to quit, every time I’d thought I wasn’t enough. And now—this.
But then something shifted behind his eyes, subtle and small. A flicker of realisation that changed the air between us.
“Wait,” he said softly. “Have you… chosen where you’ll study?”
I blinked, my smile faltering just a little. “Yeah,” I said. “London.”
The word drifted into the cold, curling in the air between us like smoke.
His grin wavered, just for a second, before he forced it back, gentler now. “London,” he repeated, his voice quieter. “That’s… amazing.”
“It feels like home,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “That trip… it reminded me of how in love with it I still am."
He nodded, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “You should go." He nodded down at me. "You deserve that, Cora. You deserve to chase it all.”
“I’m not letting you go, Marcus.” The words came out small but certain. "Just in case you thought—"
"I'm not going anywhere." His gaze softened instantly, something deep and steady flickering there as his hand slid to my jaw. “I'm going to watch you take on the world on your own, because you can." The soft pad of his thumb skimmed my cheek. "And when I miss you—"
"You call me."
He nodded. "I'll call you."
My face scrunched. "I am also demanding that you visit me at least once a month. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've grown rather fond of you."
Marcus' head shook as he licked away my favourite smile. "I had a hunch." Suddenly my hand was in his, the back of it pressed against his mouth like a promise. "I'll fly to you whenever, if you need me…"
I nodded, tracing the stars in his eyes. "I'll call."
He leaned in before I could blink—slow, sure, heartbreak threaded through every inch of him. His other hand slipped behind my neck, fingers splayed against my skin, holding me like he was trying to memorise the feel of me before I slipped away.
When his lips found mine, it wasn’t desperate. It was steady. Certain. A goodbye wrapped in a vow. The kind of kiss that said I’ll wait. I’ll be there.
My fingers fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer, unwilling to let the world rush between us just yet. He tasted like winter and everything I’d ever trusted.
When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, breaths mingling in the cold. He didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t need to.
Because this wasn’t goodbye. Not for us.
But I couldn’t say the same for my friends.
I wasn’t coming back until halfway through senior year, and though my chest ached at the thought, I felt wind-swept too—like the storm had passed and left something new in its wake. We’d been through so much, all of us. Love, loss, beginnings that never stopped shaking the ground beneath us.
And somehow, even as I stood there under the porch light, his kiss still warm on my lips, I could feel it—something was already shifting.
Especially for Daisy.