Epilogue ZACHERY IN MOONLIGHT
Six months later
The tiny bar is packed from wall to wall. I move through the crowd, accepting handshakes and thumps on the back.
“Zachery!” Jester cries. He’s sitting on the bar. Not at it. On it. His pale-yellow suit against all the dark wood makes him look like a baby chick in a nest. He presses a hand to his chest and sings the first line of my opening number. “The moon in the night has been shining down right on my heart!”
He’s drunk. Totally drunk.
I give him a little salute, not sure I can make it all the way to the counter, which is three deep with people trying to shout their orders.
I look for Kelsey. I finally spot her talking to Mike McKenzie, the producer of Monday by Moonlight , no doubt already working on our next casting contract. She bowed out of this one when I got cast to avoid a conflict of interest.
She plays by the rules, that’s for sure.
We’ve developed one of the deepest, most thorough rosters in the business. The new agency moved into the black right after the end of its first year, and it’s all due to her.
She’s a marvel.
We even broke in my dressing room earlier today, a few hours before the opening-night events began. It was a killer way to start my comeback—Kelsey bent over the makeup counter, facing the mirror. I got to take in every inch of her as I slid inside. I love watching the rosy blush spread across her chest.
It will never get old.
She notices me and waves me over. When I’m closer, I realize my mother is with them, all five feet of her almost disappearing in the crowd despite her stilettos.
“Mom!” I pick her up with a hug.
My dad and sister approach from the bar side, trying not to spill drinks as they make their way toward us.
“My beautiful Zachery,” Mom says, pressing her hands to my face as I set her down. “I was talking to your producer. They’re thrilled to have you in their musical.”
Mike grins at Mom. “What I wouldn’t give to see the two of you in a mother-son role. We just have to find the right story!”
Mom can’t fight back her smile. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
“It sure would.” Dad hands a drink to her. “You were terrific, son. Just amazing.”
Anya shrugs in her usual sisterly way. “You were decent.”
Mom elbows her. “Coming from the woman who more than decently took over a Fortune 500 company at age thirty-seven, while pregnant!”
“And popped out the cutest nephew I could have imagined four hours after staving off a media storm,” I add, accepting a glass of champagne from Kelsey, half-empty of course. She’s been sipping from both of them.
I don’t mind.
“She’s brilliant!” Mom says. “My beautiful, perfect children!”
“I’ll let your family celebrate,” Mike says, lifting his empty glass. “Epic opening night, Zachery. Everyone is pleased.” He heads into the fray near the bar.
Kelsey wraps an arm around my waist. “Best match of role to actor I’ve ever done.”
“Unlike that disastrous sculptor movie,” Mom says. “What was it called, darling?” She turns to Dad. “ Terrible Fate ?”
“ Limited Fate ,” Dad says. “What a shame. It had such potential. The couple had no chemistry.”
I glance over at Kelsey. She sighs but says nothing. Drake Underwood hired someone else to cast it in the end. Jason went on to make another action movie. Gayle hasn’t appeared in any projects since Netflix.
Desdemona still does her thing, torturing her new staff. But the crossover between Hollywood and Broadway is minimal. We got a new start.
From the back corner, a chorus of singing begins. My stomach tightens. It’s time.
It’s not that I doubt the outcome of what’s about to happen, but I did invite some unexpected people, and I don’t know how that will play out.
The singing gets louder and louder.
Jester stands up on the bar, moving his arms as if he’s conducting them. I didn’t count on that, either.
The bartender nearest to him tugs at his pant leg, but he is undeterred. More people start to realize a song is starting, and the room quiets.
The rest of the cast of Monday by Moonlight filters in, stuffing the room even more tightly. The crowd parts as best they can as they make their way to me.
“What’s this?” Kelsey asks, but then she goes still.
I follow her gaze. And there they are. The missing siblings. Sid, Vanessa, Alana, and Cal. Cal’s wife, Katie, stayed behind with Kelsey’s father, who said he didn’t have time for a foolish trip to New York when there were cows to tend.
I hope she doesn’t feel disappointed that he didn’t make it.
Her arm on my waist tightens. “You brought them here?”
I squeeze her back. “This is your success as much as mine.”
Her eyes fill up; then that’s it, she’s gone, rushing to embrace her youngest sister first, then gathering in the others. The oldest, Cal, seems a little abashed at the emotion but allows himself to be brought into their group hug.
The photographer I hired for tonight joins Jester on the bar so he can get shots. The bartender lifts his arms in a “what gives” gesture, but mainly he and the other workers are swamped, so he lets it go.
The sound grows louder as the singers find their way to the center of the room. They’ve started with the opening number, but when it’s time for me to come in, they transition into a song from the middle of the musical that doesn’t require my participation.
It’s a slower, more thoughtful number about nighttime being when the shadows come, bringing doubt about what is true.
The siblings walk Kelsey back to me.
“This is such a surprise,” she whispers in my ear. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your dad wouldn’t come.”
She shrugs. “He probably would have ruined it anyway. Thank you.”
She kisses my cheek.
Then the song shifts to the finale. Kelsey’s siblings help part the group at the bar so I can lead Kelsey toward it. I climb up on the wood chair, then onto the counter, exasperating the bartender even more.
Cal helps Kelsey follow me up, and when she arrives, I get down on one knee.
The singers shift to a low hum, a buzz of song in the background.
Kelsey’s hands go to her cheeks. “Zachery?”
“Kelsey Whitaker, you hold the supreme gift of pairing a person with their destiny. Sometimes it’s in movies, other times onstage. But on a summer night in Colorado a long time ago, you asked me a question that made me realize there was something more to me and you than coworkers.”
Several whoops come from the crowd.
Her cheeks pink up. “I know you’re not about to talk about that night.”
I chuckle. “Thankfully, the tabloids aren’t nearly so interested in stories about Broadway singers.”
Now she laughs. “True.”
“You have shown me who I can be. Not the joke I thought I had become. But the real me. The person who cares. Who can love.”
Kelsey brushes her hand across my cheek. “You always could.”
“But I chose not to, until you.”
I turn to Jester, who’s making his way along the bar. “Excuse me, hey now, oooh, I like you.” He’s working the whole crowd. He arrives, tugging a black velvet box from his pocket. “I believe you need this.”
Kelsey shakes her head at him and leans down to kiss his cheek. “Somebody help our dear friend down.”
Cal and my father take Jester’s arms and lift him off the bar and to the ground.
“But I was going to do a little dance,” he says to a smattering of laughter.
The singers get louder, the happy lilt of the final number coming around a second time.
I open the box to reveal a ring that would be ostentatious in Hollywood, but I know Kelsey will melt over.
And she does, her jaw dropping. “Zachery!”
“Kelsey Whitaker, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, to love and cherish as long as I live?”
She holds my gaze a moment. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
Another cheer goes up, and the singers break out in full belting chorus. “The moonlight at night gives way to the bright sun of morning!”
I slip the ring on her finger, then stand up to gather her in my arms.
When I kiss her, it’s familiar and new all at the same time. I never intended to get here, never thought anyone would see past my facade.
But this golden girl from Tinseltown is the one who knew me all along.
And we may have written the script in all the wrong ways, but it didn’t matter.
Because every love story is different.
And this is the next page in ours.