Epilogue
Eighteen months later
The theater’s dark, and everyone’s silent. Not even the sound of popcorn is interrupting the hero’s monologue. While the music builds, I squeeze Noah’s hand, not even blinking as I watch the movie . . . my movie.
“Honeysuckle, we’re gonna be just fine because we’ve always got each other.”
The camera pans to the sunset as the two actors kiss passionately before fading out. Applause erupts, and I smile as I turn my head toward Noah.
He smiles back. “Okay . . . ‘honeysuckle,’ though?”
I chuckle playfully and smack his shoulder. “I had to pick my battles.”
Over a year ago, as therapy, I wrote our real life into a screenplay.
It was this weird kind of empowering idea I had one night as I colored Noah’s tattoos.
The journey to find my birth parents and stop shaming myself for wanting a deeper self-discovery had definitely turned left when I’d turned right, but in the end, it made me realize that I decide who I am and what that means.
Nobody else. I guess I had to go through it all to finally find me.
I suppose it was relatable because, atypically of Hollywood, not only was it picked up immediately, but the movie was made in record time.
So today Noah and I invited those closest to us to a private screening before the release date.
The lights come up as my mom leans forward from the seats behind us.
“Baby, I loved it. But I also hate it because when I think back to what could’ve happened . . .”
She’s crying again. I stand from my seat and turn to hug her. “Mom, I’m okay and alive.”
She hugs me back before releasing me to rub Noah’s shoulder.
“I know, and I have my favorite son-in-law to thank for that.”
He gives her a wink. Telling my parents all the gruesome details was awful, but for Noah it was worse because he still felt responsible. However, in true Camilla and Stephen glory, not only did they understand, but they also welcomed him into our family without ever second-guessing their decision.
Chase leans over him, looking at me with his brows raised.
“I personally would like to say thank you for the accurate representation of my character. Because I think we can all agree he’s a bit of a scene stealer. And a hunk.”
“Oh my god. Why did you invite him?” Evie groans as my dad taps her leg, giving her a subtle hint to be nicer.
She won’t be. It doesn’t matter that Chase saved her life. I laugh and wrap my arms around Noah’s neck as he stands up.
He looks down at me, adoringly, as I say, “Hey, thanks for being such a sexy muse.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Adler.”
I smile wider.
Noah pats my ass. “I’m gonna go talk to my friends for a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”
I nod. “’Kay, I’m gonna head to the bathroom anyway. Meet me out in the lobby?”
I start to leave, then look back over my shoulder, “Grab some of those chocolate-covered raisins for me, too, please.”
“Done, Rexy.”
My smile never leaves as I leave the theater. I glance back at him, loving watching him just being a normal guy with his friends. I run my hands through my hair and get lost in my happy thoughts as I walk to the ladies’ room.
The theater is empty and quiet, a small neighborhood one in the Southern California town we now split our time living in as we shuttle between Los Angeles and Boston.
Since Noah’s new design job came with the luxury of working from home, we’re now bicoastal.
He can still peek his head into the Los Angeles office without having to move from our beloved Beacon Hill.
My palm hits the bathroom door as I push it open. The quiet hits me again, with only the sound of my footsteps echoing over the tile.
I push against the first stall door, but it’s locked, which makes me frown and bend to look underneath—no feet.
“Huh,” I say to myself, thinking it’s probably out of order.
I look over at the mirrors and check out my hair as I walk a few more doors down and push one open.
It gives, so I walk inside and lock the door. I pull a seat cover out, place it over the porcelain, and shimmy my jeans and panties down. I’m humming to myself as I sit and relieve my bladder, but as I reach for the paper, a loud bang interrupts my thoughts.
The paper sits idle in my hand. “Hello?”
Nothing. No answer, no sound. I bend forward between my legs to look, but I don’t see anything or anyone.
I wipe quickly before I stand, and my hand hangs in the air in front of the lock as panic sets in.
I’m fine. I’m fine. There are no monsters, just the here and now.
But I take a deep, shaky breath, open the stall, and step out quickly.
The room’s empty. I shift as I look around with a frown. My eyes go from mirror to mirror, peering through them to each stall, before I land on the farthest one away.
Seconds feel like minutes, and my body feels chilled as if my veins are on ice.
The door is slightly ajar, but none of them were when I came in.
Slowly I bend down again and look under the stalls, seeing nothing, so I put one foot in front of the other as I walk toward the cracked bathroom stall door.
The sound of my pulse throbs in my ears as I get closer. My fingers twitch because my hand is shaking as I reach out. Just my fingertips lead the way as I push it open slowly, trembling on the inside.
Go. Look. Do it.
I step quickly into view, just as the bathroom door swings open, hitting the wall with a bang. “Goldie.”
I scream, hand over my heart, as I jump what feels like ten feet in the air.
“Oh my god. What is wrong with you?” I rush out.
My sister’s standing in the entrance of the bathroom, looking at me like I’m insane. But that’s fair, because I’m breathless and scared shitless as I glare at her.
“Sorry . . . I have to pee. What are you doing?”
I tuck my hair behind my ears. “I was . . . nothing.”
She shrugs as she walks toward the stall that’s out of order. “Wait for me . . . Mom’s trying to make a love connection with me and Chase again. I swear she’d force an arranged marriage just because he was stabbed in the leg.”
I chuckle as I point to where she’s walking. “That’s out of—”
Before I can finish, the door squeaks open, making me frown, but as she turns her head, Evie lets out a bloodcurdling scream.
My heart stops and drops into my stomach as I run to her, and we both stare inside, clutching each other as fear takes control.
A human heart has been staked to the wall, blood dripping down to the floor.
My eyes lift to the wall. Two words smeared above.
She’s mine.