Epilogue
LIZA: THREE YEARS LATER
Three years later, cinnamon is still part of our mornings.
Sometimes it's in my oatmeal. Sometimes it's in the bread Cassian bakes on his days off. Sometimes it's simply there in the air, a memory worked into the walls of our home.
The first thing I hear is the thump of Cassian's boots on the porch steps as he retrieves the paper, followed by the wet flick of a towel as he dries off Morticia, his faithful black lab puppy, who insists on soaking herself in the bay grass before every sunrise.
From my vantage point in bed, I can tell which side of the dog is getting the rubdown by the volume of her pleased groans.
Some mornings still feel dreamlike.
Then Cassian walks in, already looking for me.
The sound of his voice and the certainty of his gaze make everything feel real again.
Today, we're hosting a baby shower.
By six o'clock, I'm in the kitchen making deviled eggs and trying to anticipate disasters before they happen. Will anyone remember Alaric's wife is allergic to dairy? Will Cassian remember to hide the vintage wine from Zadok?
I'm not nervous.
I am absolutely nervous.
I've organized town festivals, negotiated coven disputes, and somehow survived Blackthorn Bay's annual summer-solstice potluck. But this is different.
This is the first thing we're doing as a family.
A growing family.
There's no hiding my belly anymore. As Zadok so eloquently announced at last week's board meeting, I am "voluptuously with child."
Cassian nearly killed him.
I nearly killed Cassian for nearly killing him.
He finds me cracking eggs at the counter and immediately settles a hand against my stomach.
"Did the ghosts make coffee again?"
I gesture toward the carafe.
"They did."
Cassian eyes it suspiciously.
Three years later, Theodore and Emily still appear whenever they please.
Mostly to meddle.
Sometimes to make coffee.
Occasionally both.
Cassian pours himself a mug and takes a sip.
"I prefer your blend."
"But you'll drink any blend."
He leans down and brushes a kiss against my temple.
"I'd eat glass if you put cinnamon on it."
"It's almost charming."
"Almost?"
"Don't push it."
By noon, the house is full.
Guests arrive carrying gifts that would seem alarming anywhere but Blackthorn Bay. Cloth diapers enchanted never to mildew. Handmade blankets. Enough baked goods to feed a small army.
Zadok arrives carrying a card that reads CONGRATULATIONS, FERTILE ONES in enormous block letters.
Naturally.
Theodore and Emily appear shortly after lunch.
They don't eat. They simply hover nearby, holding hands and looking entirely too pleased with themselves.
Emily tells me she's happy for us no fewer than six times.
Theodore spends most of the afternoon watching the party with the satisfaction of a man whose matchmaking scheme somehow worked. But that doesn’t keep him from offering Gomez the requisite chin rubs.
Eventually, Cassian leans close and murmurs, "I'm mostly fine with the ghosts now."
"Mostly?"
"Emily's perfume still unnerves me."
I laugh so hard I nearly spill my punch.
Later, when the crowd is distracted by cake and presents, I find Cassian outside near the fence line.
He's staring out at the bay.
The wind moves through the clover around his boots.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then I slip my hand into his.
His fingers tighten automatically.
"Penny for your thoughts?" I ask.
He takes his time answering.
"I spent centuries wondering what I'd do if I ever got to stop running."
I glance at him.
His gaze remains fixed on the water.
"Turns out I'm pretty good at standing still."
Something inside me cracks open.
Because standing still was never my gift.
There was always another problem to solve. Another plan to make.
But standing here beside him, I can't imagine wanting anything else.
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of cinnamon, saltwater, and woodsmoke from the house behind us.
Eventually we head back inside.
The kitchen is noisy with laughter. Children dart through the rooms. Someone has started a game in the living room.
Through the nursery door, I catch a glimpse of yellow walls, a bassinet, and enough magical diapers to survive an apocalypse.
For a moment, I picture the future.
Birthdays. School plays. Summer afternoons by the bay.
A child growing up in a town where monsters host fundraisers, ghosts make coffee, and nobody has to hide who they are.
Later, after the guests leave and the dishes are stacked, I catch Cassian watching me from across the room.
"I love you," he says.
Simple.
Certain.
It still surprises me how easily he says it now.
A man who once believed he was impossible to love.
I cross the room and take his hand.
"Love you more."
His eyebrow rises immediately.
"I doubt it, Morales."
But I can tell he believes me.
After dark, the bay becomes silver and shadow.
Gomez patrols the house, still convinced paper scraps are his mortal enemy. Morticia follows closely behind, always dying for his approval.
I sit beside the window and watch the stars appear.
Years ago, I believed in hard work and luck.
Now I believe in ghosts.
In werewolves.
In cinnamon in coffee.
In the world's remarkable capacity for kindness.
Most of all, I believe in home.
Cassian comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.
In the glass, I see our reflection.
A little older. A little softer. And blissfully happy.
"We're good at this," I say.
His answering grunt translates easily.
Yes. Thank you. Stay right here.
Outside, the bay sighs beneath the weight of tomorrow.
I close my eyes and listen.
And for once, I am perfectly content to wait for morning.
THE END
Follow up with INFERNAL AFFAIRS, Releasing June 30!