Epilogue
Chapter Forty-Seven
I'm sitting on the patio of Betty's Burgers with Colleen and Claudia. The spring sun warms my shoulders, and Amadeus lounges at my feet, already bigger than I ever imagined he'd get.
"Can I pet him?" Claudia asks, her voice lighter than I've heard it in months.
"He'd be offended if you didn't."
She crouches down, and Amadeus immediately rolls onto his back, tail thumping the concrete. She laughs and scratches his belly.
Colleen watches her niece with tears in her eyes. She catches me looking and mouths, Thank you.
I shake my head. Don't.
But she does this every time.
"So how's Julian?" Colleen asks, sipping her iced tea.
"Good. Really good, actually." I steal a fry from Claudia's plate. "His hand's totally healed. He's been playing three nights a week at The Blue Note, and he picked up a wedding gig next month."
"That's wonderful."
"And the charges?" Claudia looks up from Amadeus, her expression cautious. She always gets quiet when Daniel comes up.
"All dropped." Relief floods through me every time I say it. "Self-defense. The judge was really understanding, especially after everything came out about Daniel. We got community service for the break-in, but that's it. Forty hours each."
"That's nothing," Colleen says.
"Raine didn't get anything," I add. "We never mentioned him, and the cops had no idea he was there."
Claudia smirks. "Your techie friend sounds like a genius."
"He's something, all right."
She goes back to petting Amadeus, and I study her. She looks so much healthier now—color in her cheeks, her hair shiny and pulled into a ponytail.
Turns out Daniel had taken her because she'd been planning to tell her aunt everything about their relationship, despite having promised him—sworn to him—that she would never breathe a word to anyone.
He knew exactly how old she was. He knew she was only fifteen.
He knew perfectly well that he might be facing statutory rape charges if the truth came out, that he'd become the local town scandal, the subject of endless gossip and whispered conversations.
A man like Daniel, with his carefully constructed reputation and his need for control, would never stand for that kind of exposure. He couldn't allow it. So he'd taken her, hidden her away, tried to make her disappear rather than face the consequences of what he'd done.
At least he didn't murder her—that's what I keep telling myself, though the thought brings little comfort.
If Daniel were still alive, and things had continued the way they were going, if no one had found her, if she'd stayed hidden away in that basement apartment for weeks or months longer…
I can't help but think what he might have done eventually.
The way his mind worked, the way he justified everything to himself, the way he saw people as possessions to be controlled rather than human beings with their own agency.
He may have eventually killed her—it wouldn't have been much of a leap.
Not for someone like Daniel. Not for a man who could look a fifteen-year-old girl in the eye and convince himself he had the right to take everything from her.
I shake my head at the thought. “How's school?" I ask Claudia.
"Weird." She shrugs. "Everyone stares. I'm, like, famous now. The girl who got kidnapped and survived."
"That must be hard."
"Sometimes." She meets my eyes. "But also… I don't hate it? Is that bad?"
"Not at all."
Colleen squeezes her hand. "You're allowed to feel however you feel, sweetheart."
Claudia nods, then grins. "Plus, this guy in my English class asked me out."
"Oh?"
"His name's Marcus. He's really sweet."
I smile. "That's great, Claudia."
She looks down at Amadeus again, scratching behind his ears. "Thanks for lunch, Liza. And for… you know. Everything."
My throat tightens. "Anytime."
The lemon chicken turned out better than I expected—crispy skin, tender meat, just the right amount of garlic. Jenna's recipe didn't fail me.
Julian raises his wine glass. "To you. Best chef in Cumberland."
"Liar. But I'll take it."
We clink glasses, the sound delicate and perfect. Candles flicker between us, casting shadows across his beautiful face. The place smells like rosemary and butter and something undeniably us.
"So," I lean back, smug. "About that bet."
Julian groans. "Don't."
"The Sopranos. Six seasons. Not seven. I was right."
"You Googled it?”
“Yep.” I grin. "Fifteen-minute back massage. No wiggling out of it."
"I'm a man of my word."
An hour later, I'm face-down on the bed in just my underwear, the cool sheets soft against my skin. Julian's hands press into my shoulders, thumbs working small circles along my spine.
Amadeus is lazily stretched out on the floor beside the bed.
His eyes are half-closed, that blissful look dogs get when they're in their favorite spot.
He's been watching us the whole evening, from dinner prep to now, keeping his silent vigil.
He's always around us like this, a quiet presence that makes the place feel even more like home.
"Oh my God," I moan. "Where'd you learn this?"
"YouTube."
I laugh into the pillow. "Seriously?"
"Dead serious."
His hands slide lower, palms warm and firm, finding every knot. I melt into the mattress.
"Don't get too fresh now," I warn, though I wouldn't really mind.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
He works his way down, professional and thorough, and I'm in heaven. But then—
He pulls away.
"Hey." I lift my head. "It hasn't been fifteen minutes."
"Pretty sure it has."
"Julian, I swear—"
Something lands on my back. Light. Small.
I freeze.
"What—"
I reach back, curiosity spiking through me. My fingers brush against something small and soft—velvet. A box. A velvet box.
Oh my God.
My breath catches in my throat as I close my hand around it, feeling the plush texture, the slight weight of it. The shape is unmistakable. Square. Small. The kind of box that holds only one thing.
My heart stops.
I flip over, breathless, clutching the box like it might vanish. Julian kneels beside me, eyes dark and intense, a nervous smile tugging at his lips.
I open it.
White gold. Square diamond. Simple. Elegant. Perfect.
I squeal—an actual, embarrassing squeal.
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"
Julian laughs, relief flooding his face. "I haven't even asked—"
"Don't care. Yes."
I kneel beside him, hand shaking as he slides the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
We kiss, deep and urgent, my hands tangling in his hair. He pulls me close, arms tight around me like he's afraid I'll disappear.
"I'm going to make you the happiest woman on earth," he promises, a soft whisper against my lips.
"Ditto." I pull back, grinning. "I promise lots of blow jobs."
He bursts out laughing, burying his face in my neck.
"God, I love you."
"Love you too."
We collapse onto the bed, ring glinting in the candlelight, and for once—finally—everything feels exactly right.
About ten minutes later, Julian rolls onto his side, propped on one elbow, that mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"Hot tub?"
I trace the edge of my new ring, still can't stop looking at it. "Romantic."
"Very." He kisses my shoulder. "Let's make it a race."
I sit up. "What?"
"First one in the hot tub wins."
"Wins what?"
"Bragging rights."
I narrow my eyes. "You're on."
"On three." He springs off the bed. "One—"
"Wait, I need to—"
"Two—"
"Julian!"
"Three!"
He bolts for his dresser, yanking drawers open. I scramble off the bed, stumbling over Amadeus, who barks and wags his tail like this is the best game ever.
"Sorry, baby… “you’re going down!” I dart to my side of the closet, rummaging through swimsuits. Where the hell is my red bikini? The cute one with the ties?
Found it.
I yank off my underwear, hopping on one foot as I try to step into the bikini bottoms. Julian's already ready, black swim trunks on, pulling a towel from the linen closet.
"Cheater!" I call out.
"All's fair in love and war!”
The bikini top tangles in my hair. I curse, fingers fumbling with the strings behind my neck. One tie slips through, and I have to start over.
"Need help?" Julian appears in the doorway, smirking, towel slung over his shoulder.
"Don't you dare."
He laughs and disappears down the hall.
I finally get the damn thing tied, grab a towel, and sprint after him, but he's already out the back door, heading to the outside fire escape stairs, Amadeus eagerly following.
I follow, but can’t quite catch up.
He's lifting the cover when I finally get to the rooftop terrace.
"No fair!" I protest, breathless.
He slides into the water, sighing dramatically. "Ah, victory tastes sweet."
I drop my towel and climb in beside him, the heat wrapping me instantly. Bubbles swirl around us, steam rising into the cool night air.
"You cheated."
"I won."
"My bikini was tangled."
"Excuses." He pulls me onto his lap, arms circling my waist. "Face it, you lost."
I look down at the ring on my finger, sparkling even in the dim light.
"Guess I can live with it."
He kisses me, slow and deep, and I sink into him, into this moment, into everything we are.
The hot tub bubbles around us, steam rising into the cool evening air. Julian's arm rests across my shoulders, and I lean into him.
I study my hand and the beautiful ring on my finger. I can't stop looking at it, and I can't stop smiling.
"This rooftop deck is amazing," I say between sips of my wine.
"I know…" he agrees. "One of the reasons I bought the place."
I smile, brought back to what seems like ages ago. "I remember the first time I saw your place… I thought it was amazing… and I didn't even know about this little oasis."
He laughs. "I'm full of surprises… as you know."
"That you are."
We slip into comfortable silence, the only sounds the hot tub's gentle hum. I trace patterns in the water.
Hard to believe it's been only six months since that night at the convenience store, since I met this man who changed everything.
I kiss him, slow and deep, tasting wine and chlorine and something that feels like home.
Life feels perfect. Like everything finally clicked into place.
My phone buzzes on the deck.
"Ignore it," Julian murmurs against my lips.
But it keeps buzzing. I groan and reach for it, water dripping from my arm.
Jenna's name flashes across the screen.
"It's Jenna." I sit up. "She's due any day now."
Julian nods, and I answer.
"Hey—"
"I had the baby!" Jenna's voice cracks with exhaustion and joy.
"Oh my God! Congratulations! Is it a boy or girl?"
A pause. Then she laughs—tired but teasing. "You'll have to come see."
"Jenna—"
"Portland General. Room 412. Get your ass over here."
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone, then at Julian.
"She hung up on me."
He grins. "Classic Jenna."
"She won't tell me if it's a boy or girl."
"Then I guess we're going to Portland."
I laugh, setting down my wine. Amadeus lifts his head, tail wagging.
"Come on, boy." I climb out, water streaming down my legs. "We're going to meet a baby."
The hospital smells like antiseptic and floor polish—sterile but oddly comforting. Julian and I weave through the maze of hallways, Amadeus left reluctantly at home with a mountain of chew toys and stern instructions to behave.
"Do you think it's a boy or girl?" I ask for the millionth time.
Julian squeezes my hand. "Does it matter?"
"No. But I'm dying to know."
We stopped at the gift shop—a cramped little space crammed with balloons, stuffed animals, and wilting flowers. I grab a bouquet of yellow roses and white daisies. Cheerful but generic.
When we finally reach room 412, I knock softly before pushing the door open.
The room explodes with warmth and noise.
Caine stands by the window, all six-foot-two of him looking exhausted but radiant. Reeves sits in a chair near the bed, Liam perched on his lap, eyes wide with curiosity. Jenna's friend Clara hovers near the foot of the bed, phone in hand, probably snapping a thousand photos.
And Jenna.
My breath catches.
She's propped up in bed, hair messy, face glowing despite the obvious exhaustion. In her arms, wrapped in a soft pink blanket, is the tiniest, most perfect baby I've ever seen. A little pink beanie sits crooked on her head.
A girl.
"Oh my God," I whisper.
I want to cry. I seriously am going to cry.
I swallow, holding the tears in.
Jenna looks up, and her smile could light the entire hospital. "Get over here."
I cross the room in three steps, Julian close behind me. I set the flowers on the side table, then lean in, peering at the tiny scrunched face.
"She's beautiful, Jenna. Absolutely beautiful."
"Right?" Jenna's voice cracks. "I can't stop staring at her."
"What's her name?"
Jenna looks at Caine, who nods. "Elora."
"Elora." I repeat it softly, testing the weight of it. "That's stunning. Really."
The baby yawns, a miniature, perfect little yawn, and my chest squeezes so tight I can barely breathe.
My eyes are watering.
I'm determined not to cry.
This.
I want this.
The realization hits me like a wave—gentle but undeniable.
I glance over my shoulder. Julian's watching me, dark eyes soft, a small smile playing at his lips.
He knows.
Of course he knows.
My heart swells.
Someday.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Not anytime soon. But someday.
I want this life. This messy, beautiful, terrifying thing called family.
With him.
Jenna shifts Elora slightly. "You want to hold her?"
"Are you serious?"
I wash my hands at the tiny sink, then settle into the chair Reeves vacates for me. Jenna places Elora in my arms, and the world narrows to this one fragile, perfect moment.
She's so light. So impossibly small.
And I'm crying.