Epilogue 2 #2
“Thank you. But to be honest, I barely knew them, or remember them at all. I was only two when they died, and I never met my biological father, so I don’t have a single memory of him.
I was raised by my aunt, that’s her in the car.
” She gestures towards the woman waiting in the driveway, her gaze cautious as it meets mine.
“She’s been helping me try to find Zac. We had no idea he went by a different surname, which is probably why tracking him down has been so difficult. ”
“How did you know he lived here?” I ask curiously.
“I met my boyfriend, Connor, four months ago, and his dad used to coach Zac’s soccer team when he was a kid.
His dad’s retired now, but he mentioned that it was possible Zac still lived here, in his childhood home.
He knew it was the right Zac because he remembered our father coming to watch him play sometimes. ”
Her explanation stirs a flood of thoughts and emotions inside me.
Mostly, it’s the thought that Arianna—the sweet, innocent little baby I held all those years ago—is now old enough to have a boyfriend.
Time has flown by so fast that it only makes me want to cling to my girls for a little bit longer, because I don’t think I’ll ever be prepared for the day they bring home their first boyfriend.
I want to ask her more about this boy named Connor, but the sound of light footsteps approaching makes me instantly pause. I sense her presence before I even hear her voice, a sensation that seems to happen every time she’s near.
“Honey, who’s that at the door?” Hope asks as she walks towards me, dressed in fresh clothes and drying her hair with a towel.
She opens the door wider to get a better look, and when she sees Arianna standing rigidly in front of us, her eyes narrow as though she’s trying to place who our unexpected visitor might be.
“Oh, hello there,” my wife greets her in the same gentle tone she uses with our girls. “Can we help you?”
Arianna flicks her gaze to me, looking even more nervous than before. My guess is that she’s been anxious about meeting the mother of her half-brother.
I give her a small, reassuring nod. “You can tell her. It’s okay,” I say softly.
Her eyes shift back to Hope who is now frowning.
“Tell me what?” Hope asks, her gaze moving curiously between Arianna and me.
“You don’t know me, but my name is Arianna Cardillo, and for the past two years, I’ve been trying to find my half-brother—your son, Zac.”
Hope’s eyes widen instantly, her lips parting as the shock renders her momentarily speechless. When Hope doesn’t respond, Arianna continues, her voice quiet but steadier.
“My father was Adrian Turner. I never knew him, but my grandparents told me that my mother confessed to having an affair with a married man who had a son named Zac. When they cleared out my mother’s belongings from the apartment we shared after she died, they found multiple copies of DNA test results, dated just five days before the accident, confirming that Adrian was my biological father. ”
Oh, wow. That likely explains why Lucia and Adrian were together that day.
He must have learned he was Ari’s father and, unwilling to accept it, pushed her away, sparking the argument between them.
Though it was Adrian’s car, Lucia was found behind the wheel, so I can only imagine her trying to drive off while he fought to seize control.
When I glance at Hope, her wide-eyed, stunned expression tells me she’s probably figured it out too.
She cups a hand over her mouth, the damp towel now dangling over her shoulder, as she struggles to process another piece of truth about her late ex-husband—his secret child and the half-sibling to our son.
“How did you know that Zac lived here?” she asks.
“My boyfriend, Connor—his dad used to coach Zac’s soccer team. He told me where I might be able to find him.”
“Coach Gerald? You’re dating his son, Connor?”
Arianna nods.
“How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I turned seventeen in January.” Ari replies.
Hope releases a long, heavy breath. “Well, Arianna, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Would you like to come inside and we can talk some more?”
Arianna glances over her shoulder at her aunt, who has been watching quietly the entire time from behind the wheel. It’s clear she’s letting Arianna handle this on her own, ready to step in if needed.
I don’t know why, but something in my chest warms at the thought that Arianna has someone who loves and protects her as if she were her own child.
“Your aunt is welcome to come in too,” I offer.
“We’re actually on our way to church. I just needed to know if Zac lived here or not.”
“He moved out a few years ago,” Hope explains. “He lives in the eastern suburbs now, in Bondi, with his friend, Jake. But...he comes down every Monday night to have dinner at our place.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Would you like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening? You can finally meet your big brother,” Hope adds, and the softening of her expression says it all—she has already accepted Arianna as part of the family, despite our complicated history with her biological parents.
The warm smile that spreads across Arianna’s face is genuinely heartening, and I watch the tension in her shoulders dissolve instantly.
“I would really like that. Thank you,” she says sweetly.
We set a time for her and her aunt to come over tomorrow night, and just before she leaves, she takes us by surprise once more, wrapping Hope and then me in a brief, unexpected hug.
As the car pulls out of the driveway, we wave goodbye, watching it until it finally disappears from view.
“You okay, angel?” I murmur, pulling her close, her cheek resting against my chest as my arms wrap around her.
She lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“You guess?”
“I was just caught off guard, that’s all. Even long after his death, Adrian still finds ways to surprise me. She looks so much like him, Kaden. Her eyes, her smile, even the same dimple on one cheek. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.”
“She’s definitely changed since the last time I saw her, back when she was so tiny she could fit perfectly in my arms.”
Hope pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. “I forgot you were there at her birth and for the six weeks after. I’m sorry, baby. That must have been hard for you, seeing her too.”
“There was some guilt, of course, mostly for abandoning her and not checking in after her mother died. I always assumed she’d be surrounded by love and support, given that Lucia came from a large Italian family. And judging by the wary glances her aunt was sending our way, I suppose I was right.”
Hope chuckles softly. “She did seem a little protective.”
“I would too, if that was my daughter or niece.”
Hope pulls back completely and walks over to the porch railing, resting her back against it. “This is going to be one hell of a shock for Zac when he meets her tomorrow. All this time, and he never even knew he had another sister out there.”
I cross the space to stand beside her, leaning my side against the railing as I face her.
“He’ll certainly be shocked, but he’ll welcome her with open arms. Because if there’s one thing we know about our son, it’s that family is family to him—blood or not, he’ll accept them and love them just the same. ”
Hope smiles, and closes the gap between us, cupping my cheeks in her hands as her beautiful eyes lock onto mine. “You’re absolutely right. And the way I see it, that’s one more sister who will love and care for Zac.”
I lean down, pressing my lips to hers, kissing her with the same intensity I’ve felt for the past fifteen years.
“Ew...gross!”
We snap our heads towards the door to find Willow and Lily standing there, freshly showered and changed, their faces twisted in mock disgust.
“Get a room, guys—nobody wants to see that,” Willow quips.
Hope buries her head against my chest, her shoulders bouncing with silent laughter.
“All right, you two. One more comment from either of you, and you’ll be on cleaning duty all week.”
Lily opens her mouth, ready to protest, but I raise an eyebrow and shoot her a mock warning glare, quickly silencing her.
“Whatever,” Willow murmurs, looping an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Let’s go watch a movie, Lilz, before they fry our eyeballs with any more of their gross kissing.”
Before I can get another word out, the two rascals dash into the living room, giggling like mischievous little mean girls, trying to escape my not-so-serious scolding.
Hope chuckles, shaking her head. “I hope Zac is ready for another sister, because those two, are a handful already.”
I let out a soft laugh. “They are, but that’s exactly why we love them.” Pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, I wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to my side. “Now, let’s call Zac and tell him the news, and then we can join those two little terrors on the couch for a movie.”
“I love the way you think, Mr Grant,” she grins, as she circles an arm around me.
“And I love you, Mrs Grant.”
I press one last tender kiss to her lips before we step inside, ready to make the call that will change Zac’s, and our lives—forever.
Willow and Lily walk ahead of us, clutching their small bouquets tightly, the flowers carefully hand-picked from our own garden this morning.
Hope’s hand rests gently in mine while my free one carries the very full picnic basket as we stroll together through Wattle Grove Memorial Park, the late Sunday afternoon air warm, quiet and familiar around us, marking another of our regular visits.
Only this time, we’re here to celebrate what would have been her Aunt Amber’s eighty-fourth birthday.
Almost every Sunday afternoon, we come to this very place, setting up a small picnic beside the graves of our loved ones.
It’s our way of keeping them close and honouring their memories—by sharing stories about the people our daughters either never met or were too young to remember. Even Zac would join us on occasion.
It had only been a few hours since we got off the phone with him and told him the news about Arianna—his half-sister, and his reaction had been exactly what we had expected and hoped for.
At first, he was stunned into silence, struggling to wrap his mind around the fact that his late father had a secret child, that there was a sister out there he had never known existed.
But then, just as we knew he would, he told us he couldn’t wait to meet her.
That he would welcome her and accept her, regardless of the past. In the end, all that mattered to him was that he had gained another sister and friend for life.
And it was in that moment, we knew, everything was going to be just fine.
We finally reach our picnic spot, and Hope and I quickly set about laying out the blanket—arranging the containers of food and bottled drinks. Lily is the first to place her bouquet at her Great-Aunt Amber’s headstone.
When I turn to Willow, she’s already kneeling beside the neighbouring grave, gently brushing away dirt and fallen leaves before carefully setting her flowers down on the headstone of her late grandfather.
In Loving Memory of Troy Harrison Grant.
February 10, 1957 – October 4, 2029.
A gentle, caring and loving father and grandfather.
Forever in our hearts.
He was seventy-two when he passed away in his sleep from a heart attack—four years after rekindling his friendship with Hope’s parents, and four years after he and my mother had finally gone their separate ways.
After we dropped him home that day, following our first visit to Amber’s gravesite, he sat my mother down in the living room and told her he wanted a divorce.
He said he no longer had it in him to endure the miserable life they lived for nearly four decades.
He told her they both deserved happiness and love, and it was painfully clear they would never find it within the confines of their marriage.
In her usual fashion, my mother yelled and screamed, hurling a million and one insults at my father before finally conceding. She admitted she had always dreamed of traveling the world and meeting new people—and with her newfound freedom, she was finally able to do just that.
They were officially divorced just over a year later, and while my relationship with my mother has been pretty much non-existent since, my father and I grew closer than we had ever been before. He even spent time helping me at the workshop during the early years of the family business.
As for my mother, according to my brother, Dylan, she’s currently somewhere in Germany, living it up with her ninth—or is it tenth boyfriend? Who knows? No one’s able to keep track these days.
The funeral was both emotional and beautiful. So many people gathered to celebrate the life of Troy Grant. Hope’s family, my father’s friends and former colleagues, and even Jason, his wife Mila, and their four children—Jake, Isla, Jaxon, and Ruby—were all there to pay their respects.
But the biggest surprise came the next morning, when I received a phone call from Skylar, wanting to express her deepest condolences.
We spoke for almost an hour, catching up and sharing updates on our lives.
I genuinely smiled as she spoke about her three precious boys—Arlo, and her twins Silas and Zephyr, while I told her all about my own three kids.
After that conversation, my heart felt a thousand times lighter—and for the very first time, I felt something I never thought I’d ever receive from her: forgiveness.
It was a bittersweet moment, and I wished my father was still around for me to talk to.
Yet I was grateful for the time I had with him, and now, he can finally rest peacefully beside the woman he had never stopped loving.
I owe it all to Hope’s parents, and even to Amber’s widowed husband, for allowing my father to be laid to rest here.
I watch as my wife hands our daughters their plates of sandwiches and fruit first, before making one for herself and me.
Even at forty-nine, she remains as beautiful and radiant as the first day I met her.
If someone had told me more than fifteen years ago that my life would look like this today, I would have laughed in their face.
But now, as I sit here, surrounded by my beautiful family, their smiles and laughter filling the air and warming my chest, I feel a peace I never imagined possible.
This—this is home. This is love. This is the life I had always dreamed of. And in this moment, I know that every loss, every heartbreak, and every joy led me here, to exactly where I am meant to be.
The End.