Epilogue
Betty
“Looking good!” I yelled.
Sybil handed me a frosty glass of lemonade and sat in the folding chair next to mine, gazing out at our afternoon view, which included a lot of muscular men. “I’m glad we can get away with sitting here like this,” she huffed, wiping sweat from her brow. “I would not want to be working right now.”
“Ha!” I retorted. “You’re just happy I gave you the excuse.”
Nash and Gray, along with many others, were engaged in a classic barn raising. They had a complete log frame secured to pulleys, and teams of workers were in the process of hoisting it upright in the recently cleared patch of land.
Sybil and Nash had selected a plot in the forest just downriver from us, far enough that you couldn’t see it through the trees, but close enough to walk without danger. I was getting a new neighbor, and I couldn’t be more excited.
It was late August, and the heat was at its peak in this part of the Northern Hemisphere. While it wasn’t scorching like the heat in the city, it was still warm. Never again would I envy the searing cement streets of New York in August.
Since freeing ourselves from the Mafia, Gray and I eagerly fled back to the woods.
I couldn’t handle the city for too long after the quiet I’d experienced, and now that I knew everyone was safe, all I wanted was to go home.
Not long after making it back to my pine marten, my bear, and my forest air, I found out I was pregnant.
I was not surprised.
Sybil was absolutely thrilled with the news and insisted on joining me for the summer.
This, of course, sent my brother into a worried frenzy.
Nash, ever practical, worked with the local municipality to have the old overgrown forest road from town to Gray’s homestead cleared and filled with gravel.
Both brooding males felt it was crucial to make our location more accessible now that the danger of being found had passed.
Once we got most of the major construction for the new buildings on the property done and the heavy trucks finished delivering supplies, we’d even pave it.
In addition to the road, Nash was also setting up a helipad.
He had recently secured a long-term lease for a helicopter at the local airport.
I couldn’t find any fault with these arrangements.
While I value my solitude, maintaining some connection to the outside world is crucial.
My pregnancy has brought on a wave of new anxieties, and the ability to drive to and from the nearest town, a 40-minute truck ride away, is a welcome convenience.
Not to mention the reassurance of knowing I could summon an ambulance and get to a proper hospital if needed.
I found out Gray owned 100 acres out here, which I hadn’t realized was so vast. It seemed like the perfect place for a cabin retreat and inn, next to Algonquin Park.
Sybil and I came up with the idea one night while doing puzzles.
We envisioned it as an off-the-grid experience, giving guests a chance to try out that lifestyle and see if it appealed to them.
Today was the start of Sybil’s permanent move.
My brother would still work in the city, commuting every other week until the retreat was operational.
Sybil, however, couldn’t bring herself to leave the forest, cherishing the simplicity and freedom she experienced out here as I had.
Both New York townhouses were now listed for sale, and after they sold, Nash planned to purchase a small New York apartment to live in with our father while they continued to manage Beaumont Antiquities in fact, it seemed to make our love life even more vibrant.
He was insatiable and completely devoted, and I absolutely adored it.
Sybil let out a hoot, then a hearty, “There you go, boys!”
Nash eyed her with disdain as his face reddened from strain.
Sybil giggled. The only reason she wasn’t also over there pulling on a rope was because I insisted she keep the pregnant lady company.
With a ground-shaking thunk, the first framing piece settled into place. The whole crew cheered and stepped back, hands on hips, looking exhausted and sweaty. While they enjoyed a much-needed break, a second crew began pouring the cement. It was truly fascinating to watch.
Grey shot me a sexy grin from across the field, breathing heavily, his loose-fitting tank top drenched with sweat.
I instinctively slid a hand across my still small belly, cradling our growing family.
It was just this week that I felt the first flutter of movement, and it was magical. This was really happening.
Sybil eyed me with a grin on her face, looking longingly at my belly.
“Are you going to do this one day?” I asked.
She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “I’ll see how I feel once you squeeze that thing out,” she joked, sipping her lemonade. “I think I’ll let you do all the painful work, and I’ll take over from there.”
Even though she enjoyed being involved in my pregnancy, she remained hesitant about having children herself, due to her past experiences.
I believe she feared passing on her anxiety, and I can understand that.
While my mother also dealt with anxiety, I had jumped right in headfirst. Gray and I felt ready and capable of providing any support our children might need, so we felt it was worth the effort.
I guffawed. “Are you planning to steal my children?”
She laughed. “Girl, you’re gonna have, like, fifty of them if Gray has his way. You’ll be begging me to babysit.”
“True,” I agreed.
“Let’s just see where life takes us,” she added. “It’s nice feeling free again, and you never know. Maybe someday I won’t fear the idea like I do now.”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Amen to that.” I leaned back in the folding chair, hearing it creak under me.
“Are you ever going to get married?” she eventually jabbed back. It was only fair.
I felt about weddings the way she felt about children. It was a passable event. Why go through the trouble and cost of a wedding when there was so much to be done right here?
Even though I wasn’t particularly fond of weddings, Gray presented a unique perspective on marriage.
It wasn’t how I expected him to broach the subject, but one evening, as we sat on the porch, he asked if he could take my last name.
It wasn’t a proposal in the conventional sense, at least not in the way most people would think.
My initial reaction was surprise, but then his reasoning became clear.
He didn’t want to hold on to his last name, a name so tarnished and ruined, so full of pain.
His words brought tears to my eyes. I couldn’t say no to that.
So yeah, sure, we got married, though we weren’t advertising it.
We didn’t have rings or anything fancy; we just had each other.
It was private and quick, in, out, and finished.
Besides, calling it a “marriage” diminished what we had.
It’s so much more than that. Our connection existed without a label, unbound by restrictions or rules, like two missing puzzle pieces that finally found their place.
If Sybil knew we’d technically been married behind her back, she’d never let me live it down, especially after how much I emphasized her need for a wedding. But that was different. For her, the event was a significant social step on her healing journey.
We were the Beaumonts now, and I loved it.
Gray approached, his gaze fixed on me and my lemonade as if nothing else existed.
He paused directly in front of me, never breaking eye contact.
Leaning down, he kissed me, his hand gently caressing my belly.
As he pulled away, I found he’d stolen the frosty drink from my hand.
Tilting his head back, he finished the last bit before placing the cool glass against his forehead.
“I’m about to go jump in the river. It’s so hot today,” he breathed.
Sybil rose from her chair. “Here, you take my spot, Gray. I’m going to bring Nash some lemonade and get some more for the workers from the truck.”
She patted Gray on the shoulder, her expression full of regret as she felt the dampness of his sweat-soaked shirt. I grinned, watching her walk away, her blonde hair dancing in the breeze.
“Mr. Beaumont,” I said with a wink in greeting.
He reached out a hand, looking for mine.
I placed a hand in his, and he yanked me to my feet, enveloping me in his sweaty arms. I didn’t mind. He rocked us as he pressed the cool glass to the center of my back. It felt good.
“I love you, Betty,” he whispered.
“I love you, too,” I whispered back.
A grunt of contentment passed his lips when I repeated his words. “This is really enough for you?” he asked, as he often did.
“It’s everything,” I replied, as I always did.
I was happy here. Life was full.
David would call sometimes just to keep in touch, but otherwise, he’d disappeared into the New York scene.
While Ethan still intended to shut the whole operation down, he was giving David an opportunity to prove himself and make it legitimate.
With Matteo out of the picture, most of the illegal activities had ceased, and David’s presence in New York had actually become a beneficial one.
David has also kept in touch with my dad, maybe even more than Gray.
My dad, though secretive about it, might even live a double life now, just like we had.
He seems oddly happy and energized, busier than ever with things he won’t readily divulge.
Something is definitely going on with those two.
Perhaps they’ve started stealing lost art like Nash and I did—who knows?
All I know for sure is that a lot of art has been found lately, and it wasn’t Nash or me responsible.
After Sybil’s bold PERL performance at the MET, her clandestine art career surged in popularity, even in her absence.
Though she’d stay here with me, I admit we had a few more daring “drop-ins” on the books for the next year.
It was simply too enjoyable to resist repeating, and it served as the ideal method to keep Sybil focused on her goal of recovery and avoid a backslide.
Ultimately, life has a peculiar way of derailing even the most meticulously crafted plans.
Sometimes, it catches you off guard, leading you down paths you never imagined.
Embracing these shifts makes life worth the journey, and I’m grateful I allowed it to happen.
While this might not be the city life I envisioned, it’s the one I truly desired.
I’ll take the untamed freedom of the forest any day, because that’s where true luxury is found.