Epilogue Imani
Grand Anse beach in Saint George, Grenada, is quiet at this hour, save for the soft slap of the water against the hulls of the fishing boats bobbing just a little past the shoreline.
I’m standing under a tree, a cup of coffee in my hand, waiting for a group of people I only met two days ago to come back from a fishing trip.
Behind me, Asher is sitting at the small wooden table we dragged down here yesterday afternoon, one leg crossed over the other, his laptop open and a heavily scribbled-on notebook beside it.
He’s barefoot, already sun-kissed despite the early hour, hair rumpled in that way that still makes my heart flutter something stupid in my chest. Every now and then he glances up at the horizon, then back down again at his notebook and laptop, cross-checking times and messages.
A year ago, if you’d told me that this would be my life, I would’ve laughed in your face. And yet here we are.
It doesn’t feel real. The last year and a half, our lives have been something of a blur.
Peregrine Airways is in administration and my father is a shell of his former self.
He’s managed to avoid any criminal charges, but a new civil lawsuit from investors who feel cheated seems to land in his mailbox every other day.
Sometimes I wonder if it makes me a bad person that I can’t bring myself to feel even an ounce of sympathy for him, and then I remember how he treated me, as nothing more than a pawn, and I decide that I don’t care, even if I am.
Asher’s father hasn’t fared much better.
The NCA descended on him soon after everything exploded with Peregrine, and his trial is currently ongoing.
His brother, Andreas, has taken over the helm of the company and is in the middle of trying to do a rebrand.
Asher and Andreas’ relationship hasn’t quite recovered, but they’re on speaking terms at least. He’s trying to get Asher to come back and help him and Teddy rebuild Vouvalis Resorts, but he always declines. Says he’s good where he is.
‘The boats should be back in about fifteen minutes,’ Asher says suddenly. ‘Marcel radioed in – said they had a good haul. Plenty of yellowtail.’
I can’t help the grin that spreads over my face.
This trip was my favourite idea when I put the itinerary together.
An early morning fishing trip with Grenadian locals who’ve been working these waters their whole lives, followed by a cooking course later in the day at a small family-run restaurant up the hill.
Nothing flashy, just people learning where their food comes from, who catches it, and how to prepare it properly.
Given the circumstances surrounding my father and Peregrine Airways, I was able to petition a judge to adjust the terms of my trust fund, giving me full access to it.
Between that and the various investments I’d made over the years – my father did teach me well in that regard – I had more than enough money to keep me afloat whilst I started up the agency.
Don’t get me wrong, it was an adjustment, I had to sell my penthouse apartment for one, but I made it work.
We made it work. Andreas is still paying Asher, rationalising it as he’s a consultant for the business, but we’re both fairly certain it’s out of guilt and we’re not going to complain.
When we first went live with the agency, I was sick with nerves. I wasn’t sure anyone would care. I just knew that I needed to make something for myself and that I couldn’t keep doing travel that took without giving anything back. Turns out, people do care. Enough to fly across the world for it.
I turn to Asher and he grins at me in that easy, familiar way that still manages to catch me off guard sometimes.
Somewhere along the line, he slipped seamlessly into handling the logistical side of the business: scheduling, permits, transportation, back-up plans for when something inevitably goes wrong, just about everything.
He’s calm where I get restless, practical where I get idealistic, and our business partnership works in a way I don’t think either of us expected, though I’m not sure why we were surprised.
The sound of an engine hums in the distance. I shade my eyes and spot the first boat cutting through the water towards shore. A familiar swell of emotion rises in my chest: it’s gratitude, pride, and joy, all tangled together.
‘They’re back,’ I say.
Asher stands, comes to me, and slips his arm around my waist, a move he’s done countless times by now. It still makes my heart flutter like it’s the first time, though. ‘You did good,’ he murmurs.
‘We did,’ I correct, leaning into him.
The boats pull in, laughter carrying across the water. One of the guests waves enthusiastically, holding up a fish like a trophy. I laugh and wave back, feeling something settle deep inside me.
There was a time when I thought my life had already been decided for me, when safety meant legacy and money and a name that carried weight in important rooms. Losing all of that would have felt like the end of the world back then.
Now, standing here with sand on my feet and the sun fully breaking over the water, it barely feels like a loss at all.
Asher presses a quick kiss to my temple before heading over to help everyone off the boat and guide them towards the transport that will take them to the restaurant. He’s already in his element. I take a breath, square my shoulders, and walk towards the group, ready to start the day.
I wouldn’t have my life any other way.