Epilogue
PAIGE
One year later…
Villa Egeria comes to life in the summer.
Returning to Como feels like finally taking a deep breath. I’ve missed being surrounded by high mountains, fresh air, and the glittering blue lake.
I drop my bag in the foyer and try to keep up with June. It’s her first time here, and she rushes through the house with all the determination of an eager puppy.
“Remember when you said no pets in this house?” I call over my shoulder.
Rafe answers in French. I can make it out this time. My lessons have paid off. That was before you, he said. It still takes me a while to formulate my own sentences. He likes to say that the only time he sees me think before I speak is when we’re practicing French.
Only a little while longer, I like to remind him. That’s a phrase I’ve memorized. Once I’m fully fluent, that’s over with.
June’s claws make a pattering sound across the marble floor. I throw open the French doors to the garden, and she rushes out, tail wagging.
The dog had been my idea, but Rafe can’t do anything by half-measures, and he’s now invested in the way only he can. She comes everywhere with us, and he now reads books about dog training.
I follow June into the garden. The trip from Paris hadn’t been long, but it feels like a different world. Como is a stark contrast to the city. As lovely as Paris is, it’s not this. I always miss the water when we’re there.
Rafe knows. Somehow I’m always whisked away to weekends in Normandy or by the Mediterranean, or we go to New York and Gloucester. I’m there a lot, seeing as it’s now my company. We’re partners with Maison Valmont—not owned by them.
It’s constant adventure. Living with him is like being in the eye of a storm. Good thing I’ve never enjoyed staying still.
We won’t be alone at the villa for more than a few days.
Everyone is coming to visit. The whole family—one that’s become mine, too.
I love his mother, with all her eccentricities, and she seems to love me.
And I love Nora and Amber. I’ve even come to feel at home with his guy friends, and they’ve accepted me completely. It feels like I have brothers.
For years, I felt adrift. Like I was searching for something I couldn’t quite name. But now it feels like I’ve dropped anchor.
I walk down to the fountain, where Egeria is waiting in her usual spot. The water flows happily from her urn. She’s always here, guarding the villa, when we are not.
I pick a few roses from the nearby bushes and lay them on the fountain’s stone edge for her.
Footsteps sound behind me on the gravel. “You’re giving her flowers?”
“Yes.” I sit down beside the roses. The stone is warm beneath me, even through my dress. “She’s this place’s patron saint, in a way.”
Rafe’s eyes are warm. They’re often warm these days. “Remember when you swam in here? I think that’s when I realized I was in real trouble.”
I dip a hand in the cool water. “I think you might be the only man seduced by being deliberately annoyed.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” He sits down next to me, and June rushes past us, like she wants to make sure we’re still here before rushing towards the lavender hedges.
“She was a famous advisor to kings, you know,” I say. “So I think it’s fitting. I’m an advisor to you.”
“I am not a king, whatever the newspapers like to say,” Rafe says. “And you are far more than an advisor. If you want to use that metaphor, you’re a queen.”
“I’m a wife, at least.”
“Yes. My wife.” He tips my head back. His hands are soft on my cheek. “You’ve been invaluable these last few months. You’ve charmed every single person in my company, you know?”
“They’re not charmed.”
“They are. Don’t play modest with me. That was your goal, and you succeeded.”
My smile breaks out in full. “I like them. I never thought I would, you know. But it turns out Maison Valmont isn’t the big bad wolf, after all.”
“Not with you,” Rafe says. There are no bags under his eyes, and no hidden bruises, either. He’s slept much better the last few months.
We’ve been going to therapy together for the last six months. We leave home together, stopping for a coffee and a croissant at our favorite place, before walking a few blocks to where our therapists work.
Me, for my grief and panic attacks. Him, for his guilt and his pain.
We spend an hour apart and then walk back home, hand in hand.
He hadn’t liked the therapy at first. But he’s nothing if not a disciple of progress and efficiency, and even he hadn’t been able to argue against the positive effects of talking things through.
Rafe fits his hand to the side of my face. “Are you happy?” he asks.
I can’t stop smiling. It’s such a him thing to ask, when I feel like the answer is patently obvious. “Rafe…”
“Are you, darling?” His green eyes search mine. “Because I know this year has been a lot of work. With Mather & Wilde, and the changes, and all the travel. We now have June, yes. But it’s also been—”
“Rafe.” I reach out to grip the collar of his linen button-down. “If I wasn’t, do you think I would be silent about it?”
The furrow between his eyes smooths out. “No. You wouldn’t.”
“We’re great at arguing.”
“We are.” His lips curve, showing that dimple I will never stop loving. “You like a fast life.”
“I’m built for it, just like you. And I won’t resent you for it. I will argue with you about an issue long before that.”
“Good.” He reaches down to grab my legs. He pulls them onto his lap and wraps an arm around my waist. “You tell me if that ever changes, because the only non-negotiable in my life is you.”
The words, spoken so plainly, make my throat close up. I know he loves me. He tells me all the time and shows it daily. I’m reminded of it every time I check the time on my custom watch, or see the wedding rings on my ring finger.
But sometimes it still takes my breath away.
I drape my arm around his shoulders and run my fingers through his hair. His eyelids lower in pleasure. “I love you,” I say. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. The best person I’ve ever met.”
Rafe’s dimple flashes again. “If I had told you this is where you’d end up last summer…”
“I would have run,” I say.
“Yes, probably straight into the lake,” Rafe says. His hands tighten around my waist. “It’s a good thing I caught you.”
“I think you knew. First.”
“Mhm. But I was convinced I didn’t deserve you.” He brushes his lips over mine once. It’s become part of the way we talk, sometimes. The intermingling of touch and words. “I know what you’ll say.”
Because I’ve said it so many times.
That he does. That what happened in childhood wasn’t his fault. That he is allowed happiness and goodness in his life and he doesn’t have to earn it.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ve said it enough that you know it by heart. Do you believe it too?”
“Some days,” he says, and kisses me again. It’s a longer touch, familiar and warm like the sunshine. “I love you.”
My arms slide around his neck. “All of them,” I demand.
He stands up with me in his arms. I laugh and grip him tighter. “Je t’aime tellement,” he says, and walks towards the house. “Do you think June can be alone for a while?”
“Yes,” I say. The gardens are thoroughly fenced in. “But let’s stay on the first floor. The couch.”
“The couch,” he agrees, and walks through the French doors. He kisses my temple and my cheeks. I feel warm. From him, from the sun, from the knowledge that we have days ahead of us of no work and all play. Of tennis, and swimming, and love.
“Ti amo da morire,” he continues. “Ich liebe dich… I love you.”