Epilogue
EPILOGUE
JUNE
“W e’ll wrap things up here for the day,” the composer at the front of the chamber murmured, glancing around at the musicians with a nod of approval. “Great work. I’ll see you Thursday morning, then, everyone.”
I sank back in my stiff chair, my cello rocking into my thigh. The two-and-a-half-hour-long practice had left me drained, though for its entirety, I never moved from where I sat. My music stand was propped in front of me with sheet music for Beethoven’s Symphony No. 6 “Pastoral,” with the cello focus. I stared at the notes, able to feel them hum underneath my skin even from just looking at the bars and measures.
“Communing with Beethoven?” my stand partner, Ji-ah, asked. She stood up to put her cello back in her purple hard case, flashing me a smile. “Or has it all begun to look like gibberish to you? After long practices, I sometimes forget the difference of notes on a line or in a space.”
“I forgot how everything aches.” I reached up and massaged the area where my shoulder met my neck. That wasn’t the only area that seemed to groan with pain, though. My bow arm trembled, the muscles in my back shook, and my fingertips on my left hand screamed. “I thought my calluses would’ve formed by now.”
“It takes time,” Ji-ah said. “For some cellists, they don’t form at all.”
I looked down at my fingertips. They were red, almost numb. “The horror,” I said sadly.
Ji-ah just laughed.
I began packing my cello into its hard case, slowly, still paranoid it’d accidentally slip from my fingers. Even though I’d had countless practice sessions since coming out to San Diego almost two months ago, handling the cello still was nothing short of precious to me.
It was funny how much life could change in a year.
Last June, five years of suffocation had been catching up to me. With no broader goal than working to save money, my life had become a stifling stretch of time. I’d survived five long years on the barest amount of oxygen, continuing on toward a dream I didn’t want, holding myself back from the ledge I longed to throw myself off from.
Life held no happiness, no meaning outside of 1442 Everview Road .
And this June, I sat surrounded by the sounds of gentle murmuring paired with other members of the ensemble putting their own instruments away. A breath of fresh air.
Closing my cello case’s lid, I tipped my head back. The rehearsal space—wide, echo-softened, and golden with late-afternoon light—was different than the space I’d grown up practicing in. Here, there was a sense of grandness . The ceiling was strung with soft acoustic panels like sails in the sky. It was not a room for a solo cellist, but a hall for an orchestra—a place for a collective, not a soloist.
After blending in at Alderton-Du Ponte, I’d been nervous about how I would feel, once more tasked to fit in with those around me. It turned out that when I was with those who spoke the same language as me, fitting in became a beautiful feeling. After spending so long on my own, the sense of belonging had been exactly what my heart ached for.
“You really should come with us to the Pacific Beach today,” Ji-ah pressed. She pushed her glasses up, using it as a headband to hold back her black hair. “The temperature is perfect. I know Ellie’ll want to surf, but we can just sunbath and watch her eat it.”
I stood from my seat and brought my cello case up, hooking my arms through the straps and securing it against my back. It was a solid, familiar pressure. “Next time,” I promised her. “Annalise made a reservation for her favorite restaurant over on Kettner. A pre-emptive wedding anniversary dinner.”
She chuckled. “Don’t you normally do those with your husband?”
“You’ve met Annalise—she likes to do everything together .” That was one thing I’d learned after spending the last two months at her guesthouse. She wanted to have morning coffee together, invited me to the main house for dinner together, and if there was a movie she was about to turn on, she made sure to send me a text first. “That’s why it’s a pre-emptive anniversary dinner, so she can drag me along. She’s very much so a quality time gal.”
Ji-ah laughed. “I get it, I get it. From what she’d said when I met her at the mixer, she’s making up for lost time.”
“Most definitely.” Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d turned down one of her invitations. I’d longed for a friendship like this, where we both pressed in. It wasn’t a friendship where one person always gave and the other person always took—it was mutual. And I loved it.
The last two months had been a whirlwind I still could barely wrap my head around. After Rhythms of Hope bought 1442 Everview Road, Mirabelle and Alfred asked Aaron to set up a meeting with me. As it turned out, they had been looking for a new replacement cellist after theirs moved onto other opportunities. Coming across me at that moment in time, they’d said, had been like fate.
When I told Paige that, she’d smirked.
I moved out to San Diego not long after, into the guesthouse on Annalise and Michael’s property. I’d barely had time to unpack before I was heading to Rhythms of Hope’s west coast hub. The moment I’d stepped into that sunlit rehearsal hall, something inside me had stirred. The hall had a similar vibe to Alderton-Du Ponte in terms of architecture, but the difference in the air had been palpable. There was no vanity here, no ego—just people who loved music, dedicating themselves to performing for the charity. The thirty other musicians welcomed me with warm and open arms, settling me into the ensemble with ease.
It was everything I didn’t know I needed.
Ji-ah and I headed out from the practice hall toward the main entrance. The glass walls let in an almost blinding amount of golden sunlight, shining on the smooth floors. “Is your boyfriend joining you guys?” she asked. “Or is he not back in town yet?”
I sighed. “He had to push coming home back another week.”
Aaron had come out to California with me in the middle of April and helped me unpack, but almost immediately flew back to Connecticut to help with the new hub planning. Rhythms of Hope had hired him on in a full-time position for the east coast project. Apparently, there were a lot of specifics and semantics that required the mind of a former Strategy Analyst, and the charity brought him back on to ensure the beginning stages of the building process went smoothly.
I knew Aaron loved it. He’d confessed to me one night over the phone that this was what he needed. His sleepy voice had been a relieved sound in my ear. “ Thank you for helping me jump, love .”
And I’d kicked my feet like a teenage girl at that. Love .
But that also meant that while I settled into a new life here, Aaron was over a thousand miles away, forced to linger in the one I’d left behind. “He’s almost done, though,” I told Ji-ah now, pushing the glass door open to lead us out into the summer air. “And then he’ll work remotely from here until the construction gets further along.”
“I was talking with Mirabelle, and she said that they hope to have it completed in time for a Christmas gala,” Ji-ah said.
“That’d be beautiful,” I murmured, already envisioning it. Aaron had gotten his hands on the mockups and inspo images, and had sent them to me one night last week. The grand hall’s south-facing wall would be entirely made of windows, showcasing the bay’s gorgeous views. In the wintertime? It’d be breathtaking.
Mom would’ve loved the view. She would’ve said it looked like a dream.
Ji-ah turned left toward the parking lot, waving me goodbye as I continued right, toward where Annalise normally parked to pick me up. My beater car hadn’t made the trip out to California—it had, in fact, died about five miles past the Grand Canyon—and I’d yet to get a replacement. San Diego driving was much different from Addison driving, in a way that chased away any guilt about needing Annalise to drive me everywhere.
Of course, Annalise didn’t mind it one bit, probably because it was her excuse to stop by Fashion Valley before heading home.
I closed my eyes as I walked, letting the sun warm my face. This is what life is supposed to be like , I thought as I slowed. Aching from performing, spending time with people I love, and looking forward to tomorrow.
I’d missed auditions for fall admission, but after settling in and speaking with Mirabelle and Alfred, they’d helped me come up with a game plan—to spend the next few months finding my technique again, growing comfortable behind the cello, and applying for a few local community college classes. Then, in the spring, when I felt ready, I could audition for conservatories. That way I wasn’t diving head-first into anything overwhelming, and I wasn’t pushing myself too fast.
I had more than enough money to supplement me for a while, giving me time to figure out what I wanted to do. It was a strange feeling to have the world as my oyster instead of a dream house as my cage. The drastic change still had me reeling some mornings, as I looked up at my ceiling and expected to find my old apartment’s water stains, but it was a good sort of realization as it crashed down. A good sort of relief.
When I opened my eyes now, expecting to see Annalise parked at the curb, I found myself looking at Aaron.
He was leaning against a sleek black sedan I didn’t recognize, parked in the drive-up lane. He looked down at his shoes, the same Hefman & Italia ones that’d gotten coated in mimosa the first time we’d met. Or, well, the second time we’d met. His recently trimmed dark hair didn’t fall into his eyes nearly as easily now, but he reached up as if to bat it back from muscle memory. It made me smile to watch him do so now, and even from here, I could see his lips quirk in annoyance.
My heart soared at the sight of him, excitement lighting through me, but I held myself back. I hooked my thumbs through my cello’s straps, hoisting it closer against my back as I raised my voice. “New car?”
Aaron looked up then, and I was sure it was the sun in his eyes, because he immediately looked dazzled. It couldn’t have been because of me. The orchestra didn’t technically have a dress code for practices, but I still wore black dress pants with a black shirt, as did most of the ensemble. I’d let my blonde hair loose after practice, but I hadn’t done anything to style it this morning. I didn’t even have makeup on.
Aaron started toward me. “Finally putting that inheritance to use, then, huh?” I asked as he strode closer. I felt my lips quirk. “You’ve hardly bought anything after it cleared?—”
My words were cut off as Aaron drew me into him, his frame all but slamming into mine. He embraced me with ease, as if I didn’t have a bulky cello case strapped to my back. One hand wedged between the back of my head and the case, and his other rested at my waist, using both to secure me to him. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured into the crook of my neck, words vibrating into my skin.
I melted into his touch, my arms wrapping around him. “It’s been two weeks.” I closed my eyes and savored the feel of his frame. I could smell his cologne on his shirt, the heady scent relaxing me further into his chest. “And we videochatted every other day.”
“Two weeks is too long.” Aaron pulled back to look into my eyes. His own were still sparking as they roamed my face, his dark lashes framing the brown. “Far too long, and far too boring. Board meetings, and budget analysis, and project data. I missed you too much, hence the reason I’m here, grabbing at you like a caveman.”
“I like it.” I reached up and combed my fingers through the hair at his temple. “I missed you, too. But didn’t you say you had another week of meetings?”
Aaron leaned into the touch as if magnetized. “I told them they had to let me return to my one true love, lest I go mad and accidentally punch in the wrong numbers.”
“Ah, yes, threatening a charity. Classic.”
“Desperate times. I love the job, of course, but I needed to be somewhere else.” Aaron stepped back from me enough to gesture at the car. “What do we think?”
“It’s very nice,” I said with approval, eyeing the two of us in the black paint’s reflection. The seats inside were tan leather, though I could barely see them through the tinted windows. “Is this technically your first big purchase, then?”
The terms of Aaron’s grandmother’s will had been simple: marry by his twenty-sixth birthday, or forfeit the five million dollars that could change his life. In a shocking display of rebellion to the life he’d forced himself to stay stuck in, Aaron had refused to marry. I thought he’d regret it. Thought I’d see the guilt, the weight of what he’d given up, settle in his eyes. But as the deadline passed and the days slipped by, he seemed freer . As if shedding the fortune had finally allowed him to breathe.
And then he’d gotten the call from his grandmother’s lawyer, in early May, that there was a hidden clause in her will. One that only revealed itself if he hadn’t married in time. If he stayed single past his birthday, the inheritance didn’t disappear.
It doubled.
Ten million dollars. For the man who jumped.
She’d left him a letter, if he remained unmarried. He’d read it privately, but told me, “ She said she hoped I’d choose my own happiness, instead of the path she’d always pressured me on. And that if I did, this was my reward for standing on my own. ” His eyes had been glassy.
“ Choosing your own dreams does have its advantages ,” I’d told him after he’d relayed the news.
He’d pulled me closer at that, pressing a kiss into my temple. “ It definitely does .”
“It’s for you,” Aaron told me now, tapping the hood of the car. “To replace your old one. This one is an automatic, though. No more grinding the gears as you shift.”
I scrunched my nose at his little dig.
He winked. “But if you don’t want to drive, we’ll just say it’s your car, but I’ll drive you around everywhere.”
“You would look pretty cool in that car.”
Aaron raised an expectant eyebrow.
“Hot,” I amended. “You’d look pretty hot in that car.”
He laughed, a musical sound that rivaled the notes he could elicit from the piano. Aaron’s hands caught around the straps at my shoulders, easing my cello from my back. “How was practice, my dear?”
“Good. I’m done until next Tuesday. Our first performance is the first weekend of July, so we’re practicing three days a week now.” Aaron popped open the backseat of the car and gently slid my cello in. I glanced at the front, as if I expected to find someone in the passenger seat. “I’m surprised Annalise let you take over pickup duty.”
“She very nearly didn’t let me come. And then, very nearly didn’t let me come alone .” Aaron shut the backseat door, one hand resting on the car’s roof. “She’s going to be heartbroken when you move in with me.”
At his words, I looked away, a smirk tipping my lips while I rolled my eyes.
Aaron gave me a puppy-dog like grin. “Was that smooth?”
“Not in the slightest.” But my smile didn’t waver.
Aaron had gotten his grandmother’s house in his will, a respectable four-bedroom, three-bathroom house in Del Mar. When I initially came out from Addison, he’d offered one of the bedrooms up to me, but Annalise had promptly refused. “ She can’t move in with you that fast ,” she’d said. “ She and I need to be roomies first .”
Aaron reached down and picked up my hand at my side, gently twining his fingers around mine. “Slow, slow,” he murmured, as if reminding himself. I had to bite down on my lower lip to keep my smile from stretching further. “Your toothbrush is enough for me.”
There was something intoxicating about his hopeful tone. Affirming. I never doubted Aaron’s feelings for me, but he never gave me the chance to. It was the way he called me almost every night before he went to bed, or waited until I called him, even though California was three hours behind Connecticut time. It was the little texts throughout the day of things that reminded him of me, and in return, I’d send him the songs I was listening to, and he’d listen to them, too.
And even now, asking me to move in with him to his grandmother’s house. Again. It didn’t feel pushy. It felt hopeful. I’m choosing you, every time . I sometimes wondered if it was because of his family, who withheld their affection, that made Aaron share it so freely. If there was anything I could be grateful to them toward, it might’ve been that.
But I also made sure to make it clear, in every one of my actions, in return— I’m choosing you. Every time .
I gave his hand a squeeze, leaning in closer. “I might be ready to upgrade to a drawer.”
“Don’t let me pressure you, love,” Aaron murmured. He reached around to pop open the passenger door, still holding my hand. “You, in any capacity, are perfect.”
He’d spoken the words simply, but they wrapped around me, another affirming embrace. The urge reared its head, too domineering to ignore. Tugging on his hand, I turned him around, all but pushing him up against the open car door, inching up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his.
The two-week Aaron drought had me kissing him hard, melding my mouth to his own. He made a soft noise low in his throat, surprised, before catching me by the waist and pulling me as close as he could. To anyone passing by, we definitely looked like an annoying couple who didn’t know how to keep their PDA at bay, but I’d quickly learned that people looked—and judged—a lot less on this side of the world. We were no longer confined by the stares of Alderton-Du Ponte, and kissing my boyfriend was mundane.
To everyone else but me, that is. Because each time Aaron’s hands trailed their way from my waist to my hip, sparks still skidded along my skin, catching fire in the wake of his fingertips.
I fell back onto my heels, and he chased the distance until I pulled back entirely. I was sure my face was flaming, and my lips were swollen, but I could do nothing but peer up at him and grin.
Aaron looked down at me, properly stunned. “Wow.” The corners of his lips turned up, and he blinked several times, as if trying to clear his head. “What was my name again?”
I nearly laughed, leaning in and letting my weight rest against his chest. “Aaron.”
“If you say so.” Aaron pressed a lingering kiss to the center of my forehead, over top of my bangs. His hands seemed to tremble as they touched my hips, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Practice was over for everyone, right?”
I nodded.
“Want to go in and play a little?” Aaron wrapped his arms around me and grabbed his wrist, locking me to him as he leaned against the car. “You and me?”
My heart fluttered at the suggestion. It had been far too long since we’d played together, since I’d felt the quiet magic of his notes twining with mine. There was something sacred about it—how effortlessly we fell into rhythm, how our instruments seemed to echo the things we didn’t know how to say out loud.
“How about Elgar’s Concerto?” he asked, eyes scanning my face. “Since we have a certain anniversary coming up.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he remembered—this was Aaron, after all—but a soothing warmth spread through me, regardless. My mother’s anniversary was on Saturday, and that was when I realized that had been why he came home. He might’ve missed me as he’d claimed, but, without needing the reminder, he’d decided to come home early, remembering on his own.
I could’ve kissed him again, and would’ve, if he didn’t suddenly turn his face away. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said in a mock-scandalized tone. “Or we’ll never make it inside.”
I kissed the underside of his jaw anyway before slipping from his arms. “We have a dinner reservation with Annalise tonight,” I told him. “So we’d better get our playing in while we can.”
“Of course we do.” Aaron gave his head a small shake before turning back to the backseat, pulling my cello back out and threading his arms through the straps. “Annalise will have to learn to share you now that I’m back for good.”
“Have fun with that conversation.” I stretched my hand out to him. “Tell me how it goes.”
“You’re not going to be my backup?”
“Michael can be your backup.”
Aaron scowled, slipping his fingers through mine. “He’d refuse, too.”
“Smart man.”
We were a dramatically unlikely pair, a girl who was a server at a country club and an heir navigating life after being disowned by his family. Things still were rocky at times—like how Caroline still DM’d me pictures to brag about her life without me, or how Aaron’s family still threw in a backhanded insult or two whenever their paths crossed—but Aaron and I went through everything together, every step of the way.
Life was full of choices, some harder than others, but choosing each other and the lives we wanted were simple ones. Choices we could make without even thinking twice. And as I leaned into Aaron’s side, the two of us walking back into the Rhythms of Hope building to create music together, I realized just how beautiful life was when you took a chance and jumped toward the dreams you wanted.
The sun was shining, and Aaron’s hand was soft around mine, and everything was perfect. “I love you,” I said, as calmly as if I’d said it a million times before, as if it wasn’t the first time.
Aaron’s footsteps faltered, and he pulled us to a halt only a couple feet from the glass door. His eyes were wide, as if my words hit him square in the chest. And then, without warning, he caught my face in my hands and kissed me. His fingers were gentle, fanning out on either side of my head. My lips curved against his, unable to fight off the grin that came with the almost desperation of his mouth on mine.
He broke away, scrunching his forehead. “Can we pretend I said it first? Because I was going to, but I didn’t want to rush you?—”
“You technically haven’t said it yet.”
He sucked in a breath. “I love you.” Aaron pressed another short kiss to my lips. “I love you.” And then another, eliciting a delighted laugh out of me, and I reached up to catch his wrists. “I love you, Lovisa Hahn.”
I laughed again at the sparkle in his eyes. Some might’ve thought it was too soon to say it, but there was no shaking the certainty I could feel in my bones. A certainty that, I knew now, had never been there with Grant. Once upon a time, Aaron had said, If that’s love, I don’t want it . And it hadn’t been.
But this? Definitely was.
I grabbed Aaron’s hand, tucking myself against his side. “Shall we?”
Aaron threaded our fingers together, lifting it to brush one last kiss across the backs of my knuckles. “We shall.”
And we headed into the music hall, hand in hand, eager to speak the other language the two of us knew. We’d lose track of time, and Annalise would call us five times, and we’d spend all of dinner apologizing while holding hands underneath the table. But with Aaron, there was no such thing as regret. There was simply happiness, peace, and love.
The two of us, just as it should be—together.