Epilogue
Lou
“Survival is your strength, not your shame.”
T.S. Eliot
Hanging the last curtain, I take a step back and smile at my new home. Albeit temporary. I closed on the land a couple of months ago. Not too long after, Grady’s parents sold their place in Portland.
With Juliet’s blessing, I offered them Irma’s house to stay in. I know they were all concerned about living in the same house that barely breaks a thousand square feet. It took some work, but I managed to convince them that it was a good idea.
Grady then asked me to move in with him.
I declined. Politely, of course.
My mind has been made up since I signed the last page in the giant stack of papers that said this property is mine. It’s where I’m going to live from now on. For now, it’s in this tiny, vintage camper trailer, while my house plans are drawn up and then built.
Gray says I’m more stubborn than his wife, granddaughter, and son combined. He’s probably right. But I can always go crash at Grady’s next door if I need a bit more comfort. Or warmth, as the heater in here will be working overtime on the colder days.
Weirdly, I’m looking forward to it.
Our plan is that, when the house is built, Grady and Paige will move in with me.
It’s been painstakingly designed with all our needs and wants taken into consideration.
The room I’ve designated for Paige is almost the same size as the primary bedroom.
Both will overlook the ocean and the garden, just like she wants.
Life has been busy since the night I debuted the House of Moreno campaign.
It’s grown so quickly that I had to lease an office, hire staff, and establish board members.
Meanwhile, I’ve been getting job offers left and right.
Micah is being very selective on my behalf. Even still, my calendar is quite full.
I don’t mind, as it helps pay for the house and I’m donating a large portion of all my salary to the nonprofit.
There’s also the purchase of The Wave Break, which should be finalized within another thirty days. The previous owner is retiring to Costa Rica. The only other potential buyer was January, who wanted to buy it on contract. I offered cash, because fuck her.
She can still work there, I’m not so petty that I would ruin her life or livelihood, but something about her owning the bar made me feel like it would be a reward. I’ll be surprised if she stays.
The first time I saw her after my showdown with Pierre, she broke down in tears. She’s very apologetic. If it had been only me there that day, maybe I’d have forgiven her. But, for Paige, I hold on to my anger.
It’s still something I’m working out with my therapist.
One of many things. She tells me life is like a fig tree. We grow our branches too fast and sometimes we have to prune the ones that head in the wrong direction, or we won’t bear the best fruit.
My feelings toward January are one of those branches. I’ve trimmed it but haven’t quite lopped it off, altogether. What can I say? My story is still a work in progress.
I have mostly worked out my family issues. Finally telling my mother exactly what I think of how cruel she’s always been. She blamed me, as expected. It didn’t matter, as I was only telling her so that I wouldn’t regret never sticking up for myself with her. She knows to never contact me again.
My father made that clear to her when he told her he was filing for divorce. It was the first step at mending our relationship. It will be a long road, but he says he’s determined. I started believing him when he rented a place here in Stowaway.
“I’ve failed you for too many years, Louisa. I won’t make the mistake again,” he said.
When I expressed my doubt to Grady, he ran his fingers along my tattoo.
“Sometimes, to get the things we want most in life, we have to take a leap of faith,” he told me. “I know you want those glimpses of your dad you got as a kid.”
He was right. I do. And if it all falls down around me, I have the Steele family to help me clear the rubble. They haven’t left my side through anything, yet.
Including the fresh wave of tabloid frenzy when the police report was released, along with pictures of both Pierre and me covered in the evidence of our fight.
No charges are being dropped, this time around.
I’m doubtful that, even with all his charges, he’ll spend much more time behind bars. But anything is better than nothing.
Plus, the sentiment toward him in the industry has begun to shift. Other women have spoken out about his treatment toward them. Priyanka, who had only casually dated him for a few weeks, had even been witness to his controlling nature.
A knock sounds just before my door opens, and Grady’s head pops in.
“You’re home,” I say. He’s been at the station. With Maggie, Gray, and Paige in the city for a few days, I’d been alone here all day. Well, almost, anyway. Marshmallow, my new kitten, has been keeping me company. She now naps on her cushion that sits in the sunlight streaming through the window.
“You’ve been busy,” he says, taking in my decorations. Most of my possessions are homed in Grady’s garage. Not that I have much. I’m saving the shopping spree for the new house. I’ve been bringing in my essentials, though, and purchased a few things to make the camper feel more like mine.
“I have, but I’m done, now,” I say. “I tested the oven. Muffin?”
“Lemon blueberry?”
“You know it.”
They’ve become his favorite.
His big frame hardly fits through the door, and once inside, he takes up most of the space. I don’t mind, though. I like that we have to touch each other just to pass each other by.
He takes a seat at the dinette, reaching down to pet Marshmallow before grabbing a muffin. The blueprints and property drawings sit on the table next to the plate of still steaming baked goods.
“I had an idea about this,” he says, pulling one of the sheets closer.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says and points to where the eventual flower garden will go. “I was thinking this spot would be good for weddings.”
My heart stops, for a second or two, before jump-starting into a ridiculously rapid pace.
“Whose weddings?”
“Yours,” he says, then takes a bite, chewing so slowly before swallowing, so he can continue. “Mine. Paige’s. Our other kids.”
My hand moves to my abdomen on instinct, and his twinkling eyes follow it. We’ve casually talked about marriage, and less casually talked about children when I decided I didn’t want to take birth control anymore.
We don’t make many plans. Grady encourages me to live on whims and lets me change my mind as often as I want. The only rules we have are that we always tell the truth, and Paige comes first in every situation.
We don’t rush, we live each day as it comes, and we talk about everything. It’s how we end every night, whether it’s in the same bed or before we go to our separate ones. Because I don’t want to fully live together until it’s in our new house. Not his, not mine. Ours.
What we haven’t talked about is the pregnancy test I took this morning, though.
“How did you know?”
“I know you, Lou. I know your body,” he says, reaching out for my hand so he can guide me to his lap. “Probably better than my own, at this point.”
“I was going to tell you over dinner.”
“I was going to propose over dinner,” he says, setting a small velvet box onto the table in front of me.
“I was going to say yes.”
“I was going to say I can’t wait to meet our baby.”
Sometimes, it’s in the darkest moment that the brightest light shines upon us.
My light came in the form of Grady.
My lighthouse.
My way back.
My safety.
The love of my life.