Epilogue 3 - The Beginning
More smut in the next one.
Mitch and Emma epilogue?!?
I’m not ready for the story to be over.
The townhome was a touch smaller than she’d originally wanted, but it was hers.
Zoey and Abby had fallen in love instantly, completely sold on the closer proximity to the city and their friends, and they’d taken to the change in scenery with a surprising fervor.
Eliana wasn’t sure what they talked about in their individual therapy sessions, but they were clearly benefitting from it, having bounced back from Thanksgiving much quicker than Eliana would’ve anticipated.
It was Christmas Eve, barely a month past the night everything imploded, but Abby had already begun pulling back on leaving her guilty yogurt offerings sitting all over the house.
Zoey was still processing some of the anger she felt, preventing her from engaging with Jesse during his short visits, but Eliana was in no rush.
They’d get there in time. Or maybe they wouldn’t.
She was learning, slowly, to stop putting the weight of his relationship with the girls on her own shoulders.
Yes, the girls would benefit from a healthy, sound relationship with their father.
But if he couldn’t offer such a thing, she wasn’t going to be the one to force it.
He’d done what she’d needed him to do and signed the papers without argument. Once that was complete, she’d essentially washed her hands of the man, opting only to acknowledge his existence when a matter arose that directly pertained to one of their girls.
The doorbell rang, and Eliana smiled instinctively, already knowing who it would be. He’d asked to stop by that day, wanting to leave Eliana, Abby, and Zoey to celebrate Christmas on their own. To have a little bonding time in their new space.
Eliana strode to the door, pulling it wide and smiling at the sight of Milo on her doorstep, his arms laden with gifts.
“I thought we weren’t doing gifts?”
“Uh,” Milo grimaced. “These were from Santa?”
Eliana rolled her eyes, waving him in. “The girls have already gone to bed, but I thought you could keep me company while I finish wrapping?”
He nodded, and Eliana led him to the makeshift wrapping station she’d assembled on the floor beside the tree. Their Christmas wasn’t going to be particularly bountiful, but everything under the tree was funded by Eliana—and Eliana alone.
For a while, they worked in quiet companionship, the same way they worked throughout the majority of the workday. The golden tree lights and the candles on the mantle cast a golden hue upon them, making the space feel cozy and small.
Which is what Eliana believed prompted her next words. “So, my divorce went through.”
The paper Milo was slicing ripped sideways as his scissors lost their grip, and he cursed under his breath.
“Sorry,” he said. “And congratulations. That’s a big win.”
“I’m just really glad we were able to keep it out of court.”
“For sure.” Milo agreed. “So, uh, what’s the new plan?”
Eliana paused, glancing up at him.
“You know . . .” he continued. “Do you want to keep writing? Take those classes? What comes next?”
“Definite yes to the classes,” Eliana said, wrapping the excess paper of the gift she was currently working on around the package three times before tapping it. “I’ve already registered. Only two classes a semester,” she hurried to add, seeing the excitement in Milo’s eyes.
“Two classes are two more than zero, Bugs! That’s awesome.” He paused for a moment, glancing dubiously at her wrapping methods. “And the writing?”
“I think . . . I think I’m going to be done with the writing,” Eliana smiled.
Sharing her story had proven therapeutic at times, traumatic at others, but it had given her insights and ideas and hard truths when she’d needed them most. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but now that her story was told, she didn’t think she had another in her.
Instead, she longed to return to the never-ending to-be-read pile perpetually awaiting her attention.
“I see,” Milo said, casting her a nervous side-eye. “And if I were to ask you out formally. On a date. Maybe this weekend . . . do you think that could fit into the new plan too?”
Eliana grinned, giggling softly as she accepted.
The question, however, brought back the memories of the reception she'd received when she'd marked her story as complete. The response had been overwhelmingly positive. Shockingly so. But there was one common complaint amongst the chat—and that was the simple fact that Milo wasn’t featured enough. That the romance between the two should’ve been explored further.
Eliana couldn’t fault the readers for loving Milo—for wanting more. Not when she felt the same. But the story she’d written, Cheating Minds, was a story of revelations and revenge and finding oneself in the scattered remnants of a broken shell.
The story of Eliana and Milo, however, had no place in that tale.
For the story of Eliana and Milo would become a story all its own—one of growth and love and fresh beginnings.
It was a story she planned to keep close to her heart.
But who knows . . . she could always try her hand at a short story one day.
The possibilities were endless.