Epilogue
Quinton
Six months later, I was standing on a golf course in the middle of Connecticut, watching Nathan Carter line up what was possibly the worst golf swing I had ever witnessed in my life.
“You’re holding it wrong,” Hayden said from behind his sunglasses.
“I’m not holding it wrong,” Nathan insisted, adjusting his grip for the third time.
“You’re absolutely holding it wrong,” Fitz added helpfully. “Your stance is atrocious. Your grip is worse. And I’m fairly certain you’re about to dislocate your shoulder.”
“I’ve been golfing for years,” Nathan said defensively.
“That’s the saddest part,” Hayden muttered.
Nathan swung, and the ball sailed approximately fifteen feet to the left, bounced off a tree, and landed in the rough. “GODDAMMIT.”
“Brilliant,” Fitz said, clapping slowly. “Truly inspired. I think you’ve invented a new sport. Golf, but worse.”
“I hate all of you,” Nathan said, stomping toward his golf cart.
I took a sip of my beer, because yes, we were drinking on the golf course, because apparently that was what responsible medical professionals did on their day off, and watched as Julien stepped up to the tee.
He looked... tired. Not physically tired.
Existentially tired. Like a man who had been ground down by the universe and was now just going through the motions.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
“The universe is out to get me,” Julien said.
“What?”
“The universe,” he repeated, lining up his shot. “It’s conspiring against me. Actively. With malice.”
I blinked. “Are you... feeling okay? Do you need to sit down? Should I check your pupils?”
“I’m fine,” Julien said. “I’m just stating a fact. The universe has decided that I, specifically, am its target for cosmic retribution.”
He swung. The ball sailed perfectly down the fairway, landing exactly where he intended.
“Nice shot,” Gabriel said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Julien said darkly. “The universe will find a way to punish me for it later.”
We all stared at him.
“Is he...” Nathan whispered. “Is he okay?”
“I think his wife broke him,” Hayden said.
“Athena didn’t break me,” Julien said, walking back to his cart. “She just... opened my eyes to the reality of cosmic injustice.”
“That’s the same thing,” Fitz said.
“It’s not.”
“It absolutely is.”
Julien ignored him, taking a long drink from his water bottle, because of course Julien brought water to a golf outing where everyone else brought beer, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “mercury retrograde.”
Oh God.
His wife really has broken him.
“Right,” I said, stepping up to the tee. “My turn.”
I lined up my shot, took a breath, and swung. Standing there, I watched as my ball sailed beautifully through the air, landed on the green, and rolled to a stop about ten feet from the hole.
“SHOW OFF,” Nathan yelled from his cart.
“That’s called ‘competence,’” I called back. “You should try it sometime.”
“I’m competent!”
“You hit a tree.”
“It was a moving target!”
“Trees don’t move, Nathan,” Hayden said.
“THAT ONE DID.”
Fitz was up next. He stepped up to the tee with the kind of confidence that suggested he was about to either hit a hole-in-one or launch the ball into another dimension. “So,” he said casually, addressing his ball. “I’ve been seeing someone.”
I nearly choked on my beer. “You’ve been what?”
“Seeing someone,” Fitz repeated, swinging. The ball sailed perfectly down the fairway. “Her name’s Margot. She’s a flight attendant. French. Absolutely stunning. Legs for days. Speaks four languages. Makes the most incredible—”
“We get it,” Hayden interrupted. “She’s attractive and multilingual. What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch.”
“There’s always a catch with you,” Nathan said.
“I’m offended,” Fitz said, walking back to his cart. “Truly. You all act like I’m some kind of serial flirt who can’t commit to a relationship.”
We all stared at him.
“You ARE a serial flirt who can’t commit to a relationship,” Gabriel said.
“I’m reformed,” Fitz insisted. “Margot’s different. She’s sophisticated. Cultured. She doesn’t take any of my shit.”
“How long have you been seeing her?” I asked.
“Two days.”
“TWO DAYS?” Hayden looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. “You’ve been dating someone for two days and you’re already calling it a relationship?”
“It’s a modern romance,” Fitz said defensively. “We’re taking it slow.”
“You’ve probably already slept with her,” Nathan said.
“Well, obviously.”
“THAT’S NOT TAKING IT SLOW.”
“It is by my standards,” Fitz said cheerfully, climbing into his cart. “Besides, she’s flying back to Paris next month, so it’s not like it’s going to last. But it’s nice while it lasts, you know?”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” I said.
“It’s realistic.”
“It’s depressing.”
“You’re just jealous because you’re in a committed relationship and can’t have meaningless flings with French flight attendants anymore.”
“I’m not jealous,” I said. “I’m concerned about your emotional well-being.”
“My emotional well-being is fine,” Fitz said. “Unlike Julien’s, apparently.”
Julien, who had been staring into the middle distance like a man contemplating the futility of existence, looked up. “I’m fine.”
“You just said the universe is out to get you,” Gabriel pointed out.
“It is.”
“That’s not normal.”
“Nothing about my life is normal,” Julien said.
“I’m married to a woman who reads tarot cards to our triplets.
This morning, she told me that Jupiter’s alignment with Saturn means I need to ‘release my need for control and embrace the chaos.’ Do you know what happens when I embrace the chaos? The clinic burns down.”
“The clinic didn’t burn down,” I said.
“Nathan’s office burned down.”
“That wasn’t Ester’s fault!” Nathan protested.
“Your iguana,” Julien said, his voice rising slightly, “knocked over the heating lamp and set fire to your office. We had to evacuate the entire building. The fire department came. There were news crews. AGAIN.”
“It was an accident!”
“It was a lizard.”
“She’s an iguana!”
“I don’t care what species it is,” Julien snapped. “It committed arson!”
“Technically,” Fitz said, “arson requires intent. Ester didn’t intend to start a fire. She was just being a lizard.”
“That’s not a legal defense,” Hayden said.
“It should be.”
“Can we please,” Julien said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “talk about something other than Nathan’s criminal reptile?”
“She’s not a criminal,” Nathan muttered.
“She’s banned from the clinic.”
“That’s discrimination.”
“It’s common sense.”
Gabriel, who had been quietly sipping his beer and watching the chaos unfold, cleared his throat. “So, uh, speaking of life updates...”
We all turned to look at him.
“Cate’s pregnant.”
Silence. Complete, absolute silence.
Then: “WHAT?” Nathan practically launched himself out of his golf cart. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Gabriel said, grinning. “Found out last week. We’re about eight weeks along.”
“Oh my God,” I said. “Congratulations, man. That’s amazing.”
“Megan’s going to be a big sister,” Gabriel said, and I could hear the pride in his voice. “She’s already planning the nursery. Apparently, the baby needs ‘at least seventeen stuffed animals’ and ‘a nightlight that looks like a unicorn.’”
“That’s adorable,” Fitz said.
“That’s expensive,” Hayden muttered.
“You’re all going to be uncles again,” Gabriel said, looking around at us.
Julien smiled. “Congratulations, Gabriel. Truly. Cate must be thrilled.”
“She is,” Gabriel said. “She’s already making lists. Baby names, nursery colors, pediatricians—she’s got a whole binder.”
“A binder?” I repeated.
“She’s very organized.”
“She’s married to you,” Nathan said. “She has to be organized. Someone needs to keep track of where you put things.”
“I don’t lose things.”
“You lost your car keys last week.”
“They were in my pocket!”
“You looked for them for twenty minutes!”
“They were in a different pocket!”
Hayden took a long drink of his beer. “I’m buying a boat.”
We all turned to stare at him.
“You’re what?” I asked.
“Buying a boat,” Hayden repeated calmly. “A nice one. Forty-two feet. Sleeps six. I’m going to retire in five years and sail around the Caribbean.”
“You get seasick,” Nathan said.
“I’ll take Dramamine.”
“You hate the ocean.”
“I’ll learn to love it.”
“You can’t swim.”
“I’LL WEAR A LIFE JACKET,” Hayden snapped. “Can I not have one dream? One single dream that doesn’t involve you people questioning my life choices?”
“We’re not questioning your life choices,” Fitz said. “We’re questioning your boat choices. Forty-two feet is excessive.”
“It’s not excessive.”
“It’s a yacht.”
“It’s a boat.”
“It’s a YACHT.”
“There’s a difference!”
“There’s really not,” Gabriel said.
Hayden looked like he was about to throw his golf club into the woods. “I hate all of you.”
“No, you don’t,” I said, grinning.
“I’m seriously reconsidering.”
I took another sip of my beer, watching as Nathan attempted, and failed, to hit his ball out of the rough. The sun was warm, the beer was cold, and I was surrounded by the most chaotic, ridiculous, wonderful group of idiots I had ever met.
Life was good. Really good.
“So,” Fitz said, sidling up next to me as we walked toward the next hole. “How are things with Vivian?”
“Good,” I said. “Really good.”
“Just good?”
“Great. Things are great.”
“You’re being evasive.”
“I’m being private.”
“You’re being suspicious,” Fitz said, narrowing his eyes. “What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“Quinton.”
“Fitz.”
“QUINTON!”
“Fine,” I said, stopping in the middle of the fairway. “I asked Vivian to marry me.”
Silence. Complete, absolute, deafening silence.
Then: “YOU WHAT?” Nathan dropped his golf club.
“I asked her to marry me,” I repeated. “Last weekend. And she said yes.”
“She said yes?” Gabriel’s face split into a massive grin. “Oh my God, congratulations!”
“YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?” Fitz looked like I had just told him I was moving to Mars. “You? The man who swore off dating? The man who said marriage was a trap? The man who—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving him off. “I know what I said. Things change.”