Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
“One grande flat white for Chloe!”
The redheaded barista’s voice is perky, if a little frazzled, as she deposits the drink on the mobile order pick-up counter. My hand itches to snag it and furiously gulp the caffeine into my system, but I wait as she disappears.
A moment later, she returns with another drink in hand, a smaller cup this time, and places it next to mine.
“…and an espresso, also for Chloe!” I shoot her a genuine smile as I take the two cups, one in each hand, and make my way to a small table near the back of the Starbucks.
I shift my bag off my shoulder, plunk it into the oversized armchair, and set the espresso down, focusing my full and undivided attention on the cup I’m still holding.
The rich scent fills my nostrils as I lift the coffee to my lips, taking a long, luxurious sip and exhaling a relaxed sigh.
Absolute perfection.
“You know, of all the types of coffee that exist in the world, airport coffee is my favorite.”
It’s Nolan’s voice that sends the flood of warmth through my body, not the coffee, and I glance over my shoulder at him as his arms snake around me from behind.
“There’s something about it, right?” I say, my lips curving into a rueful smirk as I lean back into him.
“I missed you,” he whispers, nuzzling at my neck and dropping a quick kiss just under my ear.
“It’s only been twelve hours, you dork,” I tease. He chuckles and gives my ass a little pinch before untangling himself from me and snatching his espresso off the table.
“Get all the footage you needed?”
“Uh-huh,” I say, taking another sip. “I’ll show you on the plane, but I think this story has a lot of potential. I got some shots of her doing practice laps in her car, and she gave me a few great sound bites that I can use for the episode pitch.”
“That’s amazing, babe,” Nolan says with a grin.
“Yup! Kyla is still working on her contact at the European Space Agency, but she said she’s like ninety-five percent sure she’ll agree.”
“So, does that mean you’re heading to Germany next?”
“It sounds like it!” I say with a laugh.
In the past six months, I’ve been all over the world.
Between using the travel points I’ve hoarded for years, and what I made from the season of Love at First Sail, I’ve been able to visit Scotland, Argentina, and Croatia, plus a few domestic flights within Canada and the US.
Nolan’s joined me for some of them, but for the most part, I’ve done it all alone.
It’s been…freeing.
But I haven’t had a chance to see Kyla yet.
She left for Germany only a week after I got home, and despite our daily video calls and text messages, I miss my sister. A lot.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I slip it out, thinking it’s her. Instead, an email notification pops up from Mallory Costa.
The Mallory Costa. As in, head of the documentary division at Key Five Productions, Mallory Costa.
Hi Chloe,
Thanks so much for sending along the sizzle reel. The team loved it. Like I said when we talked last week, we’re very excited about this series. Let’s make it happen. Are you free to chat on Thursday around 10 AM EST? I’ll start drawing up the deal.
Looking forward to making A Woman’s World with you.
Mal.
P.S. Heard you got an interview with Catie Coulson with F1. Wicked. Can’t wait to see THAT episode pitch!
A shiver of excitement runs through me as I read the email—and then re-read it, just to make sure I’m not dreaming. My eyes dart to Nolan as I grip his arm, startling him out of his thoughts.
“Hey, what time will it be in Melbourne if I have a work call at 10 AM Eastern Standard Time?”
“Uhhh…1 AM…the next day?” he says slowly as he does the mental math, only slightly perplexed by my outburst.
“Key Five wants to talk about the series again.” I shove the phone in front of his face, and he adjusts his glasses to read the email, his eyes widening gradually until he looks up at me over the phone.
“Shit, Chloe, this is amazing!”
“I don’t want to jinx it,” I warn. “But I think it’s really happening.”
“I think it is, too.” Nolan pulls me in for a hug, his hand rubbing my back in lazy circles. “Mum is going to be thrilled. She’s already so excited to meet you in person, but prepare for her to make a big deal about this. That woman loves any excuse to throw a party.”
My heart swells. In the lead-up to our trip to his hometown, Nolan and I have talked to his mom over FaceTime quite a bit.
It was how I discovered that Tanya Braddock is quite possibly the loveliest person alive.
Even more so than her son.
But his words touch a part of me that has been dark for so long—the part that has ached to have a maternal presence in my life since my mom died.
“Let her throw a party, Nolan,” I say, a giddiness to my voice that’s hard to hide. “This is party-worthy.”
“You’re right,” he chuckles, dropping a brief kiss on my forehead and then grabbing my bag from the armchair. “Plane leaves in an hour; want to go wander the duty-free and buy your handsome and very loving boyfriend something pretty, now that he’s broke and you’re on the verge of your big break?”
I roll my eyes as I follow him out of the Starbucks and into the busy airport. He slips his espresso-free hand in mine as we walk.
“You’re the one who decided to quit your job,” I quip, and he nods agreeably. “Besides, you’re not broke, you’re just on a budget. There’s a difference.”
As we stroll toward our gate, I realize that this will be the first time I’m traveling with another person in the seat next to me.
Someone I know. Someone I love. And someone who loves me back.
I blink away a few tears and squeeze Nolan’s hand tighter.
He glances at me, his smile fading into concern as he comes to a stop.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a laugh, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.
Nolan cradles my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes searching mine.
“I spent my twenties bottling up my emotions and keeping a tight leash on the things I’ve wanted out of my adult life,” I explain. “Now, things finally feel like they’re on track. I finally feel like I belong somewhere. So, why am I crying in the middle of the damn airport?”
Nolan’s expression changes, his concern giving way to something closely resembling mirth.
“Oh, babe, I think we call those ‘happy tears,’” he says, and I groan. “Come on, let’s find you one of your smutty little books and we’ll grab some snacks for the plane. How does that sound?”
I lean my head into his chest and sniffle.
“Yeah, that sounds perfect, actually.”
As Nolan leads me toward the airport bookstore, I glance up and drink him in.
His kind eyes are a window into his even kinder heart, and the easy way he smiles—not just at or for me, but for everyone and everything else—is a product of his laid-back outlook on life.
He is the sunshine I had been missing for so long, and it dawns on me: that’s the reason why I was crying. Because at some point, every storm needs to finally let loose the rain that’s been building in its dark, gray clouds.
To make room for something brighter.
Something bolder.
And maybe, if I’m lucky, something better than I’ve ever dreamed of.