Epilogue
EDIE
One year later, I stand in Heather’s kitchen, spooning mashed potatoes into a large ceramic bowl while she checks on the turkey in the oven. The diamond ring on my finger catches the light, still making me smile even six months after our June wedding.
Yes, we got married. Already. When Wren proposed to me on Valentine’s Day, while celebrating our two months together at a beach house up the coast, I couldn’t believe it.
Wasn’t it too soon? What did she mean she didn’t want something fancy?
Why did eloping at the end of the school year sound like such a good idea?
Because it was, apparently. Our parents were there when we said “I do” in Mingus Park, two blocks away from the apartment I had just moved out of because the lease was up and the timing was right.
For the past few months, I’ve been with Wren in her above-the-garage studio.
It’s tight and cozy, but there are big plans forging forward.
The house smells like butter and rosemary, two things that just make me hungrier. Outside, rain does its thing. After a dry summer and autumn, I’m starting to sound like my dad when I say, “We needed this rain.”
“Wren’s probably getting soaked out there,” Heather says, glancing toward the window even though it’s too dark to see past her own reflection. “She’s been showing your dad those new construction photos all afternoon.”
“That sounds like her.” I’m stirring the butter into these potatoes as if my life depends on it. “Any excuse to brag about her latest project.”
Heather smiles as she closes the oven door again. “You’ve made her more focused. I’ll give you that.” She pats my shoulder. “By the way, Nick is bringing his new girlfriend over later. Did Wren tell you? Apparently, they have a group chat now.”
“I think you need more than two people to have a group chat…”
“Be that as it may, she’s coming by. They met in Salem. Guess he took some of his sister’s advice to heart and joined a hiking club this summer. That’s where they met, he says.”
“Should be good for him, then.”
Heather glances at me from the corner of her eye.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Just thinking you must be pretty special to date both of my children.”
“Hey, I even married one.”
Those are the kinds of jokes we can crack now, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
WREN
Watching my wife laugh with my family in the same home where I used to hide from Christmas dinners, I can’t believe how much has changed in a year.
This time last Christmas, I was doing the dirty with her against the bathroom counter. Now Edie’s wearing my ring, my last name, and talking to my dad about how we’re finally breaking ground on the new shop.
“Stop looking so smug,” she says after coming outside to see my dad and me.
“Can’t help it. I won.”
“It wasn’t a competition.”
“Everything with Nick is a competition,” I say, glancing through the window into the warm glow of the living room. “But yeah, this time? I definitely won.”
She gives me a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond. “You didn’t win me, Wren. We chose each other.”
“Sure,” I say, leaning against the workbench my dad has under the eaves of the detached garage.
This is where I learned to work on bikes and cars, and not much has changed with my dad.
He’s come into possession of a beautiful vintage Oldsmobile and is taking the opportunity to ask me a few things about it.
“But if there were a scoreboard, I’d still be ahead. ”
She rolls her eyes. God, is she beautiful. Her hair catches the Christmas lights hanging from the house, the same red dress from last year hugging her in all the right ways. She’s still got that fire… that mix of sweetness and stubbornness that undid me from the start.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warns, pretending to focus on straightening the edge of a blueprint I left out.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re thinking about dragging me out to the truck again.”
“Can you blame me?” I rest my hands on her hips. “You in red? It’s a problem.”
She leans back against me, teasing my hips. “Behave, Ms. Hall.”
“Never, Ms. Hall,” I say, kissing the spot just beneath her ear.
From the house, laughter swells. Someone’s started pouring wine, and I can hear my mother’s voice floating through the door, calling everyone to the table.
“Come on,” Edie says. “They’ll send a search party.”
We head inside together, and it’s surreal sitting at the same table where everything fell apart a year ago.
Only this time, there’s no tension. Just conversation and clinking glasses and the kind of good-natured teasing that I didn’t think was possible when Nick and I began growing apart as teenagers.
Nick and Sabrina sit across from us. She’s lovely, smart, and clearly used to reining him in. Turns out she’s a tax attorney he met through a hiking club in Salem. They fit in a way Nick and I never could, both casually ambitious.
“Sabrina,” Edie says, “you must have the patience of a saint.”
She grins. “He’s not so bad once you get him out of his own head.”
“I’ve been saying that for years,” I interject, earning a laugh from both of them.
We eat. We talk. For once, the whole room feels easy.
“You two seem happy,” Sabrina says, gesturing between us.
“We are,” Edie says, gazing at me. “More than I ever thought possible.”
Nick nods thoughtfully. “Best wrong turn I ever made,” he says, and for a second the room stills. “Losing Edie. If I hadn’t been such an idiot, she wouldn’t be with Wren, I wouldn’t have met Sabrina, and none of this—” he gestures to the table “—would’ve settled like this.”
I’m just a tad caught off guard. “That’s surprisingly mature of you.”
“I’ve had a year to think about it.” He meets my eyes. “You were right. I didn’t love Edie. I loved the idea of winning.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And now?”
“Now I’ve got someone who actually fits my life,” he says, looking at Sabrina with genuine fondness. “And you’ve got someone who fits yours.”
“She doesn’t just fit my life,” I tell him. “She is my life.”
Nick snorts, and it’s like we’re kids again, ribbing each other over the PlayStation. “Still a possessive shit.”
“When it comes to Edie?” I grin. “Always.”
EDIE
After dinner—while the twins miraculously handle dishes, thanks to Heather’s firm direction—I slip out onto the back porch with Sabrina. The air is crisp and damp, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Turns out she’s from Seaside. Go figure.
“Nick told me everything.” Sabrina leans against the railing beside me. “About you and Wren. How it all started.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
She shrugs. “I’m grateful for it, actually. He was different when we met—humbled. Like he finally understood that trying to mold people into what you want never works.”
“He doesn’t try to change you?”
“No. Because I already fit his life.” Her smile turns wry. “I like campaign dinners and tax code debates. I like his world. We work.”
I nod. “And Wren and I work because we don’t.”
Sabrina laughs. “Exactly. You two… you challenge each other. Nick admires that, even if he won’t admit it.”
The door opens, spilling warm light onto the porch. Wren steps out, coatless, hands tucked into her jeans pockets. “Hey,” she says. “It’s snowing. Thought you might want to see.”
Sure enough, faint flakes drift through the glow of the porch light, melting as they hit the rail. Wren comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, chin on my shoulder.
“Remember last year?” she murmurs against my ear. “When we were out here arguing with my brother, and I swore I’d make it right?”
“I remember.” I lean back into her warmth. “Promises kept.”
“Always,” she says, her breath warm on my neck. “With more to come.”
Sabrina smiles, stepping quietly back toward the door. “I’ll give you two a minute.”
When she’s gone, Wren turns me in her arms. “I was thinking earlier, watching you at dinner… I don’t know if I ever thanked you properly.”
“For what?”
“For choosing me even when it wasn’t easy.” She hesitates, eyes soft. “This life we’re building… it’s more than I ever thought I’d have.”
“Me too.” I brush wet snowflakes from her hair. “You were never the wrong choice, Wren. You were the best one.”
She grins. “Guess we both were.”
We stand there for a long time, snow falling in lazy spirals around us before it instantly melts on the ground. For once, it feels like everything’s exactly where it should be. Home, family, career, love, all of it!
So, of course, my wife is looking at me like she wants to eat me for breakfast. Because some things haven’t changed!
WREN
My wife tries to look scandalized, but I know her too well now. Know exactly how to make her blush, make her breathe harder, and make her tremble with nothing but my voice. Right now, she tries not to rock against my thigh.
“Wren,” she warns, glancing toward the house. “Your family’s inside.”
“Mm-hm.” I brush my lips against her neck. “Yet you’re out here wet for me, anyway.”
Her breath catches, her hands gripping the porch railing. “Someone could see…”
“Let them.” I slip my hand under her dress, fingers trailing up her thigh until I find what I’m looking for. Uh-huh, there’s nothing sacred between us anymore. She’s wetter than the rain out here. “God, Edie… you’re crazy.”
She exhales with a shake. “You drive me crazy.”
“Good.” I press my knee between hers, coaxing her to move. “You like it when I’m bad.”
Her hips start to roll, the smallest motion. I watch her fight to stay quiet, her eyes fluttering shut as I whisper. “That’s it. Right there. Just like that, sweetheart.”
She comes apart fast, biting her lip to muffle the sound, and I hold her through it while savoring the way her body trembles against me. When it’s over, I draw my fingers to my lips, tasting her. “Merry Christmas to me.”
She swats my shoulder. “You’re impossible.”
“Dependable is the word you’re looking for.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” She’s still catching her breath when the door creaks open.
Nick stands there, framed by the light from inside, his eyes flicking between our flushed faces and the space between us. “Still at it, I see.”
I grin. “Jealous?”
He snorts. “No.” He glances back toward the living room, where Sabrina’s talking with my mom. “You two make unfathomable sense together. Even if it did start with you two fucking in the damn bathroom.”
Edie straightens, smoothing her dress as if nothing had happened. “Language. Your mother’s in there.”
“She’s heard worse,” he says. “Anyway, Sabrina and I are heading to her parents’ place up the coast tonight. Figured I’d say goodbye.”
“Meeting the family?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s serious.”
“Proposing on New Year’s, actually.” He opens his hand just enough to show the small velvet box hidden there. “Want to do it right this time. Not for appearances. Because I love her.”
Edie barely contains a squeal. “Good for you. She’s wonderful.”
“She is.” He looks at us both, sheepish. “Merry Christmas, you two. Take care of each other.”
When he’s gone, Edie exhales, leaning against me again. “Did we just have a civil conversation with your brother?”
“Apparently so.” I press a kiss to her hair. “End times must be near.”
She laughs, tugging on my jacket. “Take me home.”
“Gladly.”
EDIE
Back in our apartment, Wren makes good on her promise.
She worships me like she always has, with a slow but reverent method that makes me forget about all the fast times. The same way she restores those old engines, I suppose, but I’ve already told her once that if she compares me to a bike part again, I’m leaving her.
“Still so perfect,” she murmurs, kissing the stretch marks on my hips. “Every curve. Every scar. You’re art, Edie.”
“Charmer.”
“Truth-teller.” She settles between my thighs, looking up at me with that wild, devoted focus that gets me excited. “I’m going to make you forget everything except what’s coming next.”
“Next?” I ask, even as she draws a soft moan from me.
“Our home,” she says against my skin. “The new place. I want to break it in with you. Every wall, every floorboard.”
Her words send a shiver through me. She takes her time, building me up with slow, deliberate movements until I’m launching off the bed and screaming her name.
“Wren…”
“That’s it,” she says. “Say it again.”
When I do, she kisses me before rolling me beneath her. The world narrows to the rhythm of our bodies and the steady streams of rain outside.
“My wife,” she says, voice low and rough. “My partner. My whole world.”
“Yours,” I breathe, meeting her movement for movement. “Always yours.”
She presses her forehead to mine, her body trembling with effort. When release comes, it’s like the sweetest balm to the lips after a cold and dry winter’s day.
After, she pulls me close, her palm splayed over my chest. “What are you thinking?” she asks.
“That it’s been a helluva year.”
She laughs. “You’re right about that.”
“Next Christmas, we’ll be in the new place.”
“Big windows,” she says. “Space for your classroom crafts and my tools. And maybe a dog. Or two.”
“Dogs, yes.” I laugh, sleepy and content. “Maybe a cat.”
“Good,” she says, kissing me again. “Let’s start a petting zoo for your students.”
The rain picks up. Somewhere outside, a large truck zooms down Virginia Avenue, honking the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
“Merry Christmas, Wren.”
“Merry Christmas, angel.”
She kisses me again, and I know deep down that next Christmas will find us here in each other’s arms again. Maybe in a new house, maybe with new dreams. But neither of us is going back, you know? I could never go back to what I had a couple of years ago.
Some twins share a face, after all…
Others share a history.
I got the one meant for me.
THE END