Epilogue
Charlie
Three year later…
“It’s time to wake up, bruja.”
The ornate blood-red curtains blocking the abrasive morning sunlight are ripped back, and I scramble beneath the covers, hiding like a vampire burned in the daylight.
Truthfully, I’ve been up for the last half hour, but I like when Mateo drags me from the bed, pats me on the butt, and tells me it’s time to get ready for the day.
He’s like a personal butler, with sexy hair and a sinful smile.
The covers rustle, and the edge is pulled back to expose the top of my head. I’m blessed with a glorious smile before he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.
I’ve grown greedy. I know it. Mateo knows it. Hell, I think the whole world knows it. I love when he wakes me up in the morning, and when he stopped for a few days early on in our relationship, I may not have taken it well. There may have been tears and questions whether he was upset with me .
“Good morning,” I whisper.
The bright light filters into the upscale hotel room Mateo booked for our graduation trip.
It’s exactly what I expected for a hotel room in London.
Ornate gold details and historical wooden furniture.
A massive four-poster bed sits in the center of the room, with plush linen sheets and a deep-red bench in front.
The sheets are heavy and expensive—I could spend forever here—but Mateo flips back the covers and pulls me out of bed and into a chaste kiss. It deepens until I’m pressed against him, but he separates and corrals me into the bathroom.
When I’m done, he’s hovering by the door, waiting to usher me back to the bed.
He’s acting strange.
“You’re being weird…”
“No I’m not.” The left corner of his mouth twitches. It’s his tell when he’s lying. Over three years together, and I know everything there is to know about Mateo. How he likes his eggs. How he celebrates holidays. I even know when to avoid the bathroom.
I’ve shared every secret I have with him.
He’s held my hand in therapy as I worked through my trauma from the car accident, and carried all the things I couldn’t at the time.
And when I was ready, he kept his promise, and we let go of them together.
On mornings my joints ache, he’s there with the balm, and on nights where sleep evades me, he’s ready to pull me closer.
He holds every single piece of me in the palm of his hands—the good, bad, and ugly—and he keeps them safe.
Mateo is a good, kind man, and he’s continued to prove it every day.
We’re staring at each other in a state of silence before he breaks it with a wobbly smile.
“I got something for you. ”
He pushes me onto the bench, and while he digs through his suitcase, I admire his ass. He turns around, a small box in his hands, wrapped in bright-pink wrapping paper and a white sparkly bow.
The gift has Amy’s name written all over it.
He hands it over, shifting on his feet. I untie the large bow, and beneath the knot, written with Sharpie on the paper, it says, “Mateo did not wrap this. I did. Love, Amy.”
I laugh softly to myself and peel away the decorative wrapping and open the box. I inhale a sharp gasp. A beautiful white sundress, covered in small tropical fish, lies within the garment box.
I’m afraid to touch the dress or dirty it in any way, but Mateo lifts it out of the box by the thin straps and displays it for me.
“Amy made sure I got the right size, but I wanted something special for you to wear today.”
“Why?”
We only landed in London yesterday. I still have jet lag, and I planned on finding the first place that sold a sausage roll and gorging myself on them until he had to carry me back to the hotel for dinner with Oliver.
“After breakfast, we have a tour scheduled.”
“What? Why?”
I’m still admiring the dress, the crisscrossed straps in the back and the billowy skirt. It’s beautiful and exactly what I would choose for myself. The reef fish are small and cover the dress in a way that’s both youthful and sophisticated.
Mateo tips up my chin. My core clenches whenever he looks at me like this—like I’m the sun and the center of his universe—but the feeling is replaced with disbelief when he says, “Today, you’re going to meet your idol.”
“No…” I think I’m going to faint. My heart thumps erratically as the room spins. I fall onto the bed.
“Our private tour starts at eleven. Oliver pulled some strings for us. ”
I finally find the nerve to look at him, and he’s watching me nervously.
“You’re going to see Charles Darwin’s grave.”
I launch myself at him, nearly taking him down to the creaky wooden floors, but he catches me right before I offer him the world’s sloppiest but most-thankful kiss ever. I don’t dillydally too much with him, because I’m on a time crunch.
“I get to fucking meet Darwin,” I scream, kissing him one more time before taking the dress.
I have no idea how I got so lucky, but I’m not questioning the universe.
Not today.
Not when I’m hours away from meeting my idol.
The verger guides us through the airy hallways of Westminster Abbey, and as expected, the massive church is gorgeous and brimming with history. Tombs of royalty and grand minds. Stained glass windows and intricate art along the walls. Cloisters brightened by summer light.
It’s beautiful and quiet, and as wonderful as the tour has been so far, I’m jumping out of my shoes as we get closer to where Darwin is entombed.
The final resting place of an incredible mind.
We round the corner, and Mateo squeezes my hand as we’re guided into the north aisle of the nave. The verger stops, and his long black robe billows. On the ground, a large slab of slate-gray marble reads “Charles Robert Darwin.”
Mateo’s grip on my hand is firm, which is good, because my knees give out beneath me .
I’ve imagined this moment a million times. Wondered what I would say or if I would ask him anything. Every word in the English language is lost on my tongue as I reread his name.
He’s right beneath me. Well, his bones are. I’m sure he’s entirely decomposed at this point, but the idea stands.
I’m occupying the same space as one of the greatest naturalists to ever live.
“Hi, Darwin,” I croak, giving the grave an odd wave. “Can I call you Darwin, or would you prefer your full title?” Mateo chokes on his laughter, and I stop my introduction to glare at him. “Please ignore my rude boyfriend,” I continue, “he doesn’t understand the importance of this moment.”
“I’m Mateo,” he says, stepping forward to greet the grave.
I can feel the odd looks from the verger and the other people in the church, but I’ve waited a lifetime for this moment, and I’m not wasting any mind power on people staring at me.
Yes, I’m talking to a grave. People do it all the time. Let’s move along.
There’s a bouquet of flowers sitting above his name, and I crouch down to place a small aquamarine stone beside them. When I pondered what crystal he would carry, the one bringing intelligence and thought was my first choice.
“I’ll give you a moment,” Mateo says.
Before he steps back, I kiss him. “Thank you.”
All other words fall short, but he nods, hearing what I don’t know how to say, and leaves me with Darwin.
I let the silence sink into my bones, mentally throwing questions into the universe in hopes they’ll reach him.
Do you have any regrets?
How do you feel about the state of the world?
What are your thoughts about spray cheese ?
The last one is a panic question, but it’s equally as important as the others. He would definitely have something insightful to add about canned cheese.
“We can go,” I say, content in the memory.
“Just one more thing,” Mateo says, as he kneels down, right beside the marble inscribed with Darwin’s name.
“What are you doing?” I hiss, trying to pull him off the ground. “You’re denigrating a sacred space.”
The verger coughs to hide his laughter, but I’m not focused on him. I’m worried about my boyfriend accidentally cursing us by disrespecting Darwin and his sanctified resting place.
Instead of rising, Mateo slips a small velvet box out of his pocket.
Oh, Neptune.
My hands immediately begin to tremble as Mateo kneels on Darwin’s grave. It’s damn near impossible to pull air into my lungs as he opens the box and displays the shiny ring sitting on the plush fabric.
A pear-shaped deep-blue sapphire sits atop a gold band, bracketed by smaller sapphires in varying shades of green. It’s by far the most stunning ring I’ve ever seen. It’s unique and reminds me of the sea and the moss green of his eyes in the morning light.
“Mateo?” My voice is shaky, and I clutch my purse tightly to my chest.
He clears his throat, and with the hand not holding the gorgeous ring, he reaches out and takes my left hand.
“You have been the object of my affection from the day I spilled wine all over your dress,” he starts in a gruff voice.
“And once I got to know you—studied every intricate detail—I knew you were it for me. You are my homeland, Charlie. Tu eres mi patria . Loving you the last three years has been the greatest honor of my life, and I’m hoping to do so for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me. ”
A choked sob escapes as he pulls the ring from the box and extends it toward me .
“Charlotte Luise Bowen, mi bruja, will you give me the—”
“Hurry up,” a familiar voice yells.
Another adds, “We want to celebrate!”
I spin to find Amy and Oliver not-so-patiently standing at the end of the hall.
“Yes!” I scream, turning back to Mateo. “Yes, yes, a million times yes.”
“I didn’t get to fully ask,” he mumbles as I launch at the ring. He pulls it away. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes, now put it on!” I shove my hand in his face as he rises.
The ring slips onto my finger perfectly, and I admire the jewels and how they shine in the light against the backdrop of Darwin’s grave. I only have a moment before Amy collides into my back, wrapping me into a tight hug, the aroma of vanilla cupcakes perfuming the air.
“Congratulations, Charles,” she says, weeping into the back of my dress.
I spin around to hug her fully, and she pulls Mateo into our embrace and cries happy tears into his shirt as well.
Mateo offers me a warm smile, and I return it, my heart thumping in my ears.
Amy releases me, and her smile falters as Oliver walks over, pulling Mateo into a hug of their own. She and Oliver exchange a look I can only describe as intense longing, mixed with sadness and resolve. I don’t like the look on her face one bit.
It can’t be easy for her to be here with him. I think he’ll always be my what-if. It’s all she would say after I returned from the research trip, and I never pressed. They’ve been cordial over the years, but the shared melancholy between them is hard to ignore.
“Will you be my maid of honor?” I ask.
Her expression instantly shifts, and the Amy I know and love returns. “I’ve already been planning,” she admits. “I have a whole vision board hidden beneath my bed. ”
“So…yes?”
“Yes!”
Strong arms wrap around my shoulders, and I sink into Mateo’s chest. “Let me see the ring,” he whispers, goose bumps breaking out along my skin.
I lift my hand up so the ring sparkles in the light, backdropped by intricate ribbed vaulted ceilings.
“It’s beautiful,” I admit. “And I’m honored, too—to get to love you every day, I mean.”
His lips press against my temple, and we bask in the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows.
I always believed meeting Charles Darwin would be the greatest thing to ever happen in my life, but Mateo does love to prove me wrong.
And now he gets to do so for the remainder of our lives.