Chapter Twenty-Three Epilogue
One Year Later…
Anastasia
The clink of champagne glasses mingles with laughter. Nyxx’s palm rests at the small of my back, steadying me as we greet guests at our engagement party at Le Petite Chat, the little French restaurant that somehow makes New York feel intimate.
“I still can’t believe we’re here,” I whisper to Nyxx, squeezing his hand.
He grins, his mismatched eyes twinkling. “Believe it, princess. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Exactly right, Nyxx. No refunds, no exchanges.”
As if on cue, my mother approaches, looking impeccable as always. “Anastasia, darling, this is lovely. Although I still think the Plaza would have been more appropriate.”
“Maybe,” I say, smiling. “But the Plaza doesn’t hold memories like this place does. This is where Nyxx took me after the first New York performance of the Pipers’ Rebellion.”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. “Of course, dear. You’re right. This is… perfect.”
Nyxx leans in, kissing my cheek, then whispering, “See? She’s trying.”
And he’s right. It hasn’t been easy, but my parents are making an effort. They’re here, they’re supportive, and they’re learning to respect my boundaries.
“Nyxx!” a voice calls out. We turn to see his mother, Linda, waving from across the room. She’s chatting animatedly with my father, of all people.
“Should we be worried?” I joke as we make our way over.
Nyxx chuckles. “Nah, Mom’s probably just regaling him with embarrassing childhood stories. You know, standard engagement party fare.”
As we approach, I catch the tail end of their conversation.
“…and then little Nathan—oh, sorry, Nyxx—decided to give himself a haircut with my sewing scissors. Blue streaks were definitely an improvement over that!”
My father actually laughs, a sound I’m still getting used to hearing in Nyxx’s presence. “I can only imagine. Our Anastasia was always so proper. Although I suppose she’s loosened up quite a bit these days.”
“Thanks to your son, Linda,” I say as I join the conversation. “He’s taught me it’s okay to color outside the lines.”
Nyxx wraps an arm around my waist. “And she’s taught me the value of structure. We balance each other out.”
His mom beams at us. “I’m just so happy you two found each other. And in Hamlin, of all places! Who would have thought that little cottage would change everything?”
“Speaking of,” my father says, stepping up beside her, “your mother and I were thinking of setting up a scholarship fund in your name—for young musicians who need a break. What do you think?”
The breath catches in my throat. “That’s… amazing. Thank you.”
“We’d love your input on the details,” my mother says, patting my hand. “We just wanted to do something that honors what you’ve built.”
For the first time in my life, their approval feels like a bonus, not a requirement.
As if on cue, Zoey and Eli from the Pied Pipers appear, champagne glasses in hand.
“There’s our favorite classical rocker!” Zoey exclaims, pulling me into a hug. “Ready for the Midwest leg of the tour?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Can’t wait. Perfect timing, so I don’t have to miss any of my Philharmonic gigs.”
“Balance, babe,” Nyxx reminds me gently. “We’ve got it all worked out.”
And we do. Somehow, we’ve managed to create a life that encompasses both our worlds. Classical concerts, rock tours, and our own unique fusion performances that have taken the music world by storm. We thought the name Pipers’ Rebellion was perfect.
As the night progresses, we’re pulled into countless conversations. Philharmonic members mingle with tattooed rockers, all brought together by our music. It couldn’t have been predicted, and it’s perfect.
As Nyxx and I step outside for a moment of peace, I can’t help but reflect on the whirlwind our lives have become since that fateful meeting in Hamlin. The past year has been a delicate balancing act, filled with triumphs and challenges we never could have anticipated.
“Penny for your thoughts, princess?” Nyxx asks, his arm wrapped around my waist.
I lean into him, savoring his warmth. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come. It hasn’t always been easy, has it?”
He chuckles softly. “No, it hasn’t. Remember that time we double-booked your Philharmonic performance with a Pipers’ Rebellion tour date?”
I groan at the memory. “How could I forget? The fancy footwork we had to do to reschedule the Pipers’ concert kept us both up at night for days. We still owe Eli big time for missing his little sister’s graduation.”
“But we made it work,” Nyxx reminds me, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Just like we always do.”
And we have. Through late-night rehearsals, cross-country flights, and countless video calls, we’ve somehow managed to keep both of our careers thriving. It’s been exhausting at times, but also exhilarating.
“You know,” I muse, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m grateful for your insane tour scheduling skills. Who knew those years of playing dive bars would translate so well to organizing a dual-genre music career?”
Nyxx laughs, the sound warm and rich. “See? I told you my misspent youth would come in handy someday.”
We’re interrupted by a small group of blue-streaked fans who happen to be here for a concert at the small, aging venue across the street. When they start to swarm, Nyxx prompts, “Easy there, little rats. What’s the first rule?”
“Respect the space, keep the peace!” they chant in unison as they each take a polite step back.
“Nyxx! Ana! Congrats on the engagement!” a bearded guy calls enthusiastically. His voice is all seriousness, even though his six-foot-tall body is wrapped in a giant pink tulle tutu.
We wave, thanking them for their support. As we head back inside, Nyxx pulls me close.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about the future.” His soft gaze pegs mine. “Not just tours and albums and weddings, but… other things.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He nods, a nervous muscle twitching in his jaw. “Yeah, like… kids. I mean, not right away, but someday. Ya know. If you want.”
My heart swells. “I do want that. Someday.”
His smile is radiant. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I confirm, leaning in for a kiss. “But for now, let’s get back to our party. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
As we rejoin our guests, I’m flooded with gratitude—the kind that hums under your skin. For the music that brought us together, for the love that remade us, and for the future we’re composing one note at a time.
Somewhere, a violin starts up from the bandstand, sliding into the opening bars of one of our songs. Nyxx grins, tugging me close.
“Our cue,” he whispers. And just like that, we’re dancing—off-beat, in sync, perfectly us.