Epilogue Harper #3
I laughed and kissed his cheek, then Octavian, who looked happier, brighter. Odin was thriving at Mercer Chemicals as his father’s number one man, and Tav was a writer living in Paris.
“Congratulations,” Tav said in his thoughtful way.
“Thank you,” I said. Though he was older than me, I’d always felt a big-sisterly protectiveness for Octavian. Seeing him happy was another gift piled onto this night when I was already spoiled rotten.
Their parents followed, and a hush trailed in their wake as people stepped aside. Neither had lost that regal air about them. Rockwell stood with his hands clasped behind his back. Celeste was stunning all in silver.
“Dr. Bennett,” Rockwell said. “Congratulations. A tremendous achievement.”
In ten years, he’d never become less formal, less closed in, but he’d never treated me like an outsider either. Celeste was warmer, as if the years had thawed the cool, collected front, and let more of herself shine through.
“Marvelous, darling,” she said, giving me a hug and light kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you both for coming. This is such a surprise.”
“Orion told us how much it meant to him,” Rockwell said, “and because you mean so much to him…”
“And because you make our son so happy,” Celeste added, “we had to be here.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Orion said, and looked to me. “It’s true. I’ve never been happier.”
Challenge accepted.
“It’s so lovely to see you all,” I said and took his hand. “But I need a word alone with my husband.”
“Uh-oh,” Orion said. “How much trouble am I in?”
“All of it.”
We went to the far edge of the terrace, where the city lay strewn below us and the night had fallen, rich and dark. I tucked my arm in Orion’s, and we stood with the sky’s canopy above and the city’s below.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said. “But thank you. It’s the greatest gift.”
Orion held me close. “And here I thought I was getting a lecture about putting you on the spot.”
“I don’t need the attention. It’s the thought you put into it. And your speech.” My throat thickened, and I wondered just how I was going to do this. Then I glanced upward, and it all fell into place.
“There.” I pointed to Orion’s constellation. “That’s you.”
“No…”
“Yes. Remember what Mrs. Andolina said? Those are the stars lost sailors use to find their way home.”
Orion nodded. “I remember.”
We both were quiet for a moment, thinking of the beloved teacher who’d passed away last year. And thinking of Dean. Always Dean.
“Ten years ago, I was lost,” I said finally. “I kept my heart locked away because I’d been hurt too many times. But then I met you. You showed me the way home.”
“Awfully romantic, Bennett,” he said gruffly, and brushed a curl from my cheek. “And I’ve had that same thought about you so many times, I’ve lost count.”
“We both wanted a real home for so long. One that was whole and warm and full of laughter and tears too.” I swallowed hard and took his hand and placed it over my lower belly. “I want that with you.”
Orion stiffened, his head shot up. “What?”
“I was going to tell you later,” I said. “Then you ambushed me with this party. But…yes.”
His stunned eyes went to our hands, then back up to me. “But…we were going to wait. We…”
“You’ve been waiting,” I whispered. “I know you have, and I’ve never felt more ready.”
“Harper,” Orion whispered. “Really? You’re sure?”
I nodded. “Yes, Orion. I’m sure.”
“I’m going to be a father,” he said, as if he needed to hear it out loud to believe it.
I slid my hand to his face, cupping his cheek. “You are.”
He laughed—one sharp, disbelieving sound—then hauled me to him. “I’m going to be so good at it,” he said against my hair.
“You don’t say,” I said, laughing and crying.
“I’m serious,” he said fiercely, pulling back enough to look at me. “I’m going to work so hard because I want to be…” His voice faltered. “I want to be everything we never had.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I know you’re going to be the best father to this baby. I don’t have a single doubt.”
Orion stared at me a moment longer and then held my face in both hands.
“I love you. I love you so much, there isn’t enough music in the world to express it. But I’m going to try. Every time I play, it’s for you. And…”
“Him,” I said, my hand over Orion’s on my stomach again. It was far too soon to tell, but I knew anyway. “Your son.”
“My son.” Orion laughed again and then shook his head, his eyes overflowing with love and twinkling with incorrigible mischief. “No. Our son. Our son, Bandit.”
Oh my God.
“Of course,” I said. “To commemorate how we met.”
“Exactly.”
“Over my dead body.”
Orion laughed, and his smile was the most brilliant, purest smile of joy and love I’d ever seen. “We’ll put it in the maybe column.”
He turned me so my back was to his chest, his hands resting over my belly.
Behind us, the party continued, all the people we loved best in one place and those we had lost above in the stars, maybe, where Orion’s constellation burned bright.
The brightest in the night sky, waiting, like me, to guide the lost home.
THE END