Epilogue
June
The Following Year
One Month Until Our Wedding
“That’s it!” Babcia throws her hands up and walks away from where she was pinning Sabrina’s dress. She takes a seat at her sewing machine and starts fussing with the settings.
On the couch in her shop, Zuri, Yesenia, and I squeeze together, cackling as Sabrina shrugs and protests her innocence.
“It would be easier to fit dresses for a flock of chickens.” Babcia lowers her glasses over her eyes and pushes denim fabric through the machine. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to resume.”
Sabrina toys with her dusty rose skirt, which is still several inches too long. “Oh, Babcia, please come back. I’ll be good, I promise. I’m just so excited for Libby! And I haven’t slept a wink.” On cue, she throws a wink over her shoulder at us.
“I saw that.” Babcia doesn’t look up from her sewing.
To be fair, Sabrina probably didn’t sleep, but she hopped off her flight from London looking as perky and fresh-faced as ever.
“Let’s try a different hen.” Babcia stands and points a finger at Yesenia, who dutifully makes her way to the dressing room.
Babcia’s the only person I’ve seen successfully silence Yesenia’s constant chattering. Zuri scoots closer to me, already in her dress after trying and failing to follow Babcia’s instructions. Sabrina slides in next to her, their thighs touching. I move as far as I can toward the arm of the couch.
Talk about a third wheel.
I’ve tried averting my eyes from the private glances shared between Zuri and Sabrina, but you’d have to be blind not to see their love for each other.
The ocean dividing them is the biggest obstacle in their relationship, but Sabrina has taken advantage of every opportunity to fly over here and help me with wedding planning.
“To repay you,” she says.
I’ll gladly use my wedding as an excuse for them to see each other more. It lights me up to see my friends so happy.
Yesenia brushes aside the curtain. Her dark shiny hair flows over the thin straps of her bridesmaid gown.
“Yesenia, you look beautiful.” I clutch a hand to my chest.
Expecting Zuri’s and Sabrina’s hoots of agreement, I turn toward them on the couch. Sabrina’s eyes are fixed on Zuri, and Zuri’s on the couch cushion, where Sabrina’s hand rests mere millimeters from her own. I clear my throat at an exaggerated volume.
“Oh.” Zuri looks up. “Gorgeous, Yesenia.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Yesenia looks at her feet but pink creeps into her cheeks.
“Come.” Babcia claps, pins already in her mouth, and guides her to the pedestal.
The tinkle of bells alerts us to the opening of the shop door, and we all twist to look in that direction. The shop is technically closed for this “private event.” Don’t people read signs?
From among the racks of clothes that serve as the walls of our fitting room steps the most beautiful man I have ever seen.
White shirt, rolled sleeves and unbuttoned front revealing glimpses of his tattoos.
The single curl escaping the hold of his mousse.
He still refuses to try a different brand. I don’t mind, I like his hair messy.
He leans down toward me, and I kneel on the couch cushion, pressing my palms to the sides of his face as he nibbles my bottom lip.
“Get a room!” Zuri shouts.
When we break apart, Sabrina is squealing and clapping with glee. Healthiest exes ever?
“I’m actually here to see Babcia.” He moves around the couch and plants a kiss on her cheek.
Babcia lights up, any sternness from before washing away at Trip’s presence.
He holds out a canvas bag, green leeks poking out the top. “They had these at the stand you like uptown. Thought I’d bring you some.”
Babcia beams and pats his cheek. “Good man.”
Oh, to be blessed with a lover who knows the key to my grandmother’s heart is root vegetables. How did I get so lucky?
“He certainly is.” I smile like a fool and stand, wrapping my arms around his torso. The vegetable stand is a new discovery from the weekends we’ve spent exploring and falling in love with a new version of New York—our New York.
Trip pulls a lock of hair away from my ear and whispers, “I brought something for you too.”
My eyes widen.
Something vibrates between us, and Trip slips a hand into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He slides his thumb across it and a familiar pair of hazel eyes pops up on the screen.
“Hey, Carter. What’s up?” Trip’s voice is affable, a stark change from the first few months after he and Carter reconciled.
It hasn’t been an easy road, sorting through their shit, but lately things are in a much better place.
Carter’s been helping Trip and me build up our new foundation and garner support from the rest of the Coldwell family.
The two of them regularly go to baseball games and have a standing monthly dinner that usually ends with whiskey back at our place.
They still bicker like an old married couple and know exactly which buttons to push, but there’s a boyish playfulness to both of them.
“Hey, man.” Carter’s voice comes through on the other end. “I wanted to pick your brain about the meeting I just had with James. Wait—are you with Libby? Put her on.”
Trip hands me the phone. A longer-haired, bearded version of Carter stares back at me. Even though it’s been months, I still need to train my face not to react when I see him—this version that’s so different from the polished, clean-cut man I knew for so many years.
But there are other differences too. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles—truly smiles. The way he’s the first one to congratulate me on happy news, the first to ask how things are going with my job, with Trip.
“Hey you.” I beam into the phone screen. “Still don’t own a razor, I see.”
“Watch it. I think the rugged look works for me. Plus, when your best friend de-curses you and gives you a second shot at life, might as well experiment.”
“Glad to hear my efforts to break the curse finally gave you the freedom to grow facial hair.”
“Among other things.” His eyes twinkle, even through the screen. “Okay, but Libby—serious talk. Can you convince your man to let us throw him a proper bachelor party?”
“I’m unequivocally staying out of it.” I nudge Trip in the side. “But I do think he deserves to celebrate.”
Trip rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry, I’ll convince him.” Carter grins. “So, what are you guys up to?”
“Well we’re at Babcia’s shop—”
“Oh yeah? Let me say hi!”
I flip the camera around to face my grandmother at her sewing machine.
“Hey, Babcia!” Carter voice drips with charm.
She raises one hand in greeting, not lifting her eyes from her work. She’s a tough nut to crack, that one.
“I think she’s warming to me,” Carter whispers.
I flip the phone back to face me.
“So, Libs, did he give it to you yet?” Carter’s voice stays low. “What did you think? I told him it was—”
Trip snatches the phone from my hand. “Alright, man. Great talking to you. Gotta go.” He hangs up before Carter can say another word.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “So, what exactly did you bring me?”
He wraps his arm around my waist and cocks his head toward the clothing racks. I follow him through the maze of suits, pants, and dresses, until we’re far enough from the others.
“Is it something dirty?” I ask him.
“That comes later.” He grins and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Sabrina bring up the ring again yet?”
I sigh. “Yes, only, like, thirty times since she landed.” I do my best British accent. “You must let us give you a diamond. Honestly dear, a six-month engagement and still no ring—it’s preposterous!”
He raises an eyebrow. “She said preposterous?”
I shrug. “Seems like something a British person would say.”
Trip’s throat bobs. “Well, you can tell her I might have a solution.” He pulls a hand out of his pocket, clutching a small velvet box.
“Trip, I said no ring. I’m not a jewelry person, plus the expense—”
He holds a palm up. “Don’t worry about the money part. This is an heirloom. And if you don’t like it, you can say no.”
He flips the box lid open, revealing a solitaire diamond on a thin gold band. I take it between my fingers, turning the stone and watching the light reflect across every facet. It’s vaguely familiar.
“Is this…?”
“Made from my diamond earring.” His eyes burn into mine.
My heart turns to melted butter in my chest. I slide the ring on my finger, inspecting my hand.
Trip steps closer, his hands skimming down the backs of my arms.
“So you know anytime you call, I’ll be there.”