Epilogue #2
I learned to breathe and trust her.
And she learned to feel herself.
I dig my face into her from behind.
She squeals in surprise and moans as my tongue enters her.
I slap her pussy while I fuck her with my tongue.
She arches.
Moans.
Gasps.
And cramps slightly.
Her body shivers.
I slow down and finally stop.
She relaxes.
“Well,” I say, “That was one hell of a way to get married,” I say and laugh.
She laughs with me.
“Now, let’s get to city hall,” I say.
We get up, she dresses, checks her appearance, and then we walk to the door of my studio.
The studio that reminds me of El. Every day.
The pain I feel is still there.
But it isn’t consuming me that much anymore.
Jane stands in the corridor.
I stop in the door frame.
Turn.
Look back at the apartment.
Look up at the terrace, where I see a glimpse of the blue sky.
I miss you, I tell her. You will forever live in my heart.
“Are you coming?” asks Jane.
I turn.
See her.
And I see a part of El in her.
“Coming,” I say, smile and close the door.
Jane and I get married with a signature on a page and a kiss. No one else. Just us.
“You still taste like me,” she whispers against my lips.
“Uh-huh,” I say and grin.
We walk from the city hall to our favorite cafe. We drink coffee. Have some ice cream.
And then we stroll through the city without many words. It is one of the rare moments where I don’t look over my shoulder and can truly be here.
When we return home, the sun falls between the streets, dipping Manhattan in the most beautiful shades of yellow and orange.
“Miss Degard,” says a female, but rather edgy voice behind me, and I spin around with fear surging through me. A woman steps out of a black Escalade, behind her the slick guy I saw on the first day at uni.
Goosebumps spread over my arms, as I realize I haven’t been wrong in feeling watched.
“Who is asking?” I ask, reading myself for an attack. My muscles tense, senses sharpen.
The woman has long brown hair up in a tight, high ponytail. With her long legs, black functional pants, and strong eyes, she could be anything from an assassin to a federal agent.
“Kat,” she says, and hands me an envelope. There is something heavy in there. I stare bewildered at her.
“Antonella sends her wishes,” she says. “Or shall I say, Sophie?”
Sophie.
She’s alive—
But it also means the plan—
She was supposed to come for me—
I am falling.
Falling, as my past catches up with me. The car drives off, as I try to catch my breath.
She found me.
I am fucked.
I rip open the envelope.
A phone falls into my hand.
Together with a photo.
I stare at the photo.
A photo of Richard Whitney-Morgan.
Hanged.
Dead.
My mouth drops open.
Goosebumps spread over my arms.
“How?” I breathe out.
I don’t know what I feel right now. I wanted his death to mean something. To avenge everything he has done to El. Make him in a way that it would cost him everything. And now, he’s just dead.
“You’re asking the wrong questions,” says the woman named Kat.
“What’s the right question?” I ask, and look at her. Her eyes are strong, but not aggressive.
She leans in.
“He paid for every time he touched her with a knife stabbed in his body,” she says silently.
The hair on my arm stands up.
“El,” I whisper. “She—”
“Yes,” says Kat, her eyes softening for a moment. “It was the plan all along.”
My eyes become watery.
She got her revenge.
El got her revenge.
Kat puts her hand on my forearm.
“The rest is a gift,” Kat says, turns, and is gone.
I stare after her.
Bewildered.
They drive off, and my mind starts processing again.
I risk a glance at Jane.
She stands next to me.
Staring at me.
I want to say something.
Explain everything.
But no words come over my lips.
“You will tell me when you feel ready,” she says as she puts her arm on my back.
There’s another photo.
I gasp in complete shock.
My mother.
It’s footage of my mother being shot by my own father.
My mind can’t grasp what I look at.
My breath flattens.
He killed my mother.
He lied to me.
He—
A whirlwind of emotions consumes me.
I somehow find myself upstairs in the studio.
I didn’t even realize how we got there.
I look at Jane.
I am still processing what just happened.
Sophie found me.
She didn’t kill me.
After everything.
But she knows my new identity now.
She could’ve killed you the moment she saw you, says a voice in my head. Instead, she killed the one person you needed dead.
And she gave you the knowledge of what my father did.
How does she even know all that?
Question after question appears in my mind.
I stare at the photos in my hand.
It’s only then that I realize there is even more in the envelope.
A phone.
I hold it up.
The display activates.
And I see myself.
A photo of me riding Liberty.
A huge smile on my face, arms wide as we raced the horses over the beach.
The feeling of freedom.
And I see the real me for the first time.
Pain stabs through my chest.
My eyes become watery as I realize what this is.
This is El’s phone.
My breathing flattens as I press it into my chest.
I look at Jane.
This is supposed to be our day.
And now it’s about El, my past, and my fucked up parents.
“I’m on the terrace,” says Jane softly, and lets go of me. “Take whatever time you need. I am not going anywhere.”
I stand there.
“Babe,” I call after her, just when she reaches the top stair.
She turns. I don’t know what to say. There is so much I want to tell her.
“I know. Nothing changes. I am not going anywhere,” she says, turns and walks outside.
I stand there.
And stand there.
With a piece of El in my hands.
Given to me by the woman I first loved.