Epilogue
WAVERLY
Hurricane Ruth, as it turned out, arrived the way all the best divas do—announced well in advance, hyped beyond reason, and ultimately more bark than bite. Thankfully, only the outer edge of the storm hit Driftwood Pointe, a day of rain and some wind, then it was all over.
I sat in the window seat of Aldric’s upstairs reading nook for the better part of both days with Gerald, a blanket, and what I conservatively estimated to be my body weight in cranberry orange scones, making notes.
I had never experienced a hurricane before, but I was absolutely putting one in a book.
By the time the ferries ran again and the harbor bell rang on a clear, cold morning, I had seventeen pages of notes, a working outline for what was shaping up to be the most atmospheric horror story I’d ever attempted, and a Fae mate who’d taken to bringing me coffee at precise two-hour intervals without being asked.
The story I might change—but I was keeping him just as he was. Perfect.
The decision about my apartment came easily.
We would keep it. I had city things to do, like meeting with my publisher and so on.
Aldric and I agreed we would come and go together.
He was going to look for help to manage the Chamber when he wasn’t there.
He said he was sure the mayor would approve once he told him all the marketing he could do for Driftwood Pointe while in the city.
And if the mayor didn’t approve, Aldric said he would simply quit.
That led to an even bigger discussion. It turned out that centuries-old Fae were rich.
And I didn’t mean like, “oh, I have money” rich.
I meant beyond Richie Rich rich. When Aldric told me the amount—and that it was also mine to do with as I pleased—I sat down right there on the kitchen floor.
The poor man thought I’d fainted. He picked me up and sat me on the counter so we were face-to-face.
Or close enough. That, by the way, is where we figured out another distinct advantage to me being at that height. Lucky me.
Standing in the middle of my city apartment, Aldric clasped his hands behind his back and slowly turned in a circle.
“All right,” I said, setting Gerald carefully on the kitchen counter. “Out with it.”
He cleared his throat. “I have done something. Two somethings, actually.”
“Are these the I-should-sit-on-the-counter sort of things?”
“Yes—well, no—in a minute.” He said it quickly.
“You know the door just past my office at the Chamber? I’m having it made into your office.
Your name on the door and everything. Mr. McFluffinstuff has already claimed a chair.
” A pause. “And I had the north-facing spare room at the house converted into a home office for you. They are working on both while we are here. I wanted them done before you started your magic classes next week. This way, wherever we are, you have a place to work and we are not separated and—”
I crossed the room, wrapped him in a bear hug, and kissed him.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for being so wonderful about me continuing to write.”
“Of course. You love writing, and because I love you, I want you to be happy.”
I stared at him. “What—” all I could manage was a whisper. “What did you say?”
He peered down at me with confusion on his face. “What part—the Chamber office or the home one?”
“No.” I searched his face. “The ‘I love you’ part.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “Oh, that part. Well, it’s true. I do love you.”
“Aldric.” Tears spilled onto my cheeks. “I love you too, my incredibly wonderful mate.”
“One chapter ends,” he said quietly, “and another begins.”
I stared at him.
“Babe. Did you just turn our entire lives into a book reference?”
The corner of his mouth curved. “I did.”
I grabbed his lapels. “You know exactly how to talk dirty to me.”
He laughed—the real one, the guttural one—and lifted me up.
“Counter time.”
Gerald, as always, witnessed everything and said nothing.
The end.