Epilogue
Mandy
I can’t even begin to explain the fullness of my heart, and the pulsing, pounding love I feel toward Seymour. My body tingles with it. Every nerve ending alive and aware. It’s all encompassing. It’s overwhelming.
It’s everything.
My mind races with a thousand things I want to share with him.
I want to tell him about the disaster of Todd’s event, hear his laugh when I describe how half the people left early.
I want to call Scott and Barrie. But exhaustion weighs heavy on my limbs, making even keeping my eyes open a challenge.
“You can crash at the boathouse, because I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Seymour says, his voice gentle.
“I’ll take care of everything.” His hand brushes my hair back, the touch so tender it makes my heart ache.
“I’ll follow up with Scott and the police about Diana and Todd. I’ll call Barrie.”
We drive to the boathouse, leaving the memories of Todd behind.
The familiar scent of lake water and wood surrounds us as we enter.
Moonlight streams through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
I sink onto the bed, barely able to stay awake.
The sheets are cool against my skin as he tucks them around me.
The soft whir of the fan fills the quiet space.
“Sleep unafraid,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “I’ll be right here.”
I drift into deep, dreamless sleep.
When I wake, early morning light filters through the windows. Seymour is asleep in the chair, his long frame somehow folded into the space. His face is relaxed, peaceful. I drink in the sight of him. The strong line of his jaw, the dark sweep of his lashes, the slight curl of his hair at his neck.
“You know,” he says, his eyes opening to slits, voice rough with sleep, “It’s not polite to look at someone sleeping.”
“Can’t help it. You’re too handsome.” The words come easily now, natural as breathing.
He stretches, the movement fluid and graceful, then leans forward in the chair. “How did you sleep?”
“Come here and I’ll tell you.” The invitation in my voice surprises even me.
His eyebrow rises and the look he gives me—pure heat and promise—sends shivers down my spine. The bed dips as he settles beside me, his body warm and solid against mine.
Our kisses are endless, sweet and deep. The gentle lap of water against the dock provides a rhythm to our breaths. “Let’s stay here forever. Never leave.”
“Fine with me.” His fingers trace patterns on my arm.
Later, after I’ve gone home to shower—yes, I actually had to leave the boathouse—Scott and Barrie arrive with lunch. The familiar scent of Jamie’s grilled cheese fills my kitchen as we gather around the table. Seymour stays close, his hand finding mine under the table.
Scott and Barrie share updates between bites. The police caught Diana a few towns over. The case isn’t fully wrapped up, but it’s serious enough that federal agencies will be involved due to the previous crimes.
“How do you feel about that?” Barrie asks, her eyes soft with concern. “About Diana’s possible guilt?”
I take a slow breath, feeling Seymour’s thumb stroke my knuckles. “It’s not easy. She was like a mentor to me. I never would have suspected her.”
“I worked with her too.” Seymour reaches for the coffee pot, the rich aroma filling the air as he tops off our mugs. “And I never saw that coming.”
Scott clears his throat, shifting in his chair. “Um, Mandy. I wanted to apologize.”
“Whatever for?”
“I put you in danger by asking you to wear a wire and—”
“Nope. Totally worth it.” The certainty in my voice surprises even me. “I’d do it again. Yes, there was danger, but if she’s truly guilty, she needs to face consequences.”
Scott’s face flushes, the color creeping up his neck. He fiddles with his napkin.
“What is it?”
“Well, let’s just say a lot was caught on that wire.”
Oh. Oh. Heat floods my cheeks as I realize Scott and the entire police force heard our declarations of love. And everything about Todd.
Scott moves to my side, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you these past five years. I can’t believe what that guy did.” He turns to Seymour, extending his hand. “Sorry, man. I prejudged you, but I see now you’re perfect for Mandy. Grace agrees, too.”
Tears well up as we hug. It means the world to me that Scott and Grace will give Seymour another chance. Again, I see a lot of changes in his future. One where he takes down some of his walls and lets go of all the rules.
We continue talking, voices mixing with the clink of coffee cups and rustle of napkins, until Seymour stands. “Hate to break this up, but we have a date that’s about to start.” His eyes dance with barely contained excitement.
After goodbyes, he pulls me close the moment the door closes. “About time,” he growls against my lips.
“I know, right?”
“Now what is this about a date?” I ask, studying his face. He’s practically vibrating with anticipation.
“It starts now. Let’s go.” His fingers intertwine with mine as he leads me to the door, his palm warm against mine.
“Wait. Where are we going? What do I need?”
“Right now, we’re heading to your studio.” His voice holds a note of something I can’t quite identify.
I stop, my feet planted. “Why?”
“We need to check it out before it’s bulldozed.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s all ash and burnt splinters of wood, but okay.” The words come out steadier than I expect.
The afternoon sun is warm on our faces as we cross the small lawn.
The sight of my burned studio still hits me.
The charred walls, the acrid smell of smoke that lingers in the air.
But the hurt is different now, more like an echo than a fresh wound.
Each time I look at it, I remind myself that it’s time to move forward. I’m free of Todd, truly free.
The door creaks ominously when Seymour pushes it open, nearly falling from its hinges. Ash swirls around our feet as we step inside.
“There’s one thing we need to check.”
I let out a gasp, my hand flying to my mouth.
The easel has toppled, but beneath it, my night sky painting lies covered by the tarp. My heart begins to race.
“It was a fireproof tarp.” His voice is soft, hopeful. “It doesn’t work perfectly, but it’s worth checking.”
My hands tremble as I move forward. I meant what I said about letting go, about starting fresh. Ideas and inspiration can’t be destroyed by fire. But still...
Gently, carefully, I lift back the tarp. There it is.
My brilliant night sky in shades of orange and yellow. The whorls, the black holes, shaped like flames as they lick the canvas. The edges are slightly charred, but the heart of it remains intact.
Seymour moves closer, studying the painting intently. I hold my breath, watching his face. This isn’t Todd. This is Seymour. I trust him.
He whistles low. “Gorgeous. Look at the depth of the color. The texture you’ve created here.
” His fingers hover just above the surface, tracing the movement without touching.
“The color of the sky really throws me but at the same time, draws me in.” He pauses, and my throat tightens with emotion.
“I want to buy it. A million dollars. It’s going right next to Blackbeard.
” I punch his arm, but his eyes tell me he means it.
“Both paintings will be above our bed or in our living room. Wherever you want them.”
My heart stutters at his words. I think I know what he’s suggesting, but...
He takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
“I know it’s not the most glamorous or heart-pounding moment.
If you want, I can hold off and plan something with a limo and a night of dancing.
I can rent a private DJ in my home or at the boathouse.
Or we can fly to Nantucket. Whatever you want, Sweetness. I’ll do it.”
A squeal escapes me. Despite what he thinks, my heart is racing, pounding against my ribs. My life is expanding because he’s in it. “Right now works,” I manage, breathless.
“Marry me, Mandy Farnsworth.” His voice is steady, sure.
“I’d love to, Seymour Black.”
We take the painting to put in my cottage, safe from this shell of a studio, and head to the boathouse where we spend the rest of the afternoon and evening. The sun warms our skin as we swim, our laughter echoing across the water. We talk about nothing and everything, words flowing.
The wooden dock is warm beneath us as we sit at the end, our feet dangling in the cool water. Small waves from the boats lap against the wood, creating a gentle rhythm. The late afternoon sun turns the lake to liquid gold.
“Mandy,” Seymour says, his voice carrying that same certainty from earlier. His fingers trace patterns on my shoulder, leaving trails of warmth. “I’m serious about marrying you. And I don’t want to wait six months or a year. I can’t wait that long.”
A dragonfly skims the water’s surface near our feet. The breeze carries the scent of pine and lake water. Everything about this moment feels perfect, feels right.
“Neither can I.” I turn to face him, drinking in the sight of him in the golden light. “Now kiss me again.”
His smile—the one that’s just for me—spreads across his face as he pulls me closer. And as his lips meet mine, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.
The lake stretches out before us, a canvas of possibilities, and I can’t wait to paint every moment of our future together.