EPILOGUE Smooth Sailing
EPILOGUE
Smooth Sailing
Silas screams. Sir hisses from somewhere between us before climbing over me and hopping to the floor. It takes a moment for me to understand what’s going on as I sit up, searching in the dim morning light for him. My hands find Silas’s arm and squeeze.
“Hey,” I whisper as I gently shake him. “Silas, it’s okay. It’s just a dream.”
Silas sits up, slamming his head into mine.
“Fuckity-fuck,” I curse, rubbing the spot.
“Oh fuck, Laszlo, are you okay?” He wipes his arm across his face and blinks down at me as I slide out of the bed, holding my head with a groan.
“I’m fine,” I say, waving a hand in dismissal.
He laughs weakly as he swivels from me and scoots to the edge of the bed. Grabbing his cane, he stands and carefully makes his way to the bathroom to wash his residual limb. I lean against the door as steam fills the bathroom, closing my eyes as the throbbing in my skull subsides.
“What are we doing today?” he calls.
“Meeting some friends.”
The water shuts off, and a moment later, he rounds the corner with a raised brow but says nothing as he leans against the wall next to the bed.
He reaches for the silicone liner on his nightstand, a glove-like sock that’s worn under his prosthesis.
He turns it inside out before carefully rolling it on, making sure there are no air bubbles.
Grabbing his prosthesis and sitting on the edge of the mattress, Silas pulls it on and does up the lanyard suspension strap to lock it in before standing again.
He walks a bit, testing his weight before taking a few steps toward me.
“Still getting accustomed,” he says as he stops before me.
I smile down at him and cradle his face, smoothing my thumb over his cheek. “I’m just happy to see you smiling again.”
With a breathy laugh, Silas kisses me on the cheek as he moves past me toward the kitchen. With a sigh, I follow him.
There is no guidebook for boyfriends of pirate captains, and when I asked him if he wanted to talk to someone about all the things he’s seen and done, he looked at me with narrowed eyes and said, “Who would even believe me?”
A fair point.
He feeds Sir a small plate of wet food before he pulls eggs and bacon from the fridge, turning to the stove as he opens the packet.
It’s become routine, this waking up from screams, rolling out of bed, and making breakfast. I dump some freshly ground coffee into the French press and boil water, turning to lean against the breakfast bar.
Peeling an orange, I admire the way the muscles on his shoulders and back flex with each movement, coiling and uncoiling as he cracks the eggs in the pan.
The scars along Silas’s skin are hidden in the lines of his tattoos, but I know where each one is, can see them catch the light as he moves, can see the slight bump or knot of skin beneath the ink.
Sir sits patiently at his feet, chirping until Silas sneaks him a small piece of bacon, holding up a finger in a silent pact as if I didn’t just witness the entire exchange.
“What?” Silas asks with a laugh as he glances over his shoulder, reaching across the distance to snatch an orange slice from my hand.
“Nothing.”
He hums before he plates up the food and hands me a fork.
There is comfort in our life, a comfort I never knew I’d have, and I can’t help but smile as Silas shuffles over and reaches for the shirt he ironed and left hanging on the laundry room door last night, buttoning it up with clumsy fingers.
It’s one of the most pirate-esque things he could find: a bright blue shirt covered in palm leaves.
I shower and change, fidgeting as I straighten my sleeves before reaching for a tie.
“You’re being so strange today,” he says with a laugh, catching my eye across the bedroom as he smooths down the pant leg over his prosthesis.
I adjust my collar, folding it over my tie before pulling on my suit jacket. I can feel the weight of my old journal in my pocket, and my face grows warm at the thought of what I’m about to do.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” I say as I slip my phone into my pocket.
He clucks his tongue as if he doesn’t believe me but doesn’t push for any more information.
After we’ve finished getting ready, Silas and I walk silently to the park, past the trees and familiar people we’ve become acquainted with in the three months at our new flat.
We scurry past The Shard and the large crowds gathering at Borough Market and cut toward the docks, sidling up alongside the water.
People smile and wave at us as we move past them, and Silas shoots a suspicious glance my way.
“What are you up to, Laszlo?”
“Nothing,” I say with a sickeningly sweet smile.
Silas did teach me how to lie well, after all.
When we arrive at the pier and the replica of She Deceitful bobs in the water before us, Silas can’t help himself; he smiles.
He works with George now, taking the small ship out on the water and teaching kids and teens how to sail a real-life pirate vessel.
It’s the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I find excuses to join them from time to time just to see him at work.
What can I say—there’s nothing hotter than Silas sailing.
But today is not like all the other times.
Louise has worked her magic, stringing lights from the masts.
The sails are tucked away, and the deck has been swept clean to make room for small tables of food and drink.
The lights twinkle against the gray, stormy day, and despite it being only noon, it’s a dark London day, and the lights cast a soft glow against the dreary backdrop.
“What is this?” Silas asks as he climbs the gangplank.
“It’s a special occasion,” I say slowly. He takes it all in, examining the ship and our friends. They are gathered at the foremast, watching us with terribly masked expressions of excitement.
My mom stands off to the side, supportive as ever as she clasps her hands in front of her, beaming.
My gaze finally lands on Louise. She looks jet-lagged, but she smiles at me all the same, that knowing glint in her eye.
As if reading my thoughts, she tilts her head in that sisterly way, and I know that she has my back, has always had my back, even when I refused to accept it.
“Silas Night,” I start as I reach into my pocket and pivot to him, “you and I have been on quite the adventure.”
“I’ll say,” he says breathlessly.
“We’ve fought pirates. We were pirates. We’ve both nearly drowned. We’ve been held hostage, we’ve had guns held to our heads, and knives and swords pressed to our throats, and still, at the end of the day, despite all the people who’ve tried to kill us, we’re here.”
“Alive against all odds,” he says, his voice dropping until only I can hear it.
“Against all the odds. Against time and space and history itself. But we’re here together.
I wouldn’t have anyone else at my side. People like me don’t often get a happily-ever-after, but with you, I think it’s possible.
” I lower down on one knee, then switch when I realize it’s the wrong one, pulling out the worn blue journal and flipping open the top as I hold it out to him.
I carved out the pages and glued them together, filling the inside with velvet and adding a clasp to make a makeshift ring box. “What do you say, Captain?”
Someone snickers from the crowd, but Silas pays them no mind as he takes a step toward me.
“You know I don’t have an ID, right?”
I shrug. “Yes.”
“I don’t technically exist in this time.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
He shakes his head as he stops before me and stares down at the ring. It’s a thick gold band engraved with small waves and a little She Deceitful (as close as they could get it, seeing as how small it is) bobbing on the water. Throughout the waves are small inlaid pieces of sapphire.
Silas glances from the ring to me. “This is for me?”
I pull it from the box and snap it closed, tossing the book to Louise as I stand and slide the ring onto his finger. “Only if you want it.”
He stares down at his hand with wide eyes, turning the ring this way and that, admiring it. It’s a perfect fit, and the gold practically glows against his suntanned skin.
“Well?” I say, wringing my hands.
Silas smiles as he tugs me to stand. “Who says the adventure should stop now?”