Epilogue
Not quite one year later
“Well, Stark, I’ve been saving something for this very moment,” Havisham said as we gathered at Finnegan’s to celebrate both my completion of the paralegal certificate and her marriage to Trace. She’d taken no chances he might jilt her; they’d gone to the justice of the peace.
Judging by the way he looked at her, though, she had nothing to worry about.
Malone, who’d flown into town for the week, pulled me close. I could tell he was thinking marriage, but he’d said nothing. He was a blessedly patient man.
I wasn’t going to say never. I’d learned my lesson about taunting the universe.
Finally, Havisham popped up behind the bar with . . . the bottle of champagne that I’d brought in with me on what she and I now lovingly called That-Night-I-Accidentally-Touched-A-Boob.
“I can’t believe you kept it!”
“Of course I kept it,” she said as she popped the cork. “It wasn’t mine. It was yours. Even that night I had an idea we might make something good come from the bad.”
“See? You’re a Pollyanna after all,” I said as I took the flute she offered me.
“What perfect timing,” Malone said.
“Oh?”
“Remember when Selena flipped on Blake to get a lighter sentence? That expedited his trial—well, I’m sure Grandpa made some calls too—and now my least favorite cousin is off to prison.”
“Probably a Club Fed,” Havisham muttered as she handed him a glass.
The idea didn’t give me as much joy as I’d thought it would. “It’s a shame Trista couldn’t recover more of their assets.”
“About that,” Malone said.
“Yes?”
“I may or may not have shared some pertinent information with Trista’s divorce attorney.”
“All aboveboard?”
“Technically?”
I couldn’t hide my grin. My Malone wasn’t going to break the law, but he shared my sense of justice.
“Sorry I’m late,” Salcedo said as she breezed through the door. “I was finishing up a paper and totally lost track of the time.”
“Your timing is perfect,” Havisham said as she poured another glass of champagne.
“Is that . . . ?” Salcedo asked, pointing at the bottle.
“Oh yes,” Havisham said.
Salcedo looked at me, her eyes dancing. “What are we toasting?”
“Love,” I said, raising my glass toward Havisham and Trace, then looking up at my favorite forensic accountant.
“And justice,” he said.
“Poetic justice,” Havisham said as we all raised our glasses a third time.
“And being just a little petty,” Salcedo added.
Our toast concluded, we locked up Finnegan’s to head for a Waffle House after-party. We were past due in bringing some burly boyfriends to visit Betty and Jasper.
Once outside, I stopped. “Is that another blue moon?”
“A supermoon, even,” Malone said. “Almost ten years before you’ll see another blue moon, so drink it in.”
“Huh.”
“That’s a really loaded ‘huh,’ Stark.”
“Say, how good are you at flipping pancakes?”
He grinned. “An expert. Want me to make you some tomorrow?”
“Definitely. What’s your favorite shape?”
He put a hand on my forehead. “Are you okay?”
“As well as I’ve ever been. Shape, Malone.”
Bless him, he stopped to give my question thought.
“Well, for my next tattoo, I was thinking about an asterisk, so I’m gonna have to go with a star.”
I inhaled sharply. A star. “Why an asterisk?”
“Lots of reasons, but mainly because it can mean ‘wild card,’ and that reminds me of you.”
“Not a banana pepper?” I asked cheekily, even though my insides felt gooey.
“Nah.”
I grabbed his hand, and we walked in the direction of my car. “Listen, Malone. I know California doesn’t have any Waffle Houses, but I was wondering . . .”
“Yes?”
“How would you feel about my coming to stay with you?”
By this time, we’d reached my Corolla, and Malone leaned against the car and pulled me to him. “And here I was going to scout out places for a possible Atlanta office of Chateau Cybersecurity while I was here.”
“Really?” My heart swelled in such a way I knew I didn’t want to leave my friends behind.
“It was going to be a surprise, but you beat me to the punch.”
“So it’s time to renegotiate the benefits package?”
“I’d be willing to update our contract to a more binding document,” he said carefully.
My heart hammered. It was a different sort of proposal, but then again, I was a different sort of woman. “I could be persuaded.”
“I’ll enjoy persuading you,” he said before kissing me under that big, bright, blue supermoon.
The universe had spoken.