Epilogue
SAGE
The dining room at Laine’s house is flooded with winter sunlight. I’ve set the table carefully with Laine’s mother’s tea service. There’s a roaring fire, and even Christmas music jingling in the background.
My mother sits across from me, her makeup and red dress seasonal and perfect, despite her husband’s recent suicide. Not that she would have cared. She has a boyfriend waiting for her at her apartment in London, Nicky or Nicholas, twenty years her junior. My mother loves to cause a scandal.
“The mince pies are interesting, a little tangy, but the pastry is good,” she says, taking another bite. “I’m glad you took after me with a talent for baking.” The only thing I got from her she doesn’t need to add.
“I’m so glad you like them.” I flash a smile at her and then go over to the sideboard. When I come back, I set an open tin on the table between us. The label with the wolf logo proudly reads: Lovett instead, bin them.
At last, I feel free.
Feeding human remains to my mother has become the best memory a girl could hope for.
The Christmas market is in full swing when I finally stop walking.
Lights are strung between lampposts, and there is the smell of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts wafting through the air.
Families roam past, dragging children by the hand, squealing with delight over decorations, the lit-up snowmen, and the reindeer.
There’s a buzz in my pocket, and I have a slew of messages from an unknown number.
It's me, Nola. I have a new phone.
Where are you? Laine's freaking out after you showed up the other night, covered in dirt and blood!
Tell her I'm fine. Not dead yet anyway.
That isn't funny
Nothing about this is funny. He found me in Quinn’s safe house. Had to leave everything.
Who is this guy?! You still haven’t told us. Come to Grayfleet. Troy has security!
I love you, but sweetie, you can’t protect me from this. This is my mess, and I need to clean it. The less you know, the better. Turns out you can't run the devil, you can only piss him off.
Please. Let us help you!
No, Laine is pregnant, and you’re finally happy. I can’t drag you into this. I just wanted to give you this number. Use it for emergencies only, and please stop asking Quinn to find me. I’ll find you when it’s over. x
I’m staring at a stall selling ornaments, thinking about how best to help Nola when she won’t let me, when I feel him behind me.
“You’re a long way from Laine’s.”
I turn. He’s in his long black coat, snowflakes catching in his hair. “How did you find me?”
“You have Ben. There’s a tracker on his collar.” At my expression, he rolls his eyes and adds, “It was for hunting, but I guess it works for stalking too.”
“I’d rather you gave me your bank card.”
“How about you steal it, and I can hunt you down.”
I raise a brow. “Adding kidnapping to your list of crimes?”
His eyes darken. “Always happy to oblige.”
There’s a pause while that sinks in.
Then he reaches over and takes the ornament I’m clutching. It’s a small silver swan. He gives me a look. “I thought you’d be sick of swans by now.”
“It’s for the tree at Grayfleet. If we’re gutting the place, we should at least keep some traditions.”
“One swan?”
“See it as the start of your new collection. We’ll add one every year.”
He pays before I can convince him anymore, then hands it to me. “Your swan. You’ll be wanting mini razors next. How did it go with your mother?”
“I’ll tell you later. Right now.” I look around at the lights, the people, the normalcy of it all. “I just want to pretend that we’re a normal couple out doing Christmassy things.”
“Christmassy things.”
“I have a weakness for anything green and red that smells of cinnamon.”
Troy takes my hand, and we wander through the market.
He humors me enough to let me buy him a Santa hat for when he cooks dinner later.
He buys me gingerbread that’s too sweet, but I eat it all anyway.
I secretly buy him a scarf with bells on it so he can’t sneak up on me for one of his presents.
But we’re not normal, no matter how hard we pretend.
Troy’s too intense even when he’s trying to be casual, but watching him attempt small talk with a vendor about how spicy mulled wine should be is just what I needed.
“You’re laughing at me.” His green eyes look hurt, but there’s a curve to his lips I’m seeing more and more of.
“Er, you tried to haggle over gingerbread, Mr. Big Deal. Who does that?”
“I negotiate everything.”
“They were two pounds, Troy.”
He hands me the fifty pence piece he saved. “Here. You thank me later, when the renovation bankrupts me.”
I giggle, and it feels light. This is what I needed: an afternoon of festive fun to chase away the ugliness that is my family.
We end up at a pub, tucked into a corner booth…miles away from the screaming kids, Troy tells me. I tell him Laine will have her baby soon, and then he’ll have to get over his aversion to the screaming.
“I’d rather get out of here so I can make you scream.”
He pulls me in for a whiskey kiss and then looks serious for a second. “Tell me what happened with your mother.”
His expression gets darker and darker as I talk. By the time I finish, his knuckles are white around his glass.
“She knew,” he says quietly. “She knew what your father did to you, to my family, to others, and she helped him cover it up.”
I tap the outside of my glass with my short nails. “Yes, but don’t do anything.”
“How can I? You let her go.”
“She’s my mother. I had to.” There’s a twisted pull in my chest whenever I think about what she did, but an even deeper one that hurts whenever I think about something happening to her. Maybe one day, with therapy, I can get over her. But not now.
“Still? Even now, knowing that she knew and did nothing, that it was your father who saw you at Grayfleet stealing the evidence. He was the one who chased you, not Darrow, and pushed you off the dock, not the tower, when he caught you trying to escape. The fact that he didn’t know it was you until you hit your head on the rocks means shit.
You could have died. And she said nothing. ”
“But I didn’t, and here we are.”
He’s silent for a long moment, jaw tight. He doesn’t say what’s unspoken, that he lost me then. All he says is one word that makes me love him all the more, “Okay.”
I reach across the table and cover his clenched fist with my hand. “Not all razors need to cut.”
“Stop quoting me. I sound like a complete dick when you say it.”
“Then say something intelligent.”
I smirk at him, and he laughs. And then he leans in. “I can’t wait to devour you, little finch.”
“Now you sound like a Neanderthal.” But I give him that look, the one I know he can’t resist.
His eyes are sparking with unspoken things when they meet mine.
“I spent all day looking at paint samples and discussing cabinet hardware while you made lunch for the woman who helped destroy both our lives.” His voice is low and dangerous now.
“I’ve been very patient today. Very fucking civilized. ”
My breath catches. “And now?”
“Now I want to take you home and be very uncivilized.”
A warmth blooms in my core. I bite my lips. “Laine’s might be better; there are contractors everywhere at Grayfleet.”
“They’re gone. Kathy and Elias, too. I sent them home hours ago when I realized you’d left Laine’s.” He stands, pulls me up with him. “We have the whole house to ourselves.”