Epilogue
EPILOGUE
ODETTE
Three Months Later
The delivery guys just left, and the house feels quieter than it has all day. I, on the other hand, have been staring at the Steinway & Sons Model D grand piano now settled in its spot by the bay window. It still feels surreal, having it here in my new home.
Duncan’s piano from Vermont, the one I never thought I’d see again.
I let my fingers brush over the keys, the coolness of the ivory settling something inside me. I play a few notes, the rich sound filling the space, and I can’t help but smile. It sounds beautiful. Perfect, really.
Behind me, Duncan leans against the doorway, watching. “How does it feel?”
“Like home,” I admit, not bothering to hide my smile as I glance over my shoulder at him. “It sounds even better here.”
“It should,” he says, stepping closer, his voice warm and steady. “It belongs here, with you and Aurora.”
Two words come to mind: thoughtful and intentional. That’s what he’s been these last few months. Whether or not it’s working remains to be seen.
“Thanks. This means a lot to me. To both of us.”
He nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. “It’s the least I can do.”
I turn my attention back to the piano. “Well, now I have two, so I’ll need to get this one on my servicer’s schedule.”
“I wouldn’t mind handling that for you.”
“Really? And how exactly do you plan to manage that from New York?”
“Actually... I’ve been thinking about that.”
Even though part of me already knows where this is going, I ask anyway. “About?”
“Moving here.”
My heart skips. “Did you just decide that?”
“No. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just didn’t act on it because I wanted to respect Chloe’s and Caleb’s wishes. But there’s so much more at stake now. And I meant what I said. I’m all in. Flying back and forth is nice, but every time I have to leave, it makes me miss you both even more. I’d rather here, physically, twenty-four-seven.”
I blink once, then twice, turning to face him fully. “ Here , as in Chicago, or…” I twirl a finger in the air, “ this here.”
“Yes to the first one, maybe on the second. You’re not ready for us to live together, and I respect that.”
“We lived together in Vermont.”
“That’s not the same thing. You had one foot out the door the entire time.”
Before I can respond, the front door swings open and Aurora’s excited voice echoes through the hallway.
“Is it here yet?” she calls out, her footsteps pounding against the floor as she runs in.
I glance at Duncan, who straightens a little, his hands sliding out of his pockets as if bracing himself for the inevitable.
I should feel bad for him. I really should. But this is just way too good. Besides, he did say he was willing to do whatever it took to win her trust.
I barely have time to turn before she bursts into the room, her eyes lighting up when they land on the grand piano. But then she sees him and her excitement vanishes, shifting like a cloud passing over the sun.
“Oh,” she says flatly, her gaze fixed on him. “He’s here. Again.”
Nine-year-olds and their grudges are not for the faint of heart.
Duncan looks momentarily caught off guard, but before he can say anything, Aurora cocks her head, her icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Why are you still here?”
“Aurora.” Standing, I take a few steps toward her, but she holds up a hand, her attention locked on Duncan.
He shifts his weight and offers her a tentative smile. “I just wanted to?—”
“You don’t look like the type to do the heavy lifting with deliveries,” she interrupts, giving him a pointed once-over. Her tone isn’t mean, just matter-of-fact, but the edge in it stings.
Duncan glances at me, silently asking for guidance. I offer him a small nod, hoping he’ll handle this with the same thoughtfulness he has all along.
“Well,” he begins, “I thought I might stick around and work on that cadenza with you, the one you asked me about a few months ago?”
She shrugs. “That’s okay. Mom already helped me with it.”
Her words hang in the air, and I can see the faint flicker of pain in Duncan’s eyes, even as he nods. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t press. He doesn’t speak either, but I can feel the heartbreak radiating off him. This is going to take time. A lot of time. But as I look at Aurora, then back at him, I cling to one small, fragile hope. A prayer, more like. Together, we will figure this out.
Aurora’s eyes shift to the piano. She doesn’t move toward it, but the longing is clear. My heart aches. I know she’s dying to sit down, to let her fingers dance across the keys. But I also know her well enough to understand that she needs time.
That’s why I haven’t told her about us — Duncan and I, that is — about the fact that we’re something. I didn’t want to rush her, or overwhelm her with too much at once. But, as Chloe loves to point out, Aurora is perceptive and she sees more than she lets on.
Like now, her eyes dart back and forth between us, like she knows something is amiss. She walks up to me, wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my stomach. I sit down on the arm of the couch, pulling her into my lap, holding her close.
She leans back slightly, her dark curls brushing against my cheek. “Does he make you happy, Mom?” she asks, her voice quiet but pointed. “Like... really happy? The way ‘Jeux d’eau’ makes me happy?”
The unexpected comparison pulls a laugh from me. “Nothing compares to that,” I tease her, running my fingers through her curls.
She gives me a faint smile, but the question still lingers in her eyes. “No, really. Does he make you happy? Like Peyton and Azriel are happy?”
Her question gives me pause. I think about it, really think about it. About the way Duncan has been showing up, not just for me, but for Aurora too. About the ways in which his presence has quietly filled spaces I hadn’t realized were empty.
“He does,” I admit.
“You took too long to answer,” she chides. “Why? Are you scared?”
“A little. I don’t know what the future holds, sweetheart. But I’m taking things one day at a time. And right now... yes. He makes me happy.”
Aurora studies me for a moment, then she nods. “Okay.” She shifts in my lap, wrapping her arms around me tightly before adding, “I noticed you’ve been sleeping better. And you smile a lot more now. I figured he had something to do with it since he keeps showing up.”
Damn it, I will not cry. “You noticed, huh?”
She pulls back again, just enough to kiss my cheek, her small lips warm against my skin. “Yeah, I notice stuff,” she says matter-of-factly, then stands, her attention drifting back to the Steinway.
Hesitantly, she walks toward it. I watch as she sits down, her fingers hovering over the keys for a beat before she presses one. Then another. A soft melody begins to fill the room, and I glance at Duncan. His expression is hard to read, as it’s hopeful and heartbroken.
But when Aurora glances at him, just for a second, and then goes back to playing, I see something shift in him.
It’s not everything. Not yet. But it’s a start.
I watch her small fingers glide over the keys, each note like a heartbeat. My heart aches with how full it feels, as if it might burst from the sheer weight of love I feel for her. I don’t hear Duncan approach until his arms wrap around me from behind, his warmth pressing into my back. His hands rest gently on my waist, his touch grounding me. I lean into him without thinking, my head tipping back to rest against his shoulder. Together, we watch Aurora, her focus on the music, her expression softening with each note.
“Thank you,” Duncan murmurs against my ear, his voice thick with emotion.
“What for?” I ask, turning my head slightly to look up at him.
“Everything.” He shifts closer, his warm breath feathers my cheek. “For being so patient with me. For giving me the chance to be part of this. For letting me love you, even when I know it hasn’t been easy.”
His lips brush mine in a kiss that’s soft, unhurried, filled with all the things we don’t need to say out loud. When we pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his hands steady on my waist.
Before us, Aurora keeps playing, her music wrapping around us like a cocoon. The moment feels suspended, timeless.
He presses soft kisses to my temple. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” The words spill out easily, effortlessly, because they’re true.
I turn my attention back to Aurora, his arms still around me. She’s lost in the music now, her small frame leaning into the piano as her fingers dance over the keys. The sadness and apprehension I saw earlier are gone, replaced by something lighter, freer.
Duncan’s arms tighten around me as we stand there, watching her.
We’re not perfect by any means. Our relationship won’t be easy, but it is ours and that’s more than enough for me.