Epilogue
EPILOGUE
LANCE
THREE MONTHS LATER
Cricket and I sit on the stone bench in the garden, still in our wedding attire, waiting. She’s got her beautiful, white lace dress dirty at the hem. I tried to hold up her train so it didn’t get dirty on the sidewalk, but she shooed my hand away. She insisted it’s just a dress.
It’s not to me. Just hours ago, we exchanged vows in front of our family. Linc walked Cricket down the aisle in her wedding gown, which clung to her figure like a tight hug. She wore her hair down and wavy, with a halo of flowers tucked into the back. She looked just like an Irish princess.
I’m sure whatever Vesper said and prepared was beautiful, but I honestly didn’t hear a word of it. I was fixated on my beautiful bride, wondering how the hell I got so lucky. My life of misfortune turned around.
Make no mistake, I’d redo everything in my life, the exact same way, all the pain, all the suffering, if Cricket was my prize.
“You look incredible,” I say.
She beams at me as she straightens my black tie. “So do you. I was a little iffy on the black on black, but this is a good look for you.”
I smooth the vest of my tux. “Vera Wang—not just for women.”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Hey, is that her?” Cricket asks, throwing her hand over mine.
“Yeah…”
I study the woman being escorted to us by a nurse. It’s been over ten years since I’ve seen my mom. She looks so small. Not weak, just…small. Her shoulder-length hair, the exact same shade of brown as mine, is pulled back into a low ponytail. She’s wearing loose-fitting jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt.
When Cricket notices my left knee jiggling out of control, she uses her free hand to rub soothing circles against my back. “Oh, she’s beautiful, Lance. You look just like her.”
“Christine,” the nurse says when they are mere steps away, “these are my friends, Lance and Cricket. They just got married today and wanted to say hello. I know how much you love wedding dresses, so I thought you might want to see.”
Mom smiles so wide her teeth peek through her lips. “I used to design wedding dresses,” she clarifies. “Yours is absolutely beautiful. Look at the lace detail.”
That part is actually accurate. My mother once worked for a designer who has taken the fashion industry by storm. They used to sketch together. Had my mother not married my father, perhaps she’d be the one with pieces being shown off at Fashion Week in Paris. Instead, she’s here in a scrambled reality, and unable to recognize me.
“May I hug you?” I ask, standing.
Mom takes a small step backward, a little startled at my sudden movement. “My, don’t you look dashing.”
“Thank you,” I say with my hands out. “My new bride didn’t think the black on black could work.”
Mom reaches out and touches my bow tie. “Especially with the black bow tie on top of it. But this is sharp. Very handsome. Although…” She tilts her head to the side.
“What?” I ask.
“You kind of look like an assassin.”
“Imagine that.” I laugh a little awkwardly. Cricket’s suddenly studying the clouds, trying to keep a straight face.
Mom surprises me when she closes the gap between us with a small step and wraps her arms around me. It’s brief, but it’s everything. “I’m not much of a hugger,” she mumbles as she pulls away. “But congratulations.” She turns and holds out her arms to Cricket. My wife scrambles to her feet so fast, she nearly collapses into my mom’s hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Christine.”
I relish the moment of Cricket embracing my mom because I know it’s fleeting. A blip in time. And right on cue, when my mother pulls away, there’s suddenly tears in her eyes. She grabs her temples. “Cora, I’d like to go back to my room now. I don’t want to be rude to your guests, but I’d like to go. Right now. I want to go right now.”
“Okay, okay.” Cora, the nurse, soothes her. “Let’s go. You did great. I just wanted you to see the pretty dress. How about a little lunch and then we relax for the afternoon?”
Mom nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. She holds up her hands to me and Cricket, then retreats back down the path. It’s such a short-changed goodbye.
Cora lingers for a moment. “I’m sorry, but it’s just the first time. Usually, the more you come, the longer you get before she needs to rest.”
I nod solemnly, unable to hide the disappointment in my face.
Cricket speaks for me when she realizes I’m too upset. “We’ll be back very soon.” Her hand goes back to rubbing big circles against my back.
Once Cora’s out of earshot, Cricket turns to me and wraps my arms around her waist. “Hey, how are you?”
“I’m okay. I expected that.”
“It was such a long drive, for such a short visit. That was barely five minutes.”
The sun is shining on Cricket’s face, making her rosy cheeks glow. “I know. I’m sorry. I won’t make you come again.”
“Make me?” Cricket asks. She reaches up to tap my nose. “Try and stop me. You’re my husband. We share a family. That’s my mom now, too. I’ll be here every single time, Lance.”
I pull a loose strand of hair away from her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. “My girl,” I whisper.
“Yes,” she answers just as softly. “Yours.”
In our usual Friday night tradition, the gang is all at Martinis. But tonight, we’re celebrating. After getting back from visiting Mom, Cricket and I changed, snuck in a quickie, and then met our family for drinks.
“So, be honest,” Callen says with a slick smirk, “have you two horndogs christened headquarters yet? I just want to know where to bleach.”
I glare at him. “Start with your desk.”
“Not funny,” Callen mutters.
“Wrong. That was very funny,” Linc adds with a wide grin.
“Okay, next round is on me”—I point to the empty glasses on the table—“is everyone having the same?”
Linc clasps me on the shoulder. “It’s your wedding day, man.” He nods at Callen. “We’ll grab it.”
I squint one eye at Linc as I rise from the end of the circular booth. “Don’t get all soft and sappy on me, man. It’s not a good look on you.”
Eden pokes her tongue out at me. She proceeds to rub Linc’s thigh under the table. “I think sweet is a very good look on you.”
He kisses her cheek, as I excuse myself. I need to check on Cricket anyway. Even three and a half months after her injuries, I’m still worried she’s going to black out in a bathroom stall. I’ll never stop worrying. I don’t know if it’s because of the ordeal we went through, or because of love. But this is my new normal. Constant worry.
Before heading back to knock on the ladies’ room, I pause by the bar, looking for Ollie. Our favorite bartender’s belly is round and swollen now. Her apron barely fastens over her baby bump. She’s well into her third trimester. I feel terrible because the bar is actually packed tonight, and there’s no sign of it stopping. Ollie makes eye contact with me and hurries to the end of the bar as fast as she can.
“Another round for everyone?” she asks, panting.
“I hate to bother you.”
She waves me off. “Nonsense, I’m fine.”
“Can you call Sydney for help?”
Ollie starts to protest, then looks at the lounge opening where a large group of people have just entered. “Dammit, I may have to.”
I laugh. “I’ll hop back there and help you.”
She chuckles. “And leave you unattended with all the free booze? I think not. What can I make you?”
“How about two love spells?” a feminine voice says from my right.
“What the hell?” I gawk at the woman suddenly next to me that I remember clear as crystal. This time, her hair is sleeked back into a smooth, long ponytail, and she’s not wearing half the makeup she was when I met her at LaRoe. “ Sylvie. What the hell are you doing in D.C.? How’d you find me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Babyface. I’m not stalking you. This is purely coincidence. I’m in town for work.” She winks at me, a subtle nod that she’s here up to no good. “But don’t worry, not tonight. Tonight, I’m here to drink.” She flashes me a flirty smile.
“Barking up the wrong tree,” Ollie says. Her loyalty to Cricket is unwavering. “Lance here just got married today.”
Sylvie’s eyes light up when she glances at the thick, platinum ring on my left hand. “You’re kidding.” She smacks me on the back. “Look at that. You got your girl.”
“Sure did.”
“Well then, two love spells,” Sylvie says to Ollie, “but for Lance here and his new bride.”
Ollie holds her hands up in the air. “Are you going to tell me what the hell a ‘love spell’ is? I’ve never heard of that.”
Sylvie laughs. “Fine, two of whatever Lance’s wife likes.”
Ollie blows out an exasperated breath. “That’d be a filthy martini with about ten extra olives.”
“Make that three, please, Ollie. And take your time.” I nudge Sylvie’s shoulder with mine. “Weird coincidence. Are you here for good or evil?” I ask in a lowered tone.
“After a while of what we do, isn’t it all the same?”
As much as I hate to admit it…she’s right.
I glance over Sylvie’s shoulder to see Cricket’s blond head over the crowd. She’s making her way back to the booth, but I bellow out to catch her attention. I beckon her over to the bar.
“Cricket,” I say when she approaches, “I want you to meet a friend.” Sylvie spins around to greet her, inadvertently whipping Cricket in her face with her ponytail.
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” Sylvie says, but she freezes when she sees Cricket. “It can’t be,” she whispers.
My wife steps back two paces, while turning ghost white. She gasps in short inhales, tears instantly fill her eyes and stream down her cheeks. “Saoirse. You’re alive.”
THE END