Epilogue JACE
EPILOGUE
JACE
Susan is at the picnic table with her glass of wine, listening to her husband’s story the way she has listened to him for forty years.
“Jace, honey.” Susan’s voice carries across the yard. “Be a love and grab the bottle of white from the fridge.”
“On it.”
I cross the lawn and climb the porch steps.
The kitchen is cool and dim after the August evening outside. Wren is at the counter, transferring strawberries from a colander into a bowl.
She looks up when I come in.
“Hi, babe.”
“Hey.”
I open the fridge, find the bottle of white, and set it on the counter next to her.
Then I step into her, wrap my arms around her from behind, and feel the day let go of me for the first time in eight hours.
She leans back into me. Her hands go still on the bowl, and she tips her face up.
I bend down and kiss her—soft, brief, in her mother’s kitchen.
When I pull back, her eyes are searching mine.
“You okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“You seem a little off.”
“Just work.”
She’s reading my face the way she always does. I can feel her deciding whether to push.
She doesn’t.
She turns in my arms, pushes up on her toes, and kisses me one more time.
“Tell me about it in the car?”
“Yeah, baby.”
She hands me the bottle of white.
“Hurry up and get this out there before she sends a search party.”
She grabs the bowl of strawberries and heads out the screen door.
I stand in the kitchen for a second and breathe out.
Then I follow her with the wine.
* * *
Dinner happens.
Burgers off the grill, Susan’s potato salad, corn that Tom grilled too long and is teased for, Wren next to me on the picnic table bench with her bare feet hooked behind my calf.
The sun is going down by the time Wren and Susan start gathering plates and disappear inside with them.
Dawson stands to help, then his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, looks at it, sighs.
“It’s the colonel.”
“Take it,” Tom says.
Dawson heads inside with the phone to his ear.
This is it. Just the two of us.
“Hey, Tom.”
“Yeah.”
“Come check out the bike with me before we head out. I told you about the work I had done on it last month.”
“Sure. Lead the way.”
He sets down his napkin, stands, and picks up his beer.
I lead him around the side of the house to where the bike’s parked at the curb.
Tom lets out a slow whistle.
“She’s a beauty, Jace.”
“She is.”
He walks up to it. Crouches down on the curb side, beer still in hand, to look at the exhaust I told him about.
“Did the work yourself?”
“Yep.”
“Mm. Looks clean.”
He stands, wipes his hand on his shorts, and faces me.
I take a breath.
“Tom—”
He waits.
“I’m going to ask Wren to marry me. I’d like to do it with your blessing.”
Tom doesn’t say anything for a second. He looks down at the bike, then up at the house, at nothing in particular.
Then he looks at me, and his eyes are wet.
“I knew this day was coming.” He clears his throat. “Didn’t think it’d get me like this.”
He sets his beer down on the curb. Puts his hand out. When I take it, he holds on.
“She’s happy. I haven’t seen her like this before. You have my blessing, son. And thank you for asking me for it.”
I have to look away. Swallow.
“Thank you, Tom.”
He smiles, drags the back of his hand across one eye.
“We better get back before they get suspicious.”
He claps my shoulder and turns toward the house.
I stand at the bike for ten more seconds.
Then I follow him up the walk.
Dawson is coming out the front door with his phone in his back pocket as we come up the steps. Tom passes him, claps his shoulder without breaking stride, and disappears inside.
Dawson watches him go. Then he turns to me.
“Just wait till the wedding.”
“How?”
“Brother, you have been pacing like a man on his way to a courtroom for an hour.”
I huff. “You’re an asshole.”
“You’re my family, Jace. I know you.”
He glances at the bike at the curb, then back at me.
“Be my best man, Daws.”
His throat works once. Then he claps a hand to the side of my neck and pulls me into him for a hard one-armed hug.
“Yeah, brother. I’ll stand with you.”
He lets me go. Steps back.
“She’s gonna cry.”
“I know.”
“You’re gonna cry.”
“I know.”
He laughs. Then he turns toward the front door.
“Get inside before Mom figures out we’re hiding from her.”
I follow him up the steps.
The ring is in my pocket.