Epilogue
Five Years Later
“Asecond location?” my husband asks when he walks into our shared office at home.
At thirty-seven, Brandon has never looked more handsome.
He’s got more laugh and smile lines along his face, and he’s added some black into his wardrobe.
I don’t want to take credit for that, but before me, he was all preppy, video game developer.
And while he’s still a video game developer, he’s a little less preppy. I like every version of him.
As for me, well, his preppiness rubbed off, and I now wear more color, with rose being my main thing to wear. I still love wearing black clothes, and it ramps up when my depression takes a starring role in my daily life, but today is not that day.
When Brandon asked me to marry him all those years ago, I was at a loss for words.
I was confused as to why he was asking me so soon after the fallout with his parents, whom he has now gone no contact with.
But after I ran through all we had been through, how we support each other, and how we’ve seen each other at our lowest—I realized there was nothing stopping me from accepting.
So a week later, Brandon and I got married at the courthouse with Carter and Miles as our witnesses.
And then our friends and his brothers threw us a reception at Blue Pint Outpost.
“Do you think it’s a bad idea?” I ask, terrified I’m swinging too high.
“I mean, it’s—no. I don’t think it’s a bad idea. New York, though?”
The Coda Club had a successful first year and an even better second and third year. But I’ve been getting that itch that means it’s time for me to do more with the little piano bar that could.
I nod my head enthusiastically. “In one of the cities that never sleeps? I think it’s a great idea.”
“Well, who am I to object?”
“It wouldn’t be right if you did,” I tease. “How’s the game?”
“Nope. We’re not done talking about you. Have you brought this up to Miles?”
Since before we got married, Brandon always made sure to prioritize me and my goals. I never had someone care so much about me, but he does. So when I try to change the subject to him and his accomplishments, he swiftly changes it back to me.
“I haven’t yet. I figured since I told you about my dream to open a piano bar all those years ago, I would tell you about my idea to open a second location.”
“You love me.”
I suck my teeth together and stand up from my chair, crossing the small space between our desks and dropping into his lap.
I play with his slightly overgrown brown hair and stare into the hazel eyes that have become somewhat of an art piece to me.
I’ve memorized every small freckle and the small bump on his nose I could paint from memory alone.
“Yeah, Ollie Pop, I do love you.”
I silence his objection to the nickname with a searing kiss that makes me feel like I’m floating. In him I found my best friend, my light when the days get too dark, the best audience for my one-woman show, and the love of my life.
It’s been six years since he walked into the TapHouse I was working at, and since then, we turned our terrible love into the love of a lifetime.