Epilogue.
Lily
It is back to the morning rush and the chaotic rhythm of preparing meals, but at least this time, I am not running the race alone.
Iris stands at the sink, her hands moving in a brisk, familiar routine as she rinses the fruit, while the scent of warm butter and sizzling bacon fills the air.
I am still arranging the side plates on the wooden island, my fingers placing the forks down with neat precision, when the heavy door at the end of the hallway clicks open.
Noah steps out into the kitchen.
He is dressed for the studio, the dark fabric of his suit jacket hanging open over a crisp shirt.
He holds his phone pressed tightly to his ear, his voice dropping into that low, authoritative tone he uses for the network executives, but the professional mask completely slips the second his eyes find mine.
A bright smile breaks across his face, instantly clearing the lingering fatigue from his features.
He crosses the room without breaking stride, his eyes locked on me.
As he reaches the island, he leans over the counter and presses a quick, warm kiss against my lips, his scent of clean cedar and lavender soap washing over my senses.
He pulls back, his mouth moving back to the phone as he responds to a question from the person on the other end, but he doesn't walk away.
Instead, he suddenly lowers his hand, holding the phone away from his face. He locks the screen with a quiet beep.
"One minute," he says, his voice dropping into a thick, rough murmur that is meant only for me.
Before I can even process the change in his posture, he steps completely into my space, his long fingers wrapping around my waist. He hooks his palm behind my back and pulls me flush against his chest, closing every single inch of distance between us.
He leans down and catches my lips in a second kiss, but this one isn't a greeting.
It is deep, fierce, and entirely continuous, his tongue sliding against mine with a quiet, desperate hunger that takes the breath right out of my lungs.
My fingers automatically bunch into the fabric of his shirt, my knees going completely weak against his shins.
He holds me securely, his hands anchoring me to his chest as the warmth of his body overrides the chill of the morning air.
The kitchen noise, the clinking of the porcelain plates, and the lingering thoughts of the separation completely dissolve under the pressure of his mouth.
He kisses me senseless, pouring a year of isolation and unsaid promises into the touch, until my mind goes entirely blank and I forget every single thing I was thinking about before now.
When he finally pulls back, his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark as they scan the flushed heat on my cheeks. He taps the thumb of his hand against my hip bone, letting out a low, satisfied chuckle before bringing the phone back up to his ear.
"Yeah, I'm here," he says into the line, his voice remarkably steady as he steps back toward the door, though his eyes never leave my face. "Go ahead with the digital metrics."
Noah
I am driving to the office when a sudden vibration rattles the console. The dashboard screen flashes with the incoming group call. I tap the button on the steering wheel, and the audio clicks over the car speakers.
Clint begins without even waiting for a greeting. "Hey boys, we have a new person joining."
"Ooh, what did that poor soul do to his wife?" Abraham's voice cuts through, laced with a familiar, deadpan curiosity.
"Uh, he cheated on his wife," Clint delivers plainly.
"What?" I ask, my grip tightening on the leather wheel.
"Oh well, that’s, uh, bad," Winston says, his tone dropping. "Is there any other thing?"
"Yeah," Clint says, pausing just long enough to let the traffic noise fill the silence. "He cheated on her with her younger sister."
"What?" I ask again, my chest tightening.
"Yeah," Clint says.
"What?" every other person asks at the exact same time, the speaker grid descending into absolute disbelief.
"Yeah, his name is Saul," Clint confirms.
"Wow," Brandon finally chimes in from a noisy background. "I guess we are going to have a better groveling session this time around."
"I hope Ronny’s out with his therapy mind," Abraham says, a low chuckle scratching through his microphone. "Because this time, I don’t think love letters are going to cut it."
"Me too," Clinton says. "Man, this is a total mess."
"Well, that's what the groveling husbands are here to fix," Charles joins the line, his voice level and steady. "I mean, we did fix up Noah’s situation."
A sudden surge of pure relief and happiness pushes past the tightness in my ribs. I laugh out loud, the sound echoing inside the empty vehicle as I pull up to the network parking garage. That name never seems to not crack me up.