Epilogue
Chess
In the spring, Finn bought me a house for my birthday. I let him. It was surprising how liberating it felt, not worrying about
what kind of message that sent or if I’d be trapping myself by allowing him to spend so much money. I’d placed my life in
his hands, and he’d done the same. Every day, the threads of our lives grew more intertwined, and we were stronger for it.
We chose a house on Third Street in the Garden District. Built in the 1850s, it was a Greek revival style with double galleries
along the front and the back of the house, and surrounded by wide lawns, with a pool tucked in the back. We painted the stucco
a pale violet to represent New Orleans’s purple, with white for the trim. The high iron gates, which we needed for privacy,
were a glossy dark green. I was in love, true love, with the massive old house.
When I found out that Dex’s girlfriend, Fiona, was both an interior designer and furniture maker, I went to her for help.
While Finn was at training camp, Fi and I started decorating.
Between the two of us, we chose an ebony stain for the floors and clean white paint for the walls to let the architecture shine.
We kept the furniture comfortable but with modern lines, set up a home gym and movie room, an art studio in the attic, and a photography studio in an outbuilding near the back of the property that had its own entrance, and I loved the space more than my old loft.
Was the house too big for Finn and me? It didn’t feel that way. We filled it with friends and family and love. In the summer,
we hosted James and Jamie’s wedding. I ended up getting drunk and inelegantly bawling during my best woman speech. Finn consoled
me by taking me skinny-dipping later that night when all the guests had gone. He’d been right: drunken sex with someone you
love really was fun—in a sloppy, no-holds-barred, “wake up the neighbors” kind of way.
By the time fall arrived, our house was our home, and I loved Finn with a depth I didn’t know I was capable of.
“I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea,” Fi grumbles as she stands before the mirror in my dressing room. We’re close
friends now, and I’m only sorry we didn’t meet sooner.
I take in the little green dress, so short it barely covers her bum, and the shimmery pink tights with matching ballet flats.
“You look cute as hell.”
Fi scowls and flicks one of the iridescent wings strapped to her back. “Cute? I’m a masochist is what I am. My whole life
I’ve been compared to Tinker Bell. And now I’m dressing up like her, for fuck’s sake.”
Petite with killer curves, a button nose, big green eyes, and wispy blond hair, Fiona definitely looks the part.
I grin wide. “Embracing your inner Tink gives you power over her. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Shut up.”
“Dex will lose his shit when he sees that dress.”
She grins, too. “That’s the plan.”
“What is he going as?”
She winks, an evil glint in her eyes. “A lumberjack.”
I can’t help laughing, mainly because I know Dex will be grumbling over whatever he wears. “Oh, man. Talk about hot lumberjack
porn.”
“I know. I think my panties might go up in flames when I see him.” She fluffs out her tiny skirt. “What about Finn?”
Downstairs, the catering staff I hired is setting up for the Halloween party Finn and I are hosting. We did most of the decorations
ourselves, but the caterers will put the finishing touches on things.
“He won’t tell me. It’s supposed to be a surprise. Speaking of which . . .” I walk to the garment bag hanging by the mirror. “My costume is one as well.”
“Finn picked out your costume?” Fi gives me a look that’s part amused, part afraid. “And you trusted him? What if it’s a carrot?”
I snort. “All the things you could have come up, with and you pick carrot?”
“Felt nice and random.”
I press a hand against the bag, prolonging the moment, because I know it will be good. “Finn would never dress me as a carrot.
No, he was downright giddy when he left this for me with strict do not look until you’re getting dressed instructions.”
“Well . . .” Fi waves a hand. “Let’s see it.”
Taking a breath, I slowly unzip the bag. Shimmery white tulle pours out as if it’s been waiting to spring free. My breath
kicks up a little.
“What is it?” Fi asks behind me. “An angel costume?”
With trembling hands, I part the edges of the bag. He couldn’t have. He didn’t . . .
A happy laugh bubbles up and bursts free as my vision blurs. “He did.” I press my hand to my mouth, still grinning wide. “He
did.”
The midnight black bodice is soft velvet with a deep V-shaped neckline. The skirt is frothy snow-white tulle, layers and layers
of it that rustle and bounce at the touch of my hand. Black vines snake out from the bodice to lie upon that pristine skirt.
“Wow,” Fiona whispers at my side. “That’s . . .”
“Grace Kelly’s dress from Rear Window.” Another messy, sobbing laugh escapes me.
“He actually got me a new one.” Only this version is so much better than my old, sadly destroyed knockoff dress.
This is a masterpiece, a truly authentic copy of Kelly’s iconic dress, down to the slim patent leather belt and the even deeper V-shaped neckline in the back.
I explain to a confused Fiona about how I’d worn a dress like this before, how Finn recognized it, and how I’d lost it in
the fire.
“He had a new one made for you.” Her gaze is dreamy as she touches the short sleeve of the bodice. “Touchdown, Mannus.”
There’s even a bag filled with a pearl bracelet cuff, strand necklace, and cluster earrings.
Fi helps me get ready, pinning my hair back in a swirly chignon, and I hunt down a pair of strappy black heels.
My dress swishes and sways as I walk down the stairs. But I don’t find Finn waiting for me. In fact, he’s conspicuously absent
by the time the party is in full swing. I’m surrounded by friends, but no Finn.
I don’t know if I should be worried or annoyed.
Searching for him is slow going, as costume-clad guests stop me every few feet to compliment my dress. Finally, I reach the
back garden where Finn has ordered a dance floor to be placed beneath strings of little ghost-shaped lights. A band is set
up at the far end and is playing a cover of “Werewolves of London.”
I catch a glimpse of Jake’s face at the edges of the crowd and head his way. “Jake, have you seen—What the hell are you wearing?”
I squeak out with a laugh.
Bland as can be, Jake glances down the length of his body before answering. “A bunny suit.”
Rolondo, Dex, Fiona, and Charlie are with him, and they all start to crack up. “‘He looks like a pink nightmare,’ ” Dex intones.
Jake raises a fuzzy, pink middle finger in his direction.
I bite down on my grin. Here I thought Fi was way off with her carrot worries. “You lost a bet, didn’t you?”
Jake’s lips purse. “Yes.” He brightens a little. “Though I can’t entirely say I’m disappointed.”
I have no idea why. He really does look like a pink nightmare. All six feet two of him. It feels good to tease Jake, though. He walked through hell to get back to full strength.
“Look,” I say, snapping out of my bunny-induced daze. “I’ll give you a carrot if you tell me where Finn is.”
Jake’s smile turns smug as he nurses his beer. “Oh, I think he’ll show soon enough.”
I glare but the music stops, and someone turns on a mic. There’s a small whine of feedback and then he speaks.
“I’d like to thank you all for joining Chess and me tonight.”
Slowly, I turn toward the sound of Finn’s voice, but I can’t see him anywhere. The band is smiling, one of them moving behind
a xylophone, of all things.
Finn keeps talking. “It means a lot to us that you could be here. I was wondering if my pink bunny friend could help me out
here.”
Everyone laughs and looks at Jake, who is grinning like a loon. “Sure thing, asshole!” he shouts back with good cheer. Jake
holds a pink arm out to me. “Ms. Copperpot.”
Bemused, I take his arm, and he guides me farther onto the dance floor. People part for us. And then the band begins to play
with the kitschy pluck of a ukulele.
The music barely registers before Finn steps out from behind the big live oak next to the dance floor, and he begins to sing.
A laugh of pure joy bubbles up from me.
Most people go for the iconic Vegas Elvis with his white jumpsuit, but not Finn. He’s young Elvis, hair slicked back, neat
wedge sideburns, his black leather jacket with the stiff, high collar framing his face. Finn’s blue gaze zeroes in on me as
he croons “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” It is such cheesy goodness that I’m laughing, even as tears leak from my eyes.
Slowly, he walks my way, tossing the mic to Jake, who picks up where he left off.
Jake is surprisingly good.
Finn stops before me, close enough that my skirts surround his legs. A small smile plays on his lips. “Hey, Chester.”
I’m fairly certain I’m beaming. “I always knew you’d make a great young Elvis.”
His gaze stays on my face. “You’re more stunning than Grace Kelly.”
“Sweet talker.”
Finn holds out his hands. “Dance with me?”
My palms slide over his. “Always.”
The band plays on, our friends singing along with enthusiasm. But I only have eyes for Finn as he takes me in his arms, and
we begin to sway. All is right with the world when I’m with him.
“I love you, Chess,” he whispers against my cheek.
I snuggle closer. “I love you, too.”
A hum of acknowledgment rumbles in his chest. “I was wondering . . .”
He lets my hand go. Slowly, we stop dancing, and I stare up at him with my heart in my throat. Finn’s smile wobbles, but his
eyes are wide-open, looking at me with that same connection we had the first time we met. Only now it’s stronger, so much
stronger.
I’m hooked by that blue gaze. I’ll never tire of it. I’m so drawn in at first, I don’t notice that he’s holding something.
But his gaze darts to his hand, and then I see it. Winking under the tree lights is a large emerald cut diamond ring.
I don’t cry. I grin so wide it hurts my cheeks.
“Whether you wear this or not,” Finn says in a thick voice, “I will hold your hand through life. I will love you forever.
But it would be an honor to be your husband—”
“Put the ring on me, Finn,” I say in a shaking rush. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”
The ring slides on cool and solid. We’re still laughing and kissing when our friends finally swoop in to congratulate us.
Only then do I notice James and Jamie are here, too.
Much later, when the excitement has died down, Finn and I sit on the porch swing just outside of our room. Finn holds my hand, his thumb fiddling with the diamond on my finger.
“Just think,” I tell him as we rock, “I’ll soon be Chester Mannus.”
He tries admirably not to snicker, but he doesn’t hide his smile. “I think it’s a lovely name.” His voice grows husky. “Really,
the best name I’ve ever heard.”
With a sigh, I rest my head on his shoulder. “Me, too.”
Below us, people are still swaying on the dance floor. Sometimes, I think of that older couple we saw at the beach, dancing
beneath the holiday lights, content to just be with each other. I see my future in them, but I don’t dwell there. Now is where
I live. And that too is surprisingly easy to do.
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