Epilogue - Lily
D eclan shows me every day that I’m his priority.
He’s taking the communication idea above and beyond, sharing more than he ever needed to.
When I told him that wasn’t necessary, that some mystery between us wouldn’t go amiss, he just shook his head, telling me he wanted me to know everything, just so I’d never have to entertain a single doubt about him and his intentions.
Every night since then, we have dinner together. It’s been just over six months now and we’re finally living together—he’s been doing all the cooking, but honestly, that’s just in the best interests of our health.
In the quiet solace of the evening, we curl up in bed together, our heads on the same pillow and lungs sharing breath, talking about our day and anything that might be bothering us. Our routine is predictable, safe, and everything I need to make me feel secure in our relationship again.
Silvia and Elena had been quiet in the aftermath of the gala, especially when a judge refused Darius bail, citing his position and finances made him a flight risk.
Just when I thought we were clear of them for good, the two of them had dressed up to the nines and marched into the Hi-Tech offices, demanding that Declan recant his statement.
They’d been laughed right back out, escorted by security, and that might’ve been the moment that they realized that their name and position in society didn’t carry much weight anymore.
They vanished after that, emptying their house out and leaving town overnight. It’s kind of ironic—they couldn’t face the venom of society after they’d snubbed Abigail and her children during the fallout of Donald’s incarceration.
Footsteps thud through the house and I look up just as Declan calls, “Lily! Where are you? Julie told us dinner’s at six, so we’re already running…
late…” he trails off as he appears in the doorway, his eyes widening at the sight of me sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a towel and phone in hand.
“Hi.” I smile winningly, but he rolls his eyes.
“Don’t be cute,” he orders. “Julie’s going to over-salt our food if we’re late.”
“She won’t,” I argue. “Not mine, anyway, because I plan on telling her it’s your fault.
” He sends me a wide-eyed look of betrayal, and I laugh, waving him off.
“I’m kidding! I’d never do that.” Something about my tone has him looking doubtful, and it only makes me laugh harder.
When I’ve caught my breath, I wave my phone at him, my humor fading away. “Sasha was having an emergency.”
“What, she couldn’t decide what bottle of wine to buy?” he asks dryly, coming closer.
I shake my head, brow furrowing. “No, her mom lost her job. They’re not sure if she’s going to be able to keep the payments up on her house.”
Declan sits on the bed bedside me, mattress dipping and forcing me to lean into him. “I thought Sasha was sending her money every week?”
“She is, but it’s not enough.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, his thumb stroking the skin of my upper arm. “Didn’t she grow up in that house? Why are the payments so high?”
I blow out a breath. “You know her dad died when she was thirteen?”
“Hit by a drunk driver, right?” he clarifies.
“Right. Well, his life insurance had lapsed or something. I don’t know the details.
So, to cover his medical expenses and funeral costs, Sasha’s mom had to re-mortgage the house.
She took on a second job to cover it, but not long after Sasha went to college, her mom fell over and hurt her back, and it never healed right.
She’s in pain all the time, and she hasn’t been able to keep a job for long since, let alone two. ”
He pauses a beat, and I know what he’ll say before the words even form on his lips. “So, we help her. We give them the money, and if they won’t accept that, we make it an interest-free loan.”
“I’ve tried.” I shake my head, frustration furrowing my brow. “Sasha won’t accept it, saying she doesn’t want to taint our friendship with money.”
“We’ll work on her until she does.” The way he says that is slightly threatening, and I can’t help the small smile pulling at my mouth. “If the roles were reversed, she’d hogtie you until you accepted her help, so maybe we should borrow some of her methods.”
My smile grows at the image he’s painting, especially because he isn’t wrong. “I’ll make her see sense, even if I have to hit her over the head with it.”
Declan makes a quiet noise of agreement, one that says he’s got my back without words, and then nudges my arm gently.
“Come on, then. This problem will wait for later. We need to get going.” His stomach rumbles on cue, and he scowls dramatically.
“If my dinner is inedible because you and Sasha made me late, we’re gonna have problems.”
I stare back at him. “You don’t scare me.”
We’re only twenty minutes late, and the food is perfect, although Julie grumbles that her roast is dry— it wasn’t —for at least another ten minutes. Once we finish eating, Julie immediately gets to her feet and starts gathering the dishes, so I stand with her, taking mine and Declan’s plates.
She eyes me. “You don’t need to help. I’ve got it. You all should go to the living room, have a drink.”
My expression is patient. “You aren’t my housekeeper, Jules. You’re family, which means you cooked, so we clean.” Dad startles at my words, eyes wide as he abruptly shoves his seat back.
“Lily’s right,” he says, looking flustered, cheeks pink.
“You shouldn’t be cleaning up after working so hard to cook for us.
” He rushes around the table and tries to snatch the plates from Julie’s hand.
There’s a brief tug of war, but she gives in, watching in bewilderment as he heads for the kitchen without another look.
Declan chuckles as he stands up. “I’ll go help. He might need a reminder on how the dishwasher works. You ladies go relax.” He takes the plates from me and disappears after my dad.
Julie turns wide eyes on me. “What have you done?” she whispers.
I walk over to her and link her arms, casually leading her to the living room. “Just reminded him that even if he’s an old dog, he can learn new tricks.”
“I don’t need him to learn new tricks.” She sits down in an armchair that has become hers over the last few months.
I take the couch, sitting in the corner and folding my legs up under me.
“We have a nice routine between us, both learning what it’s like to really be with someone after so many years alone. ”
I hum thoughtfully. “Were you alone, though?”
Her brows dip together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you might have been an employer and housekeeper, but it’s always been a little more than that, right?” I lift my brows, and her cheeks go hot, eyes avoiding mine.
“We never— I didn’t—” She clamps her lips shut.
“I know you guys weren’t together,” I reassure her. “But you were more, even if you didn’t see it. You’ve been looking after him for years, and now he can take a turn looking after you.”
She looks like she might argue, but something settles in her eyes and she dips her chin in a nod. “You and Declan,” she starts, and I smile at the subject change. “You seem happy.”
I let out a low dreamy sigh, ignoring her laughter. “I feel happy.” I share a smile with her. “It’s different from how it was before. He’s different, lighter without the weight of Nexus and his father hanging over him.”
They were keeping Donald and Darius locked up, awaiting their respective trials.
Darcy had told me they both tried to bargain for a plea deal, offering to rat out the other to get a lighter sentence, but Declan’s evidence had been so thorough and concrete that the DA hadn’t even blinked, turning them both down point blank.
“Has he read the letter Donald sent him?”
I press my lips together, shaking my head. “He ripped it up and burned it,” I admit quietly. “Abigail is still struggling with it all, but she seems to have accepted that there’ll never be any kind of reunion between Donald and his children…especially Declan.”
“Is she still seeing that therapist?”
“Once a week,” I confirm. “It’s helping, I think.
She and Declan are finding some common ground, especially now she seems to have figured out that if she even breathes Donald’s name, Declan will shut down.
But Lottie’s taken her under wing. Abigail’s been volunteering at Harbor of Hope, and now she’s talking about taking on a more permanent role. ”
Julie’s eyebrows lift. “That’ll be good for her, it’ll give her a purpose. It’s a horrible thing that happened, but it seems like it gave her the opportunity to really find herself.” She pauses, considering her words. “Or reinvent herself.”
“Donald smothered her,” I say. “He buried her under layers and layers of lies and manipulation, until she could barely think for herself, let alone the kids.” My expression tightens. “Declan still blames her, even though he wishes he didn’t, but he’s working on that, too.”
“I’m not surprised,” Julie says softly. “Parents are supposed to protect their children, but even though it wasn’t Abigail’s fault, no one protected him.”
We fall quiet as footsteps warn us of Declan and Dad’s approach, watching as Dad comes in first, a whiskey in one hand, and a white wine in the other. He heads straight for Julie, handing the wine glass over with a smile. “Here you are. No tossing it on anyone, please.”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” she gripes, even as she takes it. “You throw a drink one time.”
Dad laughs unrepentantly, taking a seat in the armchair on her other side as Declan takes a seat in the middle of the couch, his hip pressed tightly against me, handing me the wine glass in his hand. I take it, frowning when I don’t see another glass. “Where’s your drink?”
He lifts one shoulder. “I’m driving home. ”
“I told him one wouldn’t hurt you,” Dad interjects, “but he wouldn’t budge.”