Epilogue
Annalise
Afew days after I was released from the hospital, I wandered into Aiden's office after dinner. He sat behind his desk, the newspaper spread before him, an empty glass of whiskey in his right hand. His eyes rose to meet mine, and there was a pained expression on his face.
We hadn't had a real conversation since the day after Gage and Sophie's wedding when I'd discovered Riley's lies, and Aiden's betrayal, and had left the house with Jacob.
He'd been avoiding me. And maybe I'd been avoiding him, too. I'd forgiven Riley, but I hadn't let Aiden off the hook. Not yet. It was time. That didn't mean I was going to make it easy for him.
My throat was still sore from the smoke. I'd been cleared to talk, but only if I kept it short. I dropped into one of the big leather chairs in front of Aiden's desk, raised one eyebrow, and said, “Well?"
Fortunately for my sore throat, Aiden didn't need any more prompting than a single word. Unfortunately, he was terrible at apologies.
"You know that I'm sorry," he began.
I shook my head and stared at him. He stared back.
Finally, I said, “It wouldn't hurt to say it."
At the gravelly sound of my voice, Aiden winced.
"Hell, don't talk. You sound terrible." I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "Okay, Annalise, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry I hired Sinclair Security to spy on you.
I'm sorry I was paranoid and overprotective.
I'm sorry I lied to you and didn't tell you that your boyfriend was working for me.
" His voice softened, and his eyes were sad as he finished, "I'm sorry I played a part in keeping you from Riley.
If I could do everything over again, there are so many things I would change, but trying to push you two apart is the biggest. I—"
I waved my hand in the air to cut him off. I'd wanted an apology. I didn't need him to put on a hair shirt and grovel.
"I'm good, Aid. I love you, too.”
My older brother’s voice sounded from behind me. "That's it? You're not going to make him beg?" Gage dropped into the chair beside me and propped his ankle on his knee. To Aiden, he said, “After what you put me through when I came home, that's all you're going to give Annalise?"
Aiden shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He still felt guilty over the way he’d treated Gage, and Gage had no problem poking at him over it.
"Leave him alone," I said to my brother. "You know he's got that overdeveloped sense of responsibility. He probably lays in bed at night and tortures himself over all the things he thinks he's done wrong."
Aiden rose and carried his tumbler to the decanter of whiskey in the corner of the room. From the stiff set of his shoulders, I knew I'd struck home.
"Anyway," I went on, "I thought of the perfect way he can pay me back."
"Really?" Gage said, a mischievous light in his eyes. "What are you going to ask him for? A boat? A car? Make it a Bentley. I can see you driving a Bentley."
The laugh burst from my raw throat, and I slapped my hand over my mouth to hold it in.
Shaking my head, I said, "I can buy my own Bentley, thank you very much.
I haven't spent a penny of my own money in eleven years.
Aiden's been busy making my trust fund grow while I was working under the table, scrubbing toilets and slinging coffee. "
"Good point," Gage said. He tilted his head to the side and studied Aiden. "Then what are you going to ask him for?"
"I want him to let me fix him up," I said with a smile.
Both Aiden and Gage’s eyes widened in horror. Aiden was the first to speak.
"No fucking way, Lise. I get that you're in love, everyone's in love, and you think every single person should be paired up. I get it. I'm happy for you. Thrilled. I'll throw you the biggest wedding Atlanta's ever seen if that's what you want, but stay the hell out of my personal life."
"I want you to be happy, Aiden," I said. "And you have terrible taste in women."
"She's got you there," Gage said. "You always go for the icicles. So proper, and so chilly."
"Butt out," Aiden muttered.
"He's been having a lot of late meetings lately," Gage commented to me. "I think there's something going on at the office."
Aiden gritted his teeth, his words tight when he said, “I told you to stay out of it, Gage.”
Ignoring Aiden, Gage said, "It involves a blond with purple eyes, but that's all I can get out of him."
"Periwinkle," Aiden murmured. "Not purple, periwinkle." Then, realizing what he'd given away, he scowled. "And there's nothing going on with her. Just business."
I leaned forward, intrigued. "Really? What business?"
"None of yours," Aiden said, in that tone he used when he wanted people to do his bidding.
Gage gave Aiden a long, measuring look before turning to me and saying, "I'll keep you posted. But, I didn't stop in to needle Aiden. I wanted to talk to you about something. Both of you."
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Everything's great," Gage said. "I wanted to talk to you about the house.
We can't leave it the way it is. The damage from the fire wasn't as bad as it could have been, but with the roof half burned away, we had to get repairs started as soon as possible, or a good rain would do worse than the fire.
Charlie sent over a crew to put temporary patches on the roof, and we've got clean up scheduled to deal with the mess from the water and the smoke. "
"I didn't think about that," I admitted. "But it's not that bad? My room must have been destroyed."
"Pretty much," Gage agreed. “The rest is mostly smoke and water damage. We’re still waiting on the insurance adjuster’s report.”
He and Aiden exchanged a long, heavy look.
They were keeping the official business from me.
I knew the police had judged William’s death an accident, as well as the fire, but that was it.
There had been a few reporters at the gates when Riley brought me home, but nothing like what I’d expected.
From what I’d been able to glean from eavesdropping, the police weren’t interested in anything a dead man had said about crimes long buried in the past.
I was the only witness to William’s confession, Marissa Archer was locked in a sanitarium, and William was dead. As far as the powers that be were concerned, case closed.
I would have thought that would bother me, but strangely, it didn’t.
Demanding that William be blamed for Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia’s murders, trying to pin my parent’s deaths on Marissa, would have created a media frenzy none of us wanted to deal with.
We knew what had happened. Those responsible were paying for their crimes, William with his life. That was enough.
Gage went on, “Regardless of what the insurance company says, we need to decide what we're going to do with the house.”
"You and Sophie?" I asked.
Gage shared a look with Aiden and then shook his head. "We prefer to stay here. Sophie doesn't want to leave Amelia, and there's plenty of room. Vance and Maggie aren't going anywhere. Maggie wouldn't leave her grandmother's house voluntarily, and Vance would never ask her to."
"Tate?" I asked, my heart suddenly racing.
"He—we—think you and Riley should take it. If you want it. After everything that happened, we'd understand if you didn't."
I could see his point. Our parents had died in that house. But then, Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia had died in Winters House, and none of us had abandoned it.
Everything that had happened with William in my bedroom had been a nightmare, but my bedroom was destroyed. I'd never have to see it again as it had been. When the clean-up was done, it would be like a brand new room, all the ugly memories purified by the fire.
Riley and I could bring the house back to life. As I thought about it, my heart swelled. It was time to move forward. Time to live again. And part of that was bringing my parent’s memory into the present.
"I'll have to talk to Riley," I said. "He's got a place, and we haven't really talked about where we're going to live."
Gage stood and clapped a hand on my shoulder, squeezing once.
"No rush. Charlie's ready to jump in and rebuild what was damaged, whenever we figure out what to do with it.
But while you're talking to Riley about the future, don't mention Aiden's offer for the biggest wedding in Atlanta.
Jacob and Abigail's will be enough of a circus.
Don't even think about eloping, but I can say from experience, a small wedding is perfect.”
Riley and I hadn't done much talking since I'd been released from the hospital. Every time I tried to string more than a few words together, he scowled and handed me another mug of herbal tea with honey.
That was okay. My throat did hurt, and I wasn't going to turn down a little pampering. That, and I didn't have much to say. William Davis was dead. We were all reeling at the knowledge that a man we’d considered as good as a second father had torn our family apart.
It was so bizarre, so hard to absorb, that we'd all been a little quiet. The grief at learning of William’s betrayal mixed with the relief of finally knowing what had really happened to our family had left us quietly reeling.
None of us had ever believed the story of two identical murder/suicides, but without the truth, the specter of that story hung over us. Haunted us. Now we were free to move forward. To be happy.
I was more than happy; I was over the moon.
I was with Riley, we'd untangled the lies and fears between us, and now we could just be.
I was perfectly content to sit beside him, propped up against the headboard in bed, or on the couch in the family room, and watch TV, or work on my laptop while he was on his, all the time sneaking sidelong glances and drooling over how hot he was in his reading glasses.