Epilogue
Alley was shrieking in her carrier because she wanted to get out to sit on my lap.
Roe was small-eyeing the cat.
“I’d be mad at her if I didn’t completely understand why she likes you so much,” she grumbled, pulling her blanket up higher.
Roe, it seemed, was the ultimate passenger princess. She settled in for a ride: no shoes, cozy blanket, seat leaned back. For obvious reasons, she had control of the radio.
And I was pretty sure it didn’t matter how long I lived, the sight of her with her dark hair blowing in the breeze, her hand out the window doing waves in the air, and belting out some love ballad as I drove would forever be one of my favorite memories of her.
Maybe it was simply because she was in my car heading back to my town, to my apartment, the car loaded down with all of her essentials. Which was mostly stuff for Alley and her own clothes and makeup.
“You know what I’m looking forward to?”
“The best pizza in the whole state?” I asked. Sure, I was probably partial. My brother owned a small chain of pizza places. But I stood by my statement.
“Well, that, yes. But also… having a kitchen. A real kitchen.”
“It’s not that great of one,” I admitted. I didn’t want her to get her hopes up too high. Sure, I planned to put her in a fucking mansion. But my apartment was just an apartment. Nothing too special.
“Milo, I didn’t have a range. Or dishwasher.”
“In that case, prepare yourself for the best kitchen you’ve seen in over a year.”
“A kitchen I won’t be cooking in. But I will be happy to sit on the counter and cheer you on while you cook.”
“Sounds good to me. I also have an espresso machine.”
“With a milk frother?”
“Living fucking large,” I agreed.
“Well, in that case, I can make you a mean latte in the morning.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
I was looking forward to all of it: waking up to her in my bed, hearing her singing in the shower, unwinding with her after a long day, house hunting with her, putting a ring on her finger, watching her walk down an aisle toward me, holding our baby in her arms.
All of it.
All in good time.
I wasn’t in a rush.
Now that I found the woman I knew would come around eventually, I wanted to savor all the steps. Life was long. I wanted to soak up every moment of it that involved her.
“Oh, this is pretty,” she said as we drove over the bridge.
“The Navesink River,” I said, feeling that sensation of home unfurl in my chest.
“I’m an idiot. I totally didn’t put that together,” she admitted, shaking her head.
“You’ll know all about it soon enough.”
“Tell me things now.”
“Well, you see that bridge over there? If you go over that one, you run into the beach. This street we’re passing now is where Jon Bon Jovi used to live.
And a little further down this road, we’re going to come across a giant clown sign that everyone has been fighting to keep for years.
They’re building some town center monstrosity in the area, and the clown has to go. ”
“I hate when towns tear down landmarks. There’s so much lore in some places. Even if the lore is kind of ugly,” she declared as we finally drove past the clown.
As we kept driving, I pointed out other things: the schools I went to, the places I used to hang out as a teen, where I’d had my first jobs, the businesses owned by various family members, the street where my mom lived.
“She’s going to love you, you know that, right?” I asked, giving her thigh a squeeze.
“I’m pretty sure she would love anyone who would get her last single son to settle down and give her grandbabies.”
She knew my mom too well already.
“Maybe. But she’s going to love you too.”
“Are we going to Sunday dinner?”
“Not this one, no.”
“Why not?”
“Because I may have made Luca swear not to tell my family that I was back yet.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I want a few days alone with you. Really lock you down. Before you meet them and have second thoughts,” I said, getting a warm smile out of her.
“I know I’m going to love them all. They’re part of you.”
I knew it down to my damn marrow that this was the right move, the right woman, the right future.
And I couldn’t wait to see what came next.
Roe - 5 days
Milo’s idea of ‘nothing too special’ and mine were wildly different things.
Sure, maybe my idea was skewed thanks to living in a converted hotel room with no real kitchen and a bathroom barely big enough to brush my dang hair in.
And before that, it was a lot of hotel rooms and a cramped New York City apartment with no closet space and a radiator that spat fire all winter long.
But I think anyone would say Milo Grassi’s home was, objectively, a very nice place.
He lived in a new-build apartment building that I might even call ‘luxury’ compared to some of the other ones we’d seen when driving around and exploring the area.
He was on the top floor with three bedrooms, two full baths, dedicated living and dining spaces, a small flex area, and a respectably sized kitchen. With an oven. And a dishwasher. His fridge even had an ice maker.
I felt like a damn princess after the past year in my apartment.
Alley, too, had been settling in.
And by ‘settling in,’ I mean claiming the place like some queen on her throne. I swear I could practically hear her inner monologue as she walked around the place the first time: Yes, this is what I have always deserved.
She loved Milo, tolerated me, and was having a one-sided beef with one of the cats in the complex who walked around the quad behind the buildings.
Milo was out at a meeting with his brothers and cousins—the first time I’d been left fully alone in his place since we arrived in Navesink Bank. I’d even joined him on quick trips out to pick up takeout.
Clingy? Possibly.
But mostly, I just really wanted to soak in this place. Partially because Milo spoke so fondly of it. But also because I was hoping this was going to be my home, my future. I wanted to know it the way someone who lived there their whole life would.
And that night, I was going to explore the most important location of all.
Milo’s mother’s house.
Was I nervous?
No.
I was bellyache-terrified.
Milo’s family was everything to him. I knew he believed that they would all love me no matter what because he cared about me, but I really wanted them to like me for me too.
The bedroom was a mess from where I’d strewn all my dresses on the bed, trying to find the one that would be the most appropriate for a family dinner. So, yeah, definitely not any of my stage dresses.
Eventually, I settled on the same dress I wore to meet with Milo that first time, a pair of kitten heels, and light makeup.
My face was still not looking great. Neither were the band of bruises around my arm. But everything had faded to less awful shades of green and yellow with just a smidge of purple.
I’d tried to use makeup to cover it up but ended up looking too cake. I was just going to have to be okay with people looking. Milo assured me that it wasn’t the first time someone had shown up to Sunday dinner with bruises.
I heard Milo’s keys in the door and took a steadying breath.
“You look gorgeous,” he said as soon as he saw me.
“Thanks.”
“Are you ready to head out?”
Nope.
“Yeah,” I said, giving him a smile as I grabbed my bag. “Now, listen. Don’t you go embarrassing us by caterwauling at that tabby, okay?” I told Alley, who spared me one bored glance before going back to cleaning her one good ear.
Adrian Grassi’s home was the very definition of cozy. Well-maintained lawns and gardens, mature trees, and that kind of cozy/cluttered home you saw in old rom-coms, the kind that told you to kick off your shoes, curl up, and stay awhile.
I only got about two feet in the door before the matriarch herself came rushing forward to frame my face in both of her hands.
“Oh, he told me you were gorgeous, but I think he understated it. What beautiful babies you are going to make!”
“Ma,” Milo said, his voice a frustrated warning.
“No one’s talking to you,” she said, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me away from Milo. “I’m so glad he finally brought you here. And I won’t even be too mad that he kept you away from me for almost a full week.”
“You knew?” I asked, my eyes going wide.
“Please,” another woman’s voice said, making me turn to see Milo’s sister Sofia (who I was not supposed to call ‘Smush’) standing there already holding a glass of wine out for me.
“Nothing goes on in this town without her knowing. Especially if it has to do with one of her kids. And so, we drink,” she said, tapping her glass to mine.
It was chaos for the first twenty minutes. Lots of questions and introductions. I was glad Milo had the foresight to show me pictures of his family and tell me all their names ahead of time, or I would have felt so lost.
I was sitting on the couch next to Milo, getting to know his brothers and their wives, when a little boy of maybe five or six came up to me, all childlike curiosity and absolutely no filter, and blurted out, “What happened to your face?”
I’d figured the adults likely already knew the story. I never thought about what to say to the kids if they asked.
“I, uh,” I started, figuring I would just tell him I hit my head.
But Aurelio, likely the kid’s father, spoke up instead.
“A bad man hit her,” he told him honestly.
“You’re not supposed to hit girls!” the boy declared, immediately outraged.
“That’s right. You’re not,” Aurelio said.
“If I was there,” the boy continued, balling up his little fists, “I would have… bam… pow!” He demonstrated his very refined fighting skills, which may or may not have ended with him knocking everything off of one of the end tables.
“Did you hit him, Uncle Milo?” the boy asked. “For hurting her?” he added after helping his father clean up his little mess.
“I did,” Milo confirmed.