Epilogue
Rose
Six months later
The house was quiet in the way it only got on weekend mornings. Daisy was at her grandmother’s. The crew were not due until Monday. The gate cameras showed nothing but the usual slow circuit of a single photographer who had long since given up expecting anything interesting.
Lizanne had her hands in Rose’s hair and Rose had stopped thinking about anything.
They had been in bed for most of the morning.
Lizanne had woken her with her mouth at the back of her neck and her hand already moving at Rose’s hip with the patient, deliberate intent of someone who had nowhere else to be.
Rose had turned into her and they had found each other slowly, without the compressed urgency of the shop or the relieved tenderness of her mother’s spare room.
This was something else. The ease of two people who had learned each other thoroughly and were no longer in a hurry about it.
Lizanne had taken her time; she moved through everything with an attentiveness that felt, on the receiving end of it, like being the only thing in the room.
She had pressed Rose into the pillows and worked her way down with her mouth and Rose had let her, her fingers loose in Lizanne’s hair, her breathing coming apart by degrees.
By the time Lizanne’s mouth found where she wanted it Rose had stopped trying to be composed about any of it.
Lizanne knew what she was doing. She had always known, but there was a difference now between knowing and being known back — between the early months when they were still learning and now, when Lizanne could read the exact pitch of her breathing and adjust accordingly, when she knew to slow down precisely when Rose wanted her to hurry and to stay precisely where she was when Rose’s hand tightened in her hair.
She kept her there until Rose’s whole body pulled taut and then released, and she stayed through it and after it, her cheek against Rose’s inner thigh, waiting.
When Rose finally pulled her up Lizanne came easily, settled beside her, and Rose kissed her with the gratitude of someone who had just been taken completely apart and was not yet reassembled.
“Good morning,” Lizanne said.
“You’re unbearable,” Rose said.
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“It keeps being true.”
Lizanne smiled against her jaw and Rose turned into her and they lay in the sheets while the morning light moved across the ceiling and neither of them felt any urgency about what came next.
Then the noise started.
Rose heard it first — voices, the clatter of someone handling garden furniture with more confidence than coordination, and underneath it all Quinn attempting to explain something.
She sat up.
“Did you know about this?” she said.
Lizanne had an expression that was not quite innocence. “Your mother has a key.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It’s the only one available.”
Rose crossed to the window. Below, the garden had been comprehensively taken over by their family and friends.
Quinn stood at the grill. Kayla sat on the wall beside him close enough to intervene if required.
Rose’s mother had taken the good chair in the gazebo.
Craig and Peter unfolded garden chairs. Daisy — who was apparently not at her grandmother’s as they had been told— was carrying a large glass bowl containing something creamy and white.
Lizanne appeared at her shoulder, wrapped in the sheet Rose had vacated, and looked down at the garden.
“When did Quinn get a grill?” Rose said.
“He wrapped his first film three weeks ago. He bought a grill, a stand mixer, and according to Kayla, a very expensive bicycle he has not yet used.”
Even though Quinn was becoming a celebrity in his own right, and Kayla was making enough money working for Rose as well as starring on the show, they still lived in the pool house.
And Rose had to admit, she loved having them so close. However, surprise BBQs were still….well. A surprise.
Below, Quinn looked up, found them in the window, and pointed with the tongs.
Quinn cupped his hand around his mouth. “THE COALS ARE READY,” he called.
Beside him, Kayla took charge of the grill the way she took charge of many things, including Rose Delaney Events, which ran at a pace that made Rose’s booking sheet look like a logistical emergency.
Summer season was their busiest. Currently, the show sat on hiatus, which meant she had more time to devote to the business with Kayla.
However John, Loraine and the others would be back soon to continue filming. They were still pushing for a second season, but Rose and Lizanne had already decided that was a definitive no.
For a while, it hadn’t looked like anyone would want a second season.
In fact, they’d been sure they’d get canceled.
The ratings had dipped after the interview, but then Marcus Lance had given a statement confirming that Trina had tried the same approach with him, and the numbers climbed back past where they started.
Trina’s own show had been announced the previous week. Reclaiming My Truth. Rose had learned this from Quinn. Neither of them intended to watch it.
Lizanne wrapped her arms around Rose from behind, her chin at her shoulder, both of them looking down at the garden.
“I have an idea for something that would make for good content and still give us thrills. The South of France in August.”
“Daisy would completely lose her mind.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
“We’d need to be back by the third week of September.” Rose paused. “Jeremy and Melissa are coming.”
She still had not adjusted to saying Jeremy’s name without a bit of nausea though it was lessening. These days, she could talk about him without needing a bottle of antacids. A half one would do.
Jeremy, through the patient, consistent work of a wife who had considerably more sense than he did, had made an effort to be a father figure once more. It had started with a Friday phone call. That had become a weekly occurrence. A supervised visit had followed.
Now, they would be coming to visit LA for a week. Rose and Jeremy had worked out an agreement regarding the owed child support. He was placing what he could into an account for Daisy to use when she grew up. To date, he’d made deposits that were impressive for a man who’d not paid a dime for years.
“France first,” Lizanne said. “September for Jeremy and Melissa.”
“France first,” Rose agreed.
Daisy appeared at the foot of the garden, looked up, put both hands on her hips.
“Come down!” she called.
Rose looked at Lizanne.
Lizanne kissed her once more, her hand at Rose’s jaw.
“Our daughter is calling,” she said. “She sounds serious.”
“She always is.”
They looked at one another once more and exchanged a lingering kiss before joining what had become their family downstairs.