Epilogue
Elizabeth
“Words are easy, like the wind; faithful friends are hard to find.”
The Passionate Pilgrim
“They’re here!” I yelled when the doorbell rang.
Evan jumped up and brushed his slacks, hiding the evidence that someone had recently straddled his thighs. “Perfect timing.”
I clapped my hands giddily and raced to open the door. Chelsea threw her arms out, and I ran into them. “We brought presents!”
Bas stood behind her and nodded at me. “Merry Christmas, Elizabeth.”
“Get in here,” I said, reaching for him.
He wrapped me in a bear hug, and I breathed him in. He always smelled like whatever he’d been cooking, and I hoped that meant… “I brought those cookies you like so much.”
I squealed. “Thank you thank you thank you!”
Evan waited patiently behind me but gave Chelsea a hug as soon as I moved. “I hope the flight wasn’t too bad.”
“Not from Richmond, but the international flight was brutal.” She and Bas had been living abroad for the past year. Evan and I flew out to visit them one time, for a joint honeymoon, but this was the first time she and Bas had come out to Colorado. “Have you heard from the MFA program yet?”
“Not yet. They won’t make a decision until spring, but I’m keeping busy.” Kate had been letting me work remote, and I’d been writing, which reminded me… “Oh, and my short story got accepted! I’m gonna be published.”
“Which one was that,” Bas asked, handing me a wine-shaped package. “The dystopian one?”
“Nah. I trunked that one. I don’t think you’ve read this one yet. It’s kind of uh…”
“Smutty,” Evan said, his hand sliding into mine. “It’s an only-one-bed, trapped-in-a-snowstorm, enemies-to-lovers romance.”
“It’s a fuck fest,” I corrected. “But you’re welcome to read it.”
I loved that Evan had never once questioned me for writing it. He didn’t worry if it meant I was unsatisfied—I wasn’t, not one bit—or if I was secretly interested in someone else. He just started discussing all the tropes with me, and I rewarded him sinfully.
Not everything had been so easy over the past year.
But even when we fought, we talked everything out, following rules we honed over time.
Take turns. Listen. Speak your truth. But most importantly, we both believed in action over words, or as Shakespeare wrote, They do not love that do not show their love.
“Come on inside,” Evan said, and we all followed him into the living room where our sad little tree hid no presents. We’d already opened them Christmas morning, just the two of us in our matching pajamas, our tradition.
As our friends sat on the sofa, I handed Chelsea her wine-shaped present. We each opened our gifts with feigned surprise. I said, “It’s just my size,” and Chelsea said, “This will never fit in the suitcase. We’ll have to drink it now.”
She followed me into the kitchen to fetch wineglasses, and once we were alone, she asked, “So tell me the God’s honest truth, is everything going well here?”
“Are you casting doubt on my happy ever after?” I scrounged a wine key from the drawer, and with my latent bartending talent, twisted it into the cork.
“Oh, not at all. I’m just hoping to get the dirt on Boulder.” She opened a cabinet, then another until she located the wineglasses and set them out.
“Why? Have you grown tired of Europe?”
“Look, Bas promised to show me the world, and we’ve seen some amazing sites, but the only place I ever want to be is near him, so I’ve lost that wandering soul.”
It couldn’t hurt that she could dive into the Aegean Sea any day of the week.
“So why don’t you both move here?” Evan and I had only been in the area for six months, but we’d fallen in love with everything about it, from the walking path that allowed us to get around without ever crossing a road, to the beautiful Rocky Mountains where I’d discovered I didn’t mind hiking so much, to the vibrant writing community.
We’d made new friends, built a comfortable home, and were thinking about getting a dog and naming him Snickerdoodle—if my cat would allow it.
“Bas could open his own restaurant. I’m sure there are graphic arts jobs. ”
She tilted her head with a mischievous little grin. “Actually…”
“No.” My heart sped up. “Don’t toy with me, Chelsea Abbott-Stavros.”
“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but Bas has been interviewing for a traveling executive chef position.”
“What would that mean?”
“Well, as the name suggests, it means we’d be traveling, but I think what you’re asking is where would we put down roots. And the answer to that is: wherever we want.”
I held my breath, manifesting a silent wish. We’d made our friendship work for the past year over video chats and willpower, but the only thing that would make my life more perfect would be having my best friend a block away. “Where do you want to live, Chelsea?”
“Would you be terribly cramped if we wanted to give Colorado a try?”
I flung my arms around her. “It’s not specific enough, but it will do.”
She hugged me tight. “You haven’t gotten in nearly enough trouble lately. You need a shenanigans captain.”
Evan might disagree, but over the past year, he’d sat in on our conversations, and occasionally talked when I wasn’t available, bonding with Chelsea over things they’d only told their therapists. And me. And probably Bas. I stepped back and poured the wine out. “Can I share the news?”
“Share away.” She grabbed two glasses, and I took the others.
In the living room, I caught Evan saying, “We’d really love to spend more time with you,” and I knew Bas had spoiled my fun, but I distributed the wineglasses, beaming from ear to ear. The future kept getting better and better.
Bas asked, “What are we toasting?”
“To friends, obviously,” I suggested.
“To finding home,” Evan added.
“To taking risks,” Bas said.
We all looked to Chelsea who raised her glass high. “To love. Always.”
I choked on a sob. “To love.”
Bas and Evan concurred, and we clinked our glasses together, with a cheer of huzzah.