Epilogue - Gage
One Month Later
My thumb rubs back and forth over the soft skin of Briony’s hand, where she’s squeezing my finger.
“So, it turns out, I have a secret talent for swaddling.” I smile down at my daughter before looking up at August’s name. “Definitely not something I was expecting, but the last year has given me a lot of those moments.”
My eyes prickle for a second, sad that fatherhood wasn’t something I could share with my best friend, but I take a breath, and the disappointment recedes.
Like fog lifting, I let the loss cloud my senses briefly until solace takes the forefront again.
Grounding me in what I have to hold instead of what’s missing.
Isabelle, our families, Tuck, Dylan, and my daughter, all work to pull me into the present, reminding me what good there is to feel.
What more is still to come. But it’s up to me to see it, to welcome it and let it in.
“I think that’s all we have to catch you up on this week, buddy.”
Briony kicks her cotton-covered feet against my forearm, where they rest. Isabelle left for Smoke and Barrel a few hours ago.
She’s doing the final touches of the opening party with Lex and Beth.
She left the outfit for B to wear on the change table before she left.
Foolish of me to think my wife would leave something simple to dress our daughter in.
It’s a special occasion, after all, and apparently tonight’s little win is celebrated with long socks with frills around the tops, and a pink tulle dress that has buttons, a zip, and a bow.
I’ll forgive my wife’s confidence in me to dress our one-month-old in this fancy contraption, simply because the puffy sleeves and the embroidered strawberries on her little outfit are so fucking cute.
I squealed in a way that I’m glad no one else witnessed.
“Say goodbye to Uncle August, B.” I use the finger Briony’s still clutching to shake her hand back and forth, waving in the direction of August’s headstone. I hold her tighter to me as I get to my feet, brushing the grass and dirt from my black jeans.
I kiss my fingertips, then press them against the cool stone marker. “See you next week.”
Briony babbles to herself, content in my arms, as we make our way through the cemetery to my ute.
I pull open the back door, sliding into the seat before maneuvering B into her car seat.
My little angel always sits still when I tuck every limb into the five thousand straps, but she doesn’t make it quite as easy for Isabelle.
I’m sure it’s because every time she fights, Isabelle just laughs and nuzzles her with calm patience until she gets her in.
Briony eats up every time she hears her mum’s laugh, and I don’t blame her. It’s one of my favourite sounds, too.
We haven’t had any phone calls telling us we’re late, so I’m going to take that to mean we’re running on time to get to the party.
I click the last belt fastener in place, then tug on each point, making sure they’re all secure.
I step out of the car, glancing at my watch as I close the back door.
7.03 p.m. My eyes are pulled back to August’s resting place, just a few meters away from where we’re parked.
The wind picks up around me, gentle and warm.
I smile as I step toward my door, pulling on the handle, my brows pinching as I notice something bright yellow flickering against the windscreen.
I reach forward, plucking the little flower from where it’s caught amongst the wiper blades.
A buttercup. My head turns, trying to spot where there might be a bush planted nearby, but I can’t see any other spots of yellow around.
I’m sure I would have noticed them any other time I’d been here recently.
I twirl the bud between my fingers. The night of the accident, when I saw August, he said they needed me.
I initially thought he meant my family, his mum and sister.
But so many moments with Isabelle have felt too good to be true.
Orchestrated by the angels, almost. Or one angel in particular.
The subtle signs of the number three, guiding me on a path I’m meant to follow.
It all started with seeing that article about the old theatre being knocked down.
Two businesses had tried to repurpose it, but nothing took off.
The High Rollers were ready to ditch it in favour of more parking until I swooped in with Smoke and Barrel.
Maybe it was Caleb’s reputation in the business world.
Maybe it was Beth’s creative vision for a bar that looked cool enough to persuade the four casino owners into thinking this was what would finally work with their venue.
Or maybe it was life deciding I had lost enough.
It was time to find something good. It all started with meeting Isabelle.
Twenty-seven minutes later, I’m pulling into the car park for Smoke and Barrel, driving straight into my reserved spot next to where Isabelle’s yellow Volkswagen is parked. I wish she’d let me buy her something new, but she loves the damn thing.
I sling the baby bag over one shoulder with Briony tucked into my other arm.
People are already making their way inside.
Influencers, high-profile business associates.
I spot James Huxley standing across the car park, with his usual companions—Jackson, Romeo, and Ace.
There’s another guy with them that I don’t recognise.
He looks frustrated, face stern, only appearing to calm down when Jackson rests a hand on his shoulder.
Looks like something I don’t need to get involved with, or care about. Besides, my wife is waiting for me.
I grab the door just before it closes and search the room. Connors Construction managed to get the project done in ten months. Beth overseeing the interior fitout certainly helped, but the owner, Lee, and his main guy, Westley, worked hard. Looking around the room, they damn near worked a miracle.
The space is dark and moody with a mix of brown leather sofas and deep green velvet armchairs.
The original dark wood flooring has been sanded and repolished with a matte sheen, and the area right in front of the service bar is tiled with an intricate pattern of bottle green and rustic gold.
Private booths are scattered around the floor on a raised platform, and heavy drapes line two sides in an effort to muffle some of the music and crowd chatter.
I spot Dylan, Lex, and Caleb standing by the bar.
Lex is tickling baby Jed’s feet, and he smiles up at his aunt.
Caleb looks over Lex’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around her middle.
Dylan looks tired, such is the life of a new parent, and a single one at that, I’d imagine, but he still looks happier than ever.
My eyes scour the room, trying to find Isabelle, brows furrowing when I see her standing behind the bar. I cross the room, nodding and shaking hands with various people as I pass, accepting their congratulations for the opening.
“Let me help you, brother.” Mason cuts in front of me, hands outstretched for my daughter.
“I don’t need help. I’ve got her,” I say, transferring Briony into my brother’s eager arms anyway.
“No, no! You’re busy. Far too many people here to schmooze. I’ll be on BB duty.” Mason starts cooing and babbling to my daughter.
My days are filled with Isabelle and Briony.
Izzy’s enjoying her maternity leave, and I’ve let the staff I pay to manage my bars actually do their jobs.
I still work Saturday nights at The Wayside, and I’ll sneak into the office for a few hours of admin after my girls have gone to sleep, but for the most part, I’ve let myself slow down and enjoy my family.
“How are you healing?” I ask Mason.
He looks up at me, confused, so I look pointedly down, then raise my eyebrows, waiting. Even in the dim lighting, I can see Mason’s cheeks turn pink as he clears his throat.
“It’s been five months, almost time to test out the goods with someone other than myself.” I thought I was doing a good thing by asking, but maybe I’ll regret this conversation after all. “It had better be fucking worth it.” Mason scowls.
“Once again, I never told you to get it.”
“Get what?” Beth asks as she joins us, fussing over Briony much the same as Mason did.
“His new sexcessory.”
Beth looks up at me with downturned lips and a look of pure revulsion.
“I’ll let you off the hook for putting that image in my head purely because you gave me such a wonderful new sister and a niece.”
“Well, thank fuck for that. I don’t know how I’d sleep at night if not for your forgiveness in answering a question you asked,” I say.
“It’s the least I could do since you and Caleb made up for all the shit I had to grow up with by gifting me Lex and Izzy.” Beth smiles as if she genuinely thinks she’s doing us a favour.
My face twists in confusion. “What the fuck, Beth? We didn’t give you shit.”
“Yeah, you would have had us by the balls if we tried,” Mason adds, bouncing Briony in his arms.
“You’re not off the hook yet.” Beth pokes Mason’s chest. “You really made it hard for yourself by being last to shack up. My standards for sisters are high.”
“Your standards for everything are high,” I mutter.
Beth shrugs. “I know my worth.”
“I’m not planning on wifing up anytime soon. I’m not like these two saps,” Mason says, waving a hand to Caleb, who’s now joined our circle.
“Sexy and passionate?” Caleb asks.
“Satisfying and patient?” I add.
Mason snaps. “Smothering and pathetic.”
Caleb looks offended as he smooths a hand down his red tie.
“What an interesting way to describe our loved-up brothers, Mason,” Beth says, eyes surveying the crowd. “Oh, look, Westley is here.”
I turn my head and see Lee and Westley walking through the crowd. They each have a girl on their arm. I recognise Lee’s girlfriend, Claire, but not the dark-haired woman who walks with Westley, or the brunette woman beside her.
“Looks like he brought his lovely girlfriend with him, and is that his sister? Or should I say Mason’s new assistant?” Beth asks.
“What happened to Steven?” I ask absentmindedly as I study Westley’s sister.
Her hair falls in waves over her shoulder from the high ponytail secured on her head.
She’s wearing a plaid mini dress with black Converse high-tops.
Interesting. My brother’s type is woman, but still, she’s different for him.
“He and his husband won the lotto and bought some run-down resort in another state,” Mason grumps.
“I told him I’d buy him a hotel here for Barrett to run, and give him a pay rise if he’d stay with me, but it’s been their dream to buy that resort.
It was where they first met in high school.
They want to go back to where they grew up. ”
Beth claps with a smile. “It’s so cute. I told him I’d help consult on the interior.”
“Traitor.” Mason pouts.
“Am I, though? Or are you just mad because your previous assistant wasn’t tempting to you, but Westley’s little sister is?”
“Wait a minute.” Caleb shakes his head. “I’ve met Westley a few times when I’ve hung out with Lee. Didn’t his sister just have a baby?”
Mason’s nostril flare, his cheeks puffing, flustered by Caleb and Beth’s constant querying. “She is not. Tempting, that is. And, yes, she did just have a baby. But it doesn’t matter because I’m not mad. She doesn’t affect me one bit. Watch me walk out with someone tonight.”
I look to Caleb, who looks equally as confused as I am by our youngest brother’s odd outburst.
“Okay,” Beth says, taking Briony from Mason. We all watch as he storms off into the crowd. “Hundred bucks and a week’s stay at Steven’s new resort that he goes home alone tonight.”
“Should we be concerned?” Caleb asks.
Beth is still watching the crowd where Mason escaped into, a calculating little smirk on her face. “Only if he develops a sudden obsession for the colour blue.”
“What’s special about blue?” Caleb asks, but I don’t stick around to find the answer. With a kiss to Briony’s head, I step around Beth to lean over the bar, watching Isabelle as she chats happily to James Huxley and the rest of the High Rollers.
“You know, you’re technically still on maternity leave,” I say.
Her eyes find mine, the beautiful bright blue looking enchanting as ever with the way her dark lashes frame them. Her tight, blonde curls are half swept up on her head, with the rest of them falling down her back.
“Maybe I’m not back here as your marketing manager,” Isabelle says, sliding across the bar to stand in front of me. “Maybe I’m here as your supportive wife, wanting everything to go perfectly for her husband.”
“I’ll only ever know perfect as long as I have you.”
Isabelle jumps up, launching her torso over the bar, bringing her face inches from mine.
“Then kiss me and prove it.”
I’m all too happy to give in to whatever my wife asks of me. Kissing her is a no-brainer. I lean down, brushing the tip of my nose against hers before I press a soft kiss to her lips.
“Is that proof enough for you?” I whisper.
She hums, then wraps a hand behind my neck. “Don’t know. You might just have to kiss me forever.”
“Done.”