Epilogue Cherry On Top
TEN YEARS LATER
My texts from this afternoon remain unanswered, which is also not exactly news, but she has to come, right? She wouldn’t forget. Probably. Oh, boy. She’s standing me up, isn’t she?
“I’m here, I’m here,” Sadie says as she turns the corner and comes into view. Immediately, I exhale in relief. “Mom says hi.”
“How was the cake?”
“Cake was fine,” she says as she settles on the step next to me. “Greg, on the other hand, remains the most boring man on earth.”
I fight a chuckle. She’s got a point, but he’s what Josie needs, and I’m happy they found each other.
She motions around us. “You thought I forgot about this, didn’t you?”
“Well, you did ignore all of my texts.”
“That’s because you keep sending me those corny GIFs.”
“‘Have a good day’ is a corny GIF?”
“When it’s a stuffed bear holding a heart saying it, yes.” She points at the beers in my hands. “So how does this work?”
Someone’s eager to go out with her friends. Better make it quick. Or not. “Beer? Well, it’s made from water, barley, hops, and yeast, which all undergo a fermentation proce?—”
“This whole . . . birthday tradition. How does it work?”
“Very simple.” I twist the cap off one beer and hand it over, then do the same with the other. I hold mine forward and angle myself slightly to face her. “It’s your sixteenth birthday. On mine, I drank my first beer.”
“A million years ago,” she teases.
“Ah-ha. I shared that beer with my best friend, Uncle Logan. And now you’re sharing it with yours.”
“Oh, you’re my best friend?”
I gasp. “Am I not?”
“Sure. After Harriet, Thomas, Lindsey?—”
“Okay, okay. That’s just hurtful.”
“Come on, Dad. Wouldn’t it be sad if you were my best friend?”
Sad? No, it wouldn’t be sad. I’ve been her best friend her whole life. Her confidant and her biggest fan.
I shrug. “You’re my best friend.”
She shakes her head. “Because you’re obsessed with me.”
I won’t even deny it. “I really am.”
She clinks her beer against mine. “Here’s to my birthday then.”
“And to you, a smart, beautiful young woman who?—”
“ Daaad .”
“Fine. Let’s just drink.”
We both take a sip, and I watch her reaction as she smacks her lips, then hums. “Tastes like every other beer I’ve had before.”
Every other what?
I see her smirk just as the words begin forming on the tip of my tongue. She tilts the beer back, but I hold a hand over the top. “That’s enough for you, actually.”
“What? One sip?”
“Until you’re twenty-one,” I say, snatching it back. “Especially since you’re going to your first party tonight. You need to be sharp.”
“Unbelievable,” she mumbles, weakly shaking her head. “You know Finn is driving us, right?”
Oh, Finn is driving them. Lucky us.
“Tell your boyfriend if I hear he’s had even a sip of anything but soda?—”
“He doesn’t drink.” She rolls her big brown eyes. “And stop saying ‘boyfriend’ like that. It sounds like you don’t like him.”
I don’t. I see the way he looks at her. He has ideas .
“Dad, I mean it.”
“Hey, I’m still better than uncle Logan.”
She cackles. “Finn is terrified of him.”
Good. I might have promised her I’d talk to him, and I did, but not to ask him to back off exactly .
She smacks her thighs. “Okay, well?—”
“You’re already leaving?”
“Well, you took my beer!”
“Okay, okay. Wait. I want to talk to you about something.” I set both bottles beside me. “You remember the first time I told Charlotte I loved her?”
She looks up at the starry sky. “I don’t remember , but you’ve told me the story a million times.”
“I was just about to tell her, and you?—”
“I waltzed in and said, ‘I think my dad loves you.’”
That’s right. Little party pooper that she was. “It was kind of perfect. I mean, I was really nervous about saying it, and you...”
“Damn, I really am your best friend.”
“You are.”
She smiles, beautiful and happy—the best thing I’ve ever done with my life, and I’ve done some pretty great things.
I fit a hand into my pocket and pull it back out. “Maybe you’d like to help me again?”
Eyes flicking to the ring box in my hands, she gasps. “Oh my god—Dad?! Are you propo?—”
“ Shhh! ” I swat her arm, then point my thumb at the house.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” She opens the box and gasps again. “Dad, oh my god .”
I guess she likes it.
Lips wobbling, she throws her arms around me. “I’m so happy for you. This is—” She chuckles. “The weirdest and most unexpected birthday gift.”
“I thought so.” I kiss the side of her head. “I also got you the guitar you wanted.”
“Of course you did.” She pulls back and stares at the ring again. “Dad, she’s going to love it.”
“You think?”
“Are you kidding? You made her wait a decade .”
Me? I was ready to marry her two months into our relationship, when she came to my place and changed the bulb of a perfectly working lamp just to show me Amelie had taught her how to.
She was so happy, dancing around the kitchen of my minuscule apartment to the latest Midnight Reckless album, only shorts and a bra on.
I knew I wanted to spend my life with her.
But I didn’t ask, because tying herself to someone was the last thing she needed after craving independence for so long.
Instead I just stood by her side, watching her spread her wings.
Long-distance when she left for college, then no distance when she came back and decided not to move back in with Amelie and Ian.
We’ve been living together ever since, through her first job, which she hated, and the second one, which had her working sixty hours a week. All the way to something that makes her happy.
“Why now?” Sadie asks, still tilting the box to see every part of the ring.
“It feels like the right moment.”
It is, right? She’s on her way to being promoted to senior designer. We’ve moved to a bigger place—with an extra room “just in case.” She’s been hinting at being ready for the next phase of her life.
And it sounds like she’s planning to do it with me.
“Do I have your blessing?”
Though I expect a snarky little comment, her lips twist and she nods frantically. “Of course, Dad.” She hugs me again, and I can hear her sniffle against my shoulder. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.”
She leans back, and once I wipe away the single tear down her cheek, she peers down at the ring. “So how are we doing this?”
“Well, I?—”
“There you are!” Charlotte says as she comes out of the back entrance. From the corner of my eye, I see Sadie close the box and shove it in her pocket. “I came to see if your dad was still waiting for you.”
She walks around me, brushing my shoulder, then hugs Sadie. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.”
Sadie’s widened gaze meets mine over Charlotte’s shoulder, and I shrug. I didn’t come up with a plan. I figured Sadie and I would talk about it, craft the perfect moment. We’ll have to discuss it some other time.
“Is he keeping you here against your will?” Charlotte asks, probably sensing the weird vibe. She holds Sadie’s shoulders, then turns to me. “It’s her birthday, Aaron. Christmas is for family, birthdays are for friends.”
I raise both hands. “She’s free to go.”
“Hm.” Focusing on Sadie again, she says, “Your gift is waiting for you in the living room.”
“Is it?—”
“Uh-huh. A spectacular red leather dress that will give Finn a headache.”
“ Excuse me? ” Did she say leather?
“Because the red is really bright!” Charlotte says. She turns to Sadie, and I’m pretty sure she winks. “Try it on.”
“Can I wear it tonight at the party?”
“No,” I say without thinking, but I quickly realize she wasn’t asking me.
“Yes, if it fits right, it’s ready to be worn.”
Sadie squeals, then runs off into the house.
I look up at Charlotte, who settles on my lap and takes one of the beers. She drinks a sip, one arm circling the back of my neck. “Sixteen, huh?”
“Don’t change the topic. A red leather ?—”
“She was only six when I met her.”
Unfair. Nostalgia, today, is an unfair game, and she knows that.
“At Tony’s,” I murmur.
“And she still has never once eaten a pepperoni pizza.”
When her eyes glisten with tears, I squeeze her hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just...” She laughs through the tears. “She’s sixteen . You’re so old, Aaron.”
“Jeez,” I say, playfully shoving her.
“I look around sometimes, and it’s overwhelming.” She wets her lips. “Our beautiful house, the little model train I got you on that Switzerland trip, those pots you always whine about?—”
“Ceramic is delicate, I?—”
“And the tree we planted when we got here, or the sewing room you made for me...I look at it all and I just feel overwhelmed in the best possible way.”
I press my forehead against her jaw. “We’re lucky, aren’t we?”
“So lucky.” More tears escape when she blinks, but her smile is as wide as ever. “She can drive now,” she says with a more cheerful tone. “Little Sadie with the pigtails can drive .”
I rub slow circles on her wrists. “I know.”
“She’s smart, kind, and beautiful. She’s a full person. A good kid.”
“Yeah.” I kiss the shell of her ear. “We did a good job.”
She melts into me, her face pressed to the side of my head. “In moments like these, I miss her. I miss sneaking her wine after you and Darren mumbled about her bed time.”
Mom . Yeah, I miss her too. In the big moments, and the small ones even more. She became a mom to Charlotte too—a real mother. And she left us when we still needed her so much.
Charlotte must notice the tension in my jaw because she presses a kiss to my forehead. “I love you, you know? You gave me all of this. This life, this dream . The most perfect family. And yourself.”
“Me? I gave you everything?” I shake my head. “Everything you have, you got yourself. I’m just the lucky man who gets to come home to you. Laugh with you. Build something with you.”
She pulls back slightly to study my expression, and she must see something she really likes, because she leans forward and kisses my lips.
“Charlotte?”