Epilogue
Twenty Months Later
The literacy center had never felt warmer, never felt more like home. The meeting room was alive with voices, laughter, and
the soft hum of a jazz flutist playing in the corner. Evening light streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over
everything—the polished wood floors, a table filled with gifts for the special people in my life, the faces of friends, family,
neighbors, and students. My people were here for my book launch party. There weren’t any other members of the Chambers family
in attendance. I’d reached out years ago on Facebook, and no one accepted my friend request. Ms. Kate said bitterness was
hard to get rid of once it settled around the heart. I hadn’t lost any sleep over it. The people who loved and cared for me
were here.
The Writers started strong with a six-figure deal.
The copies of the book sat in neat stacks on the table in front of me, the cover art more beautiful than I could have dreamed.
More special than anyone knew, because it was a painting completed by Ms. Kate.
Rich colors brought to life a couple on the shore beneath a bright, watchful sun with a superimposed image of an indigo bunting.
It felt like more than a cover. It was a piece of my culture wrapped around my words.
I touched the book, as if to remind myself it was real. Alexandra Chambers was etched under the title. No pen name for this one. It was a legacy book and deserved to forever sit in libraries and stores
with my family name on it.
Beside me, Gabe reached for my hand, his thumb grazing over my knuckles in that way that always reminded me he was real. He
was flesh and blood, and we were connected forever by the wedding rings on our fingers.
“Your star has risen,” he said, his voice low, meant for me alone. His smile soft, proud. “And, babe, it’s bright.”
I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my shoulder. “We did it. I never would have gotten out of revision without you.”
He chuckled. “Yes, you would have. You’re the pro around here.”
He was discounting the role this building and that cabin and he and Ms. Kate played in making my thirtieth book so special.
Becoming the writer in residence kicked off the journey to this book. A journey I didn’t even know I had in me.
From across the room, I spotted Beck moving among the guests, her head thrown back in laughter at something Aunt Leah had
said. She looked radiant tonight, her hair freshly styled, her favorite silver earrings glinting in the light, a sexy dress
draped around her figure. And right there beside her, a new boyfriend. They made a sweet pair. Seeing Beck happy, truly happy, made my heart ache in the best way.
And then there was Joy. She was no longer just the cousin who’d sent a life-altering email, but my new sister. She waved at me with both hands, then tapped the cover of my book and pointed to her eyes like, I’ve been crying, and this is your fault.
DNA and shared father-shaped holes weren’t the only things that made us close. We chose each other, and that was the best
kind of family.
For a second, I thought of Hiram Jones. Even though I didn’t know him, I thought he would be proud of me because he was Gullah and we were a proud people.
Ms. Kate caught my eye and winked, lifting her glass of sweet tea in a silent toast.
The scent of the Gullah food she’d prepared filled the air: platters of oyster fritters, bowls of shrimp and grits, crab cakes,
okra cheese crostini, collards topped with shredded gouda cheese, tiny biscuits with ham, and Benne Wafers for luck. Near
the book table sat a cake shaped like a book, decorated in soft blues, orange, and cream with the title piped in script across
the top.
I barely had a moment to take it all in when the students gathered near the front of the room. Regina, now bolder than I’d
ever seen her, stepped forward with a homemade card and a grin. She handed it to me. “Congratulations, Miss Alex!”
The other students chimed in with claps and cheers, and I felt my throat tighten. I took the card, running my fingers over
the names scrawled inside, the notes of thanks, the little drawings of books and pens. I was leaving them. The new writer
in residence was starting next week. She was taking my cabin and my kids. Malachi pushed his body against me and gave me the
best side hug I’d had since I left teaching.
“You are going to make me mess up my eye makeup before the pictures get taken.” The joy was too big to hold. My eyes filled
with tears.
“We love you, Miss Alex,” one of the other boys said.
As the applause faded, Gabe leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. “Careful now,” he murmured, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Don’t go choking on one of those hush puppies.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling up easy and free. “Don’t tempt me,” I teased. “You know I like attention.”
He grinned, pulling me a little closer. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since you walked into my signing. Attention
will find you whether you want it or not.”
Later, after the cake had been cut and the food was nearly gone, I found myself standing beneath the great oak outside the
center. The night was thick with the scent of earthy moss, the air warm and soft against my skin, promising a hot summer.
Gabe came to stand beside me, his arm slipping around my waist. The music drifted through the open windows, mingling with
the low hum of conversation inside. “You’re missing the end of your party, which, by the way, is much better than my party
was.”
“Where was your party?”
“The Charleston Literary Society.”
I pitched an eyebrow. “You are such a show-off.”
“They wanted you too.”
“Yeah, but I wanted this.” I looked past him into the building. “I wanted to be where it started.”
He nodded.
“Anyway, I’ve had enough.”
“Enough? You’re at the beginning of sharing this book, babe.”
“I mean enough of the party. I want to take some cake and champagne and go home to celebrate alone . . . with you.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time. I’ll go start the car.
” He pulled me to him, placed both hands on my cheeks, and pulled my face to his.
When his lips met mine, my knees went weak like they always did.
I raised my hands to his forearms. I loved the feel of his biceps under my palms—firm, strong, mine.
My real-life happily ever after was fire.
I heard the front door open in the distance and then Beck’s voice, “A-le-xan-dra!”
Gabe let me go, and I spun away like a top.
“I’m coming!”
I walked into the building. This was only the beginning.