by Geneva Lee
“I love you,” I whisper again and again while she clings to me.
It’s not everything. But it’s not nothing. I glance up to see Malcolm watching us with a strange expression before he turns sharply to the sound of more firefighters.
“Gurney!” one yells, and I can’t bring myself to look. I can’t bring myself to hope. It costs too much.
“Take this,” the medic instructs, gesturing to the mask, “and make sure she keeps it on.”
I cuddle Ellie against me and for a moment, it doesn’t matter that Windfall is burning or that people I love are inside or that nothing will ever be the same after tonight. He promised he would protect her. He kept that promise.
A gurney rushes toward the ambulance next to us, and I realize he’s kept more than promise. He promised he wouldn’t leave me again.
“We have to take them to the hospital,” the medic says, joining us. “You want to ride with her?”
“Yes, but can I…”
“Hurry,” she advises.
I cross to Sterling in time to see his eyes flicker. Taking his hand, I can’t find the right words to say to tell him how much I love him and what he means to me.
“Hey, Lucky.” He tries to turn to me but groans. “You can’t get rid of me. Told you I was all in.”
“Miss,” a medic pushes past me and covers his face with oxygen just as his body begins to shake. “We need to get him to the hospital now.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I call.
The medic grins as he reaches to shut the ambulance door. “I’d call it a miracle, but I think he’s just lucky.”
Epilogue
Nine months later
Adair
He came back to me in the spring, so we chose late April when the magnolias are in full bloom for our wedding day. The air is warm enough to release their perfume across the yard as caterers and florists and photographers bustle in and out of our new home, a large, white farmhouse with a porch that wraps entirely around it, perfect for three of us and one large dog. Magnolia trees line the drive, their snowy blossoms draping over it like a bridal veil. The land behind the house is in the process of being transformed into something out of a fairytale. Even I don’t know exactly what to expect.
“The tent is up,” Poppy announces, sashaying into my bedroom wearing a blush, silk robe, embroidered with her initials—her gift for being my maid of honor. “Champagne tower is still standing. Cross your fingers the dog doesn’t knock the table.”
Of all the requests I made for the wedding, which she insisted on planning, having Zeus as the ring bearer is the one she disapproves of most. She’s been a good sport about it, because she’s Poppy.
“He will,” I promise her. She continues to run down a list of who is doing what, how far behind this or that is, before she pauses. “Those are beautiful.”
She reaches to inspect my earrings. Delicate flower blossoms hang like bells, an opal dripping from their centers, from a thin, golden hook.
“My mom gave them to me.” I haven’t worn them often. Every time I’d tried it felt wrong. After Sterling proposed, I realized I was meant to wear them on my wedding day. “It makes me feel like she’s here with me.”
“Oh, darling, she is.” Poppy hugs me tightly before dashing off to oversee more business.
A loud pop startles me and I turn to find Trish with a guilty smile and an open bottle of champagne, wearing a matching silk robe. “I think we need to toast.”
“We could just get drunk,” Sutton says from her spot on the floor. She’s not wearing the matching robe, but I consider it a victory that she’s here and in a fairly decent mood. I haven’t figured out yet if she’s putting up with me for Sterling’s sake or Ellie’s.
Poppy joins us, grabbing a glass of champagne. Even Sutton takes one.
“To proof that true love does exist outside stories,” Trish says, raising her flute. “And to Adair, editor extraordinaire, whose book got its third starred review this week.”
I flush, shaking my head, as I tap my glass to the others. Sutton swigs hers and plops back down with Ellie who is coloring a picture on the ground, her copper hair twisted into a pretty bun, but still in her pajamas.
“My mom’s book,” I remind Trish quietly.
She sighs, the sound a mixture of happiness and resignation. “There’s as much of you in that book as her. Be proud. She would be.”
I hope she’s right.
Looking to Ellie, who’s guarding her picture like a dragon, while Sutton pretends to sneak peeks, I know Trish is right. Motherhood is unconditional love. Not just love you give or receive but love that permeates every ounce of your being, changes you, makes you someone better. Feeling that for Ellie gave me the gift of my own mother back. I know how she felt. Someday, I hope Ellie has a daughter of her own. I hope she never makes the mistakes that I did.
After the fire, the first few weeks were the worst. It was confusing for all of us. Ginny’s death made it difficult to know how to proceed, and Ellie struggled to understand not only the loss of the woman she thought of as her mother but Felix as well. The only saving grace was Malcolm’s decision to leave Valmont and move to Oregon, a bittersweet choice since he relinquished guardianship without hesitation. We’d been to doctors and psychologists. We’d done everything we could to ease her transition, and we’d finally revealed part of the truth with the encouragement of her therapist. I’d been sick for an entire week leading up to telling her that I was her mother, wondering if she’d be angry or hurt that I’d lied. Instead, she’d asked a lot of questions, all leading back to one central concern: did that mean she would get to stay with me?
She just wanted to be loved. She wanted to give her love. And she wanted to feel safe doing it. We’ve continued to take it slow, letting her help us choose her new house, answering her questions about Ginny as delicately as we can while still being truthful. I don’t know what the future will bring. We can only take it one day at a time.
At first, she’d been more reserved with Sterling, especially when he first got out of the hospital. The scars on his hands scared her, but as they healed, the gap between them grew smaller and smaller each day. He never minded. His only concern was making her feel safe. It had taken two months to get her to call him Sterling instead of Mr. Ford. Neither of us are sure when the right time is to tell her that he’s her father.
“Everyone needs to get dressed!” Poppy announces, swiping the bottle of champagne before Trish and Sutton get too tipsy to walk down the aisle. Sutton gets up to change with a frown.
Ellie jumps to her feet, her eyes bright with excitement. Then, her lips fall into a thoughtful frown. She touches the sterling silver clover hanging from her neck. “I can wear my good luck charm, right?”
“Of course.” I bend and lift her onto my hip. She’s had a growth spurt since her fifth birthday and her legs dangle too far for my tender mother’s heart. I’m not ready for her to grow up, but I can’t stop her. I glance down, finally able to see her drawing. There are three stick figures, two tall and one a bit smaller along with a black lump with ears. “Who did you draw?”
“You and me and Sterling and Zeus,” she chirps. Her eyes widen and she wriggles in my arms. “I forgot something!”
I place her on her feet and she adds something to the paper. She picks it up, cradling it to her chest, and then folds it in half.
“What did you forget?” I ask.
Her eyes twinkle like her father’s, and it takes my breath away. “It’s a secret. I drew it for Sterling.” She bites her lips before wagging a finger at me, beckoning me closer. “Mommy, I have a question.”
I will never get tired of hearing her call me that. I kneel beside her and nod seriously.
“Is Sterling…” she trails away before getting a burst of courage “...my daddy like you’re my mommy?”
I’m momentarily stunned into silence. We’d been warned that she might figure it out or ask, even that she might overhear one of us say
something carelessly. I hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. “Well…” I search for the delicate, but truthful answer and realize there’s only one. “Yes. He is your daddy, but it’s okay to have big feelings about that.”
Ellie nods, clutching her picture for him close. “Do you think he would let me call him Daddy like I call you Mommy?”
I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. “I think he would love that.”
“Can you give this to him?” she asks, adding quickly, “But don’t peek at it!”
“It’s bad luck for a bride and groom to see each other before the wedding. Can I give it to him after?”
She looks seriously unimpressed by this idea, and I see another flash of Sterling.
“I’ll take it to him,” Sutton offers, already in her dress, and I startle. I had no idea she’d been listening. “Anything you want me to tell him, pipsqueak?”
Ellie starts to shake her head and stops. “Yes, please tell him to save me a dance.”
It’s such a formal declaration that Sutton and I can’t help sharing a smile.
“Will do,” she promises before heading to the study where Sterling and the boys are waiting before the ceremony. She looks relieved to get away, and I can’t blame her. She’s more comfortable around her brother and his friends.
The door to the bedroom opens and Poppy comes in, her arms laden with a blue garment bag. She’s buzzing with excitement as she lays it across the King-sized bed. Everyone in the room stops, even the stylist curling Trish’s hair, as she unzips it and carefully removes my wedding dress from the bag. Poppy spreads it over the bed with reverence before turning shining eyes on me.
“You’re getting married,” she whispers.
“I know!” I burst out in tears and she gives me a fierce hug, pulling back to check my make-up in a panic. I blink, my lashes wet from crying. “Don’t worry. It’s waterproof.”
The girls help me into the dress, buttoning, zipping, and adjusting, and when Poppy smiles, I turn to look in the mirror. I’d chosen the gown because my first thought when I saw it was that it looked like something out of The Great Gatsby. Its ivory silk bodice is beaded with elegant pearls that continue to the skirt which hugs my hips ever so slightly, enough to showcase my curves but still allow me to move freely—another of my demands. I have no desire to spend tonight feeling uncomfortable. I’m going to dance under the stars in the arms of my forever.
Loose lace sleeves flutter from its straps to my elbows. The lace that continues across the back is secured with four covered buttons that allow glimpses of my skin to peek through before it gathers at my tailbone and flows into a delicate train that puddles behind me. I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream.
“Are you sure about the veil?” Poppy asks as she helps me clip a diamond barrette in my hair. She’d made me buy one just in case I changed my mind.
But I haven’t. My hair is curled and pinned loosely at the nape of my neck, with a few soft tendrils brushing my shoulders. “I want to be able to see him clearly.”
Enough things have come between us in the past. Today, nothing, not even a veil is going to do that.
“So, you’re sure about this?” Poppy teases as we stare at the mirror.
“I’m all in.”
Sterling
“An excessive amount of flowers were just delivered, according to Poppy,” Kai informs me as he joins us in the study. He hands me a card as Jack pours him a drink.
“For me?” I look at the ivory envelope curiously. It’s not the first gift to show up directed at me. A number of business associates had sent well wishes and extravagant gifts leading up to today, likely suffering under the impression that I’m planning to return to my job after the wedding and the long rehabilitation period leading up to it. Third degree burns turned out to cause more than a little nerve damage.
“Still haven’t told anyone?” Luca asks, eyeing the card.
“Have you?” I ask. I’m not the only one planning to silently slip into retirement. At least, retirement from our less-than-legal pursuits.
“I’ve made it clear I’m being a bit more picky when it comes to clients,” he says with a grin, swigging from his whiskey glass. “Now, we just have to get that one to come on board.”
“Nope,” Jack calls, overhearing us. “I’m out. I’m a small business owner. I don’t have time for your shenanigans.”
“Shenaningans?” Luca repeats, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Archer.”
“Don’t act like you have a heart,” Jack says dryly. “You two will get into plenty of trouble on your own.”
They’ve been at it like hens since I’d first pitched my idea to them. Why wipe the slate entirely clean? There were plenty of people who could use our help and our skills. People who actually need us. Kids like me with shitty parents. Women being preyed on by assholes like Cyrus. The people that the law doesn’t know how to protect without breaking its own rules—a problem that none of us have.
Except Jack, apparently.
I ignore Jack and Luca’s debate and open the envelope. “You said this came with flowers?”
“Lots of flowers,” Kai says. “It looks like a florist exploded. It’s actually really romantic.”
“Romantic, huh?” Jack teases.
“I know what’s romantic. I make my living singing love songs.”
I slip the card out and read it, unable to hide my surprise when I see Nikolai’s name signed at the bottom. I’m not sure if it's a gift or a threat, but I suspect the former after his relationship advice.
There’s a knock at the door and Sutton’s dark head pokes inside. “Everyone decent?”
“Unfortunately,” Luca says.
“Terribly disappointing.” She joins him, passing me a folded piece of paper. “From your daughter.”
My daughter. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that. I love those words. I love hearing them. I love thinking them. Still, it’s surreal like someone turned a mirror on my life. Everything is there, but somehow it’s all changed, too. Upside down. Inside out. It should make me uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. It just feels...right.
I unfold it and smile. Judging by the looks of it, she’s drawn me along with her and Adair. Zeus, a near constant in all her pictures, is at our feet. The new house in the background.
“What’s that?” Luca asks, looking over my shoulder at a round blob in the air next to Ellie’s stick figure.
“No clue,” I admit.
“Your kid’s a shitty artist,” he says, taking a sip of whiskey.
“She’s five.”
“I’m just saying that her talents lie elsewhere. Maybe she’ll take after you.” He elbows me in the ribs.
“I hope not,” Jack says. His smile falters when he sees my face, and he changes the subject. “So, we’re losing the first of us. I think that means we need to open another bottle.”
“Go ahead.” I do my best to let go of the joke. Jack wasn’t being serious, but I do worry about it. I want Ellie to be safe no matter what. I might be willing to straddle the line between law and crime, but I’d prefer she stay safely on one side. Sutton’s laugh rises in the room and I watch her, dark head bowed sharing a joke with Luca, and wonder if I need to worry about her, too. Nothing could convince her to go back to New York.
“Stop corrupting my kid sister,” I call to Luca.
“As if he could corrupt me,” she says with a pout.
There’s another knock, and since everyone’s in here, I brace myself for the hurricane that Poppy’s become over the last few weeks. She’s already been here five times to make sure we’re on schedule. No amount of evidence seems to prove to her that we’re self-sufficient enough to put on tuxedos and wait in a room.
I open the door, ready to reassure her, only to discover Francie there, holding Zeus’s leash. “It’s nearly time. I thought we’d better get him ready.”
“That’s our cue,” Jack says. He walks to me, extending his hand. I take it, and h
e pulls me into a hug. “You ready for this?”
“Because we’ve had to extract you from tighter spots before,” Luca adds, joining us. His dark eyes dance.
“No doubt in my mind,” I promise them.
Luca grins, whistling as he heads out the back door to wait for the ceremony. Jack smiles again before releasing my hand.
“I’m happy for you,” he tells me before joining Kai to go wait with Luca.
“Me, too,” Sutton adds, managing to sound sincere.
“You two will be friends someday,” I promise her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. She looks so grown up in her gold, lightly beaded dress, but her round, blue eyes take me back to when she was a little kid, looking to me for guidance. I’m determined to be there for her. “I want us to be a family. I don’t want to lose any more time.”
When they’re gone, Francie comes over and fiddles with my bowtie, not bothering to hide the tears pooling in her eyes. She’s dressed in a simple navy dress that Adair and her picked out when she arrived last week. The two bonded over how little they cared about clothes, much to Poppy’s horror.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her. She does. Her warm brown skin glows as brightly as her million watt smile.
“I look old,” she says with a sniff, brushing invisible lint from my shoulders.
I shake my head. A few strands of gray have made themselves into her tightly woven braids. “You look the same as the day we met.”
“You remember that day?” she asks. “I thought you were too busy ignoring me.”
“I was intimidated,” I admit. “You weren’t like the other foster homes they sent me, too. You were...scary.”
She laughs, and I can’t help but join her. “I had to scare you.”
“Was I that bad?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Nope, you were just worth saving,” she says quietly. There’s no mistaking the look in her eyes or the emotion in her voice. She’s also guarded herself around me, like she’s approaching a wild animal. I can’t blame her.