Logan and I exchange a glance, both wondering what exactly she might have to prosper against.
The four of them say their goodbyes, and no sooner do they leave than Marshall enters the room.
“Well done, Ms. Messenger.” He peers over at the sleeping babe in my arms before looking at Logan. “I see the Oliver genes were hard at work. Well done to you as well.”
“Thank you,” Logan says. “It’s about time you said a few nice words to me.” He’s teasing but just a little.
Marshall shoots him a wry look before laying his hand over the baby and saying a blessing.
He touches my head and Logan’s, too, praying a quick word over us as well. Marshall asks the Lord to keep us healthy, wealthy, and wise all the days of our lives, and we both give a hearty amen to that one.
Marshall takes a breath as he studies us a moment.
“I have a gift for the two of you. Devil’s Peak. Christmas Eve, near midnight.” He nods to the two of us. “Find a sitter.”
“Marshall, that’s three months away.” I lean up on my elbow. “What’s happening at Devil’s Peak on Christmas Eve?”
He arches a brow our way. “I’m afraid you’ll have to show up to find out.”
He walks right through the wall and yet leaves all the mystery he just delivered behind.
Logan and I hold one another, hold our precious baby girl as we watch her with wonder.
We think on all that has happened, and we are so very amazed.
Celestra won.
We won.
Everything is perfect.
Everything is right.
Everything.
Everything.
Christmas Eve was spent, for the most part, at the Landon house this year, where my mother threw another epic wild and slightly terrifying party. Tad has long been exonerated of all of his legal troubles. And Demetri even helped him procure his position back at Althorpe.
Demetri—let’s just say my mother is just as enamored with him as ever, and he with her. I guess some things never change.
The party was a hit. Nobody was set on fire. Nobody threw punches. And nobody flinched when my dead mother and father showed up along with Rory and Sage.
Laken and Wes looked mildly alarmed as if Coop might be the next dead guest to walk through the door, but he didn’t. My mother didn’t think it was prudent just yet. But she said to expect it, and both Laken and Wes looked as if she gave them the only gift they ever wanted, and I think she did.
Laken had her baby in early November, a sweet baby boy named Cooper. They decided to call Wesley Cooper, plain old Wes, and I think it’s fitting. Laken now has a miniature Wes and a miniature Coop, and each baby boy holds his father’s features as if they were doppelgängers. It’s adorable, perfect, and right. And yet, it’s still so very heartbreaking, so very raw for everyone.
Close to midnight, Logan and I head out to Devil’s Peak along with the others that received the invite, Gage, Wes, Laken, Ellis, Giselle, Brody, Liam, Bree, Ezrina, Nev, and Chloe.
The moon hangs low like a sickle, so close you could lasso the tip and swing from it. The sky is dusted with lavender over navy, and the fog swims around us thick as a cluster of ghosts as if it, too, wanted to see what Marshall had planned for us.
Marshall stands at the ledge, at the knife’s edge of that dangerous plunge, and we congregate around him as if he were about to teach us one final lesson, and I have a feeling he’s about to do just that.
Holden and Serena circle up above, cawing and calling to one another as if this were a game they were so very thrilled to take part in.
“Gather.” Marshall looks comely in a dark suit, that wicked grin of his—one in the same from the time he first set foot on this island. “Logan, Gage.” He nods their way, and my stomach lurches because it is so very rare for Marshall to use anyone’s proper name. “Please”—Marshall motions to the either side of him—“take your rightful places by my side.”
Logan shoots me a look that tells me exactly how much he regrets this side trip. Gage does the same before they step beside him like bookends, and my heart races because they’re a little too close to the edge for my comfort.
