“Sure.” My curiosity piqued, I lean closer. “Just pretend I heard it in the club and that nasty-ass NDA applies.”
“Let’s talk inside,” she says, nodding to the driver as he places the last of our bags by the door. “Thank you. Have a good night.”
I raise my hand as he retreats to the car, then follow Athena into the house, pulling our luggage behind us. Themoment the door closes, I drop everything. “Okay, spill. What about Zara Nova?”
Athena sets her keys in the crystal bowl on the entry table. “She’s bisexual,” she says, her voice still low though we’re alone now. “She hasn’t had the chance to date women since college, and she wants to explore that side of herself.”
“What?” I gasp, momentarily stunned by this revelation. “Okay, that’s truly NDA-worthy information.”
“I know,” Athena agrees. “She’s understandably concerned about discretion, given her public profile, so I was thinking of introducing her to someone from the club. My members are discreet, so it should be safe for her.”
“That’s actually brilliant,” I say. “Will you take her to the club?”
Athena shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know if I can trust her yet, and she has paparazzi following her everywhere she goes. It would be too risky.”
A soft meow comes from the landing, and we both look up to see Zeus padding down the stairs, his golden eyes fixed on Athena, tail rising in greeting. He quickens his pace, letting out another vocal meow.
“Hello, my little prince,” Athena coos, immediately dropping to her knees to greet him. “Did you miss me? Has Asha been taking good care of you?”
Zeus butts his head against her hand, purring so loudly I can hear it from where I stand. He weaves between her knees, rubbing himself against her in undisguised affection. Then, to my surprise, he breaks away from Athena and approaches me, repeating the same greeting ritual against my legs.
I crouch down too, running my fingers through his soft fur. “Hello to you too, baby. Are you coming up to bed with us tonight?”
He purrs louder, pressing his head more firmly into my palm. This strangely majestic creature, who once seemed so aloof, has decided he likes me. Maybe he knows I’m not just visiting anymore.
A yawn catches me by surprise, and I cover my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Tired?” Athena asks.
“Exhausted,” I admit. “It was a lot in such a short time span, but it was worth it.” I rise to my feet. “It was so special to see where you come from, to meet your family. To witness that side of you.”
Athena stands as well. “I honestly never thought that would happen, ever.” Her voice catches slightly. “Not in that way. Not with you by my side, openly.” In the soft light of her entryway, with Zeus winding figure-eights around our ankles, her eyes well up. “You’ve changed my life,” she says, the words coming out in a rush as if she’s been holding them back. “Because of you, I don’t have to hide anymore. I can be myself—all of myself—for the first time.”
“You’ve changed mine too,” I tell her, stepping closer until our bodies nearly touch. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be locked in that office until midnight, moving through each day without feeling anything. Existing but not living.
“I love you,” I say, the words still new enough to send a thrill through me. “And I love that we found each other. That we recognized something in each other that needed healing.”
Athena’s hand rises to cup my cheek, and she strokes me with her thumb. “I never expected you,” she whispers. “Nothing has been the same since I met you.”
She kisses me then, slow and tender, her body curving into mine. When we break apart, she takes my hand and leads me toward the stairs, toward the bedroom that nolonger feels like just hers, Zeus already bounding ahead of us as if to ensure we follow.
In this quiet house on the edge of the desert, with the lights of Vegas glimmering in the distance, I’ve found something I thought was lost forever—not just love, but possibility. The chance to build something new from the ashes of what came before. Not to replace what was lost, but to honor it by living fully again.
Perhaps that’s what healing looks like in the end—not the absence of scars, but the creation of new patterns around them. This is where we begin again. Not at the start, but somewhere in the middle of our stories, carrying all that came before, yet open to what lies ahead.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
I smile as I cradle Hunter in my arms. He’s warm and solid, his dark curls—so like Demetria’s—nestled against the crook of my elbow. His eyes study my face with that peculiar solemnity only babies seem capable of. Almost seven months old and already sizing me up.
“What’s your verdict, little man?” I whisper, bouncing him gently. “Do I pass inspection?”
He blinks slowly in response, his tiny mouth forming a perfect “o” before his chubby fingers find the gold chain around my neck. I carefully detach his grip. One thing I’ve learned about babies—they’re stronger than they look.
“You’re a menace, you know that?” I murmur, touching the tip of his button nose. “Just like your mother. Grabbing everything that catches your eye.”
Ruby’s mother is setting the long outdoor dining table. Martha Walsh looks in her element, arranging silverware while humming along to my playlist. It’s been sweet watching her these past three days—how easily she slips between doting grandmother-figure with Hunter and spirited conversationalist with my mother.
