And so it begins.
Our crazy love, our uncanny, wonderful life. In the Hamptons sun, with my husbands rushing me to the hospital while Jamie grumbles about how this gorgeous wedding dress was ruined—albeit for all the right reasons.
Just like it’s supposed to begin.
In sweet chaos.
EPILOGUE II
WILLOW
Bill Morgan got to meet one grandchild before he passed away.
I wish he’d held on for a little while longer, but as we stand before his freshly dug grave, as we thoughtfully gaze upon his black marble stone and read his name in gilded letters, roses resting beautifully all over, I’m thankful for the time he had with us.
“It was a beautiful service,” I say.
His sons stand beside me, their heads bowed as they stare at Bill’s headstone. The pain is so vivid in their eyes—yet I see him in each of them: his jawline, his gaze, his bold grasp of life. He lives on through Cole, Asher, and Toby. They know it deep in their hearts.
“He left something behind,” Cole says after a while.
Our son sleeps in his stroller, a black-haired angel of two, with bluish-green eyes and pink, cherub-like cheeks. Bill doted on him, adored him from the moment he was born,until his last breath—in bed, asleep, in the middle of a quiet, summer night.
“You,” I tell Cole, “and you and you,” I tell the twins, as well. “Forget the company, the fortune, the headlines. He left you. He gave you to the world, and the world is better for it. I’ll never stop thanking him for that.”
Asher turns to face me, his eyes soft with tears. “He’s with our mother now. That gives me plenty of comfort, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Probably yapping her ears off about Zack,” Toby quips, pointing at our slumbering son. “That kid could sleep through an earthquake. Dad said he takes after him.”
“He was right,” Cole chuckles softly. “That man dozed off in the middle of a Vietcong war zone, for heaven’s sake.”
“We’re going to be okay,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “But I know I’m going to miss him dearly.”
The guys come closer and hug me. We spend a moment in silence, surrounded by lush greenery and trimmed hedges, by wild rose bushes and sycamore trees, as the late summer wind rises and whispers its tales of the seasons to come. Nothing is permanent, that much we know for a fact.
But we also know that we need to make the most of the borrowed time we’re given.
And it’s been such a wonderful ride so far.
Toby points at one of the rose crowns resting on Bill’s grave. “Sheila had that one delivered,” he says, “with the yellow roses.”
“Dad did like yellow roses,” Cole concedes witha shrug.
“Mom loved them, too,” Asher reminds him.
“Have any of you heard from Terrence lately?” I ask. It is a genuine question since I’ve kept my distance from everyone and anything with the slightest connection to Sheila, who is now rotting in prison. Last I checked, Perry is due to be released in ten years. Not that I care anymore. His business with me ended the minute he flipped on her. “Jamie got an engagement party query from Katrina. I was just wondering.”
Cole lets out a surprised laugh. “She’s remarrying already? Good on her.”
“Honestly, none of us have kept in touch with Terrence after Sheila got her life sentence,” Asher says. “But one of the guys at my office, who likes to keep in touch with the city gossip and all that, swears he saw Terrence working at a Staples in Brooklyn.”
“Well, at least he’s making an honest living for once,” Toby replies.
I almost laugh, but I’m drawn to the headstone again. “I just wish he’d stuck around for a little while longer,” I say with a deep sigh. “I had a surprise for him.”
“A surprise?” Asher asks, a curious smile on his face.
“Yes.”
