Epilogue
One Year Later
It was a warm, clear-skied Saturday afternoon, and it was a day and night of celebration.
One year ago, we had eliminated the Fallen Saints. But that was not why we were celebrating.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
Lane, having finally found his ever-after love, having finally secured the knowledge that he could love without fear of a violent death, had proposed to Angela Sanders about a month after everything that had happened. They chose this day as their wedding date.
And now, it had happened. Angela Sanders, deputy DA, had become Angela Carter with pride, love, and joy.
Everyone in the room broke out in raucous applause, some of the Reapers cheering a little louder than others—some, it should be said, with a hint of alcohol on their breath.
It could not be said that the room was without a little bit of sorrow. There was the unmistakable fact, for instance, that the man leading the marriage ceremony was not the beloved Father Marcellus, but just an officiant from the State of California. We were grateful for the officiant having led everything, but it was not the same as Father Marcellus leading the marriage.
Similarly, even though Phoenix and Lilly had long ago accepted the dark sides of their fathers, they still mourned the lack of their presence, if for no other reason than them being there would have meant forgiveness would have been reached. Now, they could only find peace in the silence of their minds.
But the presence of sorrow also made possible the presence of joy, and the joy that was felt was unlike anything I had seen from anyone in this club in ages.
There was freedom not just in the sense that we didn’t worry about anyone getting killed, but freedom in actually planning for the future. Staying present may have been the best path to happiness, but if it was all anyone could do, if no one had any freedom to look ahead more than a few hours, it could feel suffocating. With this newfound freedom of safety, things started happening really fast.
Patriot and Kaitlyn got engaged about a month after Lane and Angela, which led to many, many jokes. They had not yet gotten married, as Kaitlyn was discussing possibly getting a better job elsewhere, but Patriot made it clear they were an item now. Axle and Rose had moved in together; they never said they were getting married, but they were the most “married” of all of us. Butch and Thea had gotten engaged about a month ago; in typical Butch fashion, no one knew until Thea showed her ring at a club cookout. Phoenix and Jess were still going strong, probably the “furthest back” but still very much committed to each other.
As for Lilly and me?
We were not engaged. We were not living together.
But we had our own little reason for staying close together.
And as I walked down the aisle as the best man, my arm linked with some friend of Angela’s that I did not know, I smiled and nodded to Lilly, sitting near the back of the reception. She blew me a kiss, and I blew her a kiss back.
For a brief moment, as we ended our “formal walk” out of the reception and as we cheered Lane by embracing him and congratulating him, I felt naked, like being without Lilly in this moment somehow made me empty. But that ended seconds later when I felt her arms wrap around me and she planted a kiss on my cheek.
“Lilly,” Lane said, pulling her in for a hug. “Here, we need a photo of all the Carters.”
At first, Lilly stood to the side. But Lane would have none of it.
“Like it or not, you’re in this family now, or at the very least, will be soon enough.”
Lilly giggled, came under my arm, and the four of us posed for photos. The photographer called out for all of the wedding party to get into a photo, but Lane asked for a moment. He put his arm around me, pulled me aside, and smiled.
“So you’re really doing it, huh?” he said.
I knew what he meant. I smiled.
“I know it may seem weird to decide to move to New Mexico after everything that has happened and how we’ve gotten closer,” I said. “But you know the truth. It’s no longer about me. It’s not even about Lilly.”
Lane turned around. We both looked at Lilly, as cheerful and happy as could be.
Actually, we weren’t looking at Lilly.
We were looking at her belly.
“It’s about—”
“The child,” I said. “We both agree. We don’t want our kid to be in an MC. We know that that may be impossible, given who we are. But we need to keep him or her out of the club life as much as possible. We think New Mexico would be a great place. It’s quiet, it’s remote, and it’s away from all of this drama.”
