The conclusionof a decades-long mystery brings a satisfaction to these old bones. There is no pleasure in knowing a truth, in watching a wolf prance around dressed as a sheep.
Justice has been served. Old wounds will heal.
Hugo has found the one with whom he can settle. I yearn for the same to be true for his sister.
Not much longer now.
What was sown a long time ago will soon be reaped.
Epilogue
Mallory
"I'm telling you,get the blood orange margarita. Forget your tequila and soda nonsense." Vivi slams a palm on the table at King's Ransom.
I tip my head, survey her reddish-orange drink with the sugar rim. "Fine," I concede. "Next drink."
Vivi slides her fresh drink to me, nudging mine out of the way. "This drink."
I look out, find my hot husband's eyes. Send him a wink. It's our first night out since little miss Simone Maggie came screaming into the world. Sleep-deprived and knee-deep in infant clothes, Hugo and I are in love with each other, and our sweet girl.
The healing in my heart started by Hugo has been amplified by Simone. She's a reminder of something beautiful and good and true. Splendor born from agony.
She looks nothing like her biological father, an unexpected bonus. Where he was fair-skinned and light-haired, she is olive-toned with hair that matches mymahogany. She looks like me, but really, she looks like Hugo.
Vivi's waiting on me to sip my new drink, to tell her I love it. I think it's the chef in her. She wants people to love what she loves, to share with them what makes her happy.
I oblige, sip my tart sting of tequila and citrus, and nod. "Ok, yeah. You win. This is my new drink."
Daisy gives a ladylike snort. "Champagne or bust."
Vivi pretends to gag.
I catch Hugo's eye again. He's sitting with Duke and Penn at the next table. Vivi was adamant we spend the first hour having conjoined guys' and girls' nights. She'd said it was no fun being the fifth wheel, and she didn't want to be forced to make conversation with Paper Towel Duke while the couples canoodled. I'd had to ask for clarification on the less-than-kind nickname for Duke, and Daisy explained it had something to do with Penn saying a wet paper towel can't fulfill its intended purpose, and that's what Duke is.
Daisy swallows down her drink, glancing at Penn with hearts in her eyes. "It almost feels like everything that happened with Duke and Penn was a dream."
"Not for the rest of us who lived it with you," Vivi grumbles.
Daisy rolls her eyes. "She's still mad because she made a lot of food for my reception and then I didn't get married."
I laugh. "I really wish I could've watched all that go down."
"You can," Vivi says dryly. "It's on YouTube."
Immediately I pull my phone from my purse and watch the video. I cackle, and gasp, and ogle my husband in his suit. He wasn't the focus of the video, and he only makes a brief appearance, but in my opinion he stole the show.
Sonya texts me a picture of Simone sleeping in her arms. She reports Simone's last feed, how many ounces, her most recent diaper change. Sliding off my stool, I slip over to Hugo and present my phone to him. He gazes lovingly at our daughter, reading the text from his mom. "That's one ounce more than she had at three o'clock this morning," he notes.
Penn and Duke share a look. Hugo notices, and says, "You fucks can fuck right off."
Penn points a stiff finger across the table. "There's the man we know and love."
Now that I've infiltrated the guys' table, the separation is null. Penn matriculates to the bar, where he orders a refill for Daisy and delivers it to her. She rewards his thoughtfulness with a long and slightly obscene kiss.
The speakeasy's false wall opens, and a brick wall of a man steps through. He has a mop of curly, dark hair, and a round face. Shoulder to shoulder, I think he'd outmeasure a yardstick.
"Ambrose," Hugo booms. He's off his stool, arms open, lumbering toward his best friend. Hugo is a big man, but when he hugs Ambrose, it's almost comical. Penn and Duke follow, greeting Ambrose with hugs and masculine back slaps.
