“I’m never writing anything again in my life.”
“Oh, I dunno—this story is turning out pretty well. Maybe you could just switch to nonfiction.”
“At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about it coming true.”
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Seven months later
No, Pussy Galore I was not, Alice typed.Moneypenny had always been more my style.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
She sighed and pushed up from the tiny cabin table. The last line of the entire freaking book, and it was just not coming. She wandered into the little kitchen and poured a fresh cup of coffee, stretching her neck to one side and then the other. She’d spent way too much of the Christmas break hunched over her laptop, but then, she was grateful for the distraction from how quiet the season had been. Outside, pearly sunlight glinted on beaded icicles hanging from the eaves. A snowfall overnight had reset the winter wonderland outside, a transformation from spring, when those same trees had looked as if they were hiding Russian spies and FBI agents.
A ranger trod along the path outside. He glanced up and waved at Alice. Alice smiled back. The cabin was booked and paid for, this time, which made the experience far more relaxing.
Back to school next week, though she was switching to part-time hours, thanks to the advance she’d gotten for her book—the nonfiction version, which pulled together her story as well as Nika’s. The publishers were already talking about a book tour, which terrified her as much as the prospect of testifying in a dozen upcoming trials and a congressional hearing. Her phone dinged from where it was charging beside the fridge. It was an email from “Ghost Kimberly,” with real Kimberly’s wedding photo as the profile picture. Alice’s eyes welled, predictably, and she had to blink them clear before she could focus on the opening line: “Hey, big sis! Wow, four months already, huh? If you’re still feeling like the rollercoaster is tossing you around, maybe just relax, breathe, and go with it. If the waves are starting to settle a little, go with that too. Did you manage to resist Malik’s mom’s attempts to adopt you as her Orphan Annie daughter over Christmas? She’s a sweetheart, really—just wants to adopt every kitten in the…”
The door swung open, and Alice jumped. Carter came in hauling a bag of firewood, and the bolt of attraction fired up from her toes to her chest, as it did every single damn time he walked into a room. If their relationship was to continue, she’d need an asthma inhaler for all the breathlessness. “I missed a call from Mom,” he said, emptying the bag into the wood basket. “She wants to jump on a whole-of-book-club video call to discuss the business plan, which is likely to take hours. See, this is why I prefer to work alone—why I used to prefer to work alone.” He straightened, pulling off his beanie to reveal some crazy hat hair, and then frowning when he registered her expression. “Alice?”
She wiped her eyes. “Turns out I’m not yet at the phase where I can think of Kimberly without crying. I just got one of her emails. I mean, it’s lovely, and I’m glad she went to all that trouble to write them and get the lawyer to schedule them, but sometimes…”
He crossed the few steps between them and enveloped her in a hug, which she melted into, winding her arms around his deliciously big frame, made even more solid by his thick fleece jacket. Her anchor. Hugs had become their currency in the past few months, between saying goodbye to Kimberly, and Vanessa (properly), plus Yuri, now buried beside Nika. Alice had never felt closer to anyone in her life, and that felt more dangerous and exhilarating than anything that had happened in their first few days together.
Carter rubbed her back, resting his chin on her crown. “You know what Kimberly would say—grief is love. Something she told me in our therapy sessions was to find the feeling of love inside the pain, and try to focus on that, make it bigger. Turn the feeling of grief into a feeling of love. That really helped me.”
“Yeah, I like that one.”
“You did that to me once, when we first met. Turned the grief into a positive feeling.”
Alice frowned. “When was that?”
“When we were here, actually, and I was listening to Nika on the tape and she was so…” Alice heard him swallow, felt his jaw move on the top of her head. “You started talking about the six-inch heels she wore to the library.”
“Oh yeah. It wasn’t a deliberate strategy.”
“Because it comes naturally to you, to connect like that. It’s like you bridged a gap. Gave me a pathway out. You’re good at that.”
Alice guessed he was talking about Vanessa now. “‘Grief is the price you pay for loving someone. But love is worth paying that price.’ Ah, look, Kimberly’s haunting both of us, just like she intended. Still no shortcuts though, are there? Whether you understand the process or not.”
“Nope,” he said, pushing her hair off her forehead and kissing the spot he’d cleared.
“Oh,” she said, pulling back, though she could easily stay in that embrace all day—just put up a tent and refuse to leave. “I’ve thought of a name for the book.”
“We’re not going with my suggestion?The Man with the Golden?—”
“No!” she said, laughing as she brushed ice crystals from his jacket. “Ifyouwant to write the erotic version, go right ahead. This ismybook. And Nika’s.”
“Okay then …Spy Hard.”
“Ha! Though ‘Spy Hard Private Investigators’ would be brilliant for a company name.”
He groaned. “We’re still no closer to nailing that. How long isthatvideo call gonna be? You know that Mom and her friends insist on wine and cheese at every meeting, any time of day, virtual or in-person?”
“See,that’smy kind of book club. I love how those women make the most of every single opportunity to live.”
