“Noah…” I breathe out his name, half a protest, half a laugh that cracks right through my chest. “You can’t say something like that unless you mean it. You know I always follow through on a dare.”
He leans back, that soft, crooked grin that has wrecked me since college curving at the corner of his mouth.
His hand cups my jaw, thumb sweeping over my lip. “I’m counting on it.”
Epilogue
The screen flickers to life, and there they are—Viv sipping what I assume is some frothy soy milk abomination and Marin with her kombucha. It’s clear. She’s hooked on the stuff. My Wi-Fi is a little glitchy, the images are a little blurry, and the sound cuts out every few seconds, but honestly? It feels like home.
I give Noah a quick peck on the cheek before moving my laptop off the bed and padding in my pajamas down the hall toward the living room.
“Is that Noah?” Viv’s voice breaks out through the speaker loud and clear. “Tell him I’m not there to toss him his jeans if he forgets them while trying to crawl out onto the roof again.”
I hear Noah’s deep chuckle from the bed. “Hi, Viv. No more sneaking out of windows for me for a while.”
Settling into my favorite corner of the couch, I adjust the screen in time to see Viv stare pointedly through the screen. “Someone really needs to ask Marin about her love life.”
“No one needs to ask.” Marin’s voice is serious, but she’s smiling.
Viv ignores her. “He flosses, Birdie.Unprompted.I almost proposed on the spot.”
“You say that like it’s not the bare minimum,” I chuckle.
“Sweetheart.” Viv swirls her coffee like it’s wine. “Believe me, flossing is not the bare minimum. We’re in the past forty club. The bare minimums have changed.”
I shudder and write myself a mental note to thank Noah for his good dental hygiene habits later.
Marin snorts. “He also owns real bedsheets. Not polyester. I checked the tag.”
Viv winks. “Thread count is foreplay now.”
We all burst out laughing.
“Also, your daughter is quite the love guru.”
“Harper?” It comes out as a question that I’m a little scared to get the answer to.
“She’s terrifying,” Marin says immediately. “She’s already texted me twice with dating suggestions.”
Viv nods solemnly. “Yesterday, she told Marin to ‘trust her womb wisdom.’”
I choke on my tea. “Herwhat?”
Marin throws up her hands. “Apparently, my dusty old uterus has more insight into my love life than my brain does.”
Viv’s voice turns serious. “That’s the best advice anyone could ever give. Your body knows.”
“She actually said something that stuck with me,” Marin adds quietly. “That maybe it’s not about finding someone who fills the space they left. Just someone who reminds you that you still deserve to take up space, period.”
I blink at her. “Harper said that?”
“Shetextedit. In lowercase. No punctuation. But yeah.”
Viv nods. “That girl’s an old soul in a Gen Z wrapper.” Then she’s waving a perfectly manicured hand and adding, “And I did it. I posted a video last week, me, in full face, dancing to a Lizzo song with my wine glass, and guess what’s not in the background?”
Marin lifts an eyebrow. “A tragic montage of your dead husband?”
Viv’s grin holds only 10% sadness. “Exactly. No candlelittribute corner. No black-and-white slow-mo. No cut of him dancing with me. Just me. Laughing. Being ridiculous. I didn’t even mention him. And I finally changed my username.”
