He has a long list of grievances in his Notes app.
Wastes food
My gaze shifts to him, and he shrugs. “When I get five minutes again tomorrow, I don’t want to forget anything.” He can’t even say the words without grinning.
“Ridiculous.” I set his phone aside and grab his face. “I’m the sole heiress to the Juniper Carlisle and Zachary Phillips fortune. So you’d better get extra storage on your Notes app.”
“And you’re going to give it all away,” he says, tipping his chin up.
We have a stare-off.
I loosen my grip while brushing my lips over his. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I probably will.”
Life is nuanced. Not all secrets are lies. Good people do bad things.
On our first date, had Flynn told me about his time in prison, it would have been our last date.
Honesty requires vulnerability.
Vulnerability needs trust.
And love …
Well, it’s all about timing.
Epilogue
Flynn
Two years later …
Rupert was right.Rich people have very few true friends.
Juniper Carlisle is being laid to rest next to her beloved husband Zachary. It’s the first funeral I’ve attended. Like with everything else, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do as Henna and Zoya cling to each other.
A warm breeze.
Sun peeking through the canopy of trees.
The tent filled with Juni’s small circle.
I tune out her pastor’s final words while standing behind Zoya’s chair. Maybe a life without love is better. It’s like she and Henna are dying too. And there’s nothing I can do.
After five months of therapy and Zoya playing concerts, Juni went into remission, so we moved. But nothing lasts forever. We returned to L.A. two months ago when Juni’s cancer returned, having spread to her brain. Juni refused more treatment.
Henna and Zoya couldn’t sway her. Not with begging. Not with the promise of playing concerts again.
I miss our little rental house in Petoskey, Michigan. My job at the auto repair shop (minus the hound dog). And our simple life.
But my virtuoso girlfriend has been unsettled over the past six months. Jumping from job to job, yet claiming shelovedeach one. But I’ve seen the look in her eyes when she truly loves something, and working at a pet store isn’t that kind of love. Zoya needs music.
Bodhi rests his hand on my shoulder when the pastor finishes speaking. “Let’s give them a few minutes.”
Henna and Zoya kneel next to the casket as everyone else exits the tent. I look at him and his eyes are red. It’s the first time I’ve seen him cry.
“Yeah,” I murmur with a nod.
As he turns, Bodhi leans down, resting one hand on Henna’s back and one on Zoya’s. He says something to them, but I can’t hear it. So I continue out the tent. My gaze snags on two familiar faces.
