Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 364(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Then, we’ll need to feed you,” I say, the moment so perfect and my girl so beautiful, I can’t make myself wait or stick to the plan. “But first I have a question for you.”
She blinks at my shift in tone. “Everything okay?”
“More than okay,” I say, reaching for the ring that’s been burning a hole in my pocket all day. “I had an elaborate plan for dinner—champagne with our bagels at the cat café, Pudge bringing this over in a locket…but this feels right. And I don’t want to wait anymore.” I open my palm, revealing the vintage engagement ring I bought at Sotheby’s last week, an Art Nouveau masterpiece as elegant and timeless as she is.
Her hands fly to cover her mouth, her eyes wide as I sink down on one knee in front of the desk. “Maya Swallows, you are the best person I’ve ever met. Every day with you is my new favorite day. I love your good heart and your enthusiasm and your drive. I love your passion and your silliness and your sweetness. But most of all, I love the way you love me.” Her eyes begin to shine, making my throat go tight and my next words emerge rougher than the ones that came before. “You’ve made my life so much brighter than it’s ever been. And all I want for the rest of that life is to share it with you, hopefully making you as happy as you make me.”
Swiping tears from her cheeks, she nods. “Yes,” she says, a smile brighter than any diamond stretching across her face. “Yes. You’re all I want, Anthony Pissarro. Just you and me and as many days together as we can beg, borrow, and steal.”
I slip the ring on her finger with shaking hands before pulling her in for a hug so tight her feet come off the floor. “Love you, baby,” I whisper into her hair.
“Love you, too, baby,” she says, the sweetness in the words making my chest tight with gratitude. When she pulls back, I soak in the smile on her face, wanting to memorize every second of this. Of her. “I can’t believe you had this in your pocket the entire time you were banging your naughty student,” she laughs, holding up her hand to study the ring. “Wow, this is pretty. I love it so much, Anthony. Really. It’s beautiful.” She looks up at me again, her eyes shining. “And it means I’m going to be yours.”
“I’m already yours,” I reply, drawing her against me as she moves back into my arms, cradling her close.
Later, at the restaurant, we’ll celebrate with Pudge and the staff at the cat café. We’ll call our families and friends, share the news on Maya’s social media, and do all the things people do when they’ve decided to roll the dice on forever.
But right now, holding her close in the fading light of my office, surrounded by books and lesson plans and all the dreams we’re making a reality together, I’m so glad it’s just the two of us.
Just me and my girl.
epilogue 2
Elaina Murphy
A woman discovering that being left
behind sucks as much as she expected it would
It’s a gorgeous day.
Just completely fucking gorgeous…
And I’m miserable.
Completely fucking miserable…
It’s the sun’s fault.
Damned sun…
There it is, hovering above the horizon like a huge orange asshole, bathing the ocean in a haze of pink and gold that I know would have made my mother cry. She loved beach weddings. She would have loved this one, even if Sydney is visibly pregnant.
Mom preferred people do things in order—dating, marriage, then babies—but she loved Syd. She would have been so happy to see her saying “I do” to the man of her dreams and Gideon watching her walk down the aisle like she’s the best thing that ever happened to him.
Hell, the best thing that ever happened to the world.
He’s so in love with her, it’s ridiculous.
And beautiful.
And gross.
Love is gross. I hate it. I don’t ever want to be in love again. I’m glad that I haven’t been on a date since I buried Mom four months ago, let alone found anyone to shack up with in my apartment above the cat café. The cats are all I need. Just cats and new scone recipes and a steady stream of nights alone watching reality television, interspersed with the occasional Zoom book club meeting.
Now that all my girlfriends have moved to New York to be with their sexy boyfriends and husbands, we can’t do book club in person at the café anymore. But that’s fine. Who needs hugs or shared food or laughter that isn’t filtered through a screen?
Not me.
This is fine.
Better than fine.
A twisted part of me is even glad that Mom’s gone, and I don’t have weekly dinners at her place on my schedule anymore. I miss her so much but seeing her in pain all the time at the end was killing me. She’d always been so strong, so independent, raising me alone while running her own dry-cleaning business and volunteering at the church every time they opened the doors. Barbara Ellen Murphy was a powerhouse, then she was a desperately sick woman who hated not being able to get out of bed, and now…she’s gone.