Épilogue (The Dark Duet, #3) de CJ Roberts

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EPILOGUE (ALTERNATE)

So, here we are at the end. Was it good for you? It was for me. I suppose in the end that’s all that really matters. I know that’s selfish, but you know I’m selfish and you love me anyway.

For what it’s worth, I think I might actually miss you.

Will you miss me?

Will you cry?

If you do, please drink a tear for me and know that I never meant to cause you pain. Our parting is no cause to fret. In the words of Frank Herbert, “There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”

Livvie and I go on. We still live and have adventures.

Will we see each other again? I don’t have the answer to that. Life has caught me to expect the unexpected and it’s a lesson I learn over and again. Suffice to say – I hope so.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve gone around and around trying to find the perfect ending to this novel I never intended to write. In the end, I’ve come to the conclusion that there wasn’t anything wrong with the way Livvie ended things. Her epilogue was short, but it captured the essence of our story: Survival is the most important thing. It affords us the chance to live and to find all of the things that make living worthwhile. I found redemption. I found forgiveness. I found love.

That said, Livvie did a beautiful job with the ending and I can think of no greater tribute than to end this book as she wrote it (with my helpful commentary along the way of course). Submitted for your heartbreak, I present: The Epilogue (2.0)

James swallowed thickly as he stared at the words on the screen. Sophia had written a very tragic love story, but it was a love story just the same. She had been very generous to him, painting a far better picture of the man he had been than he would have. (I think we’ve learned this is absolutely true.) She’d been working for weeks, sequestered in her little room upstairs. He wasn’t allowed in there, and though he didn’t like it, he respected Sophia’s wishes. He respected all her wishes these days. (Because I’m the best boyfriend ever! Sorry, Rubio.)

Several hours ago, she’d flown into the kitchen and thrown her arms around him.

“Why are you smiling, Kitten? Did you finally finish?” James asked.

“Yes! I finished,” she said and followed up with a little dance. (I love the little dance.) She’d immediately dragged him upstairs and planted him in front of the laptop so he could start reading. There wasn’t another chair, so she’d gotten down on her knees and rested her head on his knee. (She lies; she just likes kneeling at my feet.)

As he read, he stroked her hair. James had been scared to read everything from Sophia’s point of view, but he was glad he’d made it through and discovered just how Sophia remembered everything. She loved him, he was sure of it, and while he still didn’t think he deserved it, he was happy about it nonetheless. (This is entirely true.)

He once again gazed on her sleeping form, unable to resist shifting her hair away from her face and behind her ear. Her mouth was slack, and he was sure she had drooled on him, but it didn’t matter. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He couldn’t help but stroke her. He loved the soft noises she made when he did. He didn’t deserve her. He never did (also true).

She’d been with him for over a year now, and secretly he always hoped she would tire of him and decide to leave. (I didn’t hope—I feared.) She told him she loved him often, (I’ll give this to her. She did tell me she loved me often—not with her words, but with her deeds) and each time, it cut him down to his core. He didn’t deserve her love (no, I don’t). He couldn’t bring himself to pretend he did (no, I can’t).

When he’d learned she’d been writing their story, he helped her in any way he could. It was his outlet as much as hers. He needed to see it in black and white – the pain he put her through, the monster he had been. He never wanted to forget what he could never allow himself to become again (true).

Since the night Sophia had met him at the Paseo, the night he had decided to leave everything behind and integrate into mainstream society, so much of him had changed. Away from the horrors of his youth, away from blood and vengeance, he was just – James.

At first, he’d had no idea what to do with himself. All around him, real life was happening, and he was a spectator. What did he know about meeting people in cafés? About having friends that weren’t killers? (I love you, Livvie.)

But at night, in the dark, when he found he couldn’t sleep because the world felt suddenly too big – there was Sophia (yes).

Whenever he thought about running away and returning to the life he knew, he thought about the day he’d given her the note. She’d burst into tears and run away from the café. He’d thought she would call the FBI, and he’d been prepared to go to prison if they were the ones to meet him at the Paseo. (It sounds silly… now.)

Instead, she had met him there. She stood, looking like a goddess among commoners. Her hair lay in soft waves down her back, occasionally being picked up by the breeze. She wore a black halter dress that hugged her breasts and bared her back. She also wore incredibly tall heels. They were dangerous, considering the cobbled streets. She’d wanted him to know she was a grown woman, and she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. (I can still picture this in my mind.)

He approached her from across the square. He was nervous. He wore jeans and a black cashmere sweater. The sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. He wanted her to know he was different. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore.

Her back was to him as he approached, but the breeze suddenly died and she turned when she heard his steps approaching.

There had been no words. He simply stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets. Her breath caught, and for a while she only stared at him. She stepped closer, and he almost took a step back – but didn’t. She was suddenly very close, and he couldn’t help but inhale her scent and close his eyes. (I love the way she smells.) She touched his shirt and pulled him down. His head swam. (It did!) Then she kissed him, and it was all that needed to be said.

He moved to Barcelona so she could still attend university. They never talked about the past. When people asked them how they met, she was quick to intercept the question and respond. They had met at the Paseo de Colon. (If only it had been so simple.)

When they made love, he was surprised to discover Sophia’s tastes had evolved. She wanted him to spank her. She wanted him to bind her arms. He felt sick about it at first. Her proclivities were obviously his fault. Still, their games turned him on to the point of physical pain. (They still do.)

He felt villainous, but what was done was done, and now he would do everything he could to give her what she wanted. He owed her much. Besides, it wasn’t always rough. Sometimes it was vanilla – and he liked that too (very much).

Carefully, James lifted Sophia into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, smiling as she shifted around, seeking some way to get comfortable. He undressed and got in bed next to her. Just touching her made him hard. He owed her so much. (Only everything.)

Suddenly overwhelmed, he held her impossibly tight. She whimpered and whined until her eyes opened and she stared up at his face. “Oh my god, what’s wrong?” she asked and stroked his distressed face.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too,” she replied. Sophia’s eyes welled up with tears and she tilted her face toward his.

She kissed him so passionately, so sweetly, that James thought if she never kissed him again, this was the kiss he always wanted to remember (it still is).

I could never write an ending better than the one Livvie gave you, but I’ll leave you with this: Once upon a time I saved Livvie. She’s been saving me ever since.

The End
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