Page 117 of Bombshell

“Hurry,” she advises.

I cross to Sterling in time to see his eyes flicker. Taking his hand, I can’t find the right words to say to tell him how much I love him and what he means to me.

“Hey, Lucky.” He tries to turn to me but groans. “You can’t get rid of me. Told you I was all in.”

“Miss,” a medic pushes past me and covers his face with oxygen just as his body begins to shake. “We need to get him to the hospital now.”

“Is he going to be okay?” I call.

The medic grins as he reaches to shut the ambulance door. “I’d call it a miracle, but I think he’s just lucky.”

Epilogue

Nine months later

Adair

He came back to me in the spring, so we chose late April when the magnolias are in full bloom for our wedding day. The air is warm enough to release their perfume across the yard as caterers and florists and photographers bustle in and out of our new home, a large, white farmhouse with a porch that wraps entirely around it, perfect for three of us and one large dog. Magnolia trees line the drive, their snowy blossoms draping over it like a bridal veil. The land behind the house is in the process of being transformed into something out of a fairytale. Even I don’t know exactly what to expect.

“The tent is up,” Poppy announces, sashaying into my bedroom wearing a blush, silk robe, embroidered with her initials—her gift for being my maid of honor. “Champagne tower is still standing. Cross your fingers the dog doesn’t knock the table.”

Of all the requests I made for the wedding, which she insisted on planning, having Zeus as the ring bearer is the one she disapproves of most. She’s been a good sport about it, because she’s Poppy.

“He will,” I promise her. She continues to run down a list of who is doing what, how far behind this or that is, before she pauses. “Those are beautiful.”

She reaches to inspect my earrings. Delicate flower blossoms hang like bells, an opal dripping from their centers, from a thin, golden hook.

“My mom gave them to me.” I haven’t worn them often. Every time I’d tried it felt wrong. After Sterling proposed, I realized I was meant to wear them on my wedding day. “It makes me feel like she’s here with me.”

“Oh, darling, she is.” Poppy hugs me tightly before dashing off to oversee more business.

A loud pop startles me and I turn to find Trish with a guilty smile and an open bottle of champagne, wearing a matching silk robe. “I think we need to toast.”

“We could just get drunk,” Sutton says from her spot on the floor. She’s not wearing the matching robe, but I consider it a victory that she’s here and in a fairly decent mood. I haven’t figured out yet if she’s putting up with me for Sterling’s sake or Ellie’s.

Poppy joins us, grabbing a glass of champagne. Even Sutton takes one.

“To proof that true love does exist outside stories,” Trish says, raising her flute. “And to Adair, editor extraordinaire, whose book got its third starred review this week.”

I flush, shaking my head, as I tap my glass to the others. Sutton swigs hers and plops back down with Ellie who is coloring a picture on the ground, her copper hair twisted into a pretty bun, but still in her pajamas.

“My mom’s book,” I remind Trish quietly.

She sighs, the sound a mixture of happiness and resignation. “There’s as much of you in that book as her. Be proud. She would be.”

I hope she’s right.

Looking to Ellie, who’s guarding her picture like a dragon, while Sutton pretends to sneak peeks, I know Trish is right. Motherhood is unconditional love. Not just love you give or receive but love that permeates every ounce of your being, changes you, makes you someone better. Feeling that for Ellie gave me the gift of my own mother back. I know how she felt. Someday, I hope Ellie has a daughter of her own. I hope she never makes the mistakes that I did.

After the fire, the first few weeks were the worst. It was confusing for all of us. Ginny’s death made it difficult to know how to proceed, and Ellie struggled to understand not only the loss of the woman she thought of as her mother but Felix as well. The only saving grace was Malcolm’s decision to leave Valmont and move to Oregon, a bittersweet choice since he relinquished guardianship without hesitation. We’d been to doctors and psychologists. We’d done everything we could to ease her transition, and we’d finally revealed part of the truth with the encouragement of her therapist. I’d been sick for an entire week leading up to telling her that I was her mother, wondering if she’d be angry or hurt that I’d lied. Instead, she’d asked a lot of questions, all leading back to one central concern: did that mean she would get to stay with me?

She just wanted to be loved. She wanted to give her love. And she wanted to feel safe doing it. We’ve continued to take it slow, letting her help us choose her new house, answering her questions about Ginny as delicately as we can while still being truthful. I don’t know what the future will bring. We can only take it one day at a time.

At first, she’d been more reserved with Sterling, especially when he first got out of the hospital. The scars on his hands scared her, but as they healed, the gap between them grew smaller and smaller each day. He never minded. His only concern was making her feel safe. It had taken two months to get her to call him Sterling instead of Mr. Ford. Neither of us are sure when the right time is to tell her that he’s her father.

“Everyone needs to get dressed!” Poppy announces, swiping the bottle of champagne before Trish and Sutton get too tipsy to walk down the aisle. Sutton gets up to change with a frown.

Ellie jumps to her feet, her eyes bright with excitement. Then, her lips fall into a thoughtful frown. She touches the sterling silver clover hanging from her neck. “I can wear my good luck charm, right?”