AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I will.”
It’s a new promise. One I know we’ll keep.
ANOTHER EPILOGUE: HONEYSUCKLE KISS
Finn
I reach for my credit card the second the lunch bill arrives.
But Tate’s faster. “I’ll take care of it,” he says gruffly, grabbing the tray then slapping down his credit card.
I don’t protest. This is clearly important to him. Just like the conversation I had with him over eggs was important to me.
He slides the tray back to the server. “Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome. Be right back,” the server says.
When it’s just us again, my one-time closest friend glances around the café in Brooklyn, not far from his home. His eyes dart to artwork on the wall, graphic designs with kitschy sayings likeDon’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee.
After perusing them longer than most people would, he turns back to me, face still stony. It’s been an uncomfortable meal, but an important one.
“Thanks again for meeting me,” I say.
“Well, yeah.”
“I appreciate it, Tate.”
He nods. That’s all.
Soon, the server returns, and we leave, pausing in front of the café, ready to go our separate ways. In the past, we’d have shot the breeze more. He’d have said something cheeky about my Friday nights. I’d have given him a hard time about his age.
We don’t make those jokes anymore. We hardly see each other these days.
But today, he gave me his permission. I didn’t need it, but I wanted it. I wanted to show him that I respect who he is to the woman I love.
“Thanks for everything,” I say, then extend a hand.
We shake. “Don’t ever break her heart, Finn,” he instructs.
“I won’t,” I say in the easiest promise ever.
* * *
Across the ocean a week later, our town car pulls up, to a garden in Giverny.
Jules steps out of the car and reaches for my hand. We get in line. We aren’t alone here today. She wanted to see Monet’s Garden with people in it, enjoying the scents and sounds and colors.
That’s all she thinks we’re doing here today—paying a visit to one of her favorite places while on a European vacation.
Once we leave the house and enter the gardens, she lifts her nose, inhaling the irises, poppies and pansies. “I’m like a kid in a candy store,” she says, eyes sparkling.
“You should have your own garden someday,” I muse as I look around at the wildflowers and the emerald lawns.
She arches a brow my way. “Isn’t that what I have in your backyard?”
“Ourbackyard,” I correct since she’s been living with Zach and me in Manhattan. She moved in several months ago, and promptly started planting flowers outside the tree house.
Zach joins her as she works. The sight of them gardening together breaks my heart in all the best ways.
