They start to walk away and I watch them. They actually make a stunning couple. Augustus murmurs something to Janna before he pulls away and comes back over to where I’m standing, stopping directly in front of me, a hopeful expression on his face.
He reminds me so much of Whit in the way he holds himself, his voice, his looks. He looks like the older version of the man I love.
“I want to thank you, Summer. For making my son happy,” he says, his voice sincere. “He was so angry after the divorce. He completely withdrew from all of us, and I didn’t know how to get through to him. He’s changed since the two of you have been together. And that’s all thanks to you.”
My cheeks warm and I duck my head. “Thank you. I—he makes me happy too.”
“I know.” He pats my shoulder in a very fatherly way, and I remember what Sylvie told me. How she warned me away from him. I don’t get those sorts of vibes from him now, and I lift my head, smiling at him. “How are you getting home?”
“Oh, I was just about to call an Uber—”
“Absolutely not,” he interrupts. “I’ll drive you home.”
“What? No, that won’t be necessary.”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “Come on. My car isn’t too far. Plus, it’ll give us an excuse to drive it. It’s brand new.”
He grins like a little boy as I follow him over to where Janna stands, waiting for us.
Hmm. Maybe it won’t be so bad being a Lancaster after all.
Epilogue
Five years later…
I stand on the dais in the middle of the studio, staring at the many versions of my reflection in the multiple mirrors surrounding me. I slowly turn to the left, then to the right, examining each side with a critical gaze, vaguely displeased. I gather the mounds of fabric that make up my skirt and let it drop heavily with a pout and stomp of my foot, careful not to step on the hem.
“I’m fat.” I’m acting like a baby, but I hate how round my face is becoming, and how we’ve had to let out the waist on this dress yet again. I’m also incredibly emotional, and overwhelmed with everything that’s happening. Hence the pouting and behaving like a baby.
I’m ridiculous, I know this. But at least I’m self-aware, right? Thank God I’m getting married this weekend, or else I wouldn’t be able to wear this dress at all.
“You are not,” my mother says indignantly from where she’s perched on an elegant pink velvet tufted chair, watching me. “You’re pregnant.”
I smile at myself in the mirror, my hand automatically going to my belly, rubbing across it gently. “True. But it’s all happened so fast.”
“More the reason for you to hurry and get married once and for all.” Mother rises to her feet and comes to stand beside the dais, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “You look stunning.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“Let them pin you where they need to and then you can change out of your gown and I can get you home.” Mother checks her phone when it buzzes, frowning at the screen. “He won’t stop texting me.”
My smile stays firmly in place as the seamstresses both step forward, eager to complete the fitting. “He can’t stand being away from me. He’s so needy.”
“I’ve never seen a man so enamored before. And after all these years too.” I can tell she’s pleased. “You’re a very lucky woman, Summer.”
I am so lucky. She doesn’t know the half of it.
Once the fitting is finished, we exit the atelier together and climb into the back of the Town Car that’s waiting for us, the driver’s gaze meeting mine in the rearview mirror. I give him a little nod and a smile and off we go, zipping through the streets of Manhattan, headed home. My mother lives in the same neighborhood, since she and Howard got married last year.
She has quite the reputation among society for breaking up marriages, but she doesn’t give a damn. And for once, I believe she is truly happy. Howard doesn’t set any expectations on her. He appreciates who she is and lets her be herself. Her happiness with Howard—and his firm encouragement—has allowed our relationship to flourish once more. We’ve never been closer.
We still have our secrets though. I never told Whit what really happened the night of the fire. He doesn’t know about the confrontation between my mother and Yates. I will take that secret to the grave.
Some things are best never to be discussed again.
We drop my mother off first at her building before we travel the next few blocks to mine. The moment he pulls up to the curb, the driver leaps out of the car and comes to my door, opening it for me and offering a hand.
“You feeling all right, miss?” he asks me, concern lighting his eyes.
“Just a little tired, Reggie,” I say with a soft smile. We’ve become friends, Reggie and me. He drives me everywhere. He’s seen me at my best, and my worst.
Like the time last week when I demanded he pull over so I could throw up on the side of the road. Not one of my finer moments. Luckily enough, Reggie doesn’t judge.
Within minutes I’m at our apartment, which takes up the entirety of the twenty-first floor. Over six thousand feet belong to us, which sounds like a lot, but truly? It’s as if we fill every inch of space.
I open the door to a little burst of energy running toward me, his golden hair flying, ice blue eyes just like his daddy’s sparkling with delight at seeing me.
“Mama!” August Whittaker Lancaster wraps his chubby arms around my knees and squeezes me tight, just before dropping a kiss to my denim covered leg. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” I swing him up into my arms and smother his delicious face with endless kisses, making him squirm and giggle. He’s such a beautiful baby, though he’s nearly three and about to become a big brother thanks to me being pregnant with his sibling.
We are the Lancaster scandal. Babies out of wedlock. Doing whatever we want, living however we want, the establishment be damned. The only thing Whit was a stickler about was the tradition in keeping the names passed down to the Lancaster sons. I got him to compromise, shortening our son’s name to August.
My own little Augie, that’s what my mother calls him. I just roll my eyes and humor her. She’s rather possessive of Augie, but so am I.
I love this little boy with all of my heart.
“Where’s your daddy?” I ask him as I walk deeper into the apartment. There’s a fire currently in the fireplace, and I glance toward the wall of windows, taking in the impressive city skyline. The sun has started to go down, shining off the windows of the skyscrapers that surround us, and I have one of those surreal moments I seem to experience every few months or so, still. A moment where I realize this is actually my life, and I’m so incredibly happy, it’s hard for me to believe I deserve it.
Happiness.
Whit does his best to convince me I deserve all the happiness in the world. And I adore him for that.
I adore him for so many things. This damaged, seemingly deranged boy who scared me just as much as he intrigued me. I’m so lucky he came into my life. He’s given me so much. A home. His heart. His love. Our children.