Epilogue

One year later.

REECE

Jack’s second Christmas party for the foundation out-glitters his first by miles.

By miles?

I’m pretty sure this island must be visible from the moon now Jack’s gone all out to make it festive. Fuck knows how he found the time to plan this party and prepare to score his dream job, but interview tomorrow or not, the castle sparkles even more brightly tonight than when American tourists shared a dinner with the duke last December.

Tonight’s party is way bigger, and I’d thank Jack for lifting that fundraising weight from my shoulders if I could find him.

I need to, and not only to say thank you. After the glimpse I just caught of him on the red carpet on the harbour, an urgent need to track him down prickles at me.

Where is he?

I hunt, following strings of fairy lights that used to tangle me and Mum each Christmas season. Tonight, they don’t show me where Jack is, but they do light a granite stronghold, which pretty much sums up my mother. She’s even stronger than this castle, and it’s Mum who glows almost as brightly as Jack as soon as I mention his name to her.

“Have I seen Jack?” She stops adjusting tinsel around a doorway to shake her head. “Nope. Not since the party started.” A few steps bring us to a skinny arrow-slit of a window, where she points towards the yacht Jack chartered. “He was greeting guests as they got off the Aphrodite . Have you checked the harbour for him?”

She won’t let me pass without a hug, but that’s okay. It gives me a chance to hug her back even harder. Her kiss to my cheek comes with a stern order. “You still planning on giving him his Christmas presents early?”

I pat the pocket of my borrowed dinner jacket on the way past. “I am,” I promise before resuming my search, but if Jack was at the harbour, now he’s nowhere in sight between the water and where Heligans have raised a portcullis to let in guests. Bankers sip champagne from crystal flutes there, glasses I saw Jack polish earlier with the kind of determination that always comes with his tongue making an appearance. Now neither he nor his tongue is in sight, and a quick check of the castle kitchen doesn’t help me find him either.

“Carole, have you seen Jack?”

Jack’s gran looks up from a list they’ve worked on all year together, first at her home, then on short London visits which have gradually extended. Her eyes sparkle so much more tonight than when I first met her. She’s in her organisational element, which is probably genetic and always comes with teasing, like now.

“Jack? No, I haven’t seen him since I caught you two cuddling over there.”

She points at a refrigerator covered in practice Post-its for Jack’s interview tomorrow, then she adjusts a silk scarf dotted with London sights we’re slowly but surely exploring together. That fabric around her throat is deceptive. It looks delicate but is actually resilient. It’s also as blue as her eyes, which twinkle.

“That was only fifteen minutes ago, Reece. Do you need another cuddle from him already?” She murmurs so mushy the same way Jack mutters very satisfying whenever he solves foundation problems, but right now I’m in a hurry to solve a problem for him, so I leave the kitchen behind and take stone steps up two at a time to reach the highest point of this castle.

I should be able to spot him with no trouble from even halfway up these battlements if he smiles as brilliantly as I glimpsed before all of his brightness winked out. Because that’s what I noticed and now can’t ignore—Jack went from animated to stock-still in an instant. From delighted to dim. All that inner glow I first noticed under mistletoe, then spent three years wishing I could see daily, was instantly smothered.

At least I think that’s what I spied while cameras flashed, which is why I’m on high alert, as if I have Heligan blood in my veins instead of Trelawney. It prompts me to take more steps up to the top of the battlements, where I head straight for the high-power binoculars Arthur uses to watch the seas around his island.

I adjust their focus to search the beach stretching out beside the castle, then I search the harbour again, because Heligans don’t have a monopoly on protecting what they value.

I’ll be first in line to shove whoever made Jack unhappy into the harbour.

Only I must have been mistaken about what I thought I witnessed from a distance.

There isn’t anyone on tonight’s guest list who Jack wasn’t looking forward to parting from their money. Apart from Smallbone, that is, who Rex made wait over a year for this dinner, only Smallbone’s bluster doesn’t scare Jack. If anything, he enjoys the challenge of extracting more cash from him each time he calls to bitch about Rex. But I can’t forget Jack’s smile not only fading but snuffing out like a candle, so I search even harder, which Arthur must notice.

He heads my way while giving big-city moneymakers a tour of his home, guests I’m pretty sure he’d rather push into the harbour as well when one complains the castle is smaller than he expected.

“And yet it was more than big enough to defend the entirety of England’s south coast from armadas in the 1500s.” Arthur chuffs, “Size isn’t everything. Don’t ever mistake stature for an indicator of strength.”

He’s discussing castle architecture but might as well describe who I’m still on the hunt for, and someone small but incredibly strong is who the duke mentions once he sends his guests back downstairs to join the party.

“How did Jack get on with that awful salesman?”

“Salesman?” I only half-listen, binoculars aimed at the yacht that carried guests here before mooring alongside other vessels. “What salesman?”

Arthur harrumphs loud enough that I stop my search to face him.

“That godawful Juno fellow.” He quickly adds, “Not your Juno.”

“Valentin? He wasn’t ever mine. Or on the guest list.” On reflection, I can’t help thinking he only ever hung around our safe harbour project for so long to avoid his own stormy waters, a suspicion Arthur confirms.

“I meant his father.” Arthur tilts his head in the same direction I last pointed the binoculars, his voice dropping even though there’s no way anyone could overhear this. “I know Jack invited Juno senior, hoping for a speedboat donation, but I can’t say I’d want anything from a man who picked on someone smaller, like he did when he got here.”

“He picked on Jack?” I bristle even though doing so is redundant—like this castle, Jack is more than strong enough to fight his own battles. If anything, he’s more likely to go into battle first for anyone being bullied.

Arthur confirms that too. “No. Not Jack.” He points down at the harbour. “ That’s who Juno senior bawled out.”

I don’t need binoculars for who comes into focus the moment I follow the direction of his pointing finger. I’d know that knife-sharp jawline anywhere.

Valentin.

I can’t look away from that familiar icy profile as Arthur sniffs. “His father ripped into him for staying on their speedboat. Said invite or no invite, Valentin should gate-crash the party to make business contacts. What was the point of him otherwise? It was time he earned his keep. Can’t imagine talking to a dog, let alone to my own flesh and blood, like he did.”

He sniffs one more time.

“Jack seemed to have it under control. Worked his magic and almost had it all calmed down until that idiot photographer Smallbone brought with him got busy with his camera.” He points again, and this time I do see Jack.

He’s shadowed.

He’s also trapped between the castle wall, the harbour, and another uninvited guest who must have arrived while I was busy wrapping gifts I now risk crushing in my pocket. You better believe my fist curls at realising who hems in Jack, and who sidesteps to cut off his escape route in what could look like dance moves if I didn’t know how Jack can glow whenever I spin him to music.

These shadows I see darkening instead?

They get me moving in a hurry.

I took two steps at a time on the way up here. Now I fly down, yet each flight closer to Jack takes forever.

Guests slow me next.

I can’t let them stop me, even if they do have cash I should encourage them to donate. I make excuses instead, and slide past slick bankers. I’m intent on reaching the harbour, which can’t take any more than a minute.

Those sixty seconds last forever.

By the time I run down a red carpet, Jack isn’t where I last saw him.

Neither is Lito fucking Dixon.

“Shit.” My heart hammers until I spot a lone figure by the sea gate where waves froth.

It isn’t Jack in silhouette there taking photos of the castle. It’s Lito, and I stalk towards him, determined to do the opposite of all my rescue training by tipping him headfirst into the water. I’m stopped in my tracks by Jack saying. “I’ve loved Reece for years.”

Valentin’s voice is equally familiar. It’s also dismissive. “No shit.”

His voice drifts up from the yacht moorings, and I pause at the top of granite steps which are as gritty as my boyfriend next sounds, even though he speaks quietly.

“All I’m saying is that I’ve loved him long enough to know how he thinks, and Reece absolutely wouldn’t leave you out here. And I…” He clears his throat before adding, “I don’t want to leave you out here either.”

It’s rare that I hear Jack this uncertain. Since he’s added certificates in nonprofit management to the one Valentin asked his subscribers to laugh at, Jack is more often confident and authoritative, but this is almost shaky.

“B-because I saw who you were talking with. Believe me, that photographer is bad news. You don’t want to be alone around him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he tried to corner me once. Tried to convince me I owed him. Friends helped me believe he was full of bullshit.”

I can’t see Jack from where I stand above him, but I can so easily picture his back straightening as he says this.

“I’m just saying that if you had friends here, they’d tell you to avoid Lito Dixon. Don’t even talk to him, Valentin. He’ll only try to take advantage.”

“Oh, he already tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I’ll show you.”

I get to see too when I take the harbour steps down and join them. Valentin is still aboard the kind of powerful speedboat that is right at the top of Rex’s Christmas wish list, and that’s where Valentin turns his phone to face us. “I wouldn’t be much of a documentary maker if I didn’t know when to press Record.”

I’ve never seen Lito face-to-face or heard him speak. Valentin presses Play, and I get to.

Lito is pompous about his photography business. Then he purrs about Valentin’s bone structure, only to instantly neg him, all while sounding thirsty.

“If I smoothed away all your faults, you could have potential as a model,” Lito suggests in this recording. “No charge, even though making you look good would take a lot of labour. I’d still do it for free.” The same camera I always hated Valentin pointing in the direction of kids has captured Lito sounding oily. “Or almost for free.” Lito purrs some more. “I’m sure you could think of a way to pay me back for making you look picture-perfect.”

Valentin snorts, another dismissive sound I’d forgotten until he spits this. “He suggested I could use this to make a down payment.” He runs a hand along the sleek lines of a speedboat Rex would sell his soul for. “Said he could make a mint by selling shots of the castle all lit up and pretty. And if I gave him a ride to take photos from outside the harbour, he’d make me look just as pretty.”

“Don’t,” Jack snaps. Moonlight brings that single fierce word into focus. He’s protective about someone who once asked the whole world to laugh at him, which only confirms why tonight’s the night to give Jack every single present in my pocket.

A year ago, he typed the word life . That’s what I want with him now more than ever, and I’d tell him so, only he’s busy not taking no for an answer.

“Come inside with us.” He offers a hand. “It’s cold out here.”

Valentin crosses his arms. “I don’t think I will.” His chin lifts, and for the first time, I see all of Valentin’s sharp lines as fragile, if only for a moment. The next second, he’s back to hard-edged. “It will only be even colder for me in there.”

I guess he means his father, and isn’t that another insight I could have noticed sooner, but Jack isn’t done yet. He doesn’t plead or threaten, doesn’t cajole or bargain. He fucking yodels for Rex, and I can’t help laughing.

Rex laughs too when Valentin gives him the speedboat ride Lito wanted. I hear that hur hur hur of his from where I watch on the harbourside, but the best laughter is Jack’s from right beside me. It spirals over the roar of a high-powered engine when Rex takes the wheel and sends water flying to drench an uninvited wanker with a camera.

Lito had that icy soaking coming.

Jack laughs again when we escape to the kitchen, where someone has moved all of his interview-practice sticky notes on the fridge into the shape of a love heart. His gran, most likely, who leaves us without teasing for once as Jack peels those notes off one by one. He also dims a little, as if worried, and I’m done with seeing his light flicker, so I tell him this in a hurry.

“You’ll smash your interview.”

“I want to.” Jack sorts his squares of coloured paper, focussed on what he’s written on them. He meets my eyes. “At least I’ll have even less chance of seeing Lito ever again if I get the job tomorrow and relocate for good.”

“That’s what you want?”

He nods.

“Even though London is life?”

He inhales all the way down to his ankles, then Jack tells me what he’s thinking without needing words to do it. He shows me with a single look I first saw in a restaurant hallway. Hope mixes with worry the same way tonight as then, and I’ve never loved him more than when he tells me, “I want to live wherever you are, so that means Cornwall. I’d still get to visit London monthly, if I do score the new job.”

I’m pretty sure that Rex won’t need to see Jack’s presentation tomorrow to appoint him as the foundation’s fundraising director, but I reach into my pocket and hand over a trio of slightly crumpled packages. “These might help.” I get out my phone too. “And something on here, but open this present first.” I nudge one. “It’s from Pat and Seb.”

Jack gets busy, the only person I know to take paper off this neatly. The anticipation almost slays me until he finally holds a fridge magnet in the shape of a blackboard and Jack reads out the affirmation chalked on to it.

“I am loved.”

He is. By so many more people than me. He can also fly in whatever direction he chooses, which is why I push another gift in his direction. “From Calum.”

He opens this one faster. A Statue of Liberty tree ornament dangles from his fingers, spinning like mistletoe has for us so often. Jack reads the note wrapped around this present. “He says he’ll email me a pair of tickets to New York.” His gaze flicks to the door Carole left through. “I could show Gran the sights. You think she’s ready?”

“One day, for sure.” I open a group chat on my phone I share with my brothers that Calum has filled with videos and photos. “So you absolutely could see these places with her.” I take a seat at the breakfast table where I tried and failed not to stare at Jack once. Now I pull him onto my lap, and he settles back to take a look at what Calum captured for me.

“Oh,” he breathes as a video plays of a Fifth Avenue Christmas window display complete with lights and music. “Gran said there used to be loads like this.” He squints at my screen, tip of his tongue making a split-second appearance. “Right. Visiting Saks has to go on the list for our visit.”

Calum’s next video is of a decorated neighbourhood that Jack coos at. “Dyker Heights in Brooklyn. That isn’t on Gran’s list. I bet she’d love it.”

She’ll love the Christmas tree at the Rockefeller Center as well, according to him, but that isn’t the location I asked Calum to save for last.

“Outdoor ice skating at Bryant Park.” Jack grins at Calum taking us for a spin, and from this close, Jack’s happiness is dazzling. I so want to kiss him, but I have to get this out first.

“Keep watching.”

Calum threads his way through a winter village next, then crosses a street to video a storefront that has Jack suddenly sitting straighter.

“Here.” I pass him the last gift as my phone screen shows racks of stationery with a familiar theme, only to stop on a sticky-note selection mirroring what Jack unwraps.

“Puppies,” he sighs. “Limited edition.”

“To replace the ones you shared with the kids.”

“The first day we got together.”

I’m not so sure about that timing. He’s been the first person on my mind daily for what feels like forever, but I nod instead of kissing him like I want to, and make myself keep going. “Take a closer look at the sticky notes.”

He does. “Oh, no. Someone’s already written on them.” His frown deepens as I watch his lips shape single words I added to each puppy-lined square. “I.” He flips to the next. “Love.” That frown slips away. “You.”

“Same,” I tell him, and fuck it, I go ahead and kiss him while music plays outside and guests clink champagne glasses.

Jack’s eyes are as starry as the sky above this castle, and he’s pink when he gets back to reading. This time he’s silent until he delivers a complete sentence that I wrote right before this party started.

“Want to honeymoon in New York with me?”

Outside this kitchen, there are moneymakers I should be busy meeting. Nothing matters more than staying right where I am and repeating what I’ve been thinking all year long. “I do love you so much, Jack.” I swallow. “Marry me?”

This party will have to wait.

So will honeymoons in New York.

I don’t even need any Christmas presents.

Jack says, “Yes,” and gives me everything I want.

This year, and forever.

The End.

Thank you so much for reading.