Epilogue Four

SEVEN YEARS AFTER COMA….

LEYLAND

I hated New York for various reasons but couldn’t get enough of the art scene to stay away.

The Nova Brooks Gallery really stood out in busy Manhattan. The walls were lined with my work, each piece telling a story I had lived, dreamed, and fought to understand.

The first pieces were bold and surreal, capturing the fragments of my coma dreams—the strange, vivid world where time bent and reality shifted. Those gave way to darker, more chaotic works, ones that reflected the confusion and fear of waking up. The struggle to trust that what I’d returned to wasn’t another cruel illusion.

And then, the final pieces—filled with light, love, and clarity. They were Clementine’s eyes when she laughed, Evergreen’s tiny hands clutching mine, and the life I never thought I’d have again.

I stood in the middle of the room, watching as guests moved between the paintings, murmuring in hushed tones. Critics, collectors, and art enthusiasts were here, and they all seemed to lean into the story my work told. But none of it mattered as much as the woman standing across the room.

Clementine was talking to Nova, her smile warm enough to draw anyone in. She glanced my way, and when our eyes met, I mouthed, “ I love you .”

“You’ve done it, man,” Duke said, stepping up beside me just as Clementine sent the sentiment back.

I turned to look at him, his grin as confident as ever. “Done what?”

“Taken the art world by storm.” He gestured to the room with his glass. “This is big, Leyland. Bigger than anything we’ve done so far.”

I laughed softly. “You made this happen, DJ. I just painted.”

Duke smirked, always game for a compliment.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I just connected the dots. You created the masterpiece.”

From behind him, Ophelia approached, her arm slipping easily around his. “He’s right, you know. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Phi,” I said, smiling.

She nodded toward Clementine. “And that one over there is bursting with pride. She’s been talking you up all night.”

I followed her gaze to Clementine, who was now talking to Nova’s brother Noah and his wife Elena.

“She’s been with me through everything. This is as much hers as it is mine.”

Her pride was the best thing about this momentous night and that rang true when it was all over and we were back at our hotel.

We lingered in the living room of our suite, the buzz of the evening still pulsing between us. She dropped onto the couch, kicking off her heels with a sigh, while I pulled out my phone.

“Let’s check on Ever,” I said, dialing my parents.

The call connected quickly, and soon, Evergreen’s voice filled the room.

“Hi, Daddy! Hi, Mommy!”

“Hi, baby!” Clementine said, her face lighting up. “How’s Grandma and Grandpa treating you?”

“Good!” she exclaimed. “Grandpa read me the dragon story again, and Grandma made the cookies I like!”

We laughed as she rambled about her day, her excitement tumbling out in a rush. My mom gently reminded her it was bedtime, and we said our goodnights, her happy “I love you!” ringing in my ears as the call ended.

Clementine stood and went to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, her silhouette framed by the city lights. She leaned into me when I stepped behind her, fingers digging into her hips.

“Thank you for tonight,” I said, sliding my hands to her waist. “For being my biggest cheerleader.”

“I didn’t do much, superstar. This was all you.”

“You’re wrong,” I said, burying my face in her neck. “I wouldn’t have gotten here without you. You’ve been with me through every step, every doubt, every brushstroke.”

She turned.

“You’re the one who made this happen,” she said softly, standing by her initial statement. “I just had the privilege of watching you do it.”

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. The conversation faded, replaced by the heat that always simmered between us.

“I think it’s time we give Ever a sibling,” I said, lifting her from the floor. “What do you think?”

Our girl was four now and Clementine’s doctor was confident we could conceive without complication this time around.

She tilted her head back to look at me, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. We’d been wrestling with the idea, both a little afraid but certain we could get through anything just as we had the first time.

“I think so too, superstar.”

I set her on her feet in front of the bed and unzipped her dress, pressing a kiss to her temple as the fabric fell from her now curvy frame.

Evergreen had really thickened my baby up, and I loved every inch of her.

“I love you,” I whispered, pushing her onto the mattress. “I’ll always love you.”

Seven years ago, I woke up unsure of everything. Now, as I hovered over my beautiful fucking wife, I knew with absolute certainty that this life, our life, was more than I ever dared to dream.

Whether in this lifetime or the next, Clementine Warren-Graham will always be mine. And there wasn’t a soul who could tell me differently.