Epilogue

Days, Weeks, and Months Later

Everett

The part in my honor sounded like a deeply pretentious thing to brag about, yet I couldn't shut up about it for the entire week since the fateful events of last Friday. Everyone who came to Neon Nights had heard about it, and many wondered if the party would be my drag debut. It wouldn't, but not for the lack of will. My hips simply could not catch the beat of the music, so I was a fairly useless queen.

Mama Viv had put me in her spare bedroom, saying pompously that it had been good enough for the Prince of Verdumont.

"I'm not picky," I assured Mama Viv that Friday evening after hours spent with Layla Zahran and the detectives from the Public Corruption unit. There was a heavy focus on bribery, and we had poured over every line of conversation I'd heard and recorded in the meetings.

My father was released, I heard on Saturday, as he had never been arrested in the first place. However, the district attorney was going to prioritize this case and likely make an example out of him and the public officials who had played a role in the scheme.

On Monday, Roman told me about Layla's job offer, and he shyly admitted that he was considering it. He didn't seem convinced that there hadn't been some mistake in choosing him, so I tried to motivate him. He walked away reassured and, unrelated to the job offer, thoroughly satisfied.

On Tuesday, the first job offers came my way. A college colleague who ran a small hedge fund had seen me on TV and thought I would be a good fit. I disagreed politely and promised to think about it. Several hours later, Brightwave Solutions got in touch to praise my stand. Their pitch was much more focused on shared values, and I ended the conversation with something like hope. Their business was focused on eco-friendly, sustainable solutions in urban planning, and they were looking for new talent in key roles in strategic partnerships.

I might not sit on twelve million dollars following my twenty-fifth birthday, but I could join something I believed in. The conversation reminded me of an evening I had once spent with Roman, which had culminated in a near panic attack when Roman told me about the fears that motivated him. Even as I promised to consider the offer, I agreed to a meeting on Thursday, and I knew what my answer would be.

Roman and I celebrated the events as they unfolded, nearly struggling to keep track of all the excitement. We also had private milestones worth celebrating, which meant infinitely more to me. Between Tuesday and Wednesday, Tristan stayed at Cedric's place, Lane went to visit his family, Madison was gone for undisclosed reasons, and Oakley realized what the plan was, so he made arrangements to stay at a friend's place. That was the first night I spent with Roman without the excruciating pressure of having to return home. The entire night was pure magic. Roman had gotten us a nice bottle of wine and handed me a remote controller without revealing its purpose. Well, I found out in the next heartbeat when I pressed the button and made Roman squirm and wiggle and nearly hyperventilate. In a cracked voice, he said, "Maybe lower the setting before you mess with it."

We forgot all about the wine after that.

Roman was more than willing to let me dial up the vibrating pulses, the control of which he had placed solely into my hands. Watching the pleasure and fear rippled across his sexy face made me love him harder and more fiercely with every excruciating second.

We took pleasure in each other's bodies freely and without shame. And when we were exhausted, we slept soundly together in the small bed that ended up being just enough for the two of us. There was something symbolic about this, and I wondered if the same would apply to all the areas of our lives.

Our first cute fight was about who would do the dishes. "No, I'll do them." Our first real fight was over Roman's insistence that he needed to be on the frontline of an anti-fracking protest that followed an earlier one from which he returned with a bloody nose and a split lip. The latter fight brought our frustrations to a crescendo, making me understand so fully and completely that I could not survive something bad happening to Roman. The old adage about makeup sex was proved correct that night, and I loved him even more the following day. The protest was peaceful, and I was there with Roman to make sure he wouldn't get in trouble.

The day my first paycheck from Brightwave Solutions dripped into my regular checking account, the kind that all my new friends had, with no fancy additions or complicated moneymaking schemes, we celebrated in the backyard of Neon Nights next to the gas heaters that sent the chill away from the tables. The season was almost ending, and the garden would soon sleep, but we spent one more night enjoying the fresh air, the canopy of colorful lights, and the distant glimmering stars above us. And when Roman's first paycheck from his grown-up job at Layla's organization arrived, he treated us to a picnic in Central Park and a bottle of really good wine. It was the last truly sunny day of the year, impossibly warm and vibrant, lighting the orange and brown leaves that still clung to the branches on fire, the sunshine kissing our cheeks as we said goodbye to nice days like this.

A few days later, Cedric declared November 7 a holiday, and there was a mandatory poetry reading in Neon Nights to wish Apollo a farewell as he departed the world for a long vacation. His pagan tendencies would have scared the living crap out of me two months ago, but I discovered that listening to his foreign accent as he read Immortality by Clare Harner was a more profound spiritual experience than any Monsignor O'Connor had ever offered.

" I am the thousand winds that blow; I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain; I am the gentle, autumn rain. "

Apollo, according to Cedric, would return in March, bringing light back to the world.

But the only light my soul needed was that of Roman Cross.

On my twenty-fifth birthday, Roman surprised me with a red velvet cake and twenty-five candles. The party was hosted in Mama Viv's sitting room, where new framed photos from the protests were added to her wall.

"It's not twelve million bucks, but the cake still tastes like cake," Roman quipped just before he scooped some cream cheese frosting off his plate and smeared it over my nose.

I didn't care about my trust fund. On most days, at least. And when I was with him, no amount of money could have made those moments any better. The best things in my life were free. The best things involved only Roman and me.

Life was good for almost all its parts.

Once, within the very first week after making our stand, I visited the building where my parents lived. Nobody answered, and my elevator code was incorrect.

Some pain remained, it was true. I had never wanted to hurt my parents. "But this sort of guilt rests solely on the premise that your sexuality is at fault," Roman told me once. "And they're the only ones to blame for that."

He was right, of course. Had my family been able to love me unconditionally, things could have gone differently. I wasn't sure whether that would have made my father any less guilty in the other areas of his life, but he would have been more of a father to me.

Even with the clearly halted communication, it hurt me to see the charges being brought against my father while knowing it was solely my actions that led him there. And once again, Roman's words helped. "You weren't the one bribing your way to wealth and power."

Guilt was guilt. My father's was the criminal sort, and mine was emotional.

My father was tried and found guilty of nearly all the counts brought against him. He was sentenced in late January, although he wasn't imprisoned. With this being his first and only crime on the record, and with the nonviolent nature of his crimes, he was ordered to pay an eye-watering fine. He was barred from holding office in any publicly traded company for ten years, and his own board of directors turned against him. The value of the company plummeted over the following weeks. My father's net worth dropped by ninety-four percent, which still made him ridiculously rich, and it reflected his real wealth that wasn't tied to the volatile stock of Langley Corporation. He did lose the apartment looking over Central Park, and he lost his membership in the country's most exclusive clubs, but they kept their upstate house, where the only happy memories of my childhood were.

By the time Cedric announced Apollo's return on March 7, I had been named the director of strategic partnerships at Brightwave. I led a team of nine people in forming and improving our company's connections with corporations, individuals, and organizations. My team and my colleagues were Neon Nights regulars.

A little after we celebrated Roman's twenty-fifth birthday in late March, our six-month anniversary offered another cause to throw a party. And three days after that, Roman said he wished for us to move in together. It echoed my deepest desire, but finding an apartment in Hudson Burrow proved challenging, and leaving the neighborhood never crossed either of our minds. On the bright side, whenever I woke up in Mama Viv's spare bedroom instead of waking up in Roman's bed, his dining room window was my first sight, and as often as not, Roman would already be up, having coffee, waiting for me to pull the curtain aside and smile at him. Even so, we occasionally looked at apartment ads in the neighborhood, even if people only sold them.

It was in late April that Mama Viv showed up in my room with a serious expression on her face. "There's someone who wants to see you, Everett."

I had been expecting Roman to let me know he was ready for our Sunday out in the city, but Mama Viv's tone told me this was not about Roman. So I walked after Mama Viv in bewilderment until we came down to the bar. Mama Viv gestured at the garden and folded her hands tightly like she was wrecked by anxiety.

The situation made my forehead crease with concern as I looked away from Mama Viv to the garden. It was early still, and there were only a couple of occupied tables where young people had their breakfasts and soft drinks. No one seemed familiar. What was more, no one even noticed me.

My gaze moved over to the opposite end of the garden, and my heart nearly stopped with shock. Wearing a green dress and her hair in a tight bun, my mother sat with a cup of coffee in her lap. Worry contorted her face, and she smoothed it quickly when our gazes met.

Some part of me wanted to step back and turn away. When I had gone to see them, their doors were locked to me. When I called their numbers, no one answered. Why should I spare her another thought, let alone a minute of my time?

Fearfully, Mother set her cup on the table and stood. "Everett." Her voice was gentle, almost meek.

I balled my fists, my nails almost cutting into my palms, and walked toward me. When I got to the nearer end of the table, I halted, and my mother hesitated, then folded her hands in front of her. If she expected a hug, she'd lost that privilege too long ago.

"You look good," she said.

"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "You too." Silver streaks in her hair suited her.

"Should we sit?" she asked.

I watched her for a few heartbeats, some uneasy feeling rising in my chest. Would we need so much time to justify the effort it took to sit and stand again? I tossed that thought aside and pulled a chair for myself.

When we sat down, my mother tried to put a smile on her face. It was something I hadn't seen in a long time.

"Has something happened?" I asked, unable to rid myself of this queasy feeling.

"You've been away for a long time," she said.

And whose choice was that? But I decided I wouldn't fight with her. It would only upset us both, and I wanted to bring a good mood to the rest of my day with Roman. "I tried calling," I said instead.

"Yes," Mother replied. "You have." Her lips quivered, but stillness came over her again. "So this is the place."

"That's the one," I said. There were complicated and not entirely pleasant emotions roiling within me, but I was able to keep a tight lid on them.

"The garden is charming," she said.

I was nearing the end of my patience. What do you want from me?

My mother closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and looked at me. "I gave birth to you a month too soon," she said. I knew that. "They didn't think you would make it. But I prayed to God. I prayed until my knees were bruised and bloody. I prayed every day, ‘Please, Lord, spare my child, and I will devote my life to you. Save my child, God. Please, save my child, and I will sing praise to you until my last breath.' And you lived. They called it a medical miracle, but I knew better. And it was that pledge that remained as I watched you grow up. I took my vows and carried them in my heart, Everett. Every day since then, I had to remain aware of all the dangers that lurk from the shadows because I was His. He had saved my child, but my debt remained. He blessed us, so I needed to keep my resolve. Every temptation, every sin, every corruption that would take Him out of my heart had to be trampled. I needed…"

I scoffed. "Or I would die?"

"Perhaps," Mother said. "I don't claim to know the ways in which He works."

I put my hands together. "Well, thanks for sacrificing yourself, but I don't remember asking you for that."

"Calm down, Everett," she said, and shame filled me. She measured me with a sharper look, then softened again, but she was clearly uncomfortable speaking about this. Or speaking to me. "Part of me must have known, you see. I carried you in my womb for eight months. A mother should know. Isn't that right?" She grew distant, as if wondering, and then shook her head as if shaking that train of thought away. "I feared corruption. I judged you for it before I knew what it was. In my heart, I think I knew. I envied you. Was this the reward for my sacrifice? Was this another test He sent to see how strong my resolve was? I needed to stay true, Everett. I swore I would. And so I judged the sin in you before I understood that the true corruption lay here." She put a hand on her chest.

I stared at her in dumbfounded shock. "W-what are you saying?"

"I was wrong," she said clearly. "Perhaps this is my punishment. The destruction of my family and the shame in which your father lives. Or perhaps there is no punishment, and we all make our choices freely. Perhaps He never noticed us in his cosmic indifference. I can't know that. But I know that no sin of yours comes close to the one in my heart. I wronged you, Everett. It hurts me as a mother, as a Catholic, and as a human being to admit this, but I failed you when I should have supported you."

I tried to swallow, but my throat was tight, and my eyes stung. Headache knocked on the back of my head, and my deep, twisted frown threatened me with a sudden migraine. Even breathing was difficult.

"I don't claim to understand, but I want to. And I would ask your forgiveness, but I can't expect it," she said.

"You have it," I blurted, surprising myself as much as I surprised her.

My mother's mouth remained open for a moment, and then she shut it quickly. "Can I hug you?" she asked, her voice thinning with suppressed feelings.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

She stood and was next to me before I could stand, and her arms wrapped around me with the sort of gentleness I hadn't gotten from my mother in ten years or more. She hugged me hard, pressing my head against her stomach, then loosening her arms as I found my footing and stood up.

Tears then rolled down my cheeks, but I blinked the fresh ones away, sniffing shortly.

My mother shuddered in my embrace. When we pulled away from one another, she looked into her purse and found a handkerchief to wipe her eyes and nose.

"This heals my heart, Everett," she said as we sat down again.

I struggled to find words. My lower lip was between my teeth, and my breath held in my lungs.

"Thank you," she said. "I don't imagine this was easy."

"You came. You asked. You bothered to understand. That's all I ever needed," I said and realized that it was true. There was plenty I could get into, but it would lead us nowhere. Had it not been Roman's complete and pure understanding that made me discover myself? He had forgiven me so easily for my outbursts and outrage, and in that, he had saved me.

After a short silence, my mother folded her hands around her purse in her lap. "There is another matter."

Father ? I didn't say anything.

"When the stock lost value, much of the wealth tied to it went down," Mother said. "A number of portfolios lost their worth by nearly three-quarters."

I wanted to point out that criminal activities had inflated their value. This misery that was leftover was their true worth.

"Even so, the stock is not worthless, and some of it was made of gold and cash. I released it on Friday afternoon, although you will not see it until later in the week. It's yours, Everett. It was always meant to be yours," she said.

I blinked fast, not understanding.

"The fund was set up to protect you. And if that should mean you are to be protected from your parents, then that is a sin your parents must live with. But it wasn't created to protect us from you." She spoke clearly, yet I struggled to understand a single word.

"I don't need…" I began, but my voice failed.

"Perhaps not," Mother said. "But it's yours to do with whatever you wish."

I thought of Roman.

Mother moved on to tell me that the garden was blooming in front of the house upstate. She told me about the time of reflection, about the local priest who supported the LGBTQ+ youth in his parish, and about an organization in Beacon that offered housing to abuse victims where the priest had directed her if she wished to donate. She did. A little while later, I dared myself to ask about Father, and Mother gave me no straight answer. It amounted to him needing to reflect, too, if he was ever going to be happy again. For now, I understood that he wallowed in misery and failure. It didn't make me any happier to know he was unhappy.

And when my mother and I parted, she hugged me again and promised to do better.

A persistent ringing noise filled my ears for a long time after my mother left. I sat there, baffled and silent, trying to think and failing to come up with coherent thoughts. And finally, when I caught onto one, everything else seemed perfectly clear. She had said, at some point toward the end, that the four million and some change were transferred to my name.

I got up and hurried inside. Bradley was preparing a couple of cups of coffee, and Mama Viv was reviewing her books. A few people sat around the bar, most of them rubbing headaches out of their heads after last night's party. "Mama Viv," I said. "When Roman comes by, would you tell him to meet me at the Belvedere Castle?"

She confirmed that she would, asking only if I was okay. And when I said that I was, she nodded firmly and told me she would relay the message.

It took me nearly two hours to have everything sorted out. And when I arrived at the castle, I was met with springtime splendor. The trees had just begun to leaf out, casting fresh green hues across the landscape. Early flowers added pops of pastel to the scene, and the park's shimmering water mirrored the bright, clear sky. Off in the distance, the city skyline rose through the canopy.

Roman snuck up on me, and only a soft footstep alerted me half a heartbeat before his arms wrapped around my body from behind.

"Hey," I said, barely able to contain my excitement. I turned around, and our bodies merged together in a tight embrace. God, I loved him. There was nothing on this planet that was even close to the feeling of his body pressed against mine.

"What's this? I thought we were meeting at Mama Viv's." Roman smiled, his dimples pronounced and taking my breath away.

I had to take a moment to soothe the giddiness that came over me. "I love you," I said.

He grinned. "I know that." A look of mischief sparkled in his eyes.

"I mean to say I love you more every day," I added. I looked around. We were all alone on the stone platform overlooking the lush nature. And when I looked at Roman, his ears perked. "I love you when we talk. I love you when I miss you. I love you when we watch TV. I love you when we fight. I especially love you after fighting." We shared a laugh. "And I can't imagine my life without you, Roman."

"That makes two of us," he said, his hands resting on my chest.

"Are you sure?" I asked nervously.

Roman chuckled, one hand pressing a little harder against my chest. "Your heart is pounding."

"I imagine it would," I admitted. "Because here's the thing. I don't want a life without you, baby. You are my everything."

A curious look came into his eyes, almost as if something showed him what the future would look like in ten seconds.

"And…" I fumbled with my right hand before I could slide it into my pocket. When I did, everything else went exactly as I had hoped. I didn't drop it, and I didn't stumble, and I didn't fall. Smoothly, I descended to one knee, right hand holding the small, black box, lifting it between us as Roman jumped back and slapped both hands against his mouth. His eyes were wide and dazzling. "And when I think of my future, you are the biggest and best part of it, Roman." I opened the box, thinking that I should have had it prepared with more razzle-dazzle, perhaps a plane flying over us with the question written on a banner or something like that. But there wasn't a force in the world that could have made me wait any longer. I had been saving from the last three salaries for this, and I could finally make a happy future happen for us. We could buy that beautiful apartment on Christopher Street, and we could throw a big engagement party. "Roman Cross, will you marry me?" I asked, my voice bubbling with excitement and anticipation.

"Ohmygod yes," he blurted. "Yes. I don't believe this is real. But yes. Are you sure you want me to? You can still…"

"I'm sure," I said, my voice cracking, tears blurring my vision.

"Because I'm a lot," Roman warned me.

I nodded, crying and smiling and making a real mess of myself. "That's okay."

"No, but seriously, what if you regret it?" He moved his hands from his lips to me, then back. "I'm loud. I'm prickly. I'm really cranky if you wake me up too early. I'm a terrible cook, as you well know." Tears rolled down his cheeks, but his dimples were still there because he could not wipe that smile off his face.

"I know that," I assured him in a quivering, emotional tone that crackled with joy. "I still want to be your husband."

Roman bit his lip, looked into my eyes, then at his hands, and nodded. "Okay. Then yes. Yes, I'll marry you." And he gave me his left hand. His fingers trembled until his hand touched mine, and then we were both calm. I gently placed a ring of hammered gold on his ring finger, and he gasped when he lifted his hand and looked at it. "You made me the happiest guy in the world," I told him as I got up.

Roman said nothing. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and his smile was huge. Instead of speaking, he threw his arms around my neck and rose on his toes to give me a kiss that would be burned into my memory so vividly that it would be the last thing I think of when I pass away. He kissed me so deeply and wonderfully, salty tears mixing with sweet lips, and we cried and laughed simultaneously, holding onto each other for a long time.

When we finally let go, we were both shaking with excitement. And then I told him about the visit this morning. His hand tightened around mine when I began, and he gasped at all the surprises from my mother's speech and spiritual journey. He thought I'd done the right thing by forgiving her.

"And then she told me," I said, holding his hand in both of mine. "That around four million dollars in my trust fund survived the company crash and that they're mine."

Roman's mouth dropped open, eyes wide, head shaking in disbelief.

I nodded.

"What are you…" He wheezed and tried again. "What are you going to do with it?"

The fact he didn't even suspect that he would be included in those decisions was why I loved him so much. He was the most selfless guy I'd ever met. He was always ready to fight for others, but he never imagined that others should fight for him.

"We will do with it whatever is going to make us happy," I said. "Apartment, charity, a wedding that will make this entire city melt away." We were happy with nothing; we would be happy with everything.

"Yes," Roman whispered, still staring at me in shock. "Yes to all of that."

I pulled him into a firm hold in the safety of my arms. He was my heart and my soul; he was my whole life. He was the reason the sky was bright, and trees were lush, and a new day was worth waking up to.

He was my love.

The End.