Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Laurel

Eight Months Later

The void I feel in my heart hasn't faded with time. At least not yet.

I've been told grief never fully disappears, instead only getting easier to manage in time. It's been six months since the cancer selfishly took Roe, and the pain hasn't felt any less visceral than the day she died.

I have my good days and bad. Some, I'm angry with the world. I scream into the void when I'm alone until the pain decides to crawl back into the shadows of my heart before resurfacing again. The grief comes in waves when I least expect it. Some days, when I'm stressed from work and I find myself in the kitchen making a batch of banana muffins, I think of Roe, and my heart breaks all over again.

But then there are days like today where I find myself standing in front of my new office space and the gold lettered sign bolted into the wall behind the front desk, and I feel my heart slowly starting to mend.

L. E. HARDING LAW FIRM

My heart swells with pride at the work I've been able to get done in such a short amount of time.

"Are you sure you shouldn't have put your full name on there?" Trey tilts his head to the side and scrunches his face. He waves his arm in front of the sign. "I mean, Laurel is such a beautiful name. I think you're doing yourself a disservice by just putting L and E ."

I roll my eyes and laugh. It feels good to laugh. Each day, I've noticed one more laugh than the day before. Even Lennon has taken notice, pointing out another sweet whenever he hears it.

"I like it like this." I grin.

He shrugs and nudges my arm with his shoulder. "Maybe it'll grow on me."

"It better." I laugh again. "Or else you might be out of a job before you've even started it."

"I'll believe it when I see it." Trey purses his lips and crosses his arms over his chest, but his attitude quickly fades before he grins. "Remember, wherever you go, I go."

I give him one more smile before turning on my heel and heading down the hall to my new office. After I'd resigned from my uncle's law firm, Trey submitted his resignation as well. He told me wherever I went, he wanted to follow, and as the months have gone by, and especially after losing Roe, he's been a great friend to lean on.

I press my hand to my new office door and push through it. I spin around and immediately kick out of my heels and shrug off my black blazer. I hang it on the coat rack Olivia had given me as an office gift, and turn around.

A loud yelp jumps out my throat when I see my husband sitting behind my desk. His eyes light with amusement before he tips his head back in laughter. He's wearing a forest green tie today with his typical black on black ensemble. I love how he's venturing out of his usual black tie. Baby steps.

I place my hand against my chest when his laughter slows, his smile reaching those intense blue eyes of his.

"This never gets old, sweet nothings." He rocks back in my new office chair and lifts his leg, resting his ankle on his knee.

"Oh." I smirk, ignoring the way my heart still races at the sight of him. "It doesn't? I figured it would by now."

"Oh, no." He shakes his head. "I don't think I'll ever tire of watching you strip the second you step into your office." He lifts his arms out. "And now your new office is witness to it as well."

I cross my arms over my chest and give him a playful, pointed look. Lennon has been incredibly supportive of me these past few months. Considering his line of work, it was difficult for him not to involve himself too much in me creating and building my own firm separate from my uncle's. But Lennon helped without hesitation when asked and was there when I needed him. My heart swells knowing how lucky I am to call him mine.

"I must say, though." He pouts, standing from my chair to walk around the desk and meet me where I'm standing. "I can't say I'm not disappointed that your office is no longer three floors below mine. Makes it slightly more difficult to catch my wife off guard when she's undressing herself in her office." He slides his hands along my waist, pulling me to him.

"It's only two blocks over from your building."

"Too far."

I stand on my toes and kiss him on the lips. He tastes like peppermint. "Hmm," I moan. "Is that why you came down here? To air your grievances? I think that might be a conflict of interest, seeing as I'm your wife."

"No." He kisses me back, tracing his finger along my bottom lip. "That's not the only reason I came down here."

He reaches behind him and picks up a sheet of paper from my desk. When he hands it to me, I take it from between his fingers and read the text.

It doesn't take me long to realize what it is.

"It's the clause in my father's will that states we only need to be married a year before we're off the hook."

"What?" My heart sinks, and nausea wobbles in my stomach. "But, I thought..."

I look at Lennon, hoping he's only bringing this up as a joke. I don't think he ever intended for us to be married the minimum amount of time required by his father, but old insecurities threaten to rise in me. Sometimes I still lay next to Lennon at night, pinching myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. Did I really marry him? Is he truly my husband? But then I eye the ring on my finger and know it's true.

I take a step back, but Lennon's hands grip my sides, unwilling to let me walk away.

"You don't want to be married to me anymore?" I ask him. I'm not entirely sure I'm prepared for his answer. I can't hold back the old feelings threatening to resurface.

"Are you crazy? Who said anything about not wanting to be married anymore?" He jerks his head back, concern knitting between his eyebrows.

"No one, but..."

He lifts my gaze by hooking his fingers under my chin. "No but." He tilts his head to the side. "Do you not know how much I love you?"

"Well…" I look off to the side before lifting my arms up and around his neck. "I do, it's just..." I play with the ends of his dark hair, and my heart skips a beat.

"Are you telling me you doubt my love for you, Mrs. Harding?" The corner of his mouth tilts into a smirk.

"No." I shake my head. "I know our marriage was never transactional. Ever."

"It isn't." He lifts his thumb to my bottom lip before looking into my eyes. "I brought it here so we could celebrate and to tell you we made it. Even without my father's requirement, the year was never even a question."

"It wasn't for me, either," I tell him, never feeling more confident.

Lennon has broken me and he's healed me. But he's also made me feel more alive and loved than I've ever felt before.

"Well, then," my husband says, lifting my hand and pressing his warm lips to the feather tattooed on the inside of my wrist. "Happy anniversary, sweet nothings."