Epilogue

EMILY

Tristan sat next to me as we opened a large manila envelope containing an early copy of the magazine.

On the cover was my beautiful boyfriend, looking deliciously sexy, tousled hair framing his chiseled face in that signature way. Tats peeked out from beneath his sleeves. His fingers, adorned as usual with chunky rings, held the neck of a shiny, electric guitar slung over his shoulder. Neon lights cast a seductive glow behind him. Tristan's eyes smoldered, sure to hold the attention of anyone who happened upon this cover.

"If you weren't my boyfriend, I swear I'd pleasure myself to this cover tonight. I still might."

"I might have to watch while you do." He winked.

Tristan was this month's cover story in one of the biggest music publications in the world. They'd done a feature article on him in honor of Delirious Jones's new album. It had been two years now since the release of Horny, Gap-Toothed Little Minx , which had topped the charts.

While the cover of this magazine was stunning, the headline took my breath away. "Oh my God. I just got chills," I said, looking down at the words.

The Rocker's Muse: How the Son Tristan Daltrey Never Knew Inspired Delirious Jones's New Album

Someone in L.A. had overnighted an early copy of the magazine to our house in Shady Hills. Tristan had purchased a home here about a year ago. It was a place for us to stay when we came back and visited my mother and the Mahoneys, but also when we wanted to escape the city. We'd actually driven out here this time, as we planned to stay for several weeks and had brought our new dog and Bertha the rabbit with us. We'd recently adopted an Otterhound named Rusty.

"Let's take this out back," Tristan suggested.

We brought the magazine to our backyard swing, where we sat in the morning sunshine and read the article together.

The piece started out by briefly explaining how Tristan had found out about Jacob-or at least the way he'd led the reporter to believe it happened. The press had not yet gotten wind of the fact that I'd dated Tristan's son. We'd managed to dodge that bullet. They only knew me as Tristan's girlfriend and the inspiration for "Horny, Gap-Toothed Little Minx." The article explained that his son's diaries were found posthumously, and that through them the adoptive family discovered Jacob had found out who his father was.

I looked up at him. "It's pretty amazing that no one's outed my history with Jacob. Not even Nazarene nor Ethan. There are lots of people he and I went to high school with who must've figured out the connection, too."

Tristan shrugged. "If they figure it out, I'll deal with it. I'm not ashamed of anything I've done in this life, least of all loving you. I have nothing to hide."

"You're right. Let them find out. We're strong enough to handle it."

"The only opinion I give a shit about is Jacob's," he said. "And I'll never get that, so…"

I curled into his chest as we continued reading. In the article, Tristan described how Jacob inspired and even contributed to his latest album, with Tristan giving him songwriting credits.

I've spent the past couple of years trying to figure out how best to honor my son's memory. I came to the conclusion that there was no better way than to make his dream of becoming a songwriter come true. His dream became my dream. I've focused all my energy on turning his lyrics into songs. The passion within me has been unprecedented. Jacob has truly been my muse; thus, the title of the album.

The piece went on to point out that critics were calling Delirious Jones's latest album their best work yet.

The Rocker's Muse showcases the band's evolution while staying true to their modern grunge roots. From beginning to end, the album is a masterpiece of hard-hitting riffs, introspective lyrics, and Tristan Daltrey's signature vocals. The opening track, "Interrupted," draws you in with its bone-chilling melody. Each song is expertly crafted, with standout tracks like "Shady Hills" and "Come Back to Me" demonstrating the band's knack for combining catchy hooks with the deeper, emotional themes undoubtedly driven by Daltrey's own loss. The Rocker's Muse is a powerful reminder of why the band remains a formidable force in modern rock music.

I couldn't have been prouder. I especially loved that they'd highlighted Tristan's vocal prowess. He'd done everything he could to overcome his vocal challenges. After having surgery shortly after the last album was released a couple of years ago, he'd gone on an anti-inflammatory diet, practiced meditation, and adhered to strict silent periods whenever possible.

About halfway through the article, I noticed my name.

As motivated as I was to write my son's music, it was a difficult and emotional experience. I couldn't have made it through without the most amazing life partner. Having Emily by my side has meant everything. I couldn't do any of this without her.

Placing my hand over my heart, I felt a rush of unexpected emotion. "That's so sweet."

"It's all true."

After we finished the article, I wanted to read it all over again, but we needed to get ready for our backyard barbecue today. Atticus and Ronan were in town, along with some of the band's management who'd flown in for the weekend to celebrate the magazine feature and the release of The Rocker's Muse later this week.

"I'm gonna put up those outdoor lights I bought," Tristan said.

"Okay. I'll run to the market and get the remaining items we need."

I grabbed the keys to Tristan's SUV. As I drove, I thought about how much he and I had accomplished in the past couple of years since I'd moved out to L.A. with him. Between his surgery recovery, the completion of another small North American tour, and recording The Rocker's Muse , it had been nonstop work for him. And I'd been busy, too. I hadn't been able to join Tristan for most of that tour last year because of the marketing job I continued to hold with Amity Records. The company was currently paying for me to get my master's in marketing while I worked for them, developing campaigns for album promotion.

Now, though, we'd finally have a break in Tristan's schedule to travel. And I'd taken three weeks off of work so he and I could spend some time at a villa we'd rented on Italy's Amalfi coast. We were leaving in a couple of days, which was one of the reasons we'd stopped here in Shady Hills first, so my mother could stay with our dog and rabbit. I didn't trust strangers.

I still struggled with feeling undeserving of this life, but I'd come a long way. I'd likely always be scarred by my past, but I'd gotten enough therapy to start letting go of some of the guilt, even if I wasn't perfect at it. Recovery, I'd learned, doesn't have to be a hundred percent. As long as I was better than before, that was progress.

I arrived at the grocery store and made my way in and out as quickly as possible. Before I knew it, I was back in the car, headed to my man. Whenever I drove one of Tristan's many cars, I felt so freaking fancy and laughed to myself, thinking about the run-down car I'd left behind when I moved to L.A. That old Corolla would likely always be what I felt I belonged in.

I'd recently written Tristan a check for that million dollars he'd given me and insisted he take it back. It was bad enough that I lived with him in that enormous house back in L.A. and he'd bought us a second home here in Shady Hills. He also spoiled me any chance he got. I didn't want to have that money hanging over my head. It made me feel better to give it back, and to my surprise, he'd taken it.

Back at the house, I put away the groceries and went to the backyard to check on Tristan's progress. I stood at the glass door overlooking the pool and watched in amusement as Tristan climbed a wobbly ladder and became entangled in a bunch of lights he was attempting to hang across the greenery in the yard.

"Need some help over there?" I shouted.

"Yeah, I could use a drink."

"Not sure you should add alcohol to whatever you're doing. You're wobbly enough on that ladder."

"And here I was thinking you were the only person in my life who wasn't a ball buster. Guess I was wrong."

I giggled. "You're adorable when you're frustrated, but maybe forget about the lights. They're unnecessary."

"Nah. I'm gonna figure this shit out. They'll look cool at night."

I left him there and returned to the kitchen to arrange plates of appetizers. When I came back to the patio, Tristan had made some progress, but the majority of the lights remained tangled and unhung.

"What the fuck is going on here?" a voice called from behind us.

Tristan and I turned to find Ronan holding a case of beer. He and Atticus had keys to our houses, so they always just let themselves in.

"What are you doing here?" Tristan asked.

"What do you mean? You said there was a party."

"I'm not ready for you yet. It's still morning."

"Never too early to start."

Atticus appeared behind him. "Actually, Emily texted and said to get our asses down here, that you needed help getting things ready."

"I'm fine," Tristan grumbled.

"You don't look fine," Ronan said as he headed over.

Atticus joined in, and I watched gleefully as the three of them messed with the lights, a mix of untangling, bickering, and laughing.

At one point, Atticus suddenly climbed down the ladder to answer his phone. He rushed off to take a call inside.

Ronan took Atticus's place and turned to Tristan. "What was up with that?"

Tristan shrugged. "I dunno. Seemed weird."

A few minutes later, Atticus returned, looking a bit frazzled.

Ronan stepped down off the ladder. "What's going on?"

"That was Nicole…"

His ex.

Ronan and Tristan looked at each other.

"Nicole? What's up with her?" Tristan asked.

"She needs to talk to me about something. Asked if I'd have some time to chat in like an hour. She's at work right now."

Ronan blinked. "What does she want?"

"She says she has a favor to ask. I have no fucking idea what it could be. My head is spinning."

Tristan put down the lights. "When was the last time you talked to her?"

Atticus still seemed dazed and confused. "Huh?"

Ronan repeated Tristan's question. "When was the last time you talked to Nicole?"

"Like a year ago." He shook his head. "I'm gonna go back to the hotel. I don't want to have the phone call here."

Tristan patted his shoulder. "Yeah, man. It's no big deal. Just come back whenever you're done. You bastards are early anyway."

"Cool. Thanks," he said before taking off.

When Atticus was out of earshot, I asked, "What actually happened between him and Nicole? No one has ever told me."

"We could tell you, but we'd have to kill you," Ronan joked. "Or rather, he'd kill me for telling you."

"What's the big secret?" I looked between them. "I don't get it."

Tristan whispered in my ear, "I'll tell you later."

"One thing I will say…" Ronan added. "My guy has been searching for his heart since the day things ended with them."

Tristan rubbed my back. "Let's put it this way. She's his Emily. And I couldn't imagine losing you or what I'd be like if that ever happened."

***

Several hours later, our backyard was still filled with people drinking and chatting around the pool. It had been the perfect Shady Hills afternoon, comfortably breezy and sunny, but it was starting to get dark now. Tristan had just turned on those outdoor lights he'd worked so hard to get up earlier. And they were honestly beautiful.

My mother and the Mahoneys-who'd given us their blessing when we'd told them about our relationship before moving to L.A.-had just left. However, most of Delirious Jones's crew and their significant others were still here. We hadn't set an end time for this shindig, but I was sort of hoping the remaining guests would leave so Tristan and I could unwind alone.

Interestingly, Atticus hadn't returned after going back to his hotel for that phone call with Nicole. He'd texted Tristan that he wasn't in the mood for a party and apologized. Ronan had left a short time ago to go check on him.

Everyone seemed to be talking Tristan's ear off tonight about the article. He finally managed to break away from them and found me. He nuzzled my neck. "How's my baby?"

"Incredibly happy. So proud of you and how hard you've worked in Jacob's honor on this album. And really looking forward to our vacation. I'm feeling grateful for this life."

He lowered his voice. "I kind of can't wait for everyone to leave tonight. I just want to be alone with you."

"Oh my gosh, I was just thinking the same thing. Want me to start singing? That'll scare them away."

He pinched my side playfully. "You're lucky I love you with that voice."

"Actually, I have a better idea if you really want to give them a hint," I said.

"What?"

"It's time for Rusty's swim." I winked.

Tristan flashed a mischievous grin.

We'd had to keep our dog, Rusty, inside all night because he had a tendency to get a little too excited around the pool.

I went inside to get him. The moment he spotted me, Rusty wagged his tail. I led him out to the patio. "Rusty has been dying for a swim," I announced to our guests. "Hope you guys don't mind!"

Everyone basically ignored my warning until our dog did what he did best, jumping into the pool with a huge splash, sending a deluge of water everywhere.

Tristan cracked up as he winked at me. Rusty continued to splash around for a while and then managed to get himself out of the pool, proceeding to shake on the deck, sending water flying. Doug and his girlfriend were the first to start gathering their things, and the other people left followed suit.

"So sorry about that," I told everyone. "He has a little too much fun sometimes."

"No worries," Doug's girlfriend, Jane, said. "We need to get going anyway."

After everyone finally left, Tristan collapsed on one of the lounge chairs and patted his chest, prompting me to sit on top of him. With my back against him, he cradled me in his arms.

"Your Rusty idea was freaking brilliant. It's only eight PM, and we've cleared them all out."

"Thank you. But Rusty did all the work."

He rested his chin on my head. "The lights are cool, huh?"

"I'm glad you pushed forward with that task. They turned out really pretty, and I especially like them now that it's just the two of us."

"Well, that was my hope. I didn't do it for everyone else. I did this for us. That's why I was so adamant about it. For this moment."

"Hmmm…" I hummed, feeling so relaxed.

He began to massage my head. I bent my neck back and closed my eyes, relishing this feeling of being loved.

"I need you to stand up for a minute," he said. "I need you to see me."

We both stood, and I turned to find Tristan reaching into his pocket. My heart raced as he took out a box.

Is he doing what I think he is?

He opened it and inside was…

I tilted my head.

Inside was my scrunchie. The one he'd stolen from me back on the tour.

"I can't believe you still have that."

"Are you kidding? It's my most prized possession. What did you think, I lost it?"

"I hadn't thought about it, but yeah, I would've assumed it was long gone."

Planning to place it in my hair, I took it out of the box, but stopped when I felt the weight of something dangling from it.

That's when I noticed it, a massive, rectangular-shaped diamond.

Tristan took it from me before getting down on one knee.

"Emily, when I first met you, I liked you because you didn't know who I was. But I love you for the opposite reason. You're the one person who knows exactly who I am, knows every part of me, every vulnerability, every fear. The day I met you was the most important day of my life." He paused. "And today is the second most important day…if you say yes." He held the ring out. "Will you marry me?"

Too stunned for words, I simply cried, wrapping myself around him, feeling the way his heart beat against mine. "Yes," I whispered against his neck. I held my hand out as he placed the heavy rock on my ring finger. I looked down at it. "This is too much."

Tristan winked. "I had to get that million dollars back to you somehow."

My mouth dropped. "Oh my God. I would ask if you're serious, but sadly, I know you are." I wrapped my arms around him. "I can't even be mad, because I'm too damn happy right now."

"Me, too, baby. The only thing that could make this moment better would be knowing we have Jacob's blessing."

"You have to believe we do," I whispered.

Tristan went inside for a bottle of champagne. As he brought it back out, I thought I heard someone at the door.

"Is that the doorbell?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe it's Atticus?"

We checked the security camera to find a man standing next to a police officer. A cop car was parked behind them.

Tristan immediately headed to the door and opened it. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, sir. You don't know me-obviously, and I swear, I'm not a crazy fan or anything. My name is Bob Shields. My brother Ed here is a cop in town and let me know where you reside." The police officer nodded as the man continued. "You always give the police department a heads up when you're coming to Shady Hills so they can be on alert, and I asked him to let me know the next time you were here. When he told me you were back, I had him come with me, so your security didn't kick me out."

"Wise decision." Tristan nodded. "I don't actually have security here, although I probably should. But I checked the camera, and you're right. I wouldn't have opened if you weren't with a cop. Anyway, how can I help you?"

"I've been holding something I think might belong to you, unless there are two Tristan Daltreys in town, which I doubt."

He reached into his bag. To my utter shock, he took out Tristan's weathered, gray bear, Duffy.

Tristan's jaw dropped as he took the bear. "Where did you get this?"

"My son-he's ten-found it on the side of the road. I noticed it in his room. Asked him what the hell it was and read the tag that said to return to you if found. I told him we'd better do what it said, that someone out there might be missing this thing, as ugly as it is. No offense."

"None taken. And thank you. I appreciate this. I left it at my son's grave. Not sure if someone stole it, or if it blew away or what." Tristan stared at the bear. "Or maybe he wanted me to have it back."

"Anything's possible, I suppose," Bob said. "Anyway, I'm really sorry about your son."

"Thank you. I appreciate that." Tristan reached into his wallet and took out two crisp, one-hundred-dollar bills. "I'd like to give your son something for his kindness. I appreciate him not just leaving this on the side of the road." He held the money out. "Will you please take this?"

The man held his palms up. "That's not necessary."

"Please," Tristan urged. "It's the least I can do."

"If you insist, I'll take it. He's saving for a new bike, so this will really help."

"Well, good." Tristan returned his wallet to his back pocket. "What's your son's name?"

The man smiled proudly. "Jacob."