Truly Madly Deeply: Epilogue

“Back for Good”—Take That

“Doesn’t she look so much better now that her face caught up with the size of her nose?” Dylan cooed, nuzzling her nose against Grav’s cheeks. Grav gave her a bitch, you ain’t no Gisele either look, spinning on her chubby heel and stumbling her way to the open arms of my husband.

Let me say that again for emphasis—my husband. Whom I’d woken up next to every day for the past year, in our gorgeous London apartment. The first thing he’d done when he carried me back to his place after my love-declaration-turned-engagement was give me a tour around our flat. Everything was so classy and decadent. I had turned to face Row and asked, “Can we please christen the floor?” He’d dutifully obliged. Since then, we’d christened the carpets, each bedroom, laundry machine, countertops, cupboard, library, and drawing room. We were faithful like that.

I never ended up returning to the U.S., let alone Staindrop. There was nothing left for me in the States. A week after I’d come to London, I had found myself a recording studio for my podcast, which was now taking off and already had ten thousand subscribers across all platforms. Maybe it wasn’t huge for other people. But for me, it was a win.

Mamushka visited us often. She loved traveling and the plane time was a great excuse to knit more mittens. Her Etsy shop was thriving. She made a great living and enjoyed helping Dylan with Gravity.

As for Dylan, she’d tried encouraging Tucker to get involved with Grav, but he’d seemed grossly disinterested. He was still with Allison, who was awaiting trial for her Staindrop shenanigans while on house arrest. Her reputation was in the same place her personality was—the shitter. Frankly, they deserved each other.

“Don’t listen to your mother.” Row snatched Grav after she tumbled into his arms, tossing her in the air like pizza dough. She almost hit the ceiling. He always gave me so much anxiety when he did that to her, but it made her produce that never-ending toddler giggle that danced across my skin every time I heard it. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. Only second to Auntie Dot.”

“Grav was always going to be beautiful,” Kieran, who was now good friends with Row, pointed out. We were all sitting at a Christmas table, Zeta, Mom, and Taylor included. “With a mother like Dylan.”

Dylan smiled charitably, taking a slow sip of her wine. She’d been dodging Kieran’s efforts ever since she’d come here three days ago, and it didn’t look like she had any romantic interest in him whatsoever. Guess once the raging hormones had subsided, the idea of entering a passionate affair with one of the most famous soccer players in the world hadn’t held the same shine.

“I do know how to make them.” Zeta beamed proudly.

“That, you do.” Mamushka patted her knee from the seat next to her.

“This is very wholesome.” Taylor drained the dregs of his beer, surveying the place nonchalantly, one hand tucked into his front pocket. “I’m wondering when Row’s forehead vein is going to pop from sugar overload.”

“Soon. Let’s go to the living room to start the gift-opening portion of the night.” Row stood up with Grav tucked under his arm, like she was a football. “I’m ready to give my wife her present.”

What more could he give me that he hadn’t already? I loved our life.

Rhyland made a face. “Please don’t give it to her in front of a full audience. There’s a child here.”

“Shut up,” Row said flatly. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, eager much?” Dylan looked around but slowly rose to her feet. We all ambled to the living room, ignoring our plates and half-full wineglasses in the dining area. The Christmas tree stood tall in front of the window overlooking King’s Road.

“Mine first.” Zeta shoved a gift into Row’s hands as soon as he put Grav down on the carpet. He opened it.

“Nicotine patches? How…useful.”

Row had quit smoking four months ago out of the blue. We had walked hand-in-hand along the Thames on a lazy Saturday stroll and he had seen a couple pushing a stroller and smiling down at the baby. Wordlessly, he’d tossed his pack of smokes into a bin and never bought another one again. He didn’t say a word about it to people, though. He hated it when people fussed over him.

Mamushka made everyone kick-ass mittens.

Dylan got everyone thrift-shop finds that were wonderfully and uniquely suited to their individual personalities.

Kieran got Dylan a whole-ass diamond necklace that looked like it had cost the same as a luxury car. Dylan stared at it for an entire minute before smiling at him. “Thank you, it’ll look great with my finest Walmart frocks.”

Kieran chortled, undeterred. “It’s a statement piece, darling. No need to wear anything but the necklace.”

“Tsk.” Row shook his head. “I see you’re not too attached to your teeth, Carmichael. Dot?” He turned to me.

“Hubs?” I batted my eyelashes at him. I couldn’t wait to give him my gift.

“Follow me for your gift.”

“Thank you.” Rhyland pretended to wipe invisible sweat off his forehead. “From the bottom of my heart. Nobody needs to see that.”

Even though I had just gotten comfortable in the recliner by the fire, I followed Row’s broad back as he waltzed through the corridor of our apartment. How big was it that he’d had to hide it in his office?

He stopped by the door to said office and turned to look at me sheepishly. “I’m going to be honest with you…”

My face fell, and I immediately went on guard. “There’s not a dead body in there, is there, Row? Shit. I mean, you know I’m your girl for making it disappear, but you could’ve waited until everyone went back to their hotel.”

He stared at me blankly. “How much of a shitbag do you think I am?”

“What is it?” I conveniently changed the subject. Row was definitely not a shitbag to me. But I couldn’t say everyone had the same experience.

“I was going to say—I’m going to be honest with you, no gift you can give me is going to top mine.” He arched an eyebrow, one hand slung on the door handle behind him as he blocked the way to his office.

“Don’t be so cocksure, Mr. Casablancas.”

To my surprise, he didn’t offer a sexual innuendo. Just drew a quick, nervous breath and said, “Hot Girl Bummer is the best thing to happen to people’s ears since Pearl Jam. I’m totally not biased either, because I’m screwing the host. I don’t even need an office. My office is the kitchen. So…”

He slowly opened the door. I peered inside owlishly. My breath hitched.

It was a recording room. All four walls thickly padded. A round, gorgeously curved desk took over the center of the room. State-of-the-art equipment adorned it. Microphones, keyboards, huge Mac screens, and a lit tripod were erected in front of it. The wall was covered in graffiti art that said Hot Girl Bummer. It had a total nineties feel to it. I was going to cry. A big cry. Not like the small one I’d had this morning when I’d woken up and felt happy because everyone was here and Christmas was my favorite holiday. Or the teeny tiny one at breakfast when Row had made me smiley pancakes with raspberries. Or in the afternoon, when Mamushka and I had gone for tea at the Savoy and they’d accidentally poured me the wrong flavor.

Man, I was a mess.

“Row…this is…insane.”

“Good insane, I hope.” He stood next to me, scanning the place like it was the first time he’d seen it too. “It was a bitch to work on, by the way,” Row admitted. “I had to wait for when you were out recording your podcast.”

I was so overwhelmed with emotions, I threw my arms around his neck and began sobbing into his ugly Christmas sweater. “I love you so much.” I hiccupped into his chest, not so demurely, I suspected. “I’m just…I can’t even explain it.” Another bout of tears emerged.

“Is everything okay?” Mom called out from the living room.

“Row, are you breaking up with her?” Dylan sounded pissed. “Or, let’s be honest, is she breaking up with you? Because I can totally yell at her for you.”

“She’s fine,” Row growled to our guests, gathering me in his arms, holding me tight. “You are fine, right, Dot? I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought it would be nice to make it official. And figured that this way, you wouldn’t have to book time in advance. But you don’t look happy at all.” He disconnected from me, frowning deeply into my face. “Look, we can forget about the entire thing. It’s not a problem. I’ll have someone remove it—”

“Don’t you dare.” I pressed my finger to his lips to stop the profanity. “I love it. It’s perfect. I’m just…a little overwhelmed.”

“By how my gift is so much better than yours?” He gave me a cocky once-over.

“Honey, you are not even in the race. Which brings me to my gift to you…” I pulled out an envelope from the back pocket of my mom jeans, handing it to him. “It’s not a gift card, so be careful when you rip it open.”

He eyed me suspiciously as he meticulously and gently peeled the top part of the envelope, slowly tugging out the unmistakable black-and-white printout of ultrasound film. His eyes flared, and the rest of him turned into a pillar of salt. Oh no. Was he going to burst into tears now too?

“I know we haven’t discussed it,” I hurried to say, licking my lips. “And I know that it is way too early, with both of us so focused on our careers. I don’t know how it happened. I guess…I guess I forgot to take a few pills. Are you mad?” I bit my lower lip.

It was hard to tell, since Row’s usual expression was IDGAF. He wore it so well, he’d never bothered to develop any other faces. It was as eternal as a little black dress. Which, I bet, he’d look good in too. God, my husband was infuriating.

“Mad?” he repeated wryly.

“You know, that it wasn’t planned.”

“Dot, baby.” He took the long ultrasound film that showed a very blurry little dot—Dot Junior—wrapping it along the back of my neck and tugging me closer with it so our lips touched. “You’ll never be able to top this Christmas present in a million years, so don’t even try.”

“I won, didn’t I?” I winked.

“The Christmas gift competition? But, Dot, you’re my biggest win.”

He kissed me long and deep, in a way every girl deserved to be kissed. Many times. By the boy she loved.

And the next morning, we woke up for our joint morning run. With our feet pounding the pavement, the winter sun warming our faces, I tipped my head up and smiled at Dad, who was somewhere up there beyond the clouds.

“My hair tips are orange today, Dadushka,” I whispered. “Because I’m finally happy.”

The End