Page 117 of The Heir Apparent

I wondered if I would ruin this, or if I might find myself more capable than I imagined. We could unpack my bags and put the treasures I’d brought home from London in new, permanent locations around the cottage. Maybe I would hide the polaroid of Louis and Kris between the pages of a book, watching the edges curl, their beautiful faces fading as the years passed. I could jimmy a plank out of the barn floor and replace it with the witch marks Papa left for me, knowing it was always underfoot, always protecting me. Then, finally, I could dig a hole in the cottage garden and return Mum’s ring to the earth—the gold and the emerald back where they belonged. Maybe I would stay on this vineyard, surrounded by the remnants of my family, for the rest of my days.

Wrapped in his arms, I looked at Jack, my weary heart daring to hope.

“Everything’s about to get really bad,” I whispered.

He smiled and shook his head. Then he kissed my temple and put his mouth to my ear.

“You’re wrong,” he said. “Everything’s about to get really good.”

I’m drifting on a black sea under an explosion of stars. This time, Mum is beside me. She looks over and smiles and I see that she’s no longer young. She never fell from the boat, but she lived and she aged and she stayed in the world. We hold hands and look up so we can marvel at the sky above us.

These days, I’m no longer afraid of sleep.

Jack kisses my bare shoulder to wake me. It might be the morning after I came home from London. It might be a decade later. For the rest of our lives, we would wake up every New Year’s Day to greet the sun.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Time to wake up.”

I groan, not quite ready to let Mum go. “Now?”

He kisses my neck and I turn so I can pull him into my embrace. It’s so warm that I can feel him starting to sink back into sleep, but he stirs again.

“Now,” he says. “Come on. First sunrise of the year.”

I blink awake and see him lying there, his cheek against the pillow next to mine. He smiles that slow smile of his.

“There you are,” he whispers and presses his lips to mine. “Time to go.”

We pull on our clothes and, with our hands intertwined, we walk among the vines towards the slightest arc of light on the horizon. The sun is slowly dying, burning through its fire and its vim. One day it will go dark and everything will be cold. But for now, as we make another orbit around the sun, it all feels new. Anything feels possible.