How the Light Gets In (Cracks Duet #2)(56)

“I’m always right. Now go say goodbye to your lover and wish him a good day at work.”

She let out a shaky breath. “My lover. It sounds weird.”

“It does sound weird,” Conor agreed when he emerged from Yvonne’s bedroom. She jumped a little, realising he’d overheard. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Boyfriend sounds so much better.”

With a pleased wink and a smirk, he hustled out the door. He didn’t just look pleased though. He looked euphoric, smug . . . happy. It wasn’t just that he had been infatuated with Yvonne. In his own way, he’d loved her for a very long time. So, he had every right to be feeling smug, but I thought it was happiness that shone the brightest.

Yvonne’s gaze met mine. “Boyfriend,” she repeated.

“Congratulations, you’re officially a cougar,” I teased, smiling wide.

She scowled playfully and grabbed a cushion from the sofa. She came at me, thumping me on the head and demanding, “I am not a cougar. Take that back.”

“Okay, fine,” I relented. “You’re not a cougar. I take it back. You’re a lion cub, a cute and adorable baby lion with no wrinkles and the most youthful appearance.”

She stopped her attack and threw the cushion back on the couch, a huge grin on her face. “And don’t you forget it.”

After she left for work, I took a moment to reflect on our lives. We were thrown together many years ago, which could have resulted in a very different future. One less hopeful. Yvonne had been there for me through every stage of my life when I thought about it. She’d held me, laughed with me, cried with me, mourned with me, hoped with and for me. Selflessly. Now, with her final acceptance of Conor, it was almost as though knowing I was finally happy, had finally found my home with Dylan, that she had opened her heart for herself.

I wouldn’t forget it. I wouldn’t forget any of our moments together, because they’d made me who I was. And I could step confidently into my future because of her many years of selfless and deep love. And may there be many, many more.





Epilogue





6 months later





“You’ve done a wonderful job,” Frank said, and I was thrilled with the praise. He’d happened by, like he often did, hands in his pockets.

When Dylan introduced us at the charity event last year, the flower farm owner had offered me a job, something of an open invitation. After a few more months bartending, I woke up one morning and decided to hell with it. I was going to take him up on his offer. I never realised how much I missed growing until I accepted the job here at Hillview. My passion for gardening was coming back little by little. With every new crop I helped harvest, I felt like I was finding my old self again.

I no longer looked on the world through a dark lens. Now I understood that everything had to die so that new things could come to life.

I’d only been working here a month and already it felt like home. Don’t get me wrong. The commute was rough, almost two hours there and back. But I only worked four days a week, so at least I had three days to recuperate.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and gazed at Frank.

“How did everything go at the doctors?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Prescribed me more painkillers and anti-inflammatory pills. The usual. I’m too old to be cured.” Frank suffered with chronic back pain, a result of years working to build his farm. Never let it be said that gardening was easy work.

“Well, if you ever want to start some hydroponics, just say the word. You know, for the pain.”

He smiled fondly. “We can get that on a prescription here, dearie.”

I made a silly face. “Right. Sorry.”

“Not trying to get me into drug dealing in my golden years?”

“Sounds like the plot to a good TV show.”

“Eh. It’s been done.”

I feigned disappointment. “Dammit.”

“Anyway, you’re too good of a gardener to be dabbling in TV. The world of flower farming needs you.”

“Feels good to be needed.”

“Yeah well, if that husband of yours ever wants to move out of Manhattan, you two can come run this place for me. My old bones have had enough manual labour for one lifetime.”

“Ah, and you make it sound so appealing.” I joked, and yet, the idea spoke to my heart. I pictured myself in a few years’ time, running Frank’s flower farm with Dylan by my side. It was definitely possible.

He chuckled. “Right well, I’m going inside for a lie down. I’ll see you next week.”

“See you next week, Frank,” I said and gave him a little wave.

When I was done with my shift, I cleaned up and started the journey home. Tonight was the launch of Samuel, and I was so excited. Even though I’d been involved in creating the scent, naturally Dylan and his marketing team had done the rest. I had faith that they’d create something wonderful. The last few weeks Dylan would randomly pepper me with questions like, What was Sam’s favourite colour? His favourite song?

I knew he was trying to design a visual that paid tribute to him in some way, and I was eager for the big reveal. I think he wanted it to be a surprise, though, because every time I asked how things were coming along, he got all cagey and wouldn’t give me any details.