The Devil’s Keepsake by Somme Sketcher
Epilogue
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
LORCAN
“My name is Lorcan Quinn and I’m an alcoholic.”
The sea of people in the church hall is unfamiliar to me. This isn’t my usual weekly AA group, but the faces are friendly and welcoming as they all murmur a chorus of greetings.
Poppy had two conditions when she agreed to stay with me. The first was easy. I’d send Orna to school to study whatever she wanted.
The second was a lot harder to stick to. I’d get sober.
But like I said, I’d move mountains for my China Doll.
Forty minutes later, I’m walking down the steps of the church to the Bentley, early morning sun beating down the collar of my shirt.
It feels like I’ve driven down this road leading up to Stanford University a million times since last January, but in reality, it’s been only every other weekend. I go from the jet to the Bentley to her dorm room—the one she insisted on keeping with Nellie despite me demanding that I buy her a house with full security detail. I’ve learned that being in love is all about compromise. We compromised by her having two security guards that keep a ten-foot distance at all times. I wanted her to come home to the estate every weekend—instead, we compromised by alternating between me coming here, entwining our bodies in her tiny single bed with her best friend feet away, and her coming home, where we spent those precious twenty-four-hours sprawled out in my California King.
Today is different from my other visits. In fact, it’ll be my last.
I follow the signs to the Stanford Stadium and pull up into the parking lot. Sliding on my Cartier aviators, I stride out into the sun and follow the crowds through the entrance gates, and take my seat, front row center, on the bleachers. Yeah, I would have broken bones and snapped a few fucking necks to get this spot.
All for the perfect view of my China Doll’s graduation.
I’m impatient, strumming my foot against the grass, waiting for the graduates to file in and fill the row of chairs in front of us. When they do, I rise to my feet and crane my neck to find her. It’d be impossible not to spot Poppy amongst the sea of identical black gowns and square caps. We lock eyes and my heart beats three times faster as she blows me a kiss.
Yeah, Poppy only has to breathe to have that effect on me.
I stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle the loudest when the Dean calls her name. I cheer and clap as she walks across the stage and gives the crowd an awkward wave, scroll in hand. As the caps rain down onto the pitch, I fight my way through the crowd towards her, sweep her up into my arms and crush my lips against hers.
“I could hear you even if you were still in Boston,” she laughs, melting against my chest.
“Good. I want the whole world to know that my girlfriend is a Stanford Business School graduate,” I say, swinging her around like she weighs nothing. “And that I’m the luckiest man alive.”
She laughs and wraps her arms around my neck.
“You two make me sick. Where can I get me one of you?”
I look up from Poppy just long enough to see Nellie popping her gum and rolling her eyes. Poppy’s best friend is a wild child with a smart-ass mouth. I wasn’t a fan at first, but her quick wit and sarcastic retorts have grown on me over the last eighteen months, and now, we have quite the fiery relationship.
“Congratulations, Nellie,” I say, bringing her in for a one-armed hug. “Although it’s not a requirement for hookers to have degrees, let alone from Stanford.”
She laughs and slaps me with her graduation cap. “Yeah, fuck off, Lorc. Hey look—” She nods to a seat halfway down the third row. It hasn’t been touched, and there’s a place card still sitting perfectly neat against the backrest. “Looks like old Sammy-boy got cold feet. Must have known you were coming.”
“Good,” I grunt, turning my attention back to my girl. In all honesty, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about Poppy’s ex-boyfriend now. We’ve come so far and no past relationship would ever match what we have. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t kick his ass—again—behind the bleachers if I saw him here today. I twist my hand into Poppy’s and bring it to my mouth to kiss the back of it. “I’m taking you to dinner.” Then, I turn to Nellie. “Would you like to join us?”
I challenge her with my stare. You better go along with the plan, Nel.
But she wants to toy with me today, scratching at her jaw, pretending to think about it. “Umm… nah, I’ll pass. I’ve got a hot date.” She flings her arms around Poppy and gives her an extra squeeze. Then, she gives me another hug, tip-toeing in her stilettos to whisper in my ear, “Good luck.”
Left alone, I stoop to pick Poppy up, striding across the grass with her in my arms. We part the crowds like Moses did the Red Sea, and she playfully beats on my chest, flustered. “You know I can walk again, right? Have been doing fine on my own for the last year or so.”
“Call it a habit. Besides, those heels look lethal.”
She doesn’t protest anymore, happily leaning against me until we reach the Bentley. “Where are we going?” She asks, resting her hand on my thigh as I drive away from the red-bricked buildings and join the Interstate.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure if I can handle any more Quinn surprises.”
“Well buckle up. Orna’s planning a big bash at Gatsby’s for you when we get home.”
She laughs. “It’ll be her graduation party too, soon.”
“Uh-huh. Only six months until she finishes her accounting and finance degree at Boston College.”
Poppy squeezes my hand and whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what?” I ask, trying to focus on the road ahead.
“Sticking to my condition.”
I pause for a moment, letting the hum of the radio fill the silence. “Check the glove compartment.”
“Is it a graduation present?” She teases.
“One of many.”
She rummages around and fishes out the small bronze coin. A squeal escapes her lips as she studies it and she clutches it to her chest. “I’m so proud of you, baby.” Then, she picks up her purse from the footwell and gives it a shake. It rattles like a bag of marbles. “I’ll add it to my collection.”
One bronze chip means one year sober. I give Poppy every one of my chips as a reminder of my commitment to her.
I bring her hand to my lips, enjoying the sensation of her soft skin.
“You’re quiet. What are you thinking about?”
I pause, then say, “I was your demon for years. I never thought you’d free me from my own.”
* * *POPPY
“Le Papillon?” I snap, folding my arms and staring out of the windshield. “Really?
Lorcan’s face melts into concern and he tilts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “I have good reason, I promise,” he whispers, landing a soft kiss against my lips.
With his strong hand gripped in mine, I feel the trust growing and follow him into the restaurant.
Everything’s the same. Velvet booths, soft amber lighting, and nobody here apart from us.
The hostess guides us to the same table I saw the Devil sitting at two years ago. I’m thankful that the server that comes out from the red velvet curtain isn’t the petrified woman whose face is permanently etched into my memory.
“This is where it all started,” I say, scanning the restaurant as Lorcan pulls out the chair for me.
The night I walked through the doors to see the Devil darkening the shadows feels like a million years ago, not only two. And it couldn’t be more different. When he drapes the napkin over my naked thigh, I shiver with pleasure instead of shake with fear. When the server brings out a large chocolate cake with a comically small candle, I laugh as Lorcan feeds me my first bite with his fork.
Because I’m not here with the Devil. I’m here with Lorcan Quinn.
“So,” he says, leaning on his palms as the server pours him iced water. “Poppy Valentina, the Stanford Business School graduate. You must be inundated with job offers.”
“There’s a few flying about.”
Lorcan pretends to think. “Hmm,” he says, stroking his beard, a trace of amusement on his lips. “I know a place that’s hiring.”
I wipe chocolate from my mouth and cock my head. “Do you now?”
“Yes. It’s in desperate need of a Chief Financial Officer. I’ve heard the pay is outstanding, the perks are unbeatable, and the boss is ridiculously handsome,” he says, eyes twinkling at me.
I flush with happiness but rearrange my features to keep a straight face. “I’ll think about it,” I say, but he knows as well as I do that I don’t need to think about it.
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” Lorcan says, reaching across the table and sliding his hands over mine.
“Er, yeah. The question has crossed my mind.”
He draws a deep breath. “I hate that we have bad memories together. Me, I was so blind drunk I barely remember being here,” he says with a grimace, “and you, you were so scared that you’ll always tie this place to being kidnapped by the Devil. I want to scrub those bad memories and replace them with new ones.”
My heart skips a beat and I squeeze his hands. “That’s really cute,” I say, “we’ll be getting married at the church you claimed me at next.”
He pins me with an amused stare. “You’re always one step ahead, China Doll.”
Before I can open my mouth to speak, he pulls out something from his breast pocket. It’s square and velvety, and when he opens it, the biggest emerald I’ve ever seen sparkles up at me.
My jaw drops open.
“Poppy Valentina, I’m the Devil and you’re my angel. I’m hoping we can meet somewhere in the middle and spend the rest of our time on this earth together. Marry me.”
My heart hammers so hard against my chest that I’m scared it’ll rip through my ribcage and explode all over the table.
“That’s not a question,” I choke out.
The Devil, my handsome Devil, smiles darkly, takes the beautiful ring from its box, and slides it onto my finger. It slips on like butter, and instantly, it feels like a part of my own body.
“No, it isn’t.”
And if it was, my answer would be yes, a thousand times over.
Because I want to dance with the Devil for the rest of my life.
THE END