Since You Happened by Holly Hall
Epilogue
December
I can see nothing beyond the blindfold. The only thing I can do is trust the hands that guide me and the voice that warns me of possible obstacles in my path.
“Okay, easy, the ground is a little uneven here. Step up. Oops, a little higher than that,” Landon says with a chuckle as I trip over a step. I give him what’s meant to be a threatening look but is probably not very effective, thanks to the blindfold over my eyes.
“How far can this place possibly be?”
“Relax, we’re almost there.”
After a few more paces, Landon stops me in my tracks with his hands on my shoulders. “Ready?” he asks, right by my ear. My lips curve into a smile as I nod. What could he possibly surprise me with?
I feel his fingers tugging on the edges of the blindfold, and when the fabric finally falls away, I’m rendered speechless. I recognize this storefront, wedged between an insurance office and a juice bar. We’re standing in front of the bookstore, but there’s a new name in place of the former one. “Forever Life” is spelled out in big, bronze letters. My hands fly to my mouth to catch my gasp. Out of anything he could’ve done to represent the growth we’ve achieved over the past year, this one seems the most momentous.
“Landon! It’s perfect,” I tell him sincerely, and he regards the letters proudly.
“You haven’t even seen the rest of it,” he says as he looks down at me, nodding his head toward the front door.
That’s all it takes to coerce me to step closer to the bookstore, but when I walk inside, I see that it’s not really a bookstore at all. At least, not anymore. The worn wooden floors have been cleared of all the bookcases, leaving a large, airy space. You would think the room was empty if it wasn’t for the photographs displayed at regular intervals along the walls. New light fixtures have been installed, and each photograph has its own spotlight trained on it to direct attention to Landon’s stunning work.
I start on the left, making my way slowly around the room. There are a few pieces I recognize from his travels, but there are some portraits that I haven’t yet seen. There are kids playing soccer in the street, sporting tired grins. An older man walking eight dogs with their leashes attached to his belt. A toddler carrying a strawberry ice cream cone that’s dripping onto the concrete. A street performer lost in the chords of his music.
Then I come across a photo featuring something I recognize. The silhouette is shadowy, backlit by twinkling lights in the background, but I recognize my profile and the slight upturn of my lips. It’s a photo he snuck in while I wasn’t paying attention at the Christmas Market. A card on the wall below it tells me the photograph is titled Bliss. I can’t come up with a word more suitable. Just the memory of the lights and the fanfare makes me smile.
Once I’ve walked a circuit of the entire room and make it back to where Landon’s waiting, I look around curiously. “The rainforest is gone,” I say, mentioning my favorite piece.
“It’s back at my place. I thought you might want it,” he explains, looking pleased with himself.
“I do. But it would probably look better here than in my apartment.”
He gives me a half-shrug. “It will look better in our house one day.” He is so sincere that I have to lean up and kiss him straight on the mouth.
“Is this what you’ve been working on all this time?” After all, there were months when we weren’t in contact, and more months, after we got back together, when he made me promise not to come visit him at work. I thought he had been revamping the bookstore, but it turns out that he had been changing his business entirely.
He wraps his arms around my waist. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, scattering kisses across my jaw.
“It’s amazing, Landon. I can’t believe you have your own gallery. Now I can tell everyone I’m dating a photographer.”
“Eat your heart out, Scott,” he growls playfully, kissing the place beneath my ear and sending heat racing down my neck.
“You’re sure you’re ready?” I ask him more seriously, pulling back so we’re face to face. His bourbon eyes bear into mine, and he nods.
“I’ve never been more ready.”
“Does this mean you’re shooting weddings?” I ask playfully, and he responds with a loud laugh.
“Hell no.”
Before we leave, I stop when I see a small photograph of Grace I recognize, framed on the wall above the counter. Below it is a short paragraph.
In honor of Valentina Grace Hernandez, a woman with a zest for life who graced everyone she knew with generosity and kindness. She made the world better just by being a part of it, and though she is gone, she will never be forgotten. As she used to say: “Forgive fully, live fully, love fully.” All proceeds will be donated in her name.
Landon’s hand finds mine, and I squeeze it. “It’s perfect,” I say, for the second time that day, and we walk out of his gallery hand in hand.
Later that evening, we return to Forever Life, only this time we’re dressed in cocktail attire. Landon decided to tell me that the soft opening for his gallery was set to take place only a few hours after we left earlier, leaving me with just enough time to shower, do my hair and makeup, and dig up something to wear. Apparently my little black dress and peep-toe pumps are satisfactory, as Landon made evident just before we left.
Landon shoulders through the door with another case of wine, and his friend Ryan follows him with a box full of glasses. I’ve been arranging the appetizers on a table near the counter, and Landon catches my eye just as I pop another mini cheesecake into my mouth.
“Should I have brought coffee, too?” he jokes, setting down the box.
“That’s what we forgot,” I tell him, snapping my fingers. I hug Ryan hello and help Landon arrange the wine bottles on one side of the table. He only invited close friends and colleagues to this event, so he’s not really expecting to sell anything, but I’m excited at the prospect of celebrating what he’s accomplished.
After half an hour, a dozen people have arrived and are milling about with glasses of wine, chatting over the subdued music Ryan’s in charge of playing through the overhead speakers. I look up when the bell chimes to announce another visitor, breaking into a grin when I see that it’s Arielle. The red dress she’s wearing looks stunning against her dark skin, and scarlet lips only accentuate her eye-catching appearance.
“Ow ow!” I croon at her, squeezing her briefly before examining her from head to toe. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume you have a date tonight.”
She rolls her eyes playfully and hugs Landon when he comes over to say hi. “This is amazing, Landon! I’ve been talking you up all week. I hope you don’t mind that I invited some colleagues of mine.”
“Thank you. And of course not, any exposure the gallery can get is great,” Landon says, wrapping his arm around me.
“I have no doubt you’ll get that. And I might’ve invited a date,” she says, narrowing her eyes cryptically at me. When Paul walks through the door a few minutes later with a bottle of wine in hand, my eyes widen in shock, though I feel like I should’ve seen this coming, considering the way she used to speak about him.
He scans the room before his eyes settle on the three of us, and he crosses over, flashing his dazzling grin. My eyes dart to Landon, but his expression is unreadable, revealing not even the slightest hint of emotion.
Paul bends down to kiss Arielle on the cheek, beaming down at her in a way that I’m sure makes her melt. After all, I’ve been on the receiving end of that smile, and I can confidently say that it basically has magical powers. When he turns to Landon, he holds out his right hand for a handshake, the wine bottle still clutched firmly in his left. Landon accepts, and I’m not sure whether to take their eye contact and firm grips as a standoff or a polite gesture.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming, as our first meeting was more than a little unpleasant. Arielle told me what you did with the place, and I had to see it for myself,” Paul says amicably, before offering the bottle of wine. “Peace offering,” he explains, “for the blatant disrespect I showed the both of you. I hope you can forgive me.”
Landon finally smiles, taking the bottle. “Don’t worry about it. I appreciate it, man. Take a look around, let me know if you have any questions.”
When Paul sets off to make the rounds, Arielle looks over at me and shakes her head. “Oh, to be a man, where all problems can be solved with alcohol and a handshake.” I chuckle and take her hand, leading her over to the first of the photographs.
The night turns out to be a memorable one. The wine flows, the chatter and laughter blending into a pleasant hum as stories are told and guests marvel over Landon’s work. Looking at him now is almost like looking at a stranger. There’s a light in his eyes that seems to be permanently affixed, completely unlike the haunted gaze that looked back at me the first time we met. But when his eyes meet mine through the clumps of people scattered across the space between us, I’m reminded of the intensity he can convey with just a look. I raise my glass in his direction, and he nods subtly.
When he steps into the center of the room a few minutes later, the chatter subsides, and everyone turns expectantly toward him. “I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for coming,” he begins. “The people you see here are the ones that make life the adventure that it is, and I can’t thank all of you enough for that. Most of you know that this place began as a bookstore called Forever Grace, with just a few of my photographs on the walls above the bookshelves. I gave up my work to sell books for charity, because I thought a woman named Grace would’ve wanted me to. What I didn’t realize was that, by giving up what I’m truly passionate about, I was living a shadow of the life she would’ve wanted me live.
“It took meeting a woman who wasn’t afraid to point that out to me for me to realize that. Most of you know her as Blake, but I know her as the love of my life. So I would like to dedicate this night to Blake, because without her, this dream would’ve never become a reality. Cheers.” Landon’s eyes don’t leave mine as he raises his glass and takes a drink, and I have to blink away my tears before I’m clinking glasses with those around me. I wonder all the time if I’ve improved his life as much as he’s improved mine, but it’s times like these when I’m left without a doubt in my mind.
Later in the night, when I finally have Landon alone after we’ve said our goodbyes to the last of the guests, I snake my arms around his neck and run one hand up into his hair. “I’ve never known you to be such a softy, Farrar.”
“Yeah, well, my dad always said some women can do that to you.”
“I kind of like it,” I say against his mouth as I kiss him, deep and slow.
“You like a lot of things about me, and most of them aren’t soft,” he murmurs.
“You’re insatiable,” I say, giving him one last kiss before pulling back. We can continue this once we get back to my place, but for now, we have a mess to clean up.
Once we’ve bagged the last of the empty food trays and wine bottles, Landon takes the trash bag from me and leads the way out the door. “I think we need to commemorate this new beginning,” I say as we walk down the street toward his car.
“How is that?” he asks, stopping off to drop the trash bag into the dumpster.
“The rainforest; I want to go there.”
“I think that can be arranged,” he says, stalking closer to where I’m leaning against the car door. When he reaches me, he places one hand on the nape of my neck while his thumb grazes my earlobe. I’m not sure he would’ve even considered leaving the country just a few months ago. “Anything else while you’ve got me listening?”
“Thailand. Maybe we can find that turquoise boat.”
Landon’s lips press to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips. “That’s a lot to consider,” he says, one hand skating along my hips and around to my backside.
“Consider it a work trip,” I say, though his caresses are weakening my resolve.
“Done,” he agrees, though I’m pretty sure he only says it to get me to stop talking.
“Can we go this coming year?”
Landon chuckles, pulling back and clicking the button on his remote to unlock the car. “We aren’t in a rush. After all, we do have forever,” he points out as he opens the door for me.
“Forever?” I ask, my stomach flip-flopping at the prospect of spending a lifetime with this man, making a lifetime of memories.
“Forever.” He promises.
The End
*Keep reading for an excerpt of Love in Smoke, a full-length contemporary romance novel*