And she has.
She’s all the light I will ever need.
Epilogue
Cyrus
Four years later.
From across the distance, I can see her. She’s still just as beautiful as she was that first time. Actually, even more so. She was pure light. As bright as the sun.
I took her then.
Made her mine.
I’ve never regretted that decision because she illuminated every dark crevice of my mind, of my heart, and most importantly, of my soul.
Am I still the villain?
Fuck yeah, I am.
But with her, never.
She has shown me that no matter how dark and twisted I am, she will love me anyway, and even the monster can get a happy ending.
I stroll toward them without a care in the world. One thing I decided when I made Ivy my wife, three weeks after she came back to me, was to never let her go.
She fought me at first, claiming she needed to see her mom. That her mom would fade away again if she wasn’t there.
I compromised.
So, every summer, we move to the island estate with her mother in tow. They spend the days gardening and playing out on the beach. Ivy did eventually open up that flower shop she always dreamed of. It’s back on the mainland and the flowers she grows in our greenhouse she sells there. Her mother runs it for her when Ivy can’t be there. It’s given her something to live for and it makes my wife happy to see her mom flourishing.
It’s perfect.
This island that once caused me pain is now my safe haven.
Here in this bubble, I’m at peace.
That doesn’t mean I don’t have to work, and I still hold my Friday night game.
But I don’t let that touch my life.
That’s business, and this . . . this is family. I wouldn’t trade it for a second.
Endless hours away from them is worth it to see them in the middle of the open grass. Knees on the dirt. Planting.
I walk up behind them before she sees me.
Primrose. Rose for short.
Named after a flower that grows in the dark, or so Ivy said.
“Daddy!” She jumps up, pulling away from her mom and grandmother, and flying into my arms.
“Momma teaching me how to plant.”
After she lets me go, she steps back to point at the ground. To the pile of dirt that Rose has dug up.
Her whole body is covered in mud, including her face.
“Momma is letting me put the seeds.”
“I see that, baby.”
My mother-in-law stands up from the ground and takes Rose’s hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says, and then they walk away toward the main house.
Ivy is still on her knees, patting the ground, when I reach my hand out to help her stand.
She’s not as dirty as Rose, but there is a smudge of mud on her face too.
Lifting my hand, I rub off the smudge and lean down and place my lips on hers.
Her mouth opens against mine.
It’s like coming home.
“Everything I am, everything I ever could be, is because of you and your love. You have given me a family.” I look at where her mother, who has become a mother to me as well, plays with our baby, and then I place a hand on Ivy’s rounded belly. “You have given me peace.” I lean down and kiss her. “Thank you.” She smiles against my mouth again before pulling away.
We carry our past with us. It’s in every inch of our skin. Our scars. Some you just can’t see, but they are there. I used to wear my scars as if they were the only part of me that mattered. But because of Ivy, I wear them like a faded memory. Sure, they are there, but they no longer define me.
Ivy taught me to no longer live in the past, but instead, to live for today. Live for right now. Just plain live.