Page 96 of Under One Roof

“We should probably say something else instead of goodbye.” I lift my shoulder in question. “How about so long?”

He exhales like I’m exhausting, though he can’t help himself and joins in. He clucks his tongue with a thought. “Farewell?”

I gasp, throwing up my hands, saying in singsong, “Auf wiedersehen, adieu!”

He doesn’t get it, so I sing the famous song fromSound of Music. Dahlia joins in, and I hold my hands at my chest like I’m in a choir.

He remains unamused and waits until I finish my musical theatre performance to plant his hands on my waist, lowering his forehead to mine. “I don’t know what I did in my life to deserve you, but I swear I’m not gonna stop trying.”

That I believe, and I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “I love you, Captain.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

He kisses me tenderly then lifts his dark gaze to me, those eyes that stunned me on a rainy day in March. He rubs his thumb over my lower lip and lets a smile loose. “I’ll see you soon.”

I nod, and he steps back, watching as I open the passenger’s side door, blowing kisses. The kids wave, but Griffin goddamn Stone catches one of my kisses, grins, and presses it to his heart.

I toss my head back to laugh.

Stones do crack.

And I never stood a chance against the good stuff hidden on the inside of mine. All the love and loyalty andfeelings.

Epilogue

Griffin

Ian and I step into The Nest, the bed-and-breakfast empty of all furniture and decoration, ready for the renovation Taryn has been planning for a long time. The owners of the place, an older couple who owns a bunch of B&Bs in the tri-state area, are relatively hands-off, giving Taryn full run of the place. As long as she keeps the money rolling in, of course. Which she does.

If there is one thing my sister excels at, it’s pinching pennies and stretching a dollar. So she’s planned out this reno down to the second, and I appreciate that. My brother and I find her in what was the dining room, typing on her phone, and pass her a to-go cup of coffee since she couldn’t meet us for our usual catch-up.

She glances up, and I notice the dark circles under her eyes. She’s pushing herself too hard. God forbid anyone points that out, though.

“Thanks, brother,” she says, accepting the cup from me and tipping her chin at Ian. “You guys didn’t have to come up here.”

“Yeah, we did,” Ian says with a pointed glance around. “Wanted to get one last look at the old gal before her facelift.”

My sister pats at her face. “Watch how you speak about me.”

Ian and I both give in to amused eye rolls and chuckles.

I peer out the windows at the fall foliage, all gold and red and perfect for a postcard. I snap a picture.

It’s been six months since Andi Halton broke down on the side of the road and stole my heart—and my head—and my world has never looked brighter. After she returned to LA, she finished writing a few songs to add to the ones she’s already written with Dahlia. Then, as planned, she got rid of her car, and we spent a week vacationing, where she did somehow convince me not only to wear Mickey ears but to get my picture taken with the rat. It’s been smooth sailing ever since. Well, sort of. Now in middle school, Grace is in all honors classes and has a lot of anxiety about keeping her grades up, and Logan has another crush. God help us all. Dahlia’s album is set to come out in the new year, but Andi has already made some inroads with people who want to work with her. She is considering each offer carefully while juggling a few lessons at a music center downtown.

And me? I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Even if Cat now sleeps in our bed every night, and I’ve had to download an app to make sure I’m watering all eight of our plants on schedule, because as much as Andi loves having green “babies” in our house, she’s terrible at keeping them alive.

I check my cell phone when it buzzes with a text message from the woman herself, asking me to grab her a box of tampons on my way home, and I shoot a thumbs-up emoji back before turning to my sister. “So, you’re all set for the renovation?”

She scoffs, gesturing to the organized chaos around her. “You should know by now that I always have everything in order.”

It’s true. My sister is an absolute warrior. She’s raising two kids practically on her own, runs this bed-and-breakfast like a well-oiled machine, and still finds time to create beautiful pottery. She’s nonstop, a force to be reckoned with.

Taryn starts explaining the changes she’s planned, walking us around as she points out how the wall is coming down between the dining room and the little sitting area so she can move the check-in desk over there. I don’t really pay attention, checking a construction truck as it pulls up. A guy in a Moretti Co. T-shirt makes his way up the back with an easy stride. He’s tall and broad and opens the door with a clipboard in his hand. “Hey, I’m looking for Miss Stone. I’m Dante Moretti, the contractor for the reno job.”

His gaze sweeps over the bare space, landing on Ian, me, and then our sister, who freezes between us.

This Dante guy’s eyes widen like a deer in headlights.

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